#makes you wonder why this is the path it had to go down

[ollyissleepy]

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: yandere!bruce wayne x male!reader (ft. platonic yandere!baftam) summary: during the preparation for his biological son's first public appearance, Bruce meets a florist who challenges his perception of love. The meeting takes him down the path of self-discovery and feelings darker than Gotham's alleyways. cw: general warnings, bruce has a dirt mind for a second there but nothing major a/n: I made the first chapter a little short since I'm still working out the pacing I want this story to have

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The workers moved around the space in a hurry, knowing the importance of the approaching gala. Their main focus was setting up the tables, making sure everything was up to Wayne's standard. Most of them were so focused on their work that they didn't notice a man in a suit and a child in Gotham Academy's uniform. A few that did greeted the father-and-son duo with a nod of their heads.

Bruce takes his time as he's showing his son each part of the venue as well as going over the things he should expect from the guests. The two of them swiftly move between the tables, with Bruce warning his son about the habits of a few more troublesome guests to deal with, before they reach the table the florists set up to finish flower arrangements.

Passing the table, Bruce overhears the male florist ask his co-worker something regarding the flowers he was thinking about putting inside the vase meant for the entrance of the venue. The co-worker looked between the vase and the man when they spotted Bruce near the table.

"Mr Wayne is here. Maybe you should ask what he's thinking about it," the co-worker suggested.

The male florist turned around, his eyes slightly widened as he stared at Bruce. He nods slightly, thinking about his co-worker's suggestion.

"Good morning, sir. I'm one of the people working on the flowers. My name is (name) (last name)." The man bowed his head slightly as he introduced himself to Bruce. "I was wondering which flowers would be more fitting for the entrance. I was considering lilies and—"

Bruce stops listening to whatever the man in front of him is saying, awestruck by the way (name)'s eyes were sparkling as he talked about the flowers and the nervous biting of his lips in between each spoken sentence. Bruce felt the way his heart was pounding in his chest and wondered if the florist was able to hear it too.

He has never felt this way towards any man he's ever met, no matter how attractive they were. He couldn't help but look between (name)'s eyes and lips, wondering how each of them would look when Bruce got to have his way with the man. He wondered how (name) would look like as his eyes were rolling back in ecstasy.

Lost in thought, Bruce doesn't notice the florist going quiet, waiting for him to make a decision. It took Damian tapping his arm for Bruce to snap out of it.

Bruce clears his throat before he speaks.

"Sounds good," he agreed, nodding. Bruce wasn't sure what exactly the florist had in mind, but he'd rather agree and blame the man in front of him if the arrangements turned out not to be to the guests liking.

"Oh, really? I was worried it would be too much..." (Name)'s eyes widen, not expecting Bruce to go along with his idea. "I'll get to it then! Thank you, Mr Wayne."

And with a final polite nod towards the father and son, (name) returned back to his station, grabbing a handful of flowers to start working.

Bruce watches the way the man moves with a smile tugging on his lips. He only stops staring when Damian tugs on his shirt, asking if there's anything else he needs to know.

He sighs, looking down at his son. Bruce promises to explain more on their way back to the manor.

The two of them walk out of the venue, Bruce looking back in hopes of getting a quick glance at the florist. He makes a mental note to look into the man.

Bruce needed to know who the florist was and why he was making him feel that way.

taglist: @seanwalbrecht

comment to be added!

[luvpocket]

just look at me - geum seongje

pairings: geum seongje x female reader

author's note: caps off on purpose. i know this is a mess (mostly just dialogue) but i was feeling corny. i'll update the other story when i get my period again (i'll feel like reading and writing angst then)

genre: fluff, mild angst with good ending, reader is insecure, aged up characters

warnings?: mdni, mentions of sex, cursing

word count: 6077

the night fell and all your armors came down with it. you had learnt from a very young age that manifesting your true emotions only came with consequences. and the consequences would only be greater if these feelings were directed to an almost gang leader.

no one had ever reciprocated you. you hadn’t felt much for many neither, but you swore this time was different. it always seemed nearly impossible, but now it looked fully unattainable. yet, this was the one time you felt it different. you questioned yourself every damn night: the one time you have real, true feelings about someone, you decide that that someone has to be seongje.

seongje. the most emotionally unavailable person to ever cross your path. even more than you — and damn, that was already some big competition.

it probably felt comforting because you knew your non-reciprocated feelings were not only for you. it was not a personal thing: not about your looks, your position, your way of being. you could just blame his seeming incapacity to truly want someone that way. to not discard the girls he slept with like the cigarettes he flickered. and even if it were because of your person itself, you would never know, and that was enough.

you didn’t even understand why you were wondering so much — no one would ever know about this stupid crush. you didn’t even know if it was a crush, or why you even felt it. when you joined the union, everyone warned you about seongje. but when it was time to actually interact with him, it was weirdly comfortable. you remembered your first mission, to which he came to help by the end of it, to finish the job off. of course you knew he was just following orders from above, but he helped you get up when he saw you laying on the ground. he also told you about the events of his evening on the way back to the bowling alley, how he had had to fight a guy who had been stealing phones from the union, while you were in tears and disassociating the whole journey. it was a simple action, but it was comforting knowing it came from seongje himself, and also knowing no one had had good intentions with you for a long time.

you weren’t friends, you didn’t even know if he had any, really. but when the missions ended and you two were alone, he spoke. you just listened, not reacting much, too afraid to mess it up. but you showed interest, nodding along or humming, not being able to hold eye contact either — not only because you knew the consequences of it, but because you were incredibly awful at it. and you, who had practically been in an unwanted social isolation for months, were really appreciative of his attempts at holding conversation, even if it was more like a monologue. too appreciative, in fact.

you guessed the lack of social interactions had messed up with your synapses. you didn’t even know how to differentiate politeness from friendliness from romantic feelings anymore. so when a random girl at the bowling alley suddenly made small talk with you while you were waiting for orders, your heart almost beat out of your chest with excitement. the joyful feeling became even greater when the girl casually mentioned a party at the usual club the members met at, and you being invited if you wanted to go. the club was actually a scenario that came out of your own nightmares, but you couldn’t say no to the minor possibility of making at least one friend. your loneliness and the urge to talk to someone was making you desperate.

you were glad you said yes, though. it was a saturday night and you were thinking too much. mostly about him. you remembered how, back when you hadn’t joined the union and you had friends, you used to drink your emotions away every weekend. so you wanted to do the same that night.

you felt really out of place, though. you came in on your own and when you entered the club, you weren’t sure where to go or whom to greet. you didn’t even know where the girl who had invited you was, or if she would even remember you. you immediately realized that it was a mistake to go without being friends with anyone, but you decided to go with the flow. just for one night.

you sat at the bar and asked for a drink, which you downed in no time. you craved for that drunken state, for your inhibitions to go away. you quickly ordered a second one, just looking around to see if you recognized anyone.

and then you saw him. sitting down, presiding over the table, while a stunning girl was straddling his lap, kissing him. you stared, the alcohol already having an effect on your body. he returned the kiss from time to time, then went back to drinking from his glass and smoking the cigarette in his hand. he also made comments to his friends while smirking, but you weren’t able to hear what they were saying because of the distance and the loud music.

you couldn’t deny it to yourself: the scene was making you wish you were her. fuck it, even being one of his friends in the table, just to see him like that up close, would be enough. you ordered another drink, wanting to forget about the image.

when you finished your fourth drink, everything that passed your sight felt like a blur. you weren’t thinking anymore, just walking, feeling the sudden urge to move. you went to the club’s main dance floor, not being able to feel embarrassment anymore. you started to dance alone, singing the parts of the songs that you remembered, slurring the words. suddenly, you felt a pair of hands roaming over your hips, picking at your dress.

“hey, sweetheart. you alone here?” you didn’t recognize the man’s voice. you just felt his hands on you too much, but you weren’t responding because you weren’t conscious enough. you just kept dancing, not even answering.

“mmh, not a talker, huh? wanna go straight at it?” he said, while spinning you around. even though you weren’t processing the situation properly, you felt uncomfortable. his hand came up to your waist, so you tried to pull away, but he didn’t let you. you started to panic.

“h-hey. let go.” you said to the man. but he kept rubbing off against you, not listening.

suddenly, as your tears started to come out, the man was pulled away. he was taken by the collar of his shirt and dragged away from the crowd. it was too quickly to process — you didn’t even see how it happened, or who did it.

you decided to go the bathroom, in the need of washing your hands to feel a little less filthy. you then chose to go out for some air, starting to sober up after that whole situation. you were just processing it, becoming conscious of the strange man and his sudden disappearance, not being aware of your environment.

“i was starting to think i needed to check my prescription again.” you froze. you definitely did recognize that voice, the one who talked to you through your disassociation time after every mission. “you were the last person i expected to see here tonight.” seongje said, while blowing his cigarette. right after that, he moved his foot, suddenly pressing against a beaten up body on the floor that you hadn’t seen. it was the man. your mouth fell open at the bizarre situation.

“now you can say thank you.” seongje said while smirking.

you stayed silent. you never talked to him, you didn’t even know what to say in normal scenarios, what was supposed to come out of your mouth then? after a minute, you decided to speak, just to make the interaction as short as possible.

“thank you. i was too drunk, and i-i couldn’t move. i’m glad someone was there.” you said while looking down at the floor.

“i was there. this is kind of my natural habitat, you know? but what are you doing here exactly?” you were shocked at his remark, but you dismissed it.

“a girl… a girl invited me. and i haven’t gone out for recreational time in like… forever. so i wanted to give it a try. it was a depressing try but, yeah…” god, why were you so awkward? you quickly shut yourself up, realizing you might need to take a social cues specialized course if you ever wanted to make friends again.

“where was that girl, huh? i mean, when this fucking bitch was groping you.” he said, while kicking the unconscious man lightly.

“i-i mean, she invited me but that’s it. i don’t even know her name… by the way, will he be okay? the last thing i want is to get in any trouble tonight- or like… ever.”

“he will be okay. he practically does this every weekend. and he always gets the same outcome.” you smiled unconsciously at the thought of him helping people, even if he was the most feared man in that club. maybe that was why so many girls were head over heels for him, you included. you all fell for the basic treatment of a man framed differently from the usual.

“so you basically work here unpaid? as a bouncer?”

“i never get involved.” he said, simply. but those words made your stomach turn. why did he get involved tonight, then? and did he just let girls get groped when he had clearly noticed it? you probably looked lost in your train of thought, since he started explaining himself. “i just tell the other guys, since they all wanna act like saviors with girls. they might wanna fuck them after their heroic act, you know? i’m always up for a fight and you know that, but alcohol kind of calms me down. i get a little lazy, so it’s no fun.” he said, casually.

“well, thank you for your special service tonight, then. weren’t no guys available? mmh… i know you were the one to interfere because i’m not fuckable enough, so don’t worry.” you said while smiling lightly, letting a bit of your personality out now that you were a little comfortable, some alcohol still left on your body.

“this is the most you have ever talked to me. now i just have to get you to look at me and i will be a happy man. that stupid fucking rule doesn’t exactly apply to you, you know that?” you stayed silent, fidgeting with your fingers in disbelief. happy man? from looking at him?

“whatever you took tonight… man, i would love some. you sound really fucked up.” you said nervously, chuckling a little to try to calm yourself down. humor was clearly your coping mechanism, but it wasn’t working so effitiently that night.

“never been more sober in my life.” he said plainly, while blowing his cigarette again. meanwhile, you were sure you were at the verge of cardiac arrest.

“look… i-i am not trying to be disrespectful. i know you are important around here. but i would prefer it if you didn’t get me involved in any kind of like… joke or mockery. i’m too slow and definitely too sensitive for that.”

“come on. just look at me.”

“i’m not trying to get my ass beaten tonight.”

he stepped closer, discarding his already used cigarette.

“i beat an asshole up for you. just told you i don’t ever do that. what more proof do you want?”

“i don’t sleep around.” you quickly said, trying to give a meaning to his words. “i know you do that, and i have seen the girls you do it with… and damn, they are beautiful and charismatic and are nothing like what i could ever be like but… maybe this is like a sick goal, or like a prank… the thing is, i’m not trying to disrespect you when i say you may want to hook up, but it’s like the only half-assed explanation i can kind of give to your words right now… and i-“ you got stopped by the sudden feeling of his fingertips on your chin, pushing up.

“you never respond to what i tell you, but you sure do have a lot in your mind. keep going, though. don’t let me stop you.” you just laughed awkwardly, still not looking at his eyes in fear. why did you took everything he said as a threat? you couldn’t believe someone — let alone seongje — would have genuine intentions with you.

“head is in the right angle. just move your eyes up and it will be perfect.” he said teasingly, his fingers still on your chin.

you decided to make it over as quickly as your body allowed you to.

“okay. after this, if you still want to beat me up, please consider that i’m not the best fighter, i have been eating like super bad lately and i’m still a little drunk. also maybe… that you are one of the most known fighters around here? that would be good to consider too, yeah.” at that point, you were just saying random words, trying to prepare yourself for the possible incoming punch into your face. you knew seongje didn’t fight people unless he was either ordered to by baekjin or if it was a challenge. you had seen his face when his opponent was strong enough to fight back: pure ecstasy. so you knew this wouldn’t be fun for him at all in terms of strength, but what if it was entertaining in another twisted way? maybe he had moved on from having fun with good fighters — maybe it was too repetitive now and he had started to enjoy a predator-pray kind of play.

“you are not going to let this go, right?”

“you already know the answer, right?”

in that moment, you just closed your eyes tightly and opened them again, now looking straight at his. how could you be so anxious just from holding eye contact with someone? maybe because that someone was seongje, and you had heard about a million stories of what had happened when someone had dared to stare.

“should i call 911?” he said teasingly, even though your head was empty at that moment, not being able to respond.

you felt stupid — like your dumb teenager self almost. you were 20 now, why was your heart beating from just looking at a man?

“now, tell me. why did you come here tonight?”

“i wanted to drink.”

“but why?”

“i-i don’t know.”

“you do know.”

“i wanted to not think.”

“about?”

“someone?”

in that moment, seongje smirked.

“i know that’s right.” he said simply, letting go of your chin.

you felt like gasping for air, relieved at the loss of his touch. it was giving you crippling anxiety, not knowing if those same fingers would move to your cheek in the form of a punch at any moment.

“that whole speech that you gave me there; about me wanting to fuck you and all that.” he paused, almost amused at your reaction when you heard his choice of words. “you are something else, i swear.”

“i know it’s fucking stupid. thinking THE geum seongje would want that with me.” you said awkwardly while laughing, fearing his reaction.

“i’m not fully denying your claims. but you didn't get all the parts right.”

what was that supposed to even mean? what part was true and which wasn’t? you just kept looking around nervously, still paying attention to the unconscious man on the floor.

“let’s get you a taxi, yeah?”

“what about him?”

“what about him?” he repeated in the same tone as yours.

“are we… just going to leave him there?”

“i’ll be here when he wakes up. he might pass out again when he sees my face, though. but if it makes you happy.” seongje said while shrugging his shoulders.

“s-sure. thank you. i’ll get my own taxi, though.” before you finished your sentence, he was already walking past you, opening an app on his phone.

“your address?”

you didn’t trust him. and he could probably see it in your face, since he passed you his phone immediately.

“just type it in. i won’t look. i’ll delete it after. do you trust me that little?”

“i-i am just a girl who is aware of her own vulnerable situation and how that can make her an easy prey?”

“so aware that a man almost forces himself on you tonight?”

ouch. he got you there. you decided to stop fighting back, just grabbing his phone. you couldn’t help but notice the small contact your fingers made when you did so, and how you lingered there for a second.

“here you go. thank you. you really helped me tonight.” you said while giving him his phone back, smiling lightly while looking down.

“don’t know what came over me neither.” the comment made your heart flutter, knowing now that you weren’t the only one confused by his actions.

when you saw the taxi down the street, you started to panic. you didn’t know how to greet people, but you knew how to say goodbye even less. the anxiety was only even worse after that whole nerve-wracking conversation, which made you have no clear thoughts in that moment.

“i don’t want to see you here ever again. this is not the place for you. if you ever wanna drink, tell me.” your heart jumped again at his sudden words. tell him? about drinking together? you wanted to drink to forget about him in the first place.

“i don’t want to bother you. but thank you.”

“get in the taxi. we’ll talk.” he said while the car stopped, coming to open the door. you just hummed and got in, looking at him for a second before he closed the door.

there, you took your first deep breath of the night, your mind racing with thoughts. thoughts of just him.

days passed. days of him acting like his usual self, and you pretty much doing the same. answering back a bit more. looking up from time to time.

“so you don’t want to drink with me?” you were walking back to the bowling alley again, exhausted. the question woke you up immediately, though.

“what?”

“first word today. that’s what i have to do to get you to talk? be blunt?” he kept smoking his usual cigarette, having the decency to blow the smoke away from your face.

“please, don’t. you are going to give me a heart attack.”

“answer the question.” why was he so persistent? you didn’t even know what to answer. yes, you wanted to spend time with him — the thought alone made your cheeks burn and your stomach turn. but the anxiety that same thought gave you was enough to not even question if you should.

“i-i know you are a busy man.”

“didn’t have you for a liar.”

fuck it. you didn’t think he would give up anyway.

“okay. tonight.” a few seconds passed by, after which he started to laugh hysterically.

your cheeks flushed. you knew it, of course you should have trusted your gut — it was all a sick joke to entertain himself. and you just had to be the most sensitive person on planet earth. your eyes started to get red and veiny, holding in your tears like a champ.

he must have noticed then, since he immediately stopped his track right in front of you.

“i knew you didn’t trust me, but damn. you really do not, like at all.” you just looked down, not really paying attention to him since you were on the verge of a breakdown.

“i’m not playing. i’m laughing at your sudden outburst of confidence, didn’t expect it there. you are just so confusing it’s hilarious.” you looked up for a moment in disbelief. he was looking straight at you, searching for your eyes.

“so? did i fuck it up?” seongje said, starting to walk again. you thanked the gods for that since you were sensing an incoming panic attack triggered by his intense gaze.

you just laughed lightly, trying to play it off.

“i’m just too dramatic. you didn’t fuck anything up.”

“i understand you feel intensely. not the same as dramatic.” perfect, you wanted to cry again. his words hit you like a train, confusing you with his remark. how or when had he even noticed that?

“i-i appreciate that. like a lot.”

“tonight is fine for me. give me your number.” you just stayed silent, lost in your thoughts. was this a good idea? or just your delusions making decisions for you?

“if we are drinking together tonight, you should trust me at least a little more.”

“you know about your own reputation.”

“as far as i know, it doesn’t include being non-consensual with women.”

“it does include dumping them the second you… you know.”

“and you know this is different. i know you know deep down.”

“i-i don’t know.”

“fine. i was going to save you from the experience of having to text first, but i’ll give you my number and you can do whatever you want with it. deal?” seongje said while putting his arm out, expecting you to give him your phone. you thought about it for a few seconds, since you didn’t believe you would have it in you to text first. but having seongje’s phone number sounded like a dream come true. you accepted, passing him your phone.

“here you go. i’ll be waiting for your text.” he said casually while walking into the bowling alley, separating your ways there.

he was a known player and this was you probably falling for it, just like all the other people before.

it was 8 pm. you were sitting down on your bed, wondering if you should say something. if you were going to do it, you had to do it now. what could you lose, though? even if he was just playing, it would be entertaining for you too. you reminded yourself that not everything had to be so serious, but anxiety always won against your true wants and needs. you wouldn’t let it be like that this time, though.

“hey. still up for drinks tonight?” you texted the number he had saved as “geum seongje :)”.

after just a minute, you received a notification. damn, he was fast.

“i’ll pick you up in an hour” your heart jumped out of your chest at his quick reply.

after 45 minutes, you were ready. you didn’t even know why you had put so much effort into your looks. you knew you wouldn’t look much different from the mess you usually were, but you still tried. although you couldn’t understand why.

while waiting, you realized you hadn’t texted him your address, but he didn’t ask neither. even though he told you he would delete it last time, you guessed he probably hadn’t. you would confront him for that later, you thought.

at 8:59 pm, there was a knock on the door. one of your roommates called your name, saying it was for you.

“who is this boy?” she said teasingly, while you walked to the entrance. there, you saw him — dressed casually but put together. you couldn’t lie to yourself: he looked extremely handsome.

“shut up. i’ll come back later.”

“sure, sure. later.” your roommate said while winking at you. you closed the door right behind you, rolling your eyes.

“sorry for that. they are not used to someone asking for me. even less if it’s a man.”

“i enjoyed it. it’s funny how awkward you get.” his comment made you blush, which only made him be even more right.

“awkward? me?”

“you are the most awkward person i’ve ever met. i like it a lot, though.” should you take that as a compliment?

“thanks, i guess?”

“you are welcome. get in.” he said while pointing at his car. you didn’t even know he had one.

“you drive? wow.” you said in a shocked expression.

“did i impress you? i’m fluttered.” he said while getting into the car. “i do everything differently with you, but it doesn’t seem to faze you at all.” you just looked confused, not knowing exactly what he meant. you always were surprised at his kindness, since you had only heard he was the opposite of the person you had met.

“i do appreciate… this. everything. anyone talking to me feels like a gift sent from the gods lately.”

“i don’t want you to say anyone.”

“mmh?” you muttered, confused. he started the car and began driving, not answering back. “by the way, where are we going?”

“special bar for you. one that isn’t a shithole like the club from the other night.”

the other night. the thought only made you sick to your stomach with anxiety. you hadn’t talked about the whole situation again. “mmh? why are you fidgeting so much? because i mentioned that night?” how did he read you so well? or were you that obvious? he was driving, so he could only see you from his peripheral sight. still, he nailed your ongoing emotional state. you decided to be honest, since you had realized in those past few weeks that excuses didn’t work with seongje.

“it was just… so overwhelming. i had never talked to you like that. or looked at you like that. and then you told me i could call you for a drink and that was… unexpected to say the least. but i get really giddy when i think about it so it’s not only anxiety.”

“do you remember the things you said? because they were quite… interesting.” you blushed, even though you didn’t exactly know what he meant. you talked way too much for your liking, and you still were tipsy, so not every part was fully clear in your mind.

“delight me. i’ll drink after so i can bear with the embarrassment now.”

“it’s not embarrassing. it’s more like you gave me a peek of what you really think of yourself.”

“so it is extremely embarrassing. great.” you said sarcastically, letting a small laugh out.

“we’ll talk about it after a drink or too so you don’t feel so embarrassed. come on, we are here.” he said while finishing parking his car.

the bar was pretty, almost elegant. it wasn’t too much, but it definitely wasn’t like the club from last time neither. you both sat down at the bar counter and seongje ordered for the two of you.

“how do you know what i like?”

“trust me. i know my drinks.”

the drinks came and he was right, you liked it a lot. so you ordered another one. and then another one. the conversation was casual, similar to the ones you usually had: he told you about the things he had done that week at the union and the people he had had to fight, and you listened. he spoke so clearly, not slurring his words at all, but you were already in another dimension, still paying him attention, but with other thoughts in mind too. like how handsome he looked. or how much you liked the fact that it was a little loud, so that he had to get closer from time to time for you to hear. you were smiling unconsciously, cheeks flushed at your own thoughts and the alcohol in your body.

“you aren’t listening anymore, mmh?”

“i am. i swear i am. you fought that… that guy… you know.”

“yeah, that guy.” he said while smiling lightly. you loved it when he smirked.

“why do you look so normal anyway? you have had as many drinks as me.”

“i am feeling tipsy. but i can control it way better than you, it seems.”

“can you blame me? you were right, you are really good at choosing drinks. and at fighting. and at many things, it seems.”

“even when you are drunk, you still aren’t capable of looking at me, huh?” he suddenly said, looking a bit lost in his own thoughts too.

“w-what?”

“i mean… we are in like a fucking… date. and you still can’t look at me. when i’ve told you you can.”

“date?! is this a date?”

“don’t fucking change the topic” he said while adjusting his glasses. he looked a bit annoyed for a moment, almost impatient.

“why do you care so much about me looking at you?” you quickly said, getting a bit defensive too.

“because i want you to trust me. and i want to see you, i wanna look into your eyes. is that too fucking much to ask for, mmh?”

“maybe it is.” you simply said, getting too overwhelmed. you didn’t like people looking straight at you. you felt small and vulnerable, and you didn’t want him to see too much. you didn’t want him to stop whatever you two had going on, but your brain had made you believe that could happen at any second if you quit hiding.

“is this about what you said the other night?”

“i told you. i don’t remember.”

“i will remind you then. you basically said that just the thought of me wanting to… sleep with you, okay? was disrespectful, to me. you said it like it was a fucking sin for me to want you.”

“oh… that.”

“you said you were nothing like someone i could potentially fuck. basically.”

in that moment, you couldn’t hold your laugh in.

“why is that such a problem, seongje? i stand by my statement, anyway. and i also don’t get how that has to do with me not looking at you, or anything really.” you said his name, which you never did. but you were getting annoyed, since deep down you understood the point he was trying to make — and deep down, you knew he was right too.

“i think you are an insecure mess. that’s all.”

you stayed silent. he was always so blunt you thought you had got used to it. but you weren’t prepared for hearing him — or anyone really — say that.

“i-i am going to go to the bathroom.”

“fuck, wait. i didn’t mean-“

“it’s okay. i just need a moment.” you got up from your seat and left to the bathroom. you knew he was right, and maybe the alcohol didn’t let him say it in the most caring way, but he was still reading you too well. which only made your tears come out faster. you tried to compose yourself, splashing a little water around your neck before going back there.

“i think i’m ready to go home.” you said as soon as you were next to him again.

“i’ll get you home. but let me smoke one first, yeah?”

“yeah, sure.”

you got out of the bar and turned the corner. an alleyway half dimmed waited there, in which seongje started to light his cigarette. after a few minutes of silence, just hearing him blowing smoke, he suddenly spoke.

“i know this won’t fix anything, but i can’t leave tonight without saying it.” he looked lost in thought again, staring straight at the wall right in front of him. you just waited in silence, expecting anything and everything really. seongje could be just like a pandora box sometimes.

“this whole night i have had to restrain myself not to get closer, feel you or even kiss you. i don’t want to scare you away. not with that, and fuck… even less with what i say.”

you looked up in surprise again. it seemed like he had a special talent to make you do so. seongje looked like he was waiting for an answer, still staying silent with a lost gaze.

“i-i don’t get you.” you couldn’t get many words out of your mouth. you were shocked and you truly didn’t understand him. you didn’t understand if this was some kind of sudden, weird want, if he craved trying something new in bed, maybe. you knew you looked like someone who didn’t have much experience at anything, just surviving for these past few years. he could have noticed, since it wasn’t that difficult to see and he was really observant. once again, you couldn’t find many other explanations for his words and actions.

he suddenly laughed while moving his head from side to side. you could see how he was holding his cigarette tighter and the way his jaw clenched. you could sense that he was mad.

“you are impossible. fuck… i don’t even know why i’m trying.”

after a few seconds of you staying silent again, he discarded his cigarette and started walking. “let’s get you home.” he sounded cold, just like everyone had said he was. you walked a few meters behind him, holding your tears in. you knew you were a mess, you were fucking it up. you had had a crush on seongje for so long and now he was saying he wanted to get closer, but you were reacting like that? you were aware of how insecure and anxious you were, but not to this level.

“wait, seongje. i’m sorry.”

“come on.”

“please, let’s talk.”

“then fucking talk. do you think this is easy for me? you think i’ve done this before?” he said while turning around, finally looking at you. you locked eyes with him, which you had only done in a few occasions, but this time it broke your heart. you hated being the cause of someone’s anger, let alone seongje’s.

“d-don’t get mad. i don’t want you to be angry.”

“i’m not mad. i’m fucking disappointed.”

that was even worse. way worse, in fact. tears started to spill out, not being able to hold them anymore. he was always so honest, you knew everything he said he truly meant it.

“don’t… don’t fucking do that.” he said while starting to walk towards you, stopping right in front of your own feet. “just tell me what you think about what i said.”

“i think you are not… reflecting on this enough.”

“you really fucking think i have just decided to say it? that i haven’t wondered for nights about a way of doing it without getting this exact same reaction from you?!”

his words seemed to knock all of the air out of your lungs. for the first time, you kept looking at him, needing to see how he really felt, what he meant with his words. “i have never, fucking never, done this before, okay?”

“done what? flirt with a girl?”

“fuck it, you won’t get it unless i say it straight, huh?”

“you know… you know i’m not used to this!”

“fucking confess to someone! fuck!”

you were gasping for air at that point. were you understanding him right?

“y-you mean…”

“yeah, it means i like you, dumbass. that is what i’ve been trying to get you to infer for the whole night. but even when i tell you directly, you seem not to get it.”

geum seongje liked you. your brain was telling you to not trust him, reminding you you were not enough for him, or anyone really. but the excitement in your heart won for a moment, which got you to speak without thinking.

“you said… you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“really badly.”

“then do it.”

“are you…?”

“i am sure. i warn you though, i haven’t done this in like years so it’s probably like super bad, nothing compared to what you-“

you suddenly felt his lips crash on yours, moving slowly, but getting faster as seconds passed. he held the back of your head to steady you, not letting you pull away, almost scared that you would do so. he felt warm, which made you forget about everything else for a moment, just him in your mind. you were sure you weren’t doing it right, but you were willing to practice with him. after what felt like an eternity but also mere milliseconds at once, he pulled away while panting, resting his forehead over yours.

“you are looking at me now, huh?” seongje said while smiling teasingly.

“don't make me regret this." his smile just kept growing bigger, his cheeks as flushed as yours.

"you won't. ever."

[n1k0laa5]

Hi lovely!!!! (I hope it’s okay that I call you that)

I was wondering what your big smart beautiful brain thinks about disappointment and doubts.

Specifically how being disappointed or let down by people and yourself here can make doubts louder and way harder to ignore. And some affirmations/ reassurance things you might say to combat that.

I love this drawing I had to add it, im sorry 😭

Your Disappointment Isn’t Evidence. It’s A Story, Rewrite It.

SECTION ONE: disappointment is not proof. it’s just noise.

let’s start here. loud and clear. just because someone lets you down, flakes on you, ghosts you, talks shit about you, says you can’t shift, doesn’t believe in LOA, laughs when you affirm, or even if YOU wake up disappointed in yourself—that doesn’t mean a goddamn thing about your manifestations, your power, or your path.

you’re confusing stimulus with structure. you’re taking a response from the old system, something that came from your previous assumptions, and calling it evidence. but that’s not what it is. it’s residue. it’s a fart from your old state. it’s a shitty commercial on a channel you don’t even subscribe to anymore.

so here’s your first mindset rule: disappointment is not data.

it’s not the truth. it’s a triggered perspective that only feels real because your nervous system thinks it needs protection. and your job now is to say, “thank you for trying to keep me safe, but this? this is not my narrative anymore.”

SECTION TWO: when doubt gets loud, get louder.

doubt is not evil. it’s not some spiritual flaw. it’s not a sign that you’re failing. doubt is just a leftover process. it’s the mind trying to re-confirm what it already believes based on past evidence. and guess what? your past has nothing to do with your current state.

you’re not manifesting from memory. you’re manifesting from assumption. you’re not building a reality based on yesterday’s heartbreak or failure. you’re building it from the fucking code you’re running right now.

and that means when doubt comes knocking, you don’t need to argue with it like a sad little therapist. you override it. you declare the new rule.

when your brain goes: “what if it doesn’t work?”

you go: “bitch, it already worked.”

when your chest tightens like “what if it’s just me and I’m stuck?”

you go: “i’m not stuck. i’m shifted. this is just lag.”

when the spiral says, “no one’s showing up for me…”

you say: “they don’t need to. i show up for me. and my world follows.”

affirmations aren’t bandaids. they’re override commands. you don’t say them to feel better—you say them to replace the wiring that creates the doubt in the first place.

SECTION THREE: people are not god in your story. YOU are.

this is what most people miss when disappointment hits. they go “why didn’t THEY believe in me?” or “why did THEY make me feel this way?” as if those people are writing the script.

newsflash: they’re not.

no one outside of you has any actual say in what you experience. people mirror your assumptions. they respond to your dominant state. and when someone disappoints you, it’s not because they hold power—it’s because, on some level, your story let them.

that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. it means you get to change it.

if your mom doesn’t believe in your shifting? cool. she’s a background character with one line.

if your friend rolls their eyes when you affirm? cool. that’s their scene. not yours.

if you feel like no one understands you or believes in you? perfect. use that shit. make it your villain origin story. go full main character and say “i am the only one who decides what’s true. and my reality submits to me.”

the moment you stop needing others to validate your path is the moment your path fucking explodes in power.

SECTION FOUR: disappointment in YOURSELF hurts harder. here’s how to fix it.

okay, deep breath.

we gotta talk about this one.

because being let down by people sucks. yeah. but being let down by YOURSELF? hurts on a whole other level. especially when you feel like you’ve been trying. you’ve been consistent. you’ve done all the inner work. and nothing’s budged. or maybe it has, but not enough. and you start questioning your worth. your ability. your identity as a “master manifestor.”

listen to me: you don’t need to be perfect to be powerful.

you don’t need to wake up every day feeling like an embodiment guru. you don’t need to affirm with angelic precision. you don’t need to love yourself unconditionally every second.

you just need to keep choosing the new story. again and again.

not perfectly. not obsessively. not even convincingly.

just persistently.

and yeah. some days, you’ll fuck up. some days, you’ll spiral. some days, you’ll scream “WHERE IS IT?” at the ceiling while eating chips on the floor. and that doesn’t disqualify you from your desires. that makes you real.

you are allowed to be messy.

you are allowed to be pissed.

you are allowed to feel like nothing’s working and STILL BE RIGHT.

because the shift doesn’t happen when you feel perfect.

it happens when you decide your feelings don’t define the truth anymore.

SECTION FIVE: affirmations to slap doubt in the face

• “i don’t give a fuck how i feel. i said it’s done. so it’s done.”

• “doubt is not evidence. it’s just noise.”

• “i am allowed to have off days and still manifest everything.”

• “i don’t wait for belief. i declare and belief follows.”

• “i am not ruled by emotion. i am ruled by decision.”

• “i am not a person hoping for change. i AM the change.”

• “the 3D doesn’t speak for me. i speak for the 3D.”

• “i am the god of this story. not the audience.”

and if all else fails:

• “i don’t care if i feel like shit. i still get what i want.”

because that’s the truth.

your feelings? can change in a second.

your thoughts? aren’t always yours.

but your power to declare truth and refuse to back down?

that’s what changes timelines.

FINAL WORD: don’t confuse resistance with regression.

you are allowed to feel disappointed.

you are allowed to doubt.

you are allowed to collapse for five minutes and scream into a pillow and then stand up and say:

“okay. that was fun. now back to reality. my reality.”

you don’t need to beat your old thoughts.

you just need to starve them.

stop feeding them attention.

stop thinking they mean something.

stop calling them “blocks” when they’re just echoes.

and stop giving your power to other people. to feelings. to triggers. to the part of you that was taught to doubt everything good.

you don’t need to be healed to manifest.

you just need to decide that disappointment is not your god.

you are.

[sinisterexaggerator]

(Art for Sideshow - Darren Tan)

Pet Project (Chapter 1)

General Grievous x F!Reader

Summary: The General has no one with him on the third moon of Vassek but his bodyguards, his doctor, and his roggwart, Gor, where he resides. You are the victim of loathsome pirates. Your ship crashes in Grievous’ backyard. As you lie injured and immobile, dying, he sees himself reflected in your eyes.

There’s no reason EV-A4-D can’t fix you—not because it’s right, but because he’s selfish. No one needs to know—especially not the Count. You become his pet project. What harm could it do, to have a little real company for once?

Warnings: NSFW // This chapter contains blood, injury, and the fear of death. In the future, there will be explicit sexual content, as I am gearing up for smut.

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: This will be a multi-chapter fic comprised of several short chapters. I will try to update as much and as quickly as possible. I wanted to write a reader insert where Grievous interacts with a kind, timid reader—a Grievous who chose his modifications, but who still harbors self-loathing and hatred for himself. One who still misses Ronderu lij Kummar, who hasn’t felt a woman's touch since the loss of his ten wives, and who, deep down, is lonely—with only his roggwart, Gor, for company, besides the insufferable EV-A4-D. It is my first time trying to write for Grievous, so I hope this isn't out of character!

—-

AO3 Link

Masterpost

You should never have left Vassek alone. Pirates—they were after your cargo, you presumed; your Nella 342 light freighter was no match for their advanced weaponry. You wondered what had brought them to your corner of the galaxy, struggling to input coordinates into your navicomputer, cannon fire rocking the aft of your ship—your shields could only take so much.

You considered their impropriety—a terrestrial planet located in the Wazta Sector, Vessek was a small blue-green world that boasted no uncommon resources. It was uninteresting to most, quite distant from the Koda Spur hyperspace route. So why were these marauders after you?

As the daughter of a simple farmer, you grew staple crops like grain to feed outlying neighbors—planets like Mijos and Lutrillia—far off the beaten path, in a stretch of the Outer Rim Territories that reached toward the Western Reaches.

You were tasked with going to market, willing to trade for supplies that were scarce back home. That, or you hoped to earn sufficient credits to purchase them instead—keeping just enough to buy fuel for the long trek back. Yet you had barely made it to the first of three orbiting satellites when the flagship of the Nuro pirates descended upon your freighter.

Though dependable and rugged, it had been discontinued. It was outdated and only boasted one blaster cannon, though you did not have a single crew member to spare. You were the ship’s sole occupant, doing everything in your power to break away from the tractor beam that held you firmly in place.

“Kark it all,” you spoke aloud, hastily programming your ship’s computer for your original destination—Ryoone—a planet along the Koda Spur whose dismal atmosphere was clouded by a permanent suspension of ash, making the growth of crops and vegetation almost impossible—your family’s grain was sorely needed there, you imagined.

Your comm blared; someone was trying to hail you—it was those damn raiders.

“Lower your shields—we’re coming aboard. Best play nice, or we won’t be,” came the voice of a surly male.

“Leave me alone! I have nothing of value!” Though not totally a lie, not everyone would consider grain a top commodity.

“She sounds pretty,” you heard another pirate say. It caused you to cringe, your imagination running away with you, knowing what these types were known for—none of it good.

“Quiet!” the first man demanded of the other. Then his voice came back to the line, sugar sweet. “Now, dearie, don’t be daft—we’ll be the ones decidin’ that.”

“Kark off!” you shouted back, disconnecting the comm. Having finished inputting your coords, you pulled back on the lever that would activate the freighter’s hyperdrive, hoping the pushback of the engines would break the tractor beam and set you free. Just as the warp drive began to fire and you tore away, a barrage of lasers took it out, causing you to careen off course.

“Shit, shit, shit!” you cursed as the Nella 342 spun out of control. You grappled at the yoke; the blast had taken out the remainder of your shields.

Prevented from entering lightspeed at the last millisecond, you realized you were caught by the gravitational pull of Vassek 3—a moon enshrouded in perpetual mist. There were rumors of monsters living there, men half made of metal—the pirates did not follow once they realized where your ship would fall.

Alarms blared, and the lights of your console flashed erratically as you tried and failed to activate the ion engines. Your ship’s repulsors were dead, short-circuited in a chain reaction, one part of your starship exploding after another.

There was nothing left to do. You strapped yourself into the cockpit, fastening your body to the pilot’s chair. Fear coursed through your veins. You fought desperately to steady your breath, determined not to hyperventilate, silently wishing you were safe at home on solid ground—but fate had other plans.

You plummeted toward rough terrain, breaking atmo. You braced for an inevitable impact. You offered a prayer to your gods and shut your eyes, catching a glimpse of the moon’s rocky landscape—there was nothing to cushion the crash.

Tears trickled down your cheeks as you prepared to die, wondering if anyone would ever find your body.

---

Magnetic talons gripped bare rock, the electrostaff of an IG-100 MagnaGuard connecting with pure plasma in an impressive display that bore no witnesses. The fearsome general of the Droid Army parried the attack with a single swing of his duranium arm. There were seven styles of Jedi combat; Grievous was employing Makashi—the form he had first learned from Count Dooku—counterattacking with ferocity, his strikes quick and precise.

“Ha! This is child’s play!” he taunted, addressing his group of sparring partners—mechanical beings trained to his specifications. They were perfectly equipped to hone his skills, outfitted in Kaleesh capes bearing mumuu markings and matching headwear.

These MagnaGuards were a group of two, with another of the General’s combat droids flanking him from the rear—or attempting to—his powerful LX-44 robotic legs propelling him as if spring-loaded, the cyborg flying in an arc as he raised his saber above his head in a two-handed pose.

Sparks flew as the battle-hardened droids blocked each of Grievous’ deft blows, one of his artificial limbs withdrawing a second saber to ward off the IG-100 that continued to hound him from behind.

Then, a laugh—a cough. A dense fog rolled through the canyon, concealing the seven-foot cyborg in a layer of thick white mist as the light from his sabers went out.

All was silent, the combat droids on high alert as their glowing red photoreceptors scanned their surroundings, deep robotic voices echoing throughout the mountainous terrain as they communicated with one another in an audible form of droid language. These models were capable of fending off Jedi, loyal only to their primary directive—which, at this moment, was to defeat their master—even if it meant losing their heads.

Decorated with scorch marks and dents, they were not permitted to repair their damage—if they fell to Grievous here, if they were marred, so they would remain.

Though they could not feel fear, they felt the General’s reptilian eyes staring at them through a well-hidden armorplast face mask, its shape resembling his species. He had once been a frightful warlord, though some might argue he was now even more terrifying—trading his organic parts for cybernetic ones, with only a few organs remaining: lungs, liver, and a cold, still-beating heart.

There was no sound but the wind and the buzz of their servos, their master having visibly vanished. One of their ilk probed the fog, the point of his shock staff slicing through nothing but thin air.

Then came a disembodied voice: “Surely, that is not the best you can do!”

A shadow, a series of swift, exacting movements—one MagnaGuard nearly lost an arm; another yelped in surprise.

“Ha ha ha!” came Grievous’ monotone cackle, two limbs breaking apart—electronically driven—splitting in half by a dislocation of his shoulders. Each hand had opposable thumbs and articulated fingers. They all now grappled lightsabers, his wrists maneuvering in a tightly controlled spin.

The IG-100s prepared themselves, righting their weapons and facing their unrelenting adversary head-on. But now he was distracted, his violent helicoptering coming to a halt as he sheathed his sabers, black slit pupils focusing on something above him as he spoke aloud: “End session.”

The MagnaGuards released their defensive stance, waiting neither patiently nor impatiently for orders, but simply existing—their eyes drifting upward as all four beings present watched what appeared to be a starship descend, engulfed in flames and trailed by smoke.

There was a sound of grinding metal, a reverberation that echoed throughout the valley. For a moment, Grievous did not move.

No explosion came. The general listened, hearing only the faint crackle of flames in the distance. His immediate assumption was that there were no survivors, but considering his home rarely received visitors, he was curious as to who—or what—might be among the wreckage.

“Guards,” he began in a grating, gravelly voice, “come with me.”

---

You were pinned, your body jammed between twisted shards of durasteel and the remains of your communications console. Something did not feel right—in fact, you oddly felt nothing at all.

Your eyes fluttered open; unbeknownst to you, your body had gone into shock, a part of your pilot’s seat having lodged itself in your belly—the base bolting it down had been torn clean from its root. Though your hands shook, you began to feel around, the mist from outside the ship having breached through the cracks in your hull.

Then, you looked down. It was something you should not have done—panic overtook you as your heart began to race, seeing the protrusion jutting out from your gut. You scrambled to press the rescue beacon on the console next to you, unsure if it would even work, electric wires sizzling and sparking so near your face you had to close your eyes again, albeit temporarily.

“Oh, God,” you whined, unable to control the flood of tears welling in your eyes. You attempted to move your legs, but whatever was on top of them was much too weighty—where would you even go? What would you do? Vassek 3 was a barren moon, besides its fabled monsters.

You thought you heard a noise—the crunch of footsteps over rock and gravel. They were much too heavy. Inhuman. And there was more than one set.

Your eyes widened as a towering shadow took shape, rising up from the fog just outside your cracked viewport. Metal clanked against metal once whatever it was entered the remains of your freighter’s cargo bay—red pinpricks of light seared through the dark, visible through the door of your cockpit, torn from its hinges and lying on its side.

Droidspeak—you were sure of it. These were droids—large ones—with sinister photoreceptors and billowing capes.

You held your breath, though it hurt.

A voice, rasping and mechanical, tore through the silence.

“What do we have here?” it asked in a curious lilt.

You would have screamed, but the sound caught in your throat. What you were beholden to witness was one of the most terrifying things you had ever seen.

A figure pushed past the others and stood before you—the caricature of a man, more than seven feet tall. Its limbs were long and lithe, made of metal and alloy. Its legs were the same, feet spread apart in a shape that resembled claws. But its face was the most horrific thing of all—flesh and blood covered by a mask and helmet reminiscent of some otherworldly creature, the likes of which you had never laid eyes on.

Its slit pupils regarded you, though there was something about it—him—that gave you the smallest bit of comfort. He was not a droid like the others; he was a living, breathing, organic being. His lungs expanded and contracted as the creature coughed, having crouched down on one knee before you—studying you, perhaps, and the predicament you had found yourself in.

“Please—” you begged, your hand gripping the bar extending from your belly. You felt faint, certain you were losing too much blood. A terrifying thought crept in: if you closed your eyes again, would they ever reopen?

The last thing you witnessed as you succumbed to unconsciousness was the tilt of this being—this monster’s head. You felt what you thought was a sharp talon caress the soft flesh of your cheek.

Grievous saw himself reflected in you, if only for a moment—the victim of an error, a horrible crash—left for dead until some form of help had arrived. It was what had led him to this life, this form. His piercing gaze observed the pain on your face; he felt it vicariously, its mark etched into your features.

And you were comely, he thought. Beautiful despite your anguish, despite being clothed in the garments of a pauper.

He decided he would fix this—you—by affording you the same opportunity he had once been given. Not because it was right, but because he was selfish. No one needed to know—not even the Count.

What harm would it do, having a little company for once? Someone who would otherwise die and be discarded?

In a single, fleeting moment, Grievous made his choice—it was a split-second decision, the General not thinking of the repercussions or the many possible outcomes that might come to pass.

There was no one present to challenge him, least of all his guards.

As you began to fade away, he spoke once more. Fear had left you. His voice was both calm and commanding— and possibly the last thing you would ever hear.

“Get out of my way! I am going to cut her loose.”

---

(to be continued... )

[unowneyenon]

I saw a post on here back a little while ago claiming that Stanford built the shack in Bill’s image when they knew each other (or something like that!) and that’s why there are so many triangle & pyramid motifs built into the shack. I think that idea’s really interesting, but there’s one problem; it’s impossible based on the journal three timeline.

according to this timeline in journal three, ford came to gravity falls in 1975, a good 6 years before he first met bill. so, using his grant money, he built the shack and all of the triangle and pyramid things inside…for some reason. why?????

ok so hear me out if it’s IMPOSSIBLE for ford to have known bill when the shack was built, maybe ford somehow knew him in a…subconscious way?? the image above is from TBOB, and it seems like from a young age ford was already interested in yellow floating triangles; and while this could totally just be foreshadowing, what if it implies some kind of …fate-related thing? something something ford was just MEANT to meet bill by some predetermined twisted fate created by the universe & that fate of them meeting was also subconsciously the thing that made ford research all that is strange & weird, thus making him end up in gravity falls???? i’m not sure how to put this into words! but just based on the shack triangle stuff and the photo, there’s just something there that screams that bill was and always has been subconsciously in ford’s thoughts and they were always meant to meet in this universe for better or for worse (it’s for worse)???????

edit: hey it’s five am and it has now come to my attention that he could have probably just remodeled/somehow made his own stained glass windows & such, BUUUT it’s still a personal theory that there is some kind of fate thing going on with ford and bill, & REALLY holding onto that theory with how ford was mesmerized by that kind of stuff at straight up infancy….hmmm time for bed for me

[st7rnioioss]

WHEN BSF!CHRIS CAN'T KEEP HIS HANDS AND THOUGHTS OFF INEXPERIENCED!READER ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... grinding, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this!!), kissing ˚࿔ notes: i'd like to say beforehand this is a little further into their relationship! I'll add more background stuff later<33

chris was restless. he continued to toss and turn in your bed, finally settling on his side, one arm slung around you waist while gently tugging you closer to him, pressing your back flush against his chest while you were sleeping peacefully.

he tried to doze off, he really did. but sleep seemed like the furthest thing away when he laid there, listening to your soft breathing, as the only currently audible noise, feeling the way your chest rose and fell under his touch.

his mind was running a million miles an hour, and he couldn’t get it to stop. it was dirty, wrong thoughts—about you. his best friend since.. well, for as long as he could remember. it had become something more usual, but this time he couldn’t control it.

you’d always been attached to the hip, but never once had he thought about you like this. never had he wondered what you’d look like naked, vulnerable under him.. okay, maybe a few times, but never to this extent. you'd only gone as far as him showing you how to finger yourself properly, where he took over the job because he couldn't resist.

how would you react to his touch? would you reach for his hair? his arms? would you grab the sheets instead? what did your moan sound like?

the real question was why on earth he was having these dirty thoughts about you. you were the sweetest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on, so sweet it gave him a toothache whenever you’d innocently bat your eyes at him, begging him to go get ice cream with you.

gosh, make it stop, he thought to himself, groaning when he snaked his other hand down to try and ease his rock-hard cock, which only seemed to make it worse, hardening even more under his own touch.

he didn’t know what to do, and only to worsen his panicked state, you started turning, his arm momentarily slipping from your waist when you faced him.

your eyes were thankfully still shut, lips in a soft pout from the pillow pushing them together. the sight didn’t help either. nothing helped him ease his raging hard boner. you laid there, so pure, unknowing of his sinful thoughts while your peaceful, gentle look only made the tight restrain in his boxers worse.

sleep was out of reach by now, his hand desperately trying to relieve his aching cock with a groan by carefully rubbing his palm over the bulge—but then your eyes fluttered open. he stared down at you with widen eyes, almost in disbelief that he’d been caught somewhat rubbing himself through his pants, but you didn’t seem to notice right away.

“are you okay?” your soft voice was heard. “you seem restless..” yeah, his constant tossing and groaning woke you up, but not enough to fully comprehend the situation chris was in.

“i- i can’t sleep. that’s all,” he whispered back, blinking rapidly while your eyes scanned his face, roaming every feature you were so familiar with.

speculating about his somewhat unsure answer, your eyes made their way down his chest when he let another whine slip, noticing the way his palm pressed against his groin, and you immediately felt ten times more awake than you were before. heat rushed to your face, before your eyes met chris's desperate gaze.

“oh..” you quipped, suddenly hyper aware of every movement of his, every desperate groan you’d heard behind you just moments prior now making much more sense.

“p-please, just- just let me.. let me put it in,” chris pleaded miserably, letting his free hands knuckles brush over your reddening cheek, his touch gentle as ever.

“chris- no, we can’t..” your answer only made his dick harden, though it seemed fucked up. you were so damn innocent, a prude even. you’d always avoided the topic of sex, not daring to go down that path ever. but he knew that when it came to him, you could bend the rules. “please- i’ll make it quick, i’ll just put the tip in. it hurts so fucking bad,”

but something about the situation caused you to turn curious. chris begging for your touch, begging to let him do something about his hard erection, to touch you.

“okay..” attentively, you turned around to lay in your previous position on your side, chris's hand slipping from the front of his shorts, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“thank you, thanks- thank you,” he babbled, his clammy hands making their way to the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, slowly pushing them down your thighs, until they pooled around your ankles, that you continued to gently kick off.

“i promise i’ll be careful, just the tip..” his breath fanned across your neck, making a soft gasp slip from your lips.

your eyes were wide open and lips parted when he hooked his hand under your thigh, gently lifting it to spread them apart, carefully placing your leg back down as if you were made of fragile porcelain.

“o-okay..” you spoke quietly, your breath hitching when his finger made contact with your panties, gently tugging them to the side. “already so wet f’me..” his voice was husky against your ear, lips grazing the sensitive skin as his thumb slowly ran between your slick folds, a weak moan falling from your parted lips.

you were driving him insane, already dripping for him, and it only took a couple right touches and words. oh, how bad he wanted to keep showing you how to feel good, let alone be the first one to. he'd already gotten his fair share on that part.

you’ve never been more nervous, but yet you felt safe with chris pressed so close up against you. it was chris after all, he’d never do anything to hurt you, plus, he was always so gentle with you whenever it came to stuff like this. your hands tugged the stuffed animal you usually slept with to your chest, nuzzling your nose into the neck of the teddy, the soft material under your fingertips easing your mind a little.

“i’ll be gentle, angel.. no need to worry,” he whispered, one of his hands maneuvering his shorts down mid-thigh, along with his boxers, the other one gently running down the side of your face, tugging a few strands of hair behind your ear.

he wrapped his palm around his cock, fisting his cock with a lewd moan, before bringing the head of his cock to your entrance.

“i’ll put it in now.. it’s just the tip, don’t panic..” he mumbled, pressing a reassuring series of kisses to the side of your neck, feeling you nod. “go- go ahead..”

those words was all he needed, gently smearing his sticky tip down your soaked folds, before pressing it forward, watching it disappear inside of you.

“holy- holy fuck..” he groaned between gritted teeth, his fingers gripping at your hip, a weak gasp elicited from your mouth. “oh, chris..”

your moan was silenced from the soft teddy in your arms, eyes fluttering shut at the slow intrusion, letting whines fall from your lips.

chris nearly lost his mind when he felt your walls squeeze around his tip—it took every fiber in his body not to stuff you full of his cock, not to completely ignore your previous, innocent words and start fucking into you.

“gosh- chris..” you whined, nails digging into the soft fur under your hands.

you could practically feel the desperation seep out of him from behind you, his throbbing dick just aching to be inside you.

“m’sorry angel, sorry.. i can’t hold back, please say something-“ chris's voice was strained with despair, his fingertips digging into your bare hip, smoothing his palm over your thigh.

“it’s- its okay..” you whispered, words somewhat muffled, but coherent. he was thankful almost, mumbling continuous praise and ‘thank you’ into your ear, smoothing his palms down your sides, under your top.

it sure was okay, he could tell. you were drooling around his tip, only making it easier to slide right in—which he did. holding tightly onto you, leaving kisses down your neck and back, he pushed his cock further inside of you, slowly.

“h-halfway, baby.. you’re doing so good,” he husked, his heart pounding in chest as he stilled his movements for a minute, allowing you to adjust.

you couldn’t keep quiet, eyes rolling to the back of your head while they fell shut, biting down onto the plush toy to restrain the moans. yet, pornographic whimpers slipped from your gritted teeth from the painful yet delicious stretch, making chris's head turn to mush.

“fuck.. you’re so perfect,” he hissed, sinking his length in until he was fully sheathed inside your heat with a sigh of relief.

blubbered moans fell shamelessly from the both of your lips as he slowly rutted against you, a hint of pain striking through you as you adjusted to his size.

you knew it was wrong. so, so wrong. friends didn’t do this, they really didn’t. what was gonna happen after this? would you just go to bed and wake up just usually tomorrow, just treating it as a favor?

but even though, you never wanted it to stop. his soft touch, lips continuing their work on your lower neck, stuffing you full of his cock when he rolled his hips.

“does it hurt?” he purred, his hot breath mingling on your neck, making a slight shiver run down your spine.

“no… chris, it feels- feels good,” you breathlessly whimpered, gripping the plush animal between your arms as if your life depended on it, listening to the dirty squelching of your pussy, basically drooling onto the soft material between your lips.

he only nodded, feeling your walls flutter around his cock, clenching and squeezing the life out of him. your back arched just slightly when he hit a specific spot within you, moaning loudly into the stuffed toy.

“y-you’re doing so well.. so beautiful,” he cooed, the praise going straight to the pit in your tummy, feeling the tension tighten as your teeth nibbled on the soft plushie.

“oh- oh my god..” without any warning, the waves came crashing over you, your chest heaving while your grip loosened on the soft plushie in your arms.

“jesus christ,” he panted, his slow but rhythmic thrusts continuing, until he reached his climax as well.

“shit- i’m gonna come,” he barely got to say, before the ropes of white spilled inside of you, letting out a shaky breath at the release of tension. you felt limp in his hold, your face growing hot, and heart racing with lidded eyes.

“thank you, thank you angel,” his breath hitched as he slowly pulled out. his pink lips left repeated kisses to the side of your face, listening intently to your breath regulating gradually, the pants turning back to the soft breaths he’d been listening to just moments prior.

you let a small smile break, nuzzling your nose back into the teddy bear to hide your blushing face, as if your back wasn’t turned to him. “it’s fine…”

his fingers danced across your waist, making their way to your hip, giving it a gentle pat as a dazed smile settled onto his lips.

“come on, pretty.. we gotta go pee,”

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: none:3

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @forgottxen @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @forgottxen @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[moonstruckme]

hi congrats on 10k this is sooo deserved!!!! i was wondering if you could write a blanket fort poly!marauders drabble w the prompt “i didn’t have anywhere else to go”? if you already have an idea in mind for this please write whatever you would like to but if you’re open to having something to go off of i was sort of thinking of pureblood!reader maybe crashing a sleepover at potter manor after deciding to leave home because of a similar situation to what sirius went through

Thank you <3

cw: implied family abuse (both for Sirius and reader, though it's left vague what that entailed), takes place after hogwarts, insanely cheesy narration sorry not sorry

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

You don’t actually knock. 

You’re planning to. Or, you think you were planning to. You don’t actually know that you had a plan. You just—you apparated here on panic and adrenaline, but Merlin, what the fuck? You’re a mess. It’s the middle of summer, and you’re shaking, your bones rattling around in the hollowness of your body like coins in a tin cup. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. They won’t want to see you. A crushing loneliness digs its fingers into your gut, and you turn to go, but the door just—opens. 

An older man stands on the threshold with a rubbish bag in his hand. His eyes widen to find you in his path, a warm, familiar brown. He says your name. 

You’re surprised that Monty would remember you. You only met once, and you were a child then, trailing behind James and Sirius down Diagon Alley, trying diligently to keep up with their long-legged pace and rapid-fire jokes. He does, though. Monty says your name with a familiarity you didn’t realize you shared and a warmth that makes your chest ache. It feels like you blink and then you’re inside the Potter’s home with him closing the door behind you. 

You can hear the boys in the next room. It’s that unceasing jabber that seems to accompany the marauders wherever they go, sometimes cut through with a bark of laughter or a shout of mock offense, voices rising and falling and overlapping in a cadence you feel like you know even now, but it sounds distant, like the echo of another life. Still, you move towards it. 

Remus spots you immediately as you come around the corner of the kitchen. James and Sirius are too caught up in whatever they’re making—half of the pantry shoved into a blender, by the look of it—but Remus’ eyes lock on yours, the both of you stilling. Ultimately, it’s his aburpt silence that gets the attention of the other two. Monty’s quiet throat-clearing helps. 

Sirius reacts much the same as Remus. Freezing, like he can’t make sense of you here and he doesn’t trust it. James, though—Godric, he looks just like his father when his eyes flare like that. They’re all older than you left them, more adult, and though you’d known they would be it pangs in a way you hadn’t expected. James breathes your name like it belongs to a ghost. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, taking a step back. Monty has disappeared—it will never feel less strange to you, how much liberty the Potters give their son with his privacy—so there’s nothing between you and the door. You think it’s best if you go back from where you came. 

“What?” Sirius’ brows furrow in a way that wavers between bemusement and upset. “Why are you—what are you doing here?” 

Isn’t that the question of the evening? You don’t know, either. 

You think James sees this on your face, sees that you’re about to run, because he steps around the counter with his hands held out in a pacifying gesture. “We’re just surprised to see you,” he says. 

And, well, that’s fair. You haven’t seen any of them since your parents collected you at Kings’ Cross after your last year. You haven’t seen much of anyone, honestly. And while you were locked up at home, thinking of your friends and fantasizing about leaving, they were off living their own lives. Now, reunion stings. It reminds you that there was a separation in the first place. 

Your voice shatters as you finally answer Sirius’ question. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

James’ arms come around you, and you become aware of the rattling again. You’re rattling yourself apart. He holds you together as best he can, though not tightly. It reminds you that this isn’t his first time. You’re not the first wounded stray to come to the Potters’ doorstep, and James knows how to handle you. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” he says into the side of your head, letting you grip him so that your fingers bunch in his shirt. “You can always come here.” 

“I’m—I—” Your breaths come harshly. You taste salt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—” 

“Shh. Sweetheart, it’s alright. Why don’t we have some tea, yeah?” 

You’re transferred smoothly into another set of arms. The worn knit of Remus’ jumper wraps around you. He rubs your back and ushers you into a seat. 

Sirius stands over you. He cups your face, that same confusing furrow between his brows. “Are you hurt?” he asks. 

“No.” You want to shrink, but his eyes trap yours. “Not…not in a way that’s…” 

Pain flickers in Sirius’ expression. “Right. Okay, I understand. You’re okay, darling.” 

His touch slips to the back of your head, and it’s all your need to drive you forward, your hands clutching his hips as your face buries itself in his chest. Sirius holds firm as you break down. 

“I know. I know. You’re safe now, baby. We’ve got you.” 

His voice tightens and strains, and you think of the peace you’d stolen from them by coming here. It makes you cry harder, broken apologies stuttering out your lips. 

“Shh, breathe.” Remus rubs between your shoulders. His touch is heavier than the others’, lacking their same awareness of the state of you, but you welcome the ache. “Deep breaths. We want you here. We always want you here.” 

“I just—when I left, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking—” 

“Hey, didn’t you hear Remus?” There’s a gentle teasing to Sirius’ tone now. “Breathe.” 

You don’t feel like you deserve to, but you try for their sake, forcing air in and out of your nose. Sirius’ shirt smells like laundry detergent. You wonder if James’ mother washed it for him. 

“There we go.” His nails scratch at your scalp rewardingly. “I think we’re all glad that you didn’t think, sweetness. However you ended up here, we’re happy about it. Okay?” 

You sniffle. The clink of porcelain against the table turns your head. James is setting a cup of steaming tea in front of you, diluted with cream to just the color you like. 

“I wasn’t invited,” you croak, just to him. “Your parents…” 

His eyebrows lift. “My dad brought you in, didn’t he?” 

You have no reply to that. 

James smiles. It’s not his happiest, but the sight of it lightens something in you anyway. “You’re always welcome here, sweetheart. Consider it an open invitation, alright?” He nudges the cup toward you. “Have some tea.” 

So you pick up the tea James made for you, with Remus’ hand on your back and Sirius lingering by your side like he plans to stand between you and the outside world. It tastes like coming home.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Neighborly (Part 2)

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: near death experience, hypothermia, cuddling for medical reasons, implied medically-related stripping, implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

It was supposed to be a two-shot.

The cold burned.

Once the sun set, the weather front moved in, and the temperature plunged. Snow fell thick and fast, just short of a whiteout. Your feet sank to the ankle, then to the shin, and your aching trudge became a slow-motion nightmare. It was about that time you realized – you were in real danger.

It was a two-mile walk – uphill, through old snow and frozen sludge – from your stranded vehicle. Home was closer than town, so you put your head down, buried your mittened hands in your armpits, and threw your emergency blanket from the car over your head as a bright orange cloak. And you set out.

It really took you too long to leave the car, but it was a life and death decision, and you waffled between shit options. On a busier road, you’d stay in the car. But this kind of snowfall would keep people home for a day or two. More than enough time to freeze to death, curled up in the driver’s seat.

If you lived, you’d make a better emergency kit for your ride.

In the meantime, the path demanded all of your attention. Even under fresh snow, it was easy to follow the road. Thick forest covered this stretch, and there was nowhere to go but forward. Hopefully you wouldn’t miss your drive. Should luck bless you for the first time in a decade, you’d see your neighbors’ lights in the dark.

But you had miles to go, yet. And the footing was terrible.

Old snow, half-melted and refrozen, threatened to turn your ankle with every step. Staying upright took work. Every muscle joined the battle, from your toes to your shoulders. Your abs clenched, and your thighs soon shook from exertion. As cold as you were, sweat stuck your hair to your face. Your neck.

The wind turned the moisture to ice.

Pins and needles prickled under your clothes.

Worse, and worse, and worse.

But there was no choice, so you moved on. No one was coming, so you would go. Keep calm and carry on and all that noise.

You had tea at home. An electric heating blanket under heavy quilts. Dry clothes and fuzzy socks.

So, you walked.

One foot in front of the other. Wobbling. Trying to find safe footing.

You crashed to your knees, bracing for pain that didn’t come.

Fuck.

You were losing sensation in your extremities.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The fresh layer of snow swallowed your hands where you’d braced to catch yourself. It didn’t look right from your perspective. You hadn’t punched holes into the drift. You’d joined it. Flesh flowed into freeze, and it sucked the heat from your body. Hungry. Careless.

Physically shaking the image from your head, you rose. You pushed on. Slow and unsteady as your thoughts lost traction on the creeping ice.

It never seemed right that such an oppressive season made the world so bright. Even on a moonless night, the snow practically glowed. When you first moved to the mountain, you’d look out the window and marvel at how clearly you could see the world you couldn’t explore. The endless white always looked so inviting, but it kept you locked away, isolated.

Snow ate the color out of the world. That was why it sparkled so brightly in the sun, full of ingested prisms stolen from kinder seasons.

What colors, you wondered, would it digest out of you.

Once you were buried.

Lost to the white void falling without. Swelling within.

Everything felt damp. Warm. Your muscles went syrupy. You were your own personal swamp, and you panted, dropping your blanket. It was too heavy, too waterlogged anyway. You couldn’t carry that weight forever. It fell easily. All you had to do was let go.

Your feet turned, and you began to ascend. Uphill. That was correct, somehow.

Fuck.

You were on fire.

The snow was up to your knees and still falling. Maybe, if you just took a nap, you’d wait it out. Better to travel in the daylight, right?

No. Not quite right.

One arm hung out of your coat, and you couldn’t shake the second free. It clung to your wrist like a needy child, and you just wanted rid of it. Wanted to be free and finished and home.

Lights blazed, and it felt like dawn. Had you walked all night, or did you just look up?

The path split. Or you thought it did. The snow covered the way, but your instinct sniffed out the divide.

You wanted to be closer to the lights. Lights were good. Even though they hurt your head. They looked so pretty, flushing the snow gold. You imagined they’d paint you gold, too. A Midas-touched statue – pretty, lifeless, and cold.  

Snow always looked so soft. You’d felt cheated as a child when you discovered it was nothing like the fluffy duvet you imagined. But in a pinch, it was wonderful.

It held you, gathering you up as you sank. The flakes landing on your cheek didn’t melt anymore, and frigid works of art gathered on your eyelashes, slowly eating the lighthouse you’d followed home from the bright white dark.

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

“Fucking hell.”

Death had a British accent. Not bad. A shame you somehow disappointed him.

“Johnny! Get some towels. Clean shirt and sweats.”

You blinked up at Death, swimming through waves of unfamiliar sensations to get a glimpse of the end.

Really, you’d hoped for Death to wear a kinder shape – like in Sandman – but the grinning skull seemed appropriate. It was the rare case where the destination mattered more than the journey. Or the escort.

Being dead was exhausting. As curious as you were about Death’s face, the quiet void already had a deposit on your soul. Resting limp in the psychopomp’s arms, somehow you relaxed further. He was so much more solid. More real. Soon you’d melt between his fingers and rain into the underworld.

“She isn’t shivering.”

Dreams ate your mind. Time rose and faded like steam as strange hands prepared you for burial. Your grave was warm. The soil packed tight, wrapping around you as the first gnawing sense of dread woke with the agony in your hands. Roots squeezed around you, tightening as you writhed against the sting in your feet.

You did not rest in peace.

You’d fallen into hell. Your skin burned, your muscles seized, and a sharp scream of a moan shrieked through clenched teeth.

“Easy, easy.”

A broad palm pressed over your heart, hauling you back to a second pulse. Someone else’s words rustled over your hair. Someone else’s breath pushed someone else’s chest flush against your back. Their smell and shape surrounded you.

A someone. A living someone.

That finally reminded you of the need to wake.

To rise from death.

Every inch you climbed towards consciousness scorched you, and reality came in bursts of pain. Your fingertips felt like you’d clutched red-hot iron, and shivers wracked you like private earthquakes. Everything wanted to tear itself apart, escape the pain radiating from every other piece. If the stranger wasn’t holding you together, you’d shatter like your poor, ugly mug.

You had a body but no control.

The stranger shushed you, a second hand settling over the top of your head. Locking you in. Keeping you in your flesh. You thought he might stroke your hair like a cat’s fur, but nothing moved between you besides the heat seeping from his palm to your scalp.

If you had a choice, you’d go back to sleep, but you were too aware. Pain dared you to relax, running knives along the underside of your skin, threatening to stab you inside out with the next shudder.

And you didn’t know where you were – or who was cuddling you back to life.

Helpless as you were, you knew to be afraid.

“Johnny,” the chest behind you rumbled, “she’s coming to.”

Wrath caught on the name. It bit the hook and followed the line to the light so your eyes could flutter open. They were painfully dry, and the gathering tears offered some relief, but you recognized the mohawk over broad shoulders leaning through the doorway through the blur. Your restrained whimpers turned into a growl.

“Think she recognizes ya.”

“Aye.” Johnny approached, kneeling by the bed you found yourself in. His pretty face was all bent out of shape with apprehension. “How you feeling, hen?”

You wanted to shout at him. Or slap him. Both at once and more. Instead, your shaking tongue fumbled the words, and your arm flopped weakly under the quilt, thudding into the branch-like arm caging your chest.

Which meant –

Wait.

If Johnny was in front of you, you must be in his house. He lived alone. Except for a hulking giant in a skull mask.

Like he could read the fresh stiffness beneath your shivering, Ghost said, “Spotted you from the window. Had to get you dry and warm, but you’re safe. Body heat’s best at this stage. We’re both dressed, and if you can’t stand it, I’ll trade out for a fleet of hot water bottles.”

You struggled to pick up his words and put them in order. They bobbed through the snowmelt in your brain like so much flotsam, a murky sea you already worried would drown you. But you did it. You got it all. But it was a lot.

He was barely more than a stranger, and you found yourself in bed with him.

But a man so hesitant to show his face wouldn’t be eager to show more skin than necessary, and while it was hard to tell what fabric was clothing and what was bedding, nothing but cloth touched you. Except for the hand on your head. Which was fine, actually. It could be better than fine if you thought about it much longer.

How much did it cost such a reserved person to get so close? You were no better than a stranger to him, too.

He saw you in trouble and moved to help. Everything he said was practical. Reasonable. He’d probably saved your life.

You felt you understood Ghost. Maybe it was the confusion or the onset of a fever, but you got him. And he was so, so warm. You wanted to crack open that giant chest and burrow inside him like a tauntaun.

When you felt better, you’d make it up to him. You’d apologize for being a burden and make your imposition right. In the meantime, you didn’t want him to leave you alone with some shitty substitute.

You wriggled, trying to put your hand over his, but something was over your fingers, and you had to guesstimate. Maybe you patted his knuckles. Maybe you smacked his wrist. Hard to know. But you felt you made your point.

“S’fine.”

He shifted in response, settling in for the long-haul. “Good.”

You tried forcing yourself calm. Everything had a mind of its own, though, and you curled up tight, trying to preserve heat even when it was given freely. Ghost supported your new position, bending his knees to keep contact, spooning with purpose.

How far had your temperature dropped for you to be this miserable? Very. Dangerously. Fucking shit.

Johnny cleared his throat. “I could join? Help get you toasty?”

Though you were still in gods damned agony, you wouldn’t let Johnny Fucking MacTavish join you under the covers if he was the last thing between you and death. You’d already touched the door to Hades that evening, and he hadn’t been the one to bring you back.

You lashed out the only way you could.

“No.”

The first word you managed to say clearly. You sent it off with a scowl, daring the Scotsman to try you.

He practically jumped back from the bed, anxious expression washed clean in shock. You’d never told him no. Never drawn a boundary. Never shared your anger or hurt.

Well, you’d finally learned your lesson.

Fuck that man.

He wouldn’t be getting anything from you ever again, not even a clear conscience.

Ghost hummed, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Got you right pissed off, has he? What’s he done? He the reason you got caught in the storm?”

Nodding was easier than speaking. You’d said the most important part.

“Thought as much. You’re too well prepared. When you feel up to it, you can tell me what Johnny needs to set right, yeah? He’ll clean up his mess.”

Across the room, where he’d stumbled after your rejection, the man in question blanched. “I didn’t – I couldn’t – What did… Ah, Christ. ‘M so sorry, hen.”

“Plenty of time to talk later,” Ghost said, still fully felt and entirely invisible at your back. “Let her rest. When I’m confident she won’t choke, you can make us something warm to drink.”

Johnny accepted, nodding with big eyes. His shoulders rose to his ears as he turned on his heel and marched away, fists squeezed tight.

He’d only been out of the room for a minute when you heard something crash, and you jumped.

Ghost just hugged you tighter and sighed.

Eventually, you did sleep. It was a night for achieving the impossible, apparently. Ghost kept one hand on your chest, waking or sleeping, and as the daylight slowly burned away the icy mist in your head, you realized he was monitoring your heartbeat. Keeping his arm around your chest was better for your recovery, and you might not have reacted so calmly to a hand on your neck.

You still felt like shit.

“How bad was it?” you whispered.

Asking was a struggle, and not just because your lips cracked and burned around your voice. Staring doom in the face only scared you if you recognized it, and you were afraid to hear how close your choices had brought you to the point of no return. Words could hurt. Knowledge could hurt.

“Should’a taken you to a hospital,” Ghost murmured. “No way to get there in this weather.”

You closed your eyes, burying your face in the pillow. You did it in defiance of the windburn over your nose and cheeks. In defiance of your chapped lips. Dead people couldn’t feel pain, and it was hardly the worst you’d suffered through the night.

“Your shivering’s manageable now. Think you could drink something?”

Could and should.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go tell Johnny. Stay here.”

You didn’t answer, but you swam all the way under the heavy quilts as his solid heat left you. With only your eyes peering over the blankets, you watched him – probably cold in his thin t-shirt and worn sweats – breeze across the room, quiet as his namesake. He had a lot of tattoos, a whole sleeve. You couldn’t catch all the shapes as he moved farther and farther away, but deathly themes curled like gun smoke and curses up from his wrist, towards his heart.

Once you were alone, you examined yourself under the covers. There were socks over your hands, impromptu mittens. You’d worry about any horror beneath them later. You wore a loose tee you’d seen on Johnny when he was resting up, staying comfortable as he nursed his cold. The gym shorts they’d dressed you in were bunched up where the drawstring fought to draw them into a smaller size, and the fabric would fall to your knees if you stood. Maybe farther.

They’d dressed you in a piece of each man’s wardrobe, and the embarrassed heat creeping up your neck was almost as warm as Ghost.

But you wouldn’t read between the lines. There were no lines. They’d saved your life and carefully explained their actions. It didn’t mean anything else.

They were only being neighborly.

[nerdycheol]

A Seat Across from You

☘︎ pairings: choi seungcheol x reader [afab]

☘︎ warnings: strangers to lovers(?), fluff, a lots and lots of slowburn, reader is annoyingly dumb, miscommunication, too much running away & avoiding

☘︎ wc: 9.5k

(a/n): FOR YUKI'S 100 MILESTONE EVENT!! do check out everyone else's work too, they're all are amazing!! I had sm fun writing this. thankyou lexi (@ikeukiss ) for this amazinnggg banner <33 also thankyou to the ones who brainstormed ideas with me calli (@hhaechansmoless), yuki (@eclipsaria) daisy (@flowerwonu) ily'all smm :3 it was originally supposed to be this long, but i wanted to make it as natural as possible :| so forgive me and hope you like it ;) this is not proof read so ignore slight mistakes. tagging alaska (@cherry-zip) because i love them

playlist recommendation 🎵: traingazing-sam wills, sunny-rocco, from the start- laufey, dive- olivia dean, fool-kidsnot$aints, fall in love-jukjae, lily of the valley- daniel, l-o-v-e -rocco, hold me never let go- rocco

(inspired by traingazing- sam wills)

dividers by @cafekitsune

i’d love to hear your thoughts, i love reading your comments and seeing your reblogs! 💗

DAY 1

Morning comes the same way it always does — too soon, too cold, too reluctant to let you ease into it.

You woke up ten minutes late today. Not enough to send you into panic, but just enough to make the morning feel a bit rushed. Your sweater slightly mismatches your coat, but you tell yourself it’s fine. Your bag feels heavier than usual, though you can’t remember adding anything new to it.

The streets are damp from last night’s rain, and a few early risers move with purpose, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. You walk the familiar path to the station, following the same cracks in the pavement you always do.

The train is late today. Two minutes, maybe three. Enough to remind you that the world doesn’t run on your schedule.

When it finally arrives, you step in, immediately greeted by the usual low murmur of conversation, the shuffling of feet against the floor, the faint scent of someone’s too-strong cologne. You shift your bag higher on your shoulder, scanning the car for a spot, eyes moving without much thought.And that’s when you see him. He stands by the farthest door, one shoulder pressed against the glass, gaze turned outward.

You don’t know why you pause. Maybe it’s the way the early light spills across his face, casting faint shadows along the bridge of his nose and his sharp jawline. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely detached from the rush around him, earphones in, lost in something only he can hear.

He wears a brown high-neck sweater, the kind that looks soft even from a distance. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other wrapped around the strap of a worn black backpack. His expression is unreadable—not bored, not impatient, just… distant.

You don’t think he notices you.

It’s silly, the way you keep looking. He’s just another passenger, someone you’ll probably never speak to, never know. But still, you watch him for a moment longer, as if memorizing this version of the morning before the spell breaks.

A man steps in front of you, shifting to adjust his briefcase. The moment lasts only a second, but when you glance back.

He’s gone.

You blink, scanning the space where he had been, but now, it’s empty.

For some reason, the thought lingers as the train lurches forward. You shake it off, exhaling softly. It’s nothing. Just another passing commuter, another stranger among many others.

As you grip the pole tightly, you wonder

Will he be here tomorrow?

DAY 2

The train doors slide open with a mechanical sigh, and you step in. Your usual spot is taken today by an older woman clutching a canvas tote, her head tilted forward in light sleep. So you move a little further down, fingers curling around the overhead rail.

And then you see him. You don’t mean to look, not really. But there he is again, standing in the exact same place as yesterday — leaning against the glass panel near the doors, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Today, a book rests in his grip, fingers idly turning a page as his gaze flickers across the words.

You wonder, briefly, if he ever misses his stop. If he ever gets so lost in thought that he forgets where he’s going.

The thought lingers for a second too long.

A jolt in the tracks sends the train swaying, and you glance away quickly, feeling oddly self-conscious. It’s nothing. Just another passenger in the sea of strangers.

And yet, when you step off at your stop, you catch yourself glancing back. Just once.

_

DAY 10

It’s been ten days since you first saw him. Ten mornings of stepping onto the same train, gripping the same pole, and watching him from the corner of your eye.

Every day, he’s there — leaning against the glass panel, the same sky-blue book in his hands, which makes you wonder if he ever really reads it. His hands are always in his pockets; sometimes, his gaze turns toward the window.

You don’t know when you start expecting to see him.

He’s just supposed to be another passenger, another face in the blur of morning commuters. But now… now, the moment you step onto the train, your eyes move without thinking, searching and waiting.

The next day comes like all the others. But lately, there’s one thing that makes the mornings feel less mundane. 

You find yourself on the platform, scanning the crowd before you even realize what you’re doing. Maybe you’ll never know his name, never exchange a single word, but that doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring a thousand possibilities, fleeting thoughts that leave you restless.

The train arrives with a familiar hum, and as you step inside, your eyes instinctively seek him out.

There he is.

Standing in his usual spot, clad in a high-neck sweater and loose-fitted trousers. But today, something is missing — his book.

Instead of reading, he simply watches the city blur past, his reflection faintly mirrored in the window. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other grips the strap of a worn brown suitcase.

And then his head tilts slightly.

For a brief second, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs in your chest.

Is he looking at you?

The thought unsettles you more than it should. Your fingers tighten around your phone as you glance away too quickly, pretending to check the screen. A silly reaction. He’s probably just lost in thought, staring past you like people often do.

Even as you tell yourself that, the feeling still lingers.

DAY 11

You’re not a superstitious person. You never believe what people say about black cats crossing your path bringing bad luck. On the contrary, you feel good things happen to you when you see a black cat.

And weirdly enough, the man on the train feels like your black cat. It’s not that he actually brings good luck. It’s just that your day seems a little better whenever you see him.

Today, you oversleep. Miss your alarm. Burn your toast. Everything feels five steps behind as you shove your shoes on and fly out the door, heart pounding at the thought of the impending scolding from your manager for being late.

You’re breathless. Disoriented. Out of rhythm.

The train is already at the platform by the time you arrive, and you squeeze in just before the doors seal shut.

But it’s okay, you think — as long as I see him.

And then, your gaze lifts instinctively.

He’s not there.

Your eyes dart across the carriage — once, twice, again. Nothing. Just faces you don’t recognize. None of them are him.

Your heart sinks, and it shouldn’t. You know it shouldn’t. People have lives. Schedules change. Trains get missed.

Still, you lean your head against the glass, suddenly aware of how loud everything feels in his absence. The usual quiet thrill has dulled.

You spend the ride staring out the window. Trying to mimic the way he does it. Trying to imagine what he sees in the blur of grey buildings and sleepy streets.

It doesn’t work.

You get off at your stop and walk a little slower.

Funny, how much space a stranger can take up in your head.

_

DAY 13

Today, you see him again. And somehow, that alone makes you feel like the day might not be so bad after all.

You can’t find a seat in the morning rush, so you claim a spot near the door, your shoulder resting against the cool glass panel.

Just like any other day, he enters.

Today, he’s in a dark blue satin shirt tucked neatly under a black trench coat. He takes his usual place across from you, setting his suitcase down by his foot before pulling out the same sky-blue book he reads every day.

You squint slightly to catch the title — Ikigai. You make a quiet mental note to buy it later.

The train halts at the next station, and a new wave of commuters pours in. The space tightens. You try to brace yourself, but the crowd pushes you forward.

Your shoulder bumps into someone — him.

You freeze, flustered, about to apologize when he looks up from his book.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You nod, maybe a little too quickly, mumbling a quiet thanks before turning your face away, hoping the heat on your cheeks isn’t too obvious.

And then he smiles. A perfect little curve that deepens into a dimple.

Oh man.

If you weren’t in deep before — you are now.

DAY 20

It takes a whole twenty days for him to finally notice you.

Like any other day, he enters the train and occupies his spot near the door. This time, you happen to be standing beside him. Like clockwork, he pulls out the book, slides the bookmark free, and holds it between two fingers; eyes moving smoothly over the pages.

The train screeches to an abrupt stop between stations, and the lights overhead flicker once before settling into a dim, humming glow.

Around you, the usual groans begin. A man sighs dramatically. Someone taps their foot like it might make the train move faster. The lady next to you mutters something under her breath about being late again.

The volume of your earphones must be louder than you think, because he looks at you and asks, “Laufey?”

You let out a sigh, glance at your watch to check the time, and look up instinctively because he’s here today too.

Just in time, his gaze lifts and finds yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you can’t help it — you smile back.

Not entirely sure he’s talking to you, you pull out one earbud and mumble, “Sorry?”

He gives a little smile before repeating the question — and god, that damn smile will be the end of you.

You don’t put your earphones back in. Somehow, it feels rude now. Your gaze flickers around the coach, searching for something, anything to keep the conversation going.

“Ikigai! I’ve read it. It’s nice,” you blurt out, nodding toward the book in his hand.

“Really?” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I haven’t met many people who really understand it. It’s nice to find someone who appreciates it. What part did you like the most?”

Idiot. Why would you say that? 

You haven’t even finished the book. You bought it on a whim, sure — but gave up halfway through because it was too dense for your brain to grasp at 10 p.m. on a work night.

“Uhh… the… the living part.”

What the hell does that even mean? Could you make a bigger fool of yourself?

“That’s… interesting,” he replies, polite but clearly unconvinced. You can feel the moment your credibility starts slipping away.

“I mean, I really like the concept behind it,” you add quickly, grasping at straws. “You know, the idea of ‘the happiness of always being busy’… things like that.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hoping it masks the rising panic. He’s still looking at you, curious. That unnerving kind of silence that feels like he’s trying to decide whether you’re genuinely insightful or completely full of it.

Just when you’re about to change the subject or fake a sudden phone call, he smiles again. A little smaller this time. Softer.

“That is a nice thought,” he says, his voice warm now. “I think that’s what I liked too.”

You blink. He’s letting you off the hook?

Relief floods through you, and you feel yourself relax just a little, your shoulders easing out of the tense shrug you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“You probably understood it better than I did, though,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “but I haven’t finished it either.”

“You’re evil,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

You stare at him, stunned for a beat — then laugh.

Of course he hasn’t. Of course he let you sweat for a full minute before throwing you a lifeline.

He chuckles, and the sound settles somewhere low in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you don’t put your earphones back in.

DAY 30

You finally get to know his name. Seungcheol.  It suits him, you think.

You’ve started greeting each other every time you meet. You don’t talk much, just small conversations here and there about your day, the weather, or whatever comes up.

At some point, you admit you gave up on Ikigai because it was a bit too complex for your “small brain,” as you put it. He laughs at that. Really laughs but ever since, he’s taken to explaining parts of the book to you whenever you meet.

And you can’t help but think… if you’d known him during your college years, you probably would’ve passed every exam with flying colors.

You find out that he works in finance and surprisingly, his office is near yours. The revelation makes you wonder why he never gets off at the same station as you, but you don’t ask.

Some things feel too delicate to question just yet.

One morning, you notice a small Captain America keychain dangling from the zipper of his suitcase — a new addition. Curious, you ask if he likes Marvel.

He laughs, shaking his head. “My nephew stuck it on and insisted I keep it. I haven’t really watched many of the movies.”

You gasp dramatically, loud enough that a few passengers turn to look. “You’ve never watched Marvel?!”

He winces, grinning. “Maybe one or two? I don’t remember much.”

From that moment on, your train rides take on a new rhythm. You start explaining the entire Marvel storyline, movie by movie, diving into characters and chaotic timelines, your hands animated and your eyes bright with excitement.

And Seungcheol? He listens. Really listens — eyes on you, smile tugging at the corners of his lips, occasionally asking questions or teasing you gently when your passion makes you trip over your own words.

_

DAY 40

Lately, Seungcheol starts getting off at the same station as you.

The first time it happens, you shoot him a curious glance, unsure if it’s just a coincidence. But when it happens again, and then again, you can’t help but ask.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m intruding, but… why didn’t you get off at the earlier station?” you ask, brows slightly raised.

Today, as the train slows to your stop, you notice he doesn’t move toward the doors like he usually does.

Instead, he waits beside you.

He catches your glance and smiles casually. “I used to get off early to grab coffee. Their brews were the best I’ve ever had.”

“So… no coffee today?”

He shrugs, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “I woke up early to get it before the train. That way, I could ride with you.”

Your heart thumps a little. Not enough to show on your face, but enough that you feel it in your throat.

You look away, trying to hide your smile.

“Ah… well,” you say lightly, “must be some really good coffee.”

“Second best part of my morning,” he replies without missing a beat.

DAY 46

Walks with Seungcheol are part of your routine now.

You used to drag yourself out of bed to start the day, but lately, you wake up on your own even before your alarm rings.

You learn he has a dog. Kkuma. A pretty little Coton de Tuléar with soft white fur and a habit of stealing the spotlight. He goes on evening runs with her every Sunday, and almost without fail, he sends you a picture afterward. Kkuma, dressed in a tiny hoodie or a frilly bow.

At some point, the two of you exchange numbers. It starts with simple texts — “I reached safely” and “See you tomorrow” — but quickly grows into something more.

Now, you text nearly every day, even though you see each other just as often.

And while Kkuma is adorable, you can’t help but zoom in just a little to catch a glimpse of the man holding the leash, his messy sunday hair. The hint of a smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing.

__

It’s pouring today.

You’re already halfway to the subway when the first drops begin to fall. Too light to worry about, at least at first so you keep walking, brushing damp hair from your face as the drizzle picks up.

Seungcheol boards the train two stops after yours. And the moment he enters, his eyes scan the crowd searching until he sees you. Then he makes his way over.

You talk about your weekends — easy conversation, soft laughter. It makes the ride feel quicker than usual.

When you step out of the station, you realize you forgot to check the weather. The rain’s still coming down, steady and unrelenting. You don’t have an umbrella.

Seungcheol, like some savior from a drama scene, wordlessly opens his umbrella and holds it over your head. You offer to carry it, but he refuses. So you ask to hold his suitcase instead.

But a few steps later, he stops. With his right hand, he adjusts the umbrella and then with his left, gently pulls you closer, tucking you beneath the canopy again.

You walk side by side, shoulders brushing now and then.

After the third time, you shift slightly away, not wanting to invade his space.

Your arm brushes his.

“If you get sick,” he says, eyes forward, voice casual, “who am I supposed to go to work with?”

You don’t say anything, just look up at him and smile. But you don’t move away either.

DAY 50

You and Seungcheol start growing closer.

It isn’t just morning walks anymore. Sometimes, you stop by a café after work, sit across from each other with drinks in hand and talk about everything and nothing. You walk home together too, shoulders bumping every now and then, especially when the sidewalk narrows.

If one of you is running late, the other waits—no matter how crowded the station gets.

Even the metro rides become something you look forward to. You talk about dinner plans or what shows you’re binge-watching. Some days you just share a playlist, sitting in companionable silence as the train rocks gently beneath your feet.

The evenings are always busier than the mornings. Too crowded to sit together, too loud to talk. So you both end up standing on either side of the door, listening to the same song through your AirPods, synced through Bluetooth. It becomes a little ritual.

Still, you hate the space between you.

It’s silly. Just a few feet. But Seungcheol has this quiet warmth to him—like being near him makes the train feel less suffocating, the day a little lighter. And on the days when the coach is packed and you have to stand apart, you miss that.

Then, one day, you fish into your bag and pull out your wired earphones instead.

Seungcheol notices immediately. “What happened to the other ones?”

“Oh… um, they broke,” you say, not really looking at him.

He doesn’t ask anything else. Just smiles and reaches for one side of the wire, placing the left earbud in his ear while you take the right.

You stand side by side that day, close enough that your arms touch. Close enough to hear him hum under his breath. And when the train jolts forward suddenly, he reaches out instinctively to steady you—fingers curling briefly around your wrist before letting go.

Neither of you say anything about it. You just stand there, sharing music.

And somehow, the ride home feels shorter than ever.

That night, after dinner and a long shower, you flop onto your bed and reach for your phone.

No messages.

You stare at the screen for a moment before opening your playlist—the one you listened to with Seungcheol on the train.

You scroll down and tap on one song. The one that was playing when his fingers brushed yours.

You don’t think too much about it—you just send it to him. No caption. Just the link.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol [11:47 PM] good taste also… I liked this part the best [audio snippet attached]

You play it. It’s the chorus.

Your phone buzzes again.

Seungcheol [11:48 PM] reminds me of train rides and someone hogging the right earbud 👀

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [9:49 PM] i offered to switch sides you’re the one with territorial issues

Another reply, instantly.

Seungcheol [9:49 PM] fine, next time I’ll hold the wire hostage

You laugh, phone resting against your chest.

DAY 69

You don’t expect to see Seungcheol on a Sunday.

Today is supposed to be all about the Han River. There’s a lantern festival happening, something your friends have been buzzing about for weeks. If it were up to you, you’d spend the entire Sunday curled up on your couch, binge-watching Friends for the third time this year.

But your friends are determined. They show up at your apartment in full force, barging in with iced coffee and snacks. Apparently, they don’t trust you not to cancel again.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Last year, you claimed you had “urgent office work.” The year before that, you said your grandmother was sick and needed to be taken care of. 

(Sorry, Grandma. You’re doing great. I love you.)

So here you are dressed, dragged out, and mentally preparing yourself to be social for the next few hours.

Your group decides to head to the river early to avoid the crowds and grab lanterns before they sell out. After a long walk under the sun, everyone is tired and hungry, so you volunteer to run to the convenience store and grab some ramen.

What you don’t expect is to bump into Seungcheol doing the exact same thing.

And judging by the surprised look on his face, he doesn’t expect to see you either.

He lifts a hand in a small wave, his voice matching it in volume. “Hey.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Jihyo appears at your side, arms full with four cans of beer.

“Oh, hello,” she says, giving Seungcheol a polite nod before turning to you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, we go to work to—”

But Seungcheol doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“You go to work with someone?!” Jihyo gasps dramatically. “Wow, didn’t think you had friends outside of us.”

Before you can react, a blond-haired man strolls up to Seungcheol’s side.

“Cheol, there’s no space outside.”

“Then we’ll just sit here—” Seungcheol begins, but Jihyo is faster.

“You guys can join us!”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the blond man grins. “Sitting with pretty ladies and eating good food? Count me in.”

“Jeonghan—” Seungcheol starts, but again, Jihyo cuts him off.

“This is going to be so fun!”

Just like that, she walks off with Jeonghan, chatting like they’ve known each other for years. You can’t help but envy her a little, for how effortlessly she talks to new people.

That leaves you and Seungcheol standing alone, both a little thrown off but smiling anyway.

You exchange a glance, share a quiet smile, then follow after the two of them, side by side.

By the time you all finish eating, the sun has dipped low in the sky. The festival is about to begin—lanterns being unpacked, children running around with glowing sticks, couples picking spots near the river.

You and Seungcheol haven’t talked much since the ramen store encounter. Not because anything is wrong, but because suddenly, things feel… different.

Awkward in a new way.

Even though you’ve known him for a while now, even though you’ve shared coffee, playlists, and half your mornings—something about seeing him here, outside your usual rhythm, throws you off.

You keep catching each other’s eyes and looking away just as quickly, only to glance back a moment later. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. You return it, cheeks warm.

The boys couldn’t buy the lanterns because all sold out early, so you decided to share yours.

The six of you split into groups to light and lift the lanterns—Jihyo and Nayeon pair up, Jeonghan and Joshua team together, and that, of course, leaves you and Seungcheol.

You sit on the grass with the lantern between you, a set of markers in hand.

“Should I draw something meaningful or just… stars?” you ask, uncapping a pen.

“Stars are meaningful,” Seungcheol says, kneeling beside you.

You smile and begin sketching— tiny stars, a moon, a little ramen bowl in the corner for fun. Seungcheol adds a small Kkuma doodle near the bottom. Your hands brush once. Neither of you moves away.

When it’s finally time to lift the lantern, you both stand, holding it gently between you. Around you, dozens of lanterns floating into the sky, glowing orange and soft against the inky blue.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing at you not at the lantern.

You nod. “One, two, three…”

You let go.

And for a second, your gaze follows the lantern.

But his stays on you.

The sky is dark and clear, making every light stand out sharply. Lanterns float up one by one, glowing softly in warm shades of orange and gold. They move slowly, carried by the breeze, flickering light. The river below mirrors them perfectly, like the sky has dipped down to meet the water. It’s calm, almost still, just the soft rustle of grass and the low hum of people watching in silence.

The sky sparkles above you, but you feel the warmth of his eyes more than the lantern lights.

_

Later that night, back home, your phone buzzed with a message from Jihyo.

It was a photo.

You and Seungcheol standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the lantern rise. The light from the flame illuminated your faces, casting a glow that made the photo look straight out of the Tangled movie.

Then another message follows.

Jihyo [11:59 pm]  you & your lover boy 💗

You roll your eyes, already typing a response.

You [typing…] “it’s not like that—”

Before you could even hit send, another message pops up.

Jihyo [12:00 am]  “and don’t even try to say no. i’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

You stare at the screen, speechless.

Because, maybe you don’t really want to deny it.

DAY 70

Jihyo’s words stay with you the whole night. You keep reaching for your phone, opening it just to stare at that photo again. You don’t see it, the so-called look Seungcheol is giving you—not the way Jihyo describes it.

Still, it’s enough to keep you tossing and turning, caught between curiosity and denial.

When you wake up, there are faint dark circles under your eyes. You even stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if it’s actually possible to get dark circles overnight.

You start your day later than usual. Not because you oversleep. No, you’ve been awake for a while—but because you’ve been trying to avoid Seungcheol. You time your routine to reach the station half an hour late, thinking—no, hoping he’s already gone.

You aren’t ready to face him. Not after everything in your head starts sounding like Jihyo’s voice.

But of course, life has other plans.

Seungcheol is still there—standing on the platform, eyes scanning the crowd like a puppy trying to find its owner. And when he finally spots you, his face lights up instantly. He waves too eagerly, too wide and jogs over to meet you.

“Oh! Seungcheol,” you say, caught off guard.

“Hey!” he grins. “I was this close to calling you.”

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask. “Won’t you be late?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just a few minutes.”

“Seungcheol. I was thirty minutes late. That’s not just a few minutes.”

He smiles, almost like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I wanted to go with you.”

And just like that—your heart does that stupid thing again. The thing where it thumps in your chest a little too loudly, like it’s trying to remind you you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.

You look away, down at your shoes, anywhere but at him.

Because Jihyo might’ve been wrong about the look. But you aren’t so sure about yours.

_

When it’s time to get off work, you make some excuse that you have to stay over longer because of some pending work and ask him to not wait for you.

To which he replies with a pout emoji and an ‘okay’ with it.

DAY 74

Over the next few days, you try to avoid him—subtly. At least, you think it’s subtle. But apparently, you aren’t as discreet as you’d hoped. Because on the third day, Seungcheol texts you, asking if you are avoiding him, if anything is wrong, or if he did something wrong.

You stare at the message for a long time, guilt creeping in.

You don’t mean to hurt him. Truly, you don’t. But the space helps. You need those few days to gather your thoughts, to figure out what’s going on inside your own head.

And somewhere in that quiet, you realize something.

You might actually like Seungcheol.

Not just the morning walks or the shared playlists or his little smile when your eyes meet. Him.

And now, all you can do is hope—really hope that Jihyo has been right all along about the way he looks at you.

So you decide not to avoid him anymore. And also maybe try to come clean about your feelings.

_

DAY 75

You wear your pink skirt and a white off-shoulder top today—the one Jihyo swears makes you look like an angel. You wake up extra early, wanting to take your time getting ready. Something different from your usual pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse. A little blush, soft liner, your favorite lip tint. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough to make you feel… pretty.

Because today, you decide. You are going to confess to Seungcheol.

You are nervous, no doubt about that. But mixed in with the nerves is something else—something bright and fluttery. A little thrill at the thought that this could be the day everything changes.

It feels like either the last day you’ll see Seungcheol as just a friend… or the last time you’ll ever see him.

When you reach the station, he’s already there. He hasn’t noticed you yet, which gives you a quiet moment to take him in.

He looks good. Too good for a regular weekday.

A crisp black shirt tucked into slate grey pants, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it while waiting. He has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a coffee, eyes scanning the platform casually.

You walk over and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns, smiling. “Hi—”

Then his eyes widen slightly, his smile freezing for a second before softening into something warmer.

“Woah… you look amazing. Is there any occasion today?” he asks. “Wait, is it your birthday?”

You shake your head, shy. “No. I just… felt like wearing this.”

He tilts his head slightly, still smiling. “Well, you look really pretty.”

You mutter a quiet thank you, cheeks already heating up. Before you can say anything more, the train arrives, pulling into the platform with a gust of wind and that familiar screech of brakes. You both step in together, falling into your usual routine—music, small talk, the shared comfort of standing close.

Later, as you walk out of the station toward your offices, Seungcheol glances over.

“Hey… would you mind coming with me somewhere after work?” he asks.

“Where?” you ask, surprised.

“I need to buy a gift. For someone.”

You blink. Is he buying something for you? But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he take you along to pick your own gift?

Still, you nod. “Sure.”

—

You manage to finish your work quickly and leave the office earlier than usual. Outside, leaning casually against the building wall, is Seungcheol—head tilted down, focused on his phone.

He looks effortlessly handsome. Same shirt from the morning, sleeves pushed up a little higher now, hair ruffled even more from the long day. He glances up as you walk over.

“Hey,” you greet, and he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” he replies, smiling like he’s been waiting for you.

You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way to wherever this little errand of his will lead.

The shop is located on the corner of an alleyway. No wonder you’ve never seen it before. Inside, it’s small but cozy, filled with shelves lined with candles, handmade accessories, tiny notebooks, and other gift-y things that feel both thoughtful and random. Seungcheol walks ahead, scanning the displays carefully. You trail behind, heart beating just a little too fast.

He eventually makes his way to the counter and leans in slightly, speaking to the worker.

“Do you know what would be a good gift for a lady?” he asks, voice polite.

The worker looks up. “What age range are we talking about?”

“Around 25?” he replies casually.

You don’t wait to hear the rest.

You quickly turn away and wander to the far end of the shop, pretending to browse a shelf of overpriced bookmarks.

Your stomach drops.

Of course he’s taken. Why wouldn’t he be?

You feel like an idiot. A man this kind, this funny, this good-looking—how could he possibly be single? You scold yourself internally for even letting the idea of confessing take root.

You don’t know what you feel more—embarrassed that you almost made a move, or heartbroken that he’s already someone else’s.

Maybe you should be grateful. At least you haven’t actually said anything. You can still keep the friendship. Things can stay the same.

Right?

Even if all you want right now is to go home, bury yourself in a blanket, and scream into your pillow.

DAY 87

You start avoiding Seungcheol again. This time, it isn’t subtle.

You don’t reply to his texts. When he messages asking, “Are you avoiding me again?”, all you can bring yourself to respond is a simple, “I’m sick.”

Technically not a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

You begin leaving for work fifteen minutes earlier than usual, hoping to slip away before he even reaches the station. On top of that, you start taking the women’s coach—just in case he happens to come early too.

It is ridiculous, you know that. But the thought of seeing him, knowing what you know—or rather, what you think you know is too much. You don’t trust yourself to act normal, and you don’t want him to see through you.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You disappear from his mornings. Even if it breaks your heart to do it.

—

But what you don’t expect is to walk through the door and see him there.

You decide you hate Jihyo.

She texts you earlier saying she and Nayeon are going out for drinks with some people, and asks if you want to come. You have been a mess for days—mopey, overthinking—so you figure, why not? A night out might help. Distraction can’t hurt.

You freeze just a few steps inside the bar, hand flying out to grab Jihyo by the wrist.

“What are they doing here?” you hiss, nodding toward the trio of familiar men at the bar counter—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua, laughing over drinks like they have no idea they are ruining your life.

“Oh, I invited them,” Jihyo says with a shrug, like she just asked them over for coffee.

Your jaw drops. “How? How did you even get their numbers?”

“I exchanged numbers with Jeonghan the other day,” she says simply, brushing past your panic like it is nothing. And before you can protest, she is already walking over to greet them smiling, waving, completely unbothered.

You don’t have the energy to chase after her.

The rest of the night is a blur of noise and lights and everything-you-wanted-to-avoid crashing into you all at once. Seungcheol tries to talk to you more than once, always gentle, always a little concerned, but you keep brushing him off, pretending you don’t hear, pretending someone has called your name.

You laugh louder than necessary, drink more than you should’ve, and cling to Nayeon’s arm like it is a lifeline.

By the time it’s time to leave, you can barely stand without holding onto something or someone.

And when the drinks start to hit, you get drunk. Properly drunk.

Because maybe if your head is fuzzy enough, you’d stop remembering the way he looks at you in that photo or the way he looks at you right now.

Your head feels heavy, and your voice comes out slower than usual. Jihyo and Nayeon aren’t much better off. They giggle as they sling their arms around each other, tipsy and carefree. The problem is—they live in the same direction. You don’t.

Even in your dazed state, you can vaguely make out Seungcheol speaking to Jihyo.

“I’ll drop her home,” he says, voice calm and firm.

“YOU’RE THE BEST—thank you!” Jihyo shouts, completely unhelpful, before stumbling away with Nayeon, leaving you behind.

You stare at Seungcheol, swaying slightly, hugging your bag tightly to your chest like it is some kind of shield. He walks ahead, opens the passenger door to his car, and turns back to you with a tired sigh.

“Can you please get in?”

You blink at him. He raises an eyebrow. You don’t move.

“I’m not kidnapping you,” he adds dryly. “Just trying to make sure you get home in one piece.”

You hesitate for another beat before finally moving, sliding into the passenger seat with a clumsy thump. He closes the door behind you and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Can you put your address in the GPS?” he asks once he is settled.

You fumble with your phone, hands still trembling a bit. Eventually, you manage to type it in and pass it to him.

The car pulls out onto the main road, and for a while, there is only the hum of the engine and the soft sound of the air conditioning.

Then he rolls the window down a little.

The cool night air hits your face, it helps for a moment. You close your eyes, breathing in deep. The nausea settles just a bit, and your thoughts start to line up again, one by one.

Still a mess, still confused. But slowly sobering up.

You ask him to drop you off a little farther from your house—somewhere down the road, away from your actual address.

But, of course, Seungcheol doesn’t listen.

He stops the car right at the bottom of the slope that leads up to your place, shifts into park, and turns to you.

“Stay here,” he says gently, before getting out of the car.

You blink, confused, until you see him circle around and open your door for you. He holds out his hand.

You hesitate, but your legs aren’t steady enough to argue. You let him help you out, his hand warm around yours. He doesn’t let go even as you both start walking up the quiet slope together.

The silence between you stretches for a few minutes, just the sound of your shoes on the pavement and distant insects chirping in the dark. You aren’t sure if it is the alcohol still in your system or the storm in your chest, but eventually, you break the silence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask.

He glances at you, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale slowly, avoiding his eyes. “You know it’s not exactly gentlemanly to lead on a lady when you’re already in a relationship.”

He stops walking.

“…What relationship?” he asks, voice cautious.

You keep your eyes forward. “The bag you bought the other day—it was for her, right? Your girlfriend.”

He says your name softly. Then again, firmer. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “In fact… there’s someone I like.”

Your heart sinks anyway. Just hearing those words “someone I like” even if it isn’t someone he is with, it still isn’t you.

You look away. “Then go tell her. Why waste all this time on someone who you won’t like back?”

Your voice drops to a mumble at the end, but he still hears it.

He squeezes your hand, just enough to make you look at him again.

“You’re the one I like”, he says.

You don’t know if it is the alcohol or the months of slow-burn tension finally snapping but you lean in.

“No,” he holds you back by your shoulders. “Not like this. Not when you’re drunk. Not when you might not remember.”

Your lips part in protest, but nothing comes out. Your face crumples instead, and without another word, you turn around and start walking ahead.

“Just go,” you mutter. “I’m fine. You don’t have to follow me.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call out to stop you. But he doesn’t leave either.

He stays parked at the bottom of the slope. Watches you unlock your door. Waits until you step inside. Stays there until the lights in your house turn off.

You don’t know what exactly you’ve done.

But one thing you are sure of. The ghost of tonight is going to haunt you tomorrow.

DAY 90

You were right.

You don’t remember everything that happened last night. Bits and pieces come to you in flashes—your head pounds every time you try to force the memory. You vaguely recall leaving the bar, Seungcheol’s car, walking up the slope...

The more you try to piece it together, the worse your headache gets.

You pop some ibuprofen, hoping it will dull both the physical ache and the mental chaos. It doesn’t do much, but it helps just enough to drag yourself out of bed and into work clothes.

When you finally make it to the station, still feeling like your brain has been put through a blender, you spot him.

Standing exactly where he always does—except now, just the sight of him sends your stomach into a spiral.

You freeze in place.

Few memories flash by. You remember asking about the gift. You remember accusing him of leading you on.

Oh no.

Oh god.

Did you try to kiss him?

Before you can figure out how to vanish into thin air, Seungcheol is already walking toward you. Calm. Collected. Way too composed for someone who might’ve been kissed by a drunk mess.

He reaches into his pocket and holds out a hangover medicine to you.

You blink. Then take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“About yesterday…” he starts.

Panic flares.

“Nope,” you blurt. “I mean—OH LOOK! The train���s here, let’s go!”

You practically speed-walk past him and into the nearest compartment like your shoes are on fire.

The entire train ride, you keep a very safe three-foot distance between you and Seungcheol, standing awkwardly near the door like you don’t even know him. You avoid eye contact like it is your job. If someone had drawn a chalk line around you, it would’ve been labeled “emotional damage containment zone.”

You have no idea what to say or what he wants to say. But whatever it is… you aren’t ready.

_

DAY 94

You had, against all odds, successfully dodged the talk with Seungcheol. And honestly? You were kind of proud of yourself.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature move, but avoiding awkward emotional conversations? You were practically a professional at this point.

Not that he made it easy.

He still waited at the station for you, even though you started leaving earlier than usual in the hopes of missing him. On the train, you avoided any and all eye contact like your life depended on it. And despite that, when evening rolled around, you’d still find him waiting outside your office building, casually leaned against the wall like he hadn’t been ghosted for a week straight.

You’d just mumble something about needing to finish up emails and hide behind your monitor.

Even your coworkers had caught on.

“Your handsome man is downstairs again,” one of them would say with a teasing grin.

“You shouldn’t keep a man that fine waiting. It’s rude,” another would chime in.

But today… Seungcheol clearly decided enough was enough.

As you walk out together after work, the sun just starts to dip low in the sky. He glances sideways at you and asks casually, “Do you like cafes or parks better?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The vibe, I mean. Like if you had to pick. Cafes or parks?”

You furrow your brows, confused but grateful he isn’t bringing up that night.

What you didn’t realize, of course, is that he wasn’t just making small talk—he is trying to figure out where you’d feel more comfortable. Where you’d feel safe enough to finally talk.

Which, honestly? Is kind of really sweet.

The park is quiet this time of day—just a few people jogging, some kids chasing each other near the fountain, the sky turning that soft, cotton-candy shade of evening.

You aren’t sure how you got here, really. One second you’re walking with Seungcheol, and the next he is leading you toward a bench under a big tree, acting like this is just another casual detour.

Except… you know it isn’t.

You sit beside him, not too close, not too far. Your hands rest in your lap, picking at your sleeves. You can feel your heart beating in your throat.

Seungcheol doesn’t speak for a while. He just sits there, hands resting loosely on his knees.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he finally says.

You keep your gaze ahead. “I wasn’t.”

“You avoided me like I had the plague.”

You let out a breath—part laugh, part guilt. “I panicked.”

“Why?”

You hesitate. “Because I remembered bits and pieces from that night. I thought maybe I said or did something I shouldn’t have.”

There is a small pause.

“You didn’t,” he says. “Nothing weird happened. Except maybe how fast you ran off afterward.”

You smile despite yourself. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, then look back at your hands. “Because I started overthinking things. You were just being nice, and I made it weird.”

He is quiet again for a moment. “I wasn’t just being nice.”

That makes your heart skip a little, but he doesn’t press it.

Instead, he nudges your foot lightly with his. “Anyway, I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”

You nod. “Yeah… me neither.”

“Cool,” he says, leaning back slightly. “So… we good?”

You look at him, and something about the way he is watching you makes you feel lighter.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re good.”

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that. You stay on that bench for a while longer, talking about random things—the weird subway ad you both hate, the café with terrible coffee he swears he only likes for the muffins.

And just before you leave, he glances at you and says, casual as ever, “Hey… let’s hang out next week. Like, properly.”

You blink. “Like… outside the train?”

It isn’t like you haven’t seen him outside other times, but this time it might be just you two. You and him.

DAY 99

The days passed quicker than you imagined.

You and Seungcheol still took the train to work together every day, but somewhere along the way, those commutes turned into something more. You started stopping by cafés on the way. Tried out that dinner place that had been all over your feed. Even ended up at an arcade once—half-tipsy from drinks at a pojangmacha tucked into the corner of some quiet street, laughing so hard you nearly cried when he lost to you in a dance battle.

Today, you stood on either side of a fogged-up train door.

Absentmindedly, you doodled a tiny smiley face on the glass with your finger. When you looked up, you caught Seungcheol doing the same—drawing a tiny heart just beside your smiley.

You didn’t say anything. Just smiled to yourself the rest of the way home.

Later that night, as you were drying your hair after a shower, your phone buzzed.

Seungcheol [9:13 PM]      hey!! can we meet tomorrow?

You blink. Sit down on your bed and quickly type back:

You [9:13 PM] (indented) sure!! where tho??

It takes him a minute to reply.

Seungcheol [9:14 PM] (indented) there’s this garden café near dongmyo… it’s quiet and pretty at night. 7pm?

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

You [9:17 PM]     sure 😊😙 see you then!

DAY 100

You are nervous as hell. You are sitting on one of the corner seats at the café, fiddling with your hair, smoothing down your skirt, rubbing your hands against your thighs like it will somehow calm your heartbeat.

Now you sit in that café, trying not to look at your phone every five seconds. He isn’t late. You are just early. Painfully, ridiculously early.

You dress up more than usual today—okay, a lot more.

A sheer, light mocha-brown ruched blouse with soft, billowy chiffon sleeves and a deep V neckline. A high-waisted, dark chocolate brown maxi skirt with a gentle drape and ruched detailing at the hip. You even do a winged eyeliner—after three failed attempts. You check the mirror at least ten times before finally forcing yourself out of the house.

Five minutes pass.

Then the bell over the café door chimes, and you instinctively look up.

There he is.

Seungcheol walks in, dressed in a warm chocolate-brown crew neck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. His hair bounces slightly as he moves, and somehow, he looks even better than you remember—soft and put-together and annoyingly, heart-flutteringly handsome.

You stand up as he reaches the table, and he gives you a breathless smile, holding out a small bouquet—white lisianthus and garden roses, sprinkled with baby’s breath.

“You’re early,” he says, just a little out of breath, eyes scanning your face and outfit in a way that makes your skin buzz.

You nod, shy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you.”

He chuckles softly. “Guess we’re both a little eager, huh?”

And just like that, the nervous weight in your chest lightens, bit by bit.

Dinner is perfect.

Seungcheol insists you try everything. Every time you so much as glance at something on the menu, he tells the waiter, “We’ll have that too.” Your table is overflowing with plates by the time the mains arrive, and you lose count of how many times he leans forward to ask if you are full, if you like it, if the dessert is too sweet.

He keeps spacing out mid-sentence, staring at you with this dazed, boyish look before shaking his head and mumbling, “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

You tease him for being distracted. He claims it is the lighting that makes him space out. You know it isn’t.

And even though he laughs and looks like he has everything together, you notice the way he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve when he thinks you aren’t looking. How he checks his phone screen just to lock it again.

After dinner, the two of you step out onto the quiet street.

The rush has died down. The air has cooled just enough to make you pull your cardigan tighter. Street lamps cast soft glows on the pavement, and the sounds of the city fade to a distant hum—just footsteps, laughter from across the block, and the occasional car passing by.

You walk side by side. Close, but not touching.

Until he stops walking.

You turn to him. “Cheol?”

He looks nervous. Palms in his pockets, shoulders drawn in slightly, eyes fixed on the road like he is rehearsing something in his head.

Then he looks at you.

“I know this is random,” he starts. “Well—not random, but kind of sudden? Or maybe not. I mean, it’s been a hundred days. That’s a lot. But also not enough, I guess, to say something like this—but it also feels like it is.”

You blink. He isn’t making much sense.

Seungcheol takes a breath and scratches the back of his neck.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He looks at you, really looks at you. “I like you. Like—really like you. More than a ‘train friend’ or a ‘text you memes at 11PM’ kind of way. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I kept waiting for the right time, and then today just feels like it. Because it’s special, right? A hundred days. And I—”

“Seungcheol.”

He keeps going. “—I mean, I didn’t want to make it weird, and maybe this is weird, and I’m talking too much—”

You step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes. Then melts. His hands hover for a second before resting gently on your back, holding you like he doesn’t quite believe you are real.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I like you too.”

It is quiet for a moment. His eyes search yours like he is waiting for you to take it back, like he has to double-check that he heard you right.

You smile. “I was kind of hoping you’d say something.”

A quiet relieved laugh slips from him.

Then, softer, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

Seungcheol steps in close, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other hovering just beside your cheek like he is scared to touch you too fast. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if he is memorizing you right here, under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp.

His fingers finally brush your jaw, a soft touch, careful—like you are something delicate. Your heart thuds in your chest, loud enough you’re sure he can hear it.

Then, slowly, finally, he kisses you.

His lips are warm, soft, hesitant at first—testing the waters, afraid to mess it up. You tilt your head and lean in, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer, and he kisses you again—this time deeper, more certain.

There is just the feel of his lips on yours, the quiet rhythm of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that makes your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, neither of you say a word. Not yet.

The night is quiet around you, just the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlamps, and the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

He finally speaks, voice low, like he doesn’t want to break whatever this is.

“Do you know what today is?”

You smile. “A hundred days.”

He nods. “A hundred days of you. Of seeing you on the train. Of wanting to say more, stay longer.”

You blink up at him, heart full.

“I want more,” he says, thumb brushing your cheek. “Not just another hundred. I want all of them. Every day.”

You lean in, kiss him one more time.

And as you stand there, in the middle of a quiet street with the man who used to be just a stranger on the train. You think the next morning, the train will still come.

And this time, you’ll be boarding it—hand in hand.

BONUS - SEUNGCHEOL’S POV (DAY 1)

The train pulls in, slowing with that familiar screech of metal. Seungcheol leans against the glass panel, one hand in his pocket, headphones in, watching people come and go.

Then she steps on.

He doesn’t recognize her — she’s new, at least to him. She looks around for a moment; the seats, the windows, the slow-moving scenery outside. There’s no rush in her expression, just quiet observation.

She finds a spot across from him, steadying herself on the rail as the train lurches forward. For a while, she just watches the buildings go by, eyes calm, thoughtful.

Then she pulls out her phone, scrolling through something, expression soft and unreadable.

He looks away, pretending to focus on the song playing through his headphones. But it’s hard not to notice her — how she stands a bit straighter than everyone else, how she seems almost peaceful even with the crowd pressing around her.

She doesn’t look at him. Not once. Or so he thinks.

Still, he catches himself checking.

And then the train keeps moving, same as always.

He hopes to see her tomorrow too.

join my permanent taglist

[pholla-jm]

Meet My Wife

IMAGINE: MEET MY WIFE~ LUFFY X F!READER GENRE: FLUFF warnings: f!reader implied. not proof read. slight cursing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy seemed more excited than usual. I mean, he’s always bouncing off the wall. But it was like he was expecting something and he couldn’t wait for it. 

“What do you think he’s excited about?” Chopper asks Nami.” She just sighs and waves her hand around, “knowing him. He’s probably excited about food.” 

Little did they know, they were about to be in a world of shock. 

Luffy did not waste a single second jumping off the boat as soon as it docked. He continued to run straight into town, like he knew exactly where he was going. 

The rest of the crew just watched him, some in confusion and some of them looked exhausted. Sanji sighs, taking a deep breath of his cigarette. “He’s most likely going to cause trouble.” Nami sighs, already feeling a headache form because of her idiot captain. 

However, it wasn’t food or a new adventure that got him this excited. No, it was someone who was very important to him. He remembered the instructions very clearly. He couldn’t forget it. Just follow the path, there are going to be white flowers along the path. It should lead all the way down to a small house with flowers and different plants all around the place. 

His eyes grew wide seeing the variety of plants and flowers, knowing that you had planted these yourself. The door opens and a large smile covers his face. 

“(y/n)!” He shouts, grabbing your attention. He ran at you, full force and it looked like he wasn’t going to stop. You drop the empty basket you were carrying, fully prepared for him to throw himself onto you. 

And you were right. His body crashes into you. His arms and legs wrapping around you, and he nuzzles his face into your cheek. The first thing he notices is how soft your skin feels against him. The second thing he notices is how sweet you smell. You smelled like fresh laundry, but with a hint of something sweet, like you were just baking. 

“Luffy.” You softly say with a smile on your face. “I didn’t know you were going to be here so soon… I missed you.” You whisper the last part. “I missed you too.” Lufffy pulls back, letting you go a bit. “Are you making something?” He asks. 

You nod your head, “yes. It’s actually almost done. Would you like to try some?” He immediately nods his head yes and you laugh. “I don’t know why I asked. Of course you would. Come inside.” 

He completely lets you go now, and you pick up the empty basket heading back inside. 

The sweet scent is stronger and Luffy basically salivates at the smell. You grab a cloth, pulling out the fresh strawberries and cream croissants. There were only a few, since you weren’t expecting company. 

“Careful, they’re hot.” You say but he doesn’t care. He’s already stuffing his mouth with a croissant. 

His eyes widen and there’s a smile on his face. “They're so good!” He says while grabbing another one. You laugh, “wait. Save one for me.” You grab the last one, taking a bite of it. You were glad how good they came out. 

Once he scarfs down the second croissant, he looks at you and clears his throat. “You should meet my crew!” He says like it was another Tuesday.  

Your eyes widen. “Really?” You ask and he nods his head. “Of course!” You suddenly got nervous and wondered what his crew was like. They had to be nice, right? Luffy only accepted the best of the best. So what would they think of you?

“Like right now?” 

Luffy stands up, “yeah!” He grabs onto your arm and drags you out of the small house. 

“W-wait! Wait! Let me at least clean myself up.” You try to tell him but it falls upon deaf ears. 

You were now leaving your property, and Luffy must've thought you were moving too slow because he suddenly picks you up bridal style. His arms securely wrapped underneath your legs and the other one supporting your back. 

You let out a small gasp, surprised at the action. It had you a bit flustered as he ran back to what you could assume was his ship. 

He was running for about five minutes until the both of you arrived at the port. Multiple ships lined up on the dock, but there was one that stood out to you. A ship with a sheep head. It was… cute. 

You could see people walking on the ship, minding their own business. Until they spot their captain holding some girl. 

The redhead girl gasps, gaining the attention of the other crewmates. 

“Holy shit, Luffy! Did you kidnap someone?!” Nami shouts, a bit horrified. 

Luffy just laughs as he jumps onto the ship, causing you to let out a short yelp at the unexpected height change. 

“No,” Luffy laughs while placing you down, “I want you to meet my wife.” He announces causing everyone on the ship to gasp. Your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed up at his announcement. There was no way he still thinks that the wedding was real…

“What?!” A blonde male shrieks, “you’re telling me that this idiot right here is actually married.” “Yup!” Luffy says with a proud smile on his face and his fists on his hips. “No, I don’t believe it.” Another male says while shaking his head. 

“Well believe it. We kissed and everything. It was official.” He says, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment. You had no idea that Luffy was going to introduce you like this. 

The blonde male cries out, shouting how unfair the universe was. 

“(y/n).” Luffy says while grabbing onto your wrist. He pulls you forward, “I want you to meet my crew!” 

He points at the blonde, “that’s Sanji, our cook.” He then points at the woman, “Nami, our navigator.” He then points at the curly headed man, “Usopp, aaaaand,” he points at the sleeping man with green hair, “Zoro.” 

“Everyone, this is (y/n). My wife!” He pulls you again. This time you were pressed up against him. You honestly felt like you were on fire. 

You wondered how strange this must've looked for them. And you honestly wanted to clear things up.

“B-but Luffy.” You whisper, gaining his attention. “We got married as kids. Kids, Lu.” You emphasize the words kid, hoping that he would get the hint. 

“Oh, yeah.” He says like he almost forgot something important, “I have these.” He pulls out two rings. The same poorly made rings that were made as kids. 

You grab one of the rings, feeling the familiar flutter in your heart. Luffy smiles, “I think they’re too small now. But that’s okay. We can make new ones.” 

A blush dusts your cheeks. It was really sweet that he still considers you his wife. “Yeah… that actually sounds really nice.” 

“Shishishi, I knew you would like that.”

Well... maybe things didn't have to be cleared up right away. Let the crew think the strange things.

[soapcloth]

Filthy Dog

MMA au -> pro!Soap x PR team!reader

Series CW: 18+ MDNI, possessive behaviour, spitplay, oral oneshot - 2K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

“-I'LL HAVE YER’ HEAD ON A STICK!”

You heard him before you saw him- the blur of a man who was truly more bull than human, and the scraping of chairs. Another headache for you. 

You knew this was coming, you knew he wouldn't be happy with this sponsor. You tried to warn them.

“Johnny.” Soap’s manager, Mitch, tried to reason, eyes widening when the fighter’s massive wrapped hands flexed around his freshly-pressed white button down, untucking the bottom from his pants in the process. “-John.” he corrected, coughing awkwardly. When Soap snarled at him, Mitch looked to you with that ‘help clean this mess up’ look.

“No.” Soap bit, jamming a blunt finger into the man’s chest before you could respond to his plea. “This is yer’ problem.”

“We don’t have a problem.” Mitch assured. “Talk to me John, what's up?” 

Soap’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. “Ye’ know damn well. Told you I'd sooner quit than work with Max Energy.”

Mitch’s lips pursed, You were unsure what he expected as the outcome of his greed- probably that he would be able to talk his way out of it. “I don’t remember you saying that." he scoffed. "Come on now, Max is great, don't blow this out of-”

Soap growled in frustration, his fist careening into the folding table beside him; a deadly weapon- a warning shot. 

“Tell me, Mitch- why was I-” he snatched the cloth hanging out the pocket of his sweatpants and pushed it into the wiry man’s chest. “-just handed shorts with Max Energy big and bold ‘cross my fucking bits?” 

he leaned in, jaw tense. “Ah’m a joke to ye’? I’ll quit right here, right now.” 

Mitch called your name like he was summoning a maid and you could only sigh in response. “Soap-” “You say one more word for him and ah’ll knock his fucking teeth in.” he warned, not even turning to look in your direction. Your mouth closed, locked tight. 

“John, you quit and all those paying fans out there waiting for you will make sure you never get another damn title again.” Mitch threatened. “They’re not here for some still wet-behind-the-ears openers. They’re sure as shit not here for Kozlov.” he laughed sardonically. “They’re here for you. Don’t ruin this.” ‘-for me’ he seemed to leave out.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Mitch was doing this on purpose, or if he was just flat out stupid.

A deep, rumbling noise echoed around the depths of Soap’s expansive chest, lips curling back like a dog. “I do this fight- then I’m done, Mitch.” Mitch beamed, seemingly only hearing the confirmation he’d be fighting tonight. “-Not for yer’ sorry ass and not for those Max Energy bastards either. For the fans.” Soap grit out.

You could see the gears inside the manager’s head turning as he processed the financial hit he would inevitably take if his golden boy were to leave. “John-” Mitch practically whined.

 “Not up for debate.” Soap snapped, shooting him a venomous look- and like a tornado on a storm path, he chucked the shorts in the bin and left, dipping back into his locker room.

Mitch sighed, rubbing at his temples before setting his eyes on you.

“Do something. You’re Personal Relations- go relate personally.” Mitch snapped at you as he began digging into the trash to retrieve the shorts.

“Public Relations.” you corrected, earning a frustrated hiss and a dismissive hand wave. 

“Don’t change the subject. Get in there.”

You grimaced. “He’ll kill me!” 

“Don't be dramatic and hurry up, he's on soon.” Mitch urged, shooing you off. You made a sour face, heaving yourself up off the padded bench before Mitch could find something else to complain about. “-Wait.” Mitch ordered, as if he was telling a dog to heel. “-Second thought," he hummed "scratch that, let him be pissed for the fight. It’ll do numbers.”

-

Loathe as you were to admit, Mitch was correct- all three rounds had been polished off like they were light meals. You were next, surely. Your knee bounced anxiously as you awaited the full oncoming force of Soap’s post-cage high. “Fantastic! MacTavish v Kozlov-” Mitch barked out a laugh. “What a joke Kozlov was, does his team think it's amateur hour?” 

“Mitch.” you interrupted, knee falling still. “This isn’t really time for celebrations, you're about to lose your current biggest fighter.” He mowed you down with an eye roll “John just needs time to come to his senses, Max Energy contracts like this are once in a lifetime.”

“He’s not-”

The Locker room door nearly flew off its hinges, a beast coated in sweat and blood emerging. “John!” Mitch grinned with outstretched arms that faltered as the big man stormed straight past him.

God. Good god. He was hurtling towards you. Avert your gaze downwards, you coached yourself, you wouldn’t sit well in the stomach of a dog like him. 

Bare feet stopped before you. “You.” he chuffed out around the rubber guard in his mouth, drawing your gaze upwards. “Let’s go.” You looked around, not fully processing the situation. Mitch regained his composure. “Y-yes! Go talk with John.” he urged, desperately latching on to any inch of leeway Soap would give. “Get the fuck out, Mitch.” Soap barked, voice distorted by the EVA covering his teeth.”’Fore I rip yer’ head clean off.”

“R-right! We’ll talk later.” he laughed out nervously and tucked tail as Soap stared you down through the eyes of a starving street dog; getting the hell out of dodge. He kept his eyes on Soap as he left- a survival instinct not to show your back to a hungry predator.

”I tried to warn them about the Max deal.” you pressed once alone, hoping to avoid an argument. “Ah’know, bonnie.” he hummed lowly, a sweaty, gloved hand coming to graze your cheek. His sudden, loose tenderness came as a shock to your system. “Yer’ not like those vultures- Ye’ don’t see me as an asset.” His empty blue eyes relaxed, pupils dilating as his other hand raised to cradle the other side of your face, both thumbs brushing the corners of your lashlines. “Aye, Yer’ the good one. So patient with a daft bastard like me.” Your eyelids trembled slightly, his gaze zeroing in on the movement. “You want me like I want you?” 

Your eyes darted to your lap, urging Soap to tap at your cheek. “Eyes up- On me.” 

“You give the word and ah’ll treat you better than any man ever could. Ah’ll set ye’ right.” his voice dropped to a low boom. “Yer’ the only good thing ‘round me, have been since the moment we met.” You could still remember why you were hired. Soap was on the come up, but couldn't seem to figure out why getting into random scuffs with strangers over little annoyances was a bad thing. Especially for a man with a body that was essentially a lethal dose of muscle and bulk he had been specially trained in how to throw around. Possible fatal outcomes aside, it wasn't making him a man to root for. Every fight needed tension, but Soap wasn't a man built for pyrrhic victories- he was an underdog, biting and gnashing his way through cage after cage; man after man. He was meant to enjoy his hard-earned glory, and because of your work- MMA fans absolutely adored him. 

Soap huffed out, head tilting. “Y-yeah- yes, okay.” you whispered, trying not to psych yourself out. Your lips creased, head nodding before you could chicken out. 

Pulled into an blurred vortex, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize you were hiked over his shoulder as he lumbered towards his private locker room for the fight, locking the door behind him. Setting you gently on the luxurious industrial sink counter was his last mercy as he ripped off his gloves and clawed at your bottoms and underwear, yanking them off your legs. A freshly-bare and clammy hand braced itself under each thigh as he jacked your legs up and over his broad shoulders, a pleased grunt passing his lips. 

He lowered down before cursing and pushing your legs back up against your chest. 

You made a small noise, worried you had somehow fucked something up for him which earned you a growl and a headshake as he grunted and spat his mouthguard onto your tummy, sticky saliva coating your skin as it found its resting place before he dove back in, not caring where the plastic ended up. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses at the apex of your thighs, sucking and biting at the skin like he was underfed and hungry. You whined as his teeth kept digging into the sensitive flesh, earning satisfied hums from the man in response, stubble not helping your case. You flexed, legs caging in his head which had seemed to guide him towards your waiting cunt.

The noises he emitted as he lapped at your folds made you feel nauseated and lightheaded, a blushing mess.

A shoulder jerked upwards to support your leg so he could explore the messy folds with a newly-unoccupied hand, but didnt pull his mouth back to give himself the space needed to do so; leaving you reeling at the feeling of such a concentrated area of stimulation.

As if sensing your limits, he bullied his way deeper, growling into your pussy in a way that left black spots at the corner of your vision.

Brutish fingers began to dip into the spot they had been searching for and you could feel his body tense and flex as he practically humped into the space beneath the counter, hips desperately chasing contact it wasn't receiving. He cursed against your flesh, mouth covered in drool and slick as he rose upwards, reminding you of a hulking behemoth as you were forced to accommodate the new position. He gazed down with hazy eyes and a glistening jaw as he focused on jamming whatever he could of his finger into your cunt, twitching and thrusting the digit inside you. As if the stretch wasnt enough to satisfy that itch in the back of his skull, he stuffed in his ring finger next to it, pinky and index bracing his hand as he fucked the fingers into you, transfixed. 

You were going to pass out at this rate, his knuckles, malformed from years of improper training and injury- kissed at your inner walls, sending you out of body. 

His lids lowered, pace easing as a thought passed his mind. He paused, stretching open the hole as his throat bobbed a few times. Your head clumsily lolled to the side just in time to watch a fat wad of spit drip from his mouth, directly into your slicked pussy. He smiled, happy with himself and savoring the sight for a moment before continuing his ministrations- slower this time, deeper. He angled his hand, thumb massaging at your clit just to see the way you would react. 

You didn't disappoint him, the sight of you causing his mouth to part, drool still hanging from his chin. “Fuuuck.” he breathed, drawing the word out. "-What a sight ye' are." His eyes darted back to your cunt, thick brows quirking as he experimentally ground his thumb deeper into your nub, urging a cry to push its way out of your lungs. His teeth glinted as he huffed out a small laugh. “Yer’ being so good to me too, huh?” he rumbled happily, eyes coasting along your stretched folds and it took you a moment to realize he wasn't talking to you. He pulled his fingers out slowly, scooping the mixed fluids up and popping them into his mouth. “Mmh-” he groaned, diving back in to gather more, this time digging deep. the movement finally pushed you over the edge. “Tha’s it.” he praised, dipping his head low to lap his mess beneath your flexing thighs.  -

You spent the following half hour under a steaming waterfall shower head with a looming mass tucked against your back, cleaning you up and rutting against you in random incriments- his skin surely emitting steam at a higher rate than the water. He bowed his head into your neck, bunting against you and inhaling the smell of his favourite body wash on your skin. “-Got an offer from 141 Athletics a bit ago, they could take care of it all for us, y'know.” he mumbled, pausing and dragging his nose along your nape. “Yer' coming-" he breathed out. “You work for me, not Mitch- You're coming with me.” you could feel his lips drag up in a sneer against your skin when the man's name left his mouth. In an attempt to comfort him, you tried to turn and face him, but thick arms stopped you, curling under your arms and around your chest, sneaking a feel before pulling you into him, the fatty layer coating his pecs molding against your back like a dream.

You nodded.

“Good.” he sighed.

[randomfanfics02]

Five times I whispered 'I love you.' Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader.

Summary; Being Daphne's best friend had its perks, growing up alongside the Bridgerton family, going to the balls with them, and falling in love with her older brother.

Warning; shit tone of fluff, little smut, angst. Family death; readers mother passed away and Father is ill with similar traits as the King. Readers last name is Taylor.

Distractions.

"Y/n,"

You pause, looking through the mirror at Daphne, your fingers run through your curls, a simple lilac dress hugging your frame beautifully.

"Dear, why are you running?" You laugh, raising a questioning brow at the oldest Bridgerton daughter.

"I need your help, the Duke is on his way and I need a moment alone with him-"

"Out of wedlock," You turn around to face Daphne, with a gasp, you place a hand on your chest with a teasing smirk, "How scandalous."

Daphne whacks your shoulder, passing you to take a lipstick from her vanity, "No, I need you to go downstairs and distract Anthony for me, mother has taken the others to the market and you are my only help."

"It will cost you three new books-"

"Of course," Daphne beams, pressing a kiss on your cheek, "Thank you."

You hum in reply, the two of you quickly scurrying to window as the carriage arrives at the front of the house. You both share a look before the two of rush out her room and down the stairs, hands held together as you try not too trip over your dresses.

"Go quickly, I'll distract him," You gently push Daphne towards the door before rushing towards Anthony's office.

Taking a deep breath, you straighten your dress and gently knock on his door. Hearing a faint, 'come in', you gently open the door, popping your head around the corner as he looks up from his desk.

"Lord Bridgerton," You greet with a smile, "I was wondering-"

"What are you up too?" Anthony frowns, placing down his work, "You have that look on your face-"

"I have no look upon my face-"

"You certainty do-"

"My face holds nothing but beauty,"

Anthony laughs, standing up as you smile teasingly at him, "You hold a lot of beauty, Lady Taylor."

You feel your cheeks blush as he gets himself a drink, he leans against his desk as he watches you. You hold his eyes for a moment before clearing your throat, "I was wondering if you wanted to walk with me in the gardens, Daphne is busy-"

"Of course," Anthony replies, taking his jacket from the back of his chair.

"Are you not busy?"

"Not for you," Anthony offers you his arm with a smile, "And I can't have my sisters dear friend wondering around alone."

You smile, taking his arm as the two of you head towards the gardens, you look over your shoulder catching Daphne followed by the Duke who gives you a cheeky wink to which you roll your eyes at playfully.

Anthony holds the door for you, and you head out into the gardens. Beautiful lines of flowers lead down the garden path towards the pond, where a tall white fountain sits in the middle of it.

"Its beautiful out here," You say, letting your fingertips run over tall pink flowers, "You should host a picnic."

Anthony hums in agreement, "And whom should attend?"

"Me," You raise a brow at him, making him tilt his head down towards yours with a smile on his own.

"You practically live here," He jokes, "But you are more than welcome."

Your hand falls from Anthony's arm as Hyacinth and Gregory come bounding towards the two of you, their nanny running close behind with bright red cheeks. You catch Hyacinth in your arms, placing the ten year old on you hip as she hugs you.

"Y/n," She beams, "Have you seen our new flowers, mother had them placed by the entrance, they are tall and purple and-"

"They are beautiful," You press a kiss on her cheek, Anthony watches with small smile, holding Gregory's hand in his own as the four of you continue your walk, "What are you two playing?"

"We were just running around," Gregory answers, gently swinging his and Anthony's hands.

"Sounds exhausting," You roll your eyes playfully as Hyacinth giggles at you.

"Anthony?" Gregory pauses, pointing over into the distance, "What is that?"

Your eyes go wide as Anthony looks over at you, then towards the carriage at the front of the house. Anthony races towards the entrance as you place down Hyacinth, taking hers and Gregory's hand as you follow behind him.

Reaching the entrance, the carriage is long gone, leaving Daphne stood at the doors with a small smile. Anthony skids to a stop, looking up at his sister with a questioning look. You stop beside Daphne, holding a cheeky smile as he glares at you, now knowing your true intentions for wanting to go for a walk.

"I best excuse myself," You press a kiss on the two youngest's head before pressing one on Daphne's kiss, who whispers a thank you. Making your way down the steps, you lean up to press a kiss on his cheek, "Have a lovely evening, Ant."

Anthony watches you walk away, fingertips brushing over his cheek as Daphne laughs, he glares up at her, "You are unable to question my love life if you are unable to sort out yours, brother."

Anthony watches as his sister ushers his little brother and sister inside the house before looking over his shoulder in the distance you had wondered off too.

2. Always.

"Lady Taylor,"

You jump in surprise as The Duke bursts into the room, eyes wide, breathing heavily, cloths in disarray. It was late a night, your home library only lit up by a few candles. You place down your book, heart pounding in your chest as catch onto the worry in his eyes.

"Daphne has gone into labour, Y/n," He hurries, offering you his hand as you rush with him through your house.

"What is happening?" Your father questions, stepping outside of his office.

"It's Daphne papa," You quickly explain, slipping on your shoes, "She has gone into labour."

"Wish her my best," You father smiles, looking over your shoulder at the Duke who takes your hand again gently pulling you along, "And you too son, you'll be a fine father."

The Duke smile quickly, closing the doors behind you before climbing into the carriage, "Are you alright?"

Simon nods, knee bobbing up and down, his face written with anxiety, "I am worried."

"Daphne is a strong woman, I have grown up alongside her and she will be a wonderful mother," You reassure him before teasingly adding, "So will you."

Simon laughs, "Thank you, Y/n. She asked for you, she needs you beside her."

"Always."

"As did the Viscount," Simon says, you open your mouth to reply but he beats you too it, "He trusts you, I have never seen Anthony so infatuated."

The rest of the carriage ride is sat in silence. Your heart pounding in your chest as you arrive, Simon rushes out before you, you quickly following as you rush towards Daphne's room. Reaching the hallway towards her room, The Duke runs past the siblings who sit scattered outside the in the hallway. Anthony pushes off the wall he was leaning on, quickly taking your hands as Daphne's scream echoes down the hall as Simon walks back into her room.

Your eyes stay onto his, squeezing his hand, "I have too-"

"I know," Anthony nods, pressing a gently kiss on your hands, "Be with her."

You walk past the siblings, pressing a quick kiss on Hyacinth's head as you pass. Anthony watches as you close the bedroom door behind you, before sighing, slumping back down beside Benedict.

"Are you ever going to come to your senses?"

Anthony frowns, looking at his brother, "Pardon?"

"Y/n, she has grown with us," Benedict leans his head back against the wall, "You don't look at her like how Colin and I do, you look at her as if she holds your world."

Anthony shakes his head, "I do not wish to burden Y/n with our family-"

"She is family."

Hours had past. Gregory and Hyacinth had gone to bed, the rest of the siblings fallen asleep in the hall. Benedict passes his brother a drink as he rubs his eyes tiredly.

"I believe it will be a boy," Benedict mumbles tiredly as Anthony hums in agreement.

Their heads shot up as you quietly come from the room, gently closing it behind you, you smile brightly, "It's a boy."

Anthony and Benedict share a laugh, as the other siblings startle awake. They celebrate together as Anthony walks towards you, gently wiping away the happy tear that rolled down your cheek. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as you rest your hands on his chest as holds you close.

"Thank you, Y/n."

"Always, Anthony."

3. Take my hand.

Aubrey Hall looked stunning under the summer sun, the garden decorated with numerous tents, surrounding a platform for dancing, a band siting in the corner.

"It looks truly beautiful," Daphne mutters as you nod in agreement, watching as Lords and Ladies began to dance under the evening sky.

Anthony and Colin walk up to the two of you and Anthony takes a moment to take in how breath taking you look. A sheer black dress sat over a burgundy one with think straps, sheer black gloves reach over your elbows, dark hair curled and pulled into a perfect bun. He smiled gently as you thank him for the drink he passed you, the four of you stand on the steps watching down on the garden party.

"Is that Lord Elton your father is talking too?" Colin asks, squinting under the sun as the three of your follow Colin's gaze, "Why would your father be speaking to Lord Elton, the man that has been rumoured to be the biggest prick of the ton."

Anthony reaches behind you, smacking his brother around the back of his head, but none-the-less doesn't disagree.

"Why would your father be talking to Lord Elton?" Colin asks as Daphne and yourself share a worried expression.

"I will be back in a moment," You rush down the steps and hurry towards your father.

Anthony watches with a heavy feeling sat in his heart as you gently interrupt their conversation. His stare hardens as Lord Elton gently presses a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Stop glaring," Daphne gently nudges her older brothers arm.

"Lady Y/n looks beautiful tonight, I am sure he is hoping for much more,"

Anthony smacks his brother again as Daphne rolls her eyes at the two, "Anthony, you truly need to see that Y/n would be a fine wife for you."

"She is your closest friend, Daphne," Anthony replies, swallowing thickly as he watches you, "She is family-"

"She makes the world stop for you, doesn't she?" Daphne rhetorically asks, "She makes you happy and you make her happy too, I only wish for the two of you to be happy together."

Anthony looks down at his sister, mirroring her soft smile as he presses a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Colin chuckles, "In other words brother, be a man and tell her how you feel." Colin ducks before his older brother could smack him.

You pull your father to the side as Lord Elton walks away to get himself a drink. Your father was the only family you had after your mother's passing a few years ago. Recently, your father had been having these spells as your father calls it, moments where he forgot about the world around him and focused on the stars, believing your mother was calling him from the stars.

"Lord Elton is a good man-"

"Father, I understand you are worried but he is not a good man, I wouldn't be happy-"

"But you would be safe and have money, the children you have will be looked after," You father gently argues, cupping your face he brushes his thumb over your cheek, "If I can not remember you, my darling, I want to forget with you secure and with someone I trust."

"You trust him?" You ask, brows pinched together as you look at your father, "Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Lord Elton is hardly around, he is wealthy," You father answers, "You would have my inheritance-"

"That he would take, he is a wicked man-"

"You mustn't think the worst of people," Your father's gaze harden slightly as he sighs, shoulders dropping, "I don't know how long I have left and I need you to be safe when I pass."

"I will-"

"Lord Elton will provide for you, and he has enough to do so," You father finalizes, "I will be giving him my blessing."

Your father walks away as you watch with a sudden pit of anxiety sat in your stomach. Looking over your shoulder the Bridgeton siblings had disappeared which your thankful for as you rush up the stairs and into the house.

You rush further into the house, away from the garden party, you finally sob, pressing a gloved hand over your mouth as you slide down the wall, falling into tears.

Outside Anthony watches as you quickly walk away and into the house, passing his drink to Benedict before quickly following. He smiles politely as people greet him before rushing further into the house. Anthony frowns, falling beside you to bring you into a hug letting you sob into his chest.

"My father is ill," You whisper, as you wipe away your tears, moving to lean your head on his shoulder.

"I am sorry," Anthony replies, pressing a kiss on your head, "What is wrong?"

"He has these spells," You quietly say, "He believes he can hear my mother and she is telling him to meet him in the stars, he has fits and spells of anger where he locks himself in his office."

"What can be done?" Anthony take one of your gloves off, lacing your fingers together.

"Nothing," You reply, wiping another fallen tear, "He wants to marry me off to Lord Elton so he can pass knowing I am safe-"

"Lord Elton is a wicked man-"

"Please tell my father, Ant," You lean your chin on his shoulder as he peers down at you, "I don't want to marry him."

"I know," Anthony presses a kiss on your forehead, "I won't let it happen."

You breath a laugh, tightening your hand in his, "And how will you do that, my Lord?"

Anthony swallows thickly, before resting his forehead on yours, "Whatever to make sure you are happy."

4. Our final moment.

On a warm summers day, your father hosted a game of croquet, inviting the Bridgerton family, The Duke and Lord Elton for a friendly game. Taylor summer house was grand, your favourite home; tall tower like structures either side of the grand entrance, a library with bookcases from the floor to the ceiling and a garden that reached for miles, the house surrounded by trees. It was simply beautiful.

"May I say," Lord Elton says, pushing back his thick dark hair off the thin line of sweat, "This house would be magnificent to raise children in."

You share a look with Daphne after Lord Elton winked at you. Anthony glared at him as the Duke nudged him, raising a brow at him to which he rolled his eyes at. You gently tugged the sleeves of your lace sleeves over your knuckles as your father awkwardly chuckles, breaking the slight pause at the Lord's comment.

"I think Lord Taylor and I will sit the rest of this out," Violet gently smiles, placing a comforting hand on your arm sensing your uneasiness.

"I agree, I grow tired quickly now I grow old," You father jokes, smiling gratefully as Benedict passes him a drink before he sits.

"You've been old for awhile, father," You press a quick kiss on his head as you pass, smiling as Anthony passes you a blue mallet. The sibling's yourself and the Duke, carry on with the game, walking down the garden hill to the next match.

"What a quick tongue," Lord Elton jokes, taking the yellow mallet from Anthony's hand, "I am sure we can fix that when you'll be mine."

"I am no object you can claim," You take the yellow mallet from his hands, passing it back to Anthony as you pass, "And I do not need to be fixed."

Anthony shares a smirk with Simon as Daphne and Eloise share a laugh hidden under their hands. Benedict pats your shoulder with a proud smile before you take your shot perfectly.

As the game continues, you stand beside Anthony and Daphne, laughing gently at Colin's misfortune and bad aim. Lord Elton follows on, whacking the ball and Anthony's out the way making Anthony's roll down the hill. Anthony glares as you roll your eyes at Lord Elton's smirk. Daphne goes next, sending a cheeky wink to her husband as she hits your ball, coincidently making it follow Anthony's.

"I guess we need to go for a hunt, Lord Bridgerton," You smile cheekily, taking Anthony's arm.

As Lord Elton goes to object, Anthony smiles, "We will catch up, continue."

Simon wraps an arm around Daphne's shoulders as the two share a knowing smile.

Anthony and yourself walk down the hill, your hand falls into his in a more intimate moment, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The two of you found your croquet balls stuck in mud at the edge of the tree line.

"Come on,"

Anthony watches as you walk into the mud, bunching your dress in one hand. You whack the ball out of the mud, before looking at Anthony with a raised brow. He chuckles before sighing as he steps into the mud, whacking the ball out of the mud and beside yours. Anthony takes a step out of the mud, sighing at his new black shoes now covered in mud.

"Anthony,"

Anthony looks over at you, who is struggling to get out of the mud, your mallet now fallen beside you as you try and pull your foot out. Anthony steps back into the mud, hand catching yours, as he gently pulls you into his arms.

Looking down at you, you hold onto his arms, tugging gently to try and free yourself, "May I lift you?"

"You may,"

Placing his hands on your waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he lifts you out of the mud. As he goes to walk out of the mud, he finds himself stuck making to two of you tumble forward. You back hits the mud first, his body falling on yours. The two of you gaze at each other, before breaking into a fit of laughter, your arms wrap around his shoulders, legs slotted together.

"Your covered in mud," Anthony murmurs as the laughter dies, bright smiles gracing your faces.

"My back and just your knees," You wink, "How scandalous."

Anthony laughs again, eyes searching yours as his cheeks blush pink, "A rumour that may save you from marriage."

"So that was your plan all along,"

"Possibly."

His eyes flickered over your face, before falling onto your lips, you barely tilted your head at him, raising your brows when you let your eyes level at his mouth, at those pink lips.

"Anthony," You breathlessly whispered.

His lips meet in the most romantic kiss, one full of passion and unspoken love. A muddied hand cupped your cheek as Anthony leaned down on his elbow beside your head, you hands fell to cup the back of his head, fingertips running down his nape as you pulled him, if possible, closer. You moaned into his mouth as the hand that once cupped your cheek gripped your hip tightly bunching your dress in his fist as instinctively hitch your leg over his hip.

The kisses turn more hungry and needy, his tongue dancing over yours as his hips press into yours. His hand runs over your ankle that sits on his hip, running his hand down the length of your smooth leg before resting it on your upper thigh.

"Lady Y/n! Anthony!"

The two of you quickly pull apart as Colin comes bounding down the hill. Scrambling to your feet, Anthony helps you out of the mud before picking up your mallet passing it to you before picking up his own. Colin stops, looking between the two of you with a wide cheeky grin.

"You have a little mud on your cheek," Colin points to your cheek making your eyes go wide as you quickly try brushing away the mud off your cheek.

"We will be there in a moment," Anthony tells his brother.

Colin nods, unable to take the smile off his face as he sends you a cheeky wink before walking back up the hill. Anthony takes his handkerchief from his pocket, standing in front of you as her cups your cheek, gently cleaning the mud from your cheek. His eyes never leave yours as he does. Shrugging out of his jacket, he wraps it around your shoulders, helping you slide your arms into his jacket.

"To hide the mud," He quietly jokes, making you blush.

"Thank you," Anthony smiles, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

5. 'I love you.'

Lord Elton held a ball in order to celebrate your engagement. Though it was a little beforehand as you had yet to be asked for your hand in marriage. The hall was decorated beautifully with white flowers, tall champagne towers and a band playing on a stage.

Anthony was unable to look away from you; a white dress with lace detailing and long sleeves that fell over your knuckles, flower embroidery decorating the skirt. You hair was long and curled, half of it pinned back with delicate pearls.

"You are staring again," Eloise nudged her brothers arm.

"I can not help it," Anthony admits, eyes meeting your as you look over your shoulder, you send him a kind smile though your eyes betray you true feelings.

"This is your last chance to tell her," Eloise tells him softly, taking a sip of her drink, "Or Lord Prick will marry her."

Anthony chuckles, looking down at his sister fondly, "Stop listening to Colin's foul language."

"I believe I learnt that from you, brother."

You grasp your father hand in your own as his began to shake. Lord Elton rambles on about something, but you pay no attention, focusing on your father.

"Lord, I hope you don't mind but I think my father has had enough for tonight," You smile gently at him, "I think its time to go home."

"Of course, I will accompany you-"

"That isn't necessary-"

"When you are mine, I will not let you out of my sight," Lord Elton pulling your father closing to him and out of your hand, "I will take him to the carriage, get whatever you need."

You watch helplessly as he takes you father away, worry sitting in the pit of your stomach as you gently push through the crowd. The announcement that the ball is over is shouted as you take Daphne's hand, gently pulling her aside.

Her worried eyes meet your own, "My father is about to have a spell and Lord Elton is coming with us, possibly to propose, what do I do?"

She squeezes your hand, "Talk to him, quickly. My brother loves you, go before it's too late."

You nod, quickly pressing a kiss on her cheek before quickly walking towards the eldest Bridgerton brother. He stands alone, waiting for his siblings and mother to collect themselves before getting into the carriage. His eyes widen as you approach meeting you halfway, placing his hand on your shoulders as his eyes meet your worried ones.

"What happened?"

"I am taking my father home, he is unwell," You rush out, "Tell me you love me."

"Pardon-?"

"The prick will propose with my father's blessing in his state, he is playing a wicked game and I know it, so tell me you love me as I love you and be the man my father wants me to marry, be that man I feel safe with."

Anthony's brain pauses, his heart stopping as his hands fall from your shoulders. You heart hurts, taking his moment to mean rejection. You look over your shoulder as a butler calls your name, telling you a carriage has arrived.

Looking back at Anthony, he stares, eyes glazed over as you nod once before walking away, brushing past the Bridgerton siblings, ignoring Daphne as she calls your name.

"He missed his chance," Eloise sadly mutters, head falling onto Benedict's shoulder as he watches his older brother crumble.

---

Holding your father's hand tightly, you guide him through the house as he mutters quietly to himself. Taking him into the office, you sit him down into the chair before pulling the curtains closed, closing your father away from the heavy rain and sudden shout of thunder.

"What is happening?" Lord Elton asks as you father mutters to himself, head in hands as you kneel beside him.

"He is fine," You defensively dismiss him, "Thank you for your assistance but you may leave-"

"He is losing his mind," Lord Elton laughs, watching as your father gently rocks himself, looking up at the ceiling, muttering about your mother and the stars, "Look at the man."

"Don't you dare-"

"Do what?" Lord Elton rhetorically asks, taking a further step into the office, "You are simply a woman and he is a freak."

"You are simply a beast of a man, one that is cruel and heartless," You spit, clutching your father hands tighter in your own as a tear rolls down your cheek, "I will never except your hand in marriage."

Lord Elton glare down at you, before spitting horridly at yours and your fathers feet, "I wouldn't touch the Bridgerton's whore anyway."

"Leave before I write to the Queen herself, describing how much of a prick you truly are, and then no woman will want to touch you."

Lord Elton snarls before slamming every door on his way out. You turn to your father, letting go of one of his hands to gently cup his face, he tiredly blinks at you as you wipe away a tear.

"I am sorry," Your father quietly whispers, "I am so sorry, my dear."

"Do not apologise, you wanted what was best for me," You reply with a quick pained smile, "But I am afraid what I thought was best for me, doesn't want me."

"Anthony knows, he is just scared." Your father gently rests his forehead on yours, "Your mother was everything to me, when you where born you became everything as well, I want what is best for you and I got carried away in my own worries that you would be alone when I pass that I was unable to see how I was going to marry you with a man that was going to do more harm than happiness."

"You need to rest," You pull away, standing up to help him, "I will ask the cook to get you something warm to eat-"

"I can do that, darling," You father squeezes your hand, giving you a warm smile, "Go and find your happiness."

"I can not leave you like this-"

You father presses a kiss on the back of your hand, "I will be fine, now go."

---

"I froze, how could I be so stupid?"

Benedict sighs, sitting beside his brother, who holds his head in his hands, cheeks stained with tears. Daphne kneels in front of him, placing a hand on his knee as Violet sits the other side of him, placing a comforting hand on her son's back.

"Love makes us do stupid things," His mother gently whispers sadly.

"I have loved her for so long and Y/n tells me she loves me and I suddenly do not know how to reply," Anthony finally breaks, looking at his mother as a tear runs down his cheek, "I have lost her."

"No, no you have not," Violet brings her son in her arms, pressing a kiss on his head, "You can still go to her, tell her before it is too late."

"Lord Elton-"

"Do you honestly believe that Y/n would chose Lord Elton over the one she truly loves?"

Anthony looks down at his sister, who offers him a knowing smile. Benedict pats his brother's shoulder, mirroring Daphne's smile.

Violet nods, squeezing her son's hand tightly, "Go and get your happiness, Anthony."

---

The maids shout after you as you rush out of the house, hands gripping your dress tightly as you run through the rain. You hair sticks to your neck, the white dress ruined but you couldn't find yourself to care.

The Bridgerton siblings and Violet watch as Anthony rushes out of the house, smiling happily as they watch Anthony run down the street. Simon takes his wife's hand in his own, pressing a kiss on her head before gently taking his son out of her arms. Eloise beams as Colin wraps an arm around her shoulder as Benedict wraps his arms around the two youngest. Violet wipes the tear off her cheek as she finally watches her eldest son chase after the purest love.

Rounding the corner, the streets are empty, only lit up by the golden glow from the house windows. You suddenly stop as he does, standing opposite sides of the road. His hair sticks to his forehead, white skirt sticking to his arms as his blue waistcoat is soaked in rain.

Your chest heaves as your heart pounds in your chest, the two of you clash into a hug. His arms wrap around your waist as your wrap around his shoulders, holding you close to him, he presses a light kiss on your neck before pulling away slightly.

"I do, I do love you," Anthony breaths out, "I am sorry I froze, but hearing you tell me you love me, I- It was all I have ever wanted to hear."

You smile, gently pressing a hand to the back of his nape, resting his forehead to yours, "There are many reasons why I couldn't marry Lord Elton, not only because he was a prick but because I couldn't imagine marry anyone else but you."

"Then marry me," Anthony says, nose brushing against yours as he smiles, "Let me call you my wife, let me have children with you, grow old with you, let me kiss you when I want, let me love you."

You share a kiss under the stars, one full of spoken and knowing love, one of passion and understanding. His hand holds the back of your head as your hands slide down his shoulders, resting on his chest, his heart thumping under your touch. He holds onto desperately, kissing you with all his love, before gently pulling away, resting his forehead on yours with a love sick smile.

"I love you," Anthony whispered against your lips.

"I love you too."

[foolinafable]

squeeze you in

SYNOPSIS: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you PAIRING: Viktor x reader WORDCOUNT: 5.2K TAGS: S1 Arcane, set around Act 1 and before Act 2, 5 year age gap, assuming arcane uses weekdays and seasons. Fem pronouns towards the end NOTES: spent all weekend writing this, hope you all enjoy. try not to mind any editing errors

This was decidedly a bad idea. Wandering the halls of the academy at night wasn’t dangerous, even with the recent attack from the undercity, that's if you could even really call it an attack. To you, it seems to be children getting involved in things they shouldn’t. You could remember them now, the swirls of brown, red and blue running along the roofs of Piltover after the explosion in the apartments of the academy. While many around you felt fear, all you saw were children. Sure, they looked only a few years your junior, but even Heimerdinger tells you that you are only on the cusp of adulthood, still shadowed by childish tendencies. You suppose that he is correct; twenty is only one year off nineteen, and that age is considered a teenager despite its adult allowances. 

You take a deep breath as your hand curls around the handle to Heimerdinger's office, unsure as to why you feel so nervous. It’s not as if you're stealing anything but rather retrieving it. You had foolishly left behind your notebook during your meeting with him when it had been interrupted by the council having an impromptu meeting, something you are sure had something to do with Talis. You needed it for a meeting the next morning with another professor about your dissertation, your last piece of work as a student at the academy, and you couldn't go to the meeting without it. Least you look unprepared, surely your job offer as a researcher for the academy could be rescinded if you didn’t appear completely committed.

So, despite your better judgement, your anxiety outweighed it as usual as you slowly opened the door to the dean, your mentor's room. You crept inside, even though nobody was around, afraid even the slightest noise could get you caught snooping after hours. Quickly, you found your notebook on the chair. You had left it opposite Heimerdinger's desk; he preferred it when you told him of your research and studies without the aid of your writings, so you had placed it next to your body on the chair. You picked it up, signing in relief that this was as easy as you hoped, when another notebook caught your attention, one that certainly wasn't on the desk when you left. Curiousity about getting the better of you as you reach for it, opening it to the first page, eyes widening at the text ‘If found, please return to Jayce Talis'. Your mind quickly remembered an interaction you had overheard in this very office earlier that day.

You were walking the path towards Heimerdinger's office, only this time it was daytime, the sun was out despite the slight winter chill warming anyone in its path. You slowed as you got towards your mentor's office, frowning at the sound of voices coming from inside. Did you get the time wrong? You wondered, looking down at your watch, showing that you were, in fact, on time. Your hands are sweaty now, anxiety crawling at the idea of interrupting, deciding to stay outside for a few moments to calm down.

“Why can’t I read it?” An exacerbated voice rang out, his accent making your face feel hot

“That Talis’ work was dangerous; the explosions in the city were proof of that; you don’t need to be involved, Viktor”, Heimerdinger's voice rang out, proud as always

“I hardly see how simply reading what he was working on is such a bad thing. I thought the greatest scientific ventures were the ones that bent the rules of the institution.” The man Viktor, you assume, tries to manoeuvre the conversation to his favour, but Heimerdinger is seemingly having none of it. Moving closer to where you are by the door as if to get the boy out of his office, you quickly knock on the door, worried that he would open the door and see you eavesdropping. Both voices stop at the sound of the knock, and Heimerdinger quickly opens the door. You awkwardly smile at the dean, eyes rising to meet the amber ones of the other body occupying the room.

“Can I come back later?” You twiddle your fingers, nervousness wracking your body at interrupting whatever this is

“No, no, come in”, Heimerdinger exclaims, pulling you by the hand into his office, yelping at the sudden contact as he continues to speak. “We were done here anyways”, his eyes solely on Viktor, who seemed to have mellowed out your presence, quickly giving his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing it behind him.

So this was what the man was interested in, what he was forbidden from reading. You tap your fingers on the book cover before quickly placing your notebook on top of it, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth as you quickly depart from the office, might as well make all your worries worthwhile. 

—

It wasn’t until later the next day you saw the man you were looking for; it was early afternoon, and you were packing up after having lunch when a head of unruly brown hair caught your eye, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, coffee in one hand sandwich in the other. Grabbing Jayces book, which you had procured the night before, you quickly made your way towards the man before you lost your cool. Unceremoniously dropping the book in front of the man whose eyes darted from you to the book, mouth opening and closing in clear shock. 

“I hope whatever is in there is worth it,” you muttered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before turning to leave.

“I-how?” Viktor called out, but you only replied with a cheeky smile, finger covering your mouth in secrecy as you walked away, thinking that to be the only interaction you would have with your mentor's other protege when his voice called out to you, not so far behind

“Wait” 

You stood stock still as he approached quicker than you would’ve thought given his cane, but you suppose it was a silly thought that an ailment could stop a man on a mission. Once he catches up with you, he continues to walk, so you join him, slightly confused as to what he may now want.

“Have you read it?” he asks. 

“It would be a lie to say I don't know of its content,” you replied, noticing his smile at your remark, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“What did you think?”

“I think...” You trail off, trying to come up with the right words as you both round a corner. “What he wants to do is revolutionary...” Your words scamper off slightly as you notice his eyes on the side of your face.

“But” he reads your mind.

“But”, you echo “I am unsure if he completely knows what he is doing or how he plans to do it”, trying to be as vague as possible due to the students scattered all around “I wrote some notes”, you gesture to the book “Things I thought could be helpful, I assume that's why you wanted it, to learn” 

“And how did you get it?” he wonders aloud. “Last time I checked, Heimerdinger wasn't giving out illegal independent research to anyone”, he said with a smile on his face.

“Let's just say it certainly wasn't by asking nicely,” you tease, matching his grin with one of your own “Well, you should probably go read and hide that before Heimerdinger sends out a search party for it.”

“I probably should” Viktor smiles as he turns back the way the two of you came, the book held tightly in his unoccupied hand. 

Continuing to walk the way you had been, you couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact that the book was now out of hands and the man, Viktor, seemed just as keen to keep this a secret as you did, even if you did spend all night essentially peer reviewing Jayce Talis’ work, unfortunately, your need to stay out of trouble with your superiors greatly outweighed your want to indulge in what he and assumedly Viktor was planning, you could only hope that your words you had spent all night working on where a help instead of a hindrance. You especially wanted to know how Viktor would take the words you wrote specifically for him at the front of the book: 

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’   

—     

One of the benefits of being the dean's newest protege was that the academy gave you your lab, a small space just for you, it even had your name on a metal plaque on the door, probably due to the academy's narcissism, thinking that they would keep you even after your graduation, not that they were wrong. A fact that slightly irritated you. 

You didn’t usually get many visitors, just Heimerdinger, to see what you were working on, but those meetings were usually scheduled so he could ensure you were tallying in your lab and not at one of your usual haunts like the library. So you couldn’t help but jump at the sound of a knock on your door, eyebrows furrowed as you called out to whoever stood outside your door.

“Come in!” 

Your confusion lingered as Viktor walked in. It had only been a few days since you’d given him Jayce’s book, and from what you had heard, the two were now employed to continue Jayce’s studies non-illegally this time, being funded by Councilwoman Medarda, which they have named ‘Hextech’

“You’re not an easy woman to get ahold of”, Viktor claims as he takes a seat at your desk “I have been stopping by your room for a few days, but you were never in”, he continues, eyes piercing as he takes in the view of you, stood by another desk filled with colanders and Bunsen burners

“You sound like Heimerdinger when you say that” You smiled slightly in truth, scoffing at the face he made, clearly not appreciative of your parallel “What?” you laugh “he has said similar things on various occasions”

“I understand why,” he remarked.

“I spend a lot of time in the library, researching. Especially at the moment with final deadlines coming in, as I’m sure you remember,” he hummed at your explanation “And it’s not as if I’m a professor with allocated office hours, I don't need to be here,” you tell him passively looking back at your work at the table, deciding to turn off the flame not going to get any worthwhile work done until he's gone.

“So what can I do for you?” you asked when the man still sat in silence, seemingly comfortable to just watch you work he blinked, taken away from wherever he went upon registering your words.

“Oh well, I just wanted to thank you, Jayce, as well, for getting his book and your notes, they were more than helpful with working through the kinks in his theory- instrumental really to the breakthrough”, he admitted somewhat bashfully, stumbling over his words a little not that you noticed nervousness crawling up your spine at his approval of your words.

“Oh, um, you're welcome. I mean, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful..” you murmur, unsure of yourself now as he stares at you, not daring to make eye contact, knowing it will only make your nerves worse.

“We were wondering, Jayce and I, if you would read some of our other research in the future, help us out. We would give out any references in the future for any work you do after study” he speaks delicately, soft and slow and if worried, he would scare you off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your heart seems to slow from its anxious thumping as you contemplate his offer.

“I don't see why not”, you ponder absentmindedly, but your mind is already made up.

“Really?” he asked, though he didn’t sound shocked, more like he was trying to egg more words out of you.

“If you can find me, that is” You smile, the nerves falling away from you as he laughs a little 

“I’ll go tell Jayce the good news; he's going to be over the moon. You didn’t hear it from me, but he has always wanted to work with you. He said something about loving your approach in an article about the arcane:” You looked at the man again, but he simply walked out of the room, not sparing you another word. You had honestly forgotten that your last article had been published, and the fact that academics that you knew had read it and enjoyed it made a smile appear on your face, maybe this was going to be better than you had thought. 

—

A routine had been established this past few months, as winter made way for spring, you had found yourself in a comfortable pattern with the boys.

Once a week, on a Wednesday, you would spend the entire day in your lab working, and at some point, Jayce or Viktor would drop by with some work for you to look through and maybe a comment or two on things you had written the week before. These meetings were usually brief as they quickly needed to get back to work, so you would spend hours going through papers, tweaking diagrams, and sometimes even trekking to the library for a book that might help them. It wouldn’t be until the sun had made way for the moon in the sky that you would be done, taking the work down several corridors and stairs to get to their workspace, where they would still be working to drop them off. The two would then call it time for a break, so the three of you would scamper your way to the cafeteria for a change of scenery while you all ate the food you packed for lunch but had yet to get to.  

Today, however, Viktor seemed hellbent on breaking the schedule the three of you had unknowingly created. He had appeared at your lab, maybe a little earlier than he or Jayce usually decided to grace you with their presences, but it was of no matter to you, honestly, the earlier, the better, as it meant you may finish earlier than the hour of the wolf. He did bring a stack of papers with him, but instead of dropping them at your desk, sharing a few complimentary words, and then leaving, he dropped the work at your desk and then sat himself in the new chair he and Jayce had procured that was placed on the other side of your desk so they would have somewhere to sit, not that either of them had used it up until now. 

“You alright?” you ask, grabbing the top paper from the pile, you could immediately tell this was Jayce’s as the handwriting is much neater and the use of a very inky pen you quickly grabbed your pink pen and started to read the words on the page only to look up and give the man a sarcastic glower at his lack of words to which he simply smiled, not even the slightest bit disheartened by your look. 

“Jayce is off for the day, something to do with his sponsorship with the Kirammans. Told me to take the day off” he shuffled in the chair, attempting to get comfy as his hand grabbed at your notebook, deciding that he would read through some of your work for once

“And you have decided to spend your time here? Doing more work?” you questioned, though not paying the man much attention, mumbling to yourself on the words on the page, completely unphased by Viktor’s lack of decorum, it’s not as if it’s the first time he got bored and decided to read it. “Would mixing it with metal only make it more unstable?” you mutter, not expecting an answer “As an alloy, maybe, or would that make it worse..” you tap the pen on your cheek in thought before scrambling to write your thoughts in the margins of Jayce’s research

“I don’t see reading through your essays and research papers as work”, he admits, a shameless smile gracing his face as he watched you mumble to yourself “More of a palate cleanser, really”

“I just thought that a rest day was supposed to be resting, like having time away from work?” you tried to put the idea of leaving and maybe getting some sleep into the man’s head, his eyebags were becoming a permanent feature on his face like a shadow he cannot be rid of. 

“Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?” a teasing look on his face at your words “Is today not also your day off?” he questioned even though he knew the answer. You simply rolled your eyes, trying to smile as he barked out a laugh.

While today was your break from lessons, it had quickly become anything but a rest day after you took the boys up on their offer, there was no way that you could complete your last year's work and help them if you didn’t give up your rest day- so undoubtedly you were a hypocrite, much to your chagrin. 

“Just because I give up my days off to help you doesn’t mean you need to do the same,” you tell him, not wanting the man to feel obligated to help you.

“Maybe I want to?”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

The two of them work on your rather small desk with an ease you wouldn’t expect, but you find yourself very comfortable working alongside him and somehow, the work seems to go by faster.

Maybe it was because you wouldn’t need to spend countless hours trying to figure out what chicken scratch either of them had written on your own. Instead, a second pair of eyes, Viktor’s eyes, made the process go by much faster, albeit with some laughter at what on earth either of them had written. You had even managed a trip to the library, something you rarely had time for, usually going to pick up books for the boys the day after, or Jayce would go the day after with a slip of paper. Not only did you and Viktor have the time to pick up some books, but you also went through and verified if they could have something useful inside. 

The sun was still shining bright in the sky when you and Viktor had dropped everything off at his lab, still a few hours left of the day. It was an uncharacteristically nice day outside, certainly warmer than you would’ve expected from the spring in Piltover, so the two of you decided to eat your packed lunches outside on a bench within the academy grounds, both too tired to bother going exploring the city for somewhere nicer. 

“Now you have helped me, do you think I could convince you to go home and get some sleep, the bags under your eyes are also large enough to be considered their entities” You smiled, laughing quietly at the man sitting next to you as he coughed back his food, clearly not expecting your smartmouth  

“As if you’re one to talk”, he quipped as you let out a shocked gasp, though quickly matching his smile

“How about I promise to go back to my apartments and take a breather if you go to yours?” you propositioned. Honestly, some time in bed sounded heavenly

“Only if I walk you back, I don’t want you to sneak back to your office, I hear you can often find yourself in places you aren’t supposed to”, he joked

“It’s a deal then” Both of you chose not to comment on the matching grins on your faces. 

—   

When Heimerdinger said your last year of study would be the hardest, you believed him. But never did you imagine you could be so swamped.

 This past week, you had corralled a table in the library to yourself, spending more time sitting in the uncomfortable seat than anywhere else. It was deadline season, and to say it was hitting you hard was an understatement. No matter how well prepared you thought you were, the workload was unimaginable, leaving you with barely enough time to sleep or eat. Jayce had joked that during his last year, he essentially became a book within the library, and while it was funny at the time now, you understood why, feeling more and more like an encyclopedia by the day. 

Luckily for you, your self-imprisonment was soon coming to an end; all you needed to do was read through your coursework one more time, and it would all be done, your last piece of work as a student of the academy. You would dwell on its bittersweetness another time as you read through another paragraph, completely absorbed in your work, completely missing the familiar sounds of footsteps and the tapping of a cane coming your way.

“I swear I need to get a tracker on you” Your head shot up at the sound of Viktor’s voice

“I’m not that hard to find”, you complain as he sits himself down in the chair closest to yours, cane leaning against the table 

“I don’t think you get much of a say on the matter, your not the one who has to aimlessly wander around the academy” 

“Whatever”, you glower, attempting to get back to your reading when his hand reaches out to grab yours. you jolt, looking up as he intertwines your fingers

“How are you doing be honest” he holds eye contact as his thumb rubs at your index fingers, stopping just after he knuckle before traveling back up 

You smile “I’m drowning” 

he hums “I can tell” You slump rather unceremoniously into your chair, eyes closed as he continues to rub affectionately at your knuckle, a half-hearted attempt to seep all the tension away from you “Have you got much more to do?” he questions voice soft 

“No, just need to read through it once more, then it should be good to submit” You let out a large breath of annoyance, wishing you were finished, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep

“Then you’re done?” he probes 

“Completly done, well, until my contract starts as a researcher in the summer”, you clarify, eyes opening slightly, not missing the slight smile on his face, looking down when you heard a rustling of papers only to see Viktor’s non-occupied hand grabbing at your work.

“Take a break; I’ll give it the last read-through. Knowing you, it’s already perfect.” his soft yet stern voice didn’t leave much room for argument, so you closed your eyes again, only for a moment letting the constant feel of his thumb lull you into a calm you had never known. 

It was only, however, when you heard the unmistakable voice of Jayce that your eyes opened again, you sent a sheepish smile his way at the admittance that you had, in fact, fallen asleep, trying not to laugh too loudly at his remarks on how much Viktor must have been boring you, if only he knew.

—

Since you had officially handed in all your work and your classes had finished, you now found yourself with a lot of free time, a prospect Viktor and Jayce very much enjoyed. Coming every morning to your door to walk you to their lab for a day of work. Not that you minded, but before Hextech, your plans for the summer would’ve been reading or doing whatever Heimerdinger would see as befitting, so the work was beneficial to you, stopping you from going extensional on what it is you want to dedicate your academic life to, especially since you had no ideas, other than those to help the boys revolutionalise hextech, their current program with the hexgates you were sure was due a breakthrough any day. 

You found yourself sat at Jayces desk, him gone for the afternoon schmoozing with some counsellors to try and get as much funding off them as he could. You found yourself tapping along to the melody of the song Viktor had put on, the only time you could have music was when Jayce was out, as he claimed it was too stimulating for him. Working exactly where the man had left off, creating a small prototype of the hexgate, one of many that were to be used in tests planned for later in the week. You barely batted an eye as Viktor appeared next to you, used to him appearing closer than most would

“It’s looking good”, he gestured to the model in your hand you simply hummed in response, adding the final gear, shoulders slumping when you put it down. 

“How many do we need again?” you ask, hands rubbing at the tension in your neck from huddling to get a good look at what you were doing.

“Too many”, you groaned at his sheepish admittance. It was silent for a moment or so before he spoke again, an unknown quality to his voice that made you look up at him in confusion. 

“Jayce and I were thinking..” he trailed off slightly 

“Oh no”, you joked, smiling when you caught the amusement now on his face 

“I know, how scary”, he smirked “Anyway, as you’re coming back as a scientist for the academy, we thought, why not make your place with us permanent.”

“Really?” you questioned, do they honestly want you to help them all the time with the work that could improve lives and be the history pages? 

“I don’t think we’d be able to function without you now” he admitted 

“I’d love to,” you tell him smiling 

“Good”, the relief flooded the man “Because we already asked and got the go-ahead from Heimerdinger”, he confessed

“That confident?” you teased

“Obviously” 

—

You thought you had done a good job at pretending that today was just any other day, but clearly, as Viktor sat next to you with a cupcake with a candle in it - you had been wrong.

“How did you know today was my birthday? I didn’t tell anyone?” you asked, astonished. 

“Heimerdinger told me”, he revealed after you stared at him, clearly pleased with himself 

“How does that end up in conversation?” you wonder

“Don’t be so nosey”, he teases, hand coming to grab at your nose 

“Says the one who went to our mentor to ask about my personal life”, you accused, but the large smile on your face showed no malice in your words

“Touche”, he forfeited this round, lighting the candle on the cake before pushing it back into your face you simply sent him a look of victory before blowing out the candle, he quickly disposed of the candle before giving you the cake to eat  

“Got any big plans for twenty-one?” he wondered aloud 

“Work with you” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing lightly as you dug into your birthday cake

“A noble pursuit, I’m sure” It was silent for a short while as you finished your cake, but you didn’t make a move to speak, knowing the look on his face, he wasn’t done “Not going out celebrating? With a boyfriend, maybe?” 

“No, no boyfriend, never had the time for any of that. Heimerdinger told me that when a woman dedicates her life to academia, she does not bother dreaming of a family or a relationship, and I agree not many would be able to handle it. Why do you ask?” you admit

“Don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes is all”, he speaks nonachanlty despite his words being anything but  

“Well, your not”, you promise, lacing a hand with his

“Good” he brings your hand up his lips

—

You both had way too much stuff. The prospect of moving in together while still exciting the amount of work you had left made you gnaw at your bottom lip. You had a lot of help from Jayce and a rather reluctant Caitlyn to get the boxes into your and Viktor’s new home, and while she commented on its quaintness, it was certainly bigger than anywhere the two of you had ever dreamt of living in

“A family home”, Heimerdinger had teased the two of you when you told him, and you suppose he was right. You didn’t think much about the two spare rooms when you had purchased the house, thinking they would probably be offices, but Viktor absolute reluctance and disdain at your idea to turn one of the rooms into a library after looking at the sheer amount of books the two of you owned made you think differently, it wouldn’t take a smart man to know what he wanted to do with them. 

“Stop that” Viktor pulled your bottom lip away from your teeth, an annoyed glint in his eyes, clearly thinking about how many times he had told you those same words you simply kissed his thumb, making him smile at your affection

“There’s so much to do”, you inwardly groaned as you rested your head on his shoulder, making sure not to put too much of your weight on him

“We have the week; don’t need to do it all tonight”, he reminds you, giving a kiss on the top of your head

“Come on, I’ve already started in our room” You straighten up and follow him into your room looking at the picture frames he had already put around the room, one was placed on his bedside table, a photo Jayce had taken at your graduation with your cap and gown arms warped around Viktor a huge smile, all teeth as you look at the camera while Viktor is smiling proudly looking at you, smiling at the photo you move on to the frame he placed on the dresser, a piece of paper framed within it your hands grip the frame looking at the familiar words you had written:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’  

You turned to the man who was busying himself with a box filled with jumpers you had never seen him wear 

“You kept this?” you smile as he turns around, noticing his bashful expression at being caught. 

“You holding it, arent you?” he asked, trying to drive the conversation 

“Why,” you asked, not giving up so easily even as he caressed your face in an attempt to distract you groaning, he relented, he could not give you what you wanted, ever so spoiled by him you were

“At first, it was to remind me that it was all worth it” 

“At first?” you echo

“Then I kept it because it reminded me of you, of the future I want us to have, and that will only be possible if I kept working, even if it means going beyond the council and what they want.” 

“I was only shadowing your view, what you had said to Heimerdinger, something I wasn’t even supposed to hear”, you remind him.

“Well, I’m glad you did”, he admits “And I’m even more glad that you stole Jayces book because bending the rules is what brought us together”, his hand not on his cane gripped at your hip.  

“I’m glad I did, too”, you confirm your words with a kiss.

[gurugirl]

[2] It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry

MAIN MASTERLIST

Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.

Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.

Ch. 2 Word Count: 8,759

Ch. 2 Warning: genitalia rubbing (with some dirty talk), discrimination, manipulation and coercion, corruption kink, humiliation, jealousy

It's Good to Be King Masterlist

. .

Y/n had insisted that Phoebe leave the library to get some rest. It was the middle of the night and while her new friend (she refused to think of anyone as being her assistant because that was– well, it was preposterous) told her she wasn't tired, she could tell that the girl was.

"I'll be another hour and then off to bed myself. There's no reason for you to suffer."

"Madam, I'm not allowed to leave you alone to wander the castle. I could get into trouble."

Y/n placed the brand-new book down onto the table that she had in her hand. It was a book that contained drawings of anatomy (amongst other things) by a fellow named Charles Darwin. She imagined it might come in handy to help her understand the mechanics or even just the names of some of their— bits. She had no idea if the book was what she really needed or not but it looked promising.

"But you're so tired. Why can't he just keep watch?" She pointed at the guard who stood in the library's entryway.

Phoebe cleared her throat and looked toward the man. "Are you allowed to be alone with Her Majesty?"

Y/n let out a squawk at the way she was addressed. "Good heavens! Her Majesty? Please, madam is enough. Y/n would be even better."

"My apologies. If it suits you, I will address you as you please." She turned back toward the man. "Can you, George?"

"Yes. If she's only another hour, I'll see to it that she makes it to her room well."

"Thank you, sir," Phoebe said politely before looking toward Y/n. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please go on. I'll make haste and be off soon."

The library was gorgeous. It was almost magical. She rarely got her hands on any new books and often was left to read the same two she had in her possession over and over again. But the castle had the most decadent library in the world, she imagined.

Her issue was, though, that most of the books had nothing to do with intimacy or engaging in intercourse whatsoever, which she was in desperate need of. She could think of no other way to help prepare herself for the eventual poking she'd have to endure. The book on anatomy could be educational, though she was looking for something a little more risqué. But then she came across a weathered paper book with the sewn binding edges coming undone at the tops. The name Fanny alone harkened images of feeding the pussycat–if you will.

Fanny Hill.

She glanced at the guard on watch to ensure he hadn't seen the book she'd pulled from the case and her face heated as she opened up the first page. Her eyes widened at the full name of the book: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. Closing it quickly she tucked it under the new one and smiled.

It was exactly what she'd been searching for.

"Think I'm ready to go to my room now."

At night the castle was well-lit inside. She wondered how much fuel must have been used (and the cost!) to keep the large spaces bright the way they were. Oil lamps and burning fireplaces guided their path until she was at her doorway.

She didn't know the protocol for greeting or dismissing people but she bowed her head slightly and thanked the man before entering her room, the tall wooden door closing behind her with a heavy clank.

Her fire was freshly stoked and there was more fruit in a bowl on a side table with a glass pitcher of – water? She placed the books down on the table and lifted the pitcher to her nose to sniff. There was no scent. Had she been given fresh water to drink?

She wasted no time in pouring a bit into the heavy baluster glass on the tray next to the water. Lifting the rim to her mouth she took the smallest sip. Water! Pouring more into the cup she guzzled half the glass in one go.

Smiling to herself she placed the heavy glassware down and picked up her books along with an apple. She could get used to the luxuries of living in a castle. When she turned toward her bed she noted it was ready for her to climb into, the blankets turned down and her pillows all fluffed and sat in a row. Then there was the matter of the night dress draped over the bottom edge of the bed.

She looked down at the dress on her body and frowned. It was going to be quite the task to get it off, what with all the underthings tied tight around her middle and strapped over her chest.

Her outer frock wasn't too difficult to remove but she did wish Phoebe was there to help. She struggled a little with the fasteners and the bows and reached around the back to unpluck every tiny porcelain button. But when it was finally off she let out a sigh of relief.

Except she was not even halfway done. The ties and the clasps and the lace stays on the corset were impossible to work apart when she could hardly get her fingers properly aligned with the ribbing at her back.

She groaned in frustration and fell back into the bed, giving up at once. It was useless. She was going to be stuck wearing the uncomfortable things until morning when she could find Phoebe. Never again would she allow anyone to stick her into such garments. She'd rather walk around in the nude! Well, maybe not, but right then she certainly felt that way.

Y/n was used to the underthings she normally wore. They were easy to pull on and off as needed. Not the fancy, silky, ribbed garb that currently adorned her body. With a huff, she pushed herself up to sit and leaned into the feather pillows. At the very least, her bed was a soft heavenly thing. And the apple was juicy and crisp.

She found herself bored with the Darwin book but appreciated the graphics. Most of them were useless for her particular quest, though. It was the Fanny Hill book that had her back tingling and her breath caught a time or two. She'd lost track of the hours as she turned page after page of the filthy book and kept looking toward the door to make sure no one knew what she was doing.

Of course, as titillating as the book was, soon, she found herself unable to keep her eyes open and she fell asleep just like that, sitting over her blankets, apple core browning next to her knee, with the book opened to a scene with two females enjoying one another in a way Y/n had never once heard of before.

.

"Madam. Madam Y/n…"

She was jolted awake, her eyes pried open to see the kind face of her new friend Phoebe standing over her. Quickly closing the book in her lap she tucked it under the blanket and sat up.

"You poor thing," Phoebe spoke as she took the old apple core and placed it on the small table next to her bed. "You've kept your drawers and corset on all night. Here, let me help…"

The relief she felt when the terrible hard corset was peeled from her sides was immense. She moaned and inhaled a breath like she hadn't been able to breathe properly until just then.

"Oy, thank you. I never want to wear that again!"

Phoebe laughed. "We have to get you dressed for the king at some point today, madam. I'm afraid you've no choice when he calls for you."

She held her palms outward toward the girl and shook her head. "I will not wear that thing. I can't stand it!"

Y/n felt like a child throwing a fit but she'd never worn anything so uncomfortable in all her life. She had marks dug into the skin at her sides from the stiff ribbing and pleated fabric. Even then, touching the grooves in her skin, it hurt.

"I believe we—"

A heavy knock on the door had both young women turning toward the noise. Y/n pulled the fabric of the dress over her breasts as it opened and in stepped King Harry.

"Your Majesty," Phoebe said as she lowered her head.

Y/n took a step back toward her bed feeling hot embarrassment that the king was seeing her in such a state of undress. She looked away but the sting of his gaze on her bare arms and neck felt like fire singing her blood.

He sauntered casually into her room and placed himself in the chair near the table where the fire was slowly dying. "Continue as you were."

Phoebe looked at Y/n and darted her eyes toward the dress she'd crumpled up at her bosom and reached for her shoulder to have her turn her back. "Just the chemise then. It's much softer, and we'll put the dress on after. Yes?"

Y/n nodded turning her head to see the girl in her periphery. "Yes. Thank you."

"You needn't thank her. She's your assistant. You're the queen consort to be. Act it."

She lifted her arms up when Phoebe slid the chemise over her head and responded. "She's of the noble class, My Lord. I'm just a beggar. It's only right to speak to her with respect as—"

"Noble class… a beggar. Pish! The class system is a farce. Everyone in the kingdom will bow down to you and your family once you're crowned Queen. Respect is due where I demand it, not where the aristocracy thinks it belongs."

Phoebe pulled the bow at the back of the chemise around her waist before she bent and helped her out of her drawers that she'd been in all night. It felt good to air out a little and she was thankful that Phoebe had waited to help her out of her bottoms until the chemise was draped over her backside so she was hid from the king's searing gaze. The girl held the dress up and slid it over her head before helping her put her arms in. Y/n didn't quite understand what the king meant but she was intrigued by his words about the class system.

"My family. I need to let them know where I am and—"

"The boy you were with on the street yesterday has already sent word. Your family will be at the castle for dinner tonight. I'm sure they'll all be happier than a lark once they arrive. As long as they're well behaved they will get along here fine."

She was turned around as her friend quietly adjusted her dress and attached the collar. Now she could see him directly and her eyes must have deceived her because even though he was the most ill-mannered person she'd ever met, his face riveted the eyes. His brilliant complexion and well-turned jaw were of note. Even the hair on his head was attractive. She appreciated that he didn't wear his hair in the formal old way as most men of the upper classes did. He had a rebellious edge to him that was uncommon for royalty.

Yes, she had seen him up close (all of him) the evening before but it was as if she'd forgotten the fine, pleasing details of his features. It was difficult to think him so dashing when he was so rude. And the smile that drew up on his face as he looked her up and down from his spot in the chair made her palms sweat.

When he winked at her she looked away quickly. Handsome as he may be, he was awful. Just awful.

"Leave us. I need a moment alone with my new wife."

Y/n would have corrected him if he weren't the all-powerful king. She wasn't yet his wife but she knew there was little she could say to make him listen regardless.

Phoebe left the room, quiet as a cat and Y/n stood next to her bed, watching as her king stood and walked right up to her and grabbed her hips, turning her to her side as he looked her over. "This is better than yesterday, isn't it?"

Y/n looked down at her dress and where his hands were on her as she inhaled. "I think so. I dislike the corset."

"As do I. You've no need to wear all that. The kingdom will have to get used to the new method of things."

She was surprised that he agreed. Looking up at him as he turned her to face him, he plucked at her collar. "But this is a nuisance. Would you like it off?"

Nodding she reached up to touch the collar that had been tucked into the bosom of her dress and Harry reached in to untie the laces with deft fingers. She held her breath, frozen, as he quickly released the fabric and pulled it from the top all without grazing her breasts. She imagined he was going to make an advance but he kept his fingers respectfully away from her. Which was another surprise for her.

"There we are. How did you find your bed last night?" He glanced at her rumpled blankets and she followed his gaze. The indecent book she'd been reading was only partly tucked away and she knew it before it even happened, that he'd reach around her for it.

"Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure." He quirked a brow at her and licked his lips. "What's this?"

"A book." She reached for it but he held it away from her and grasped her wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah… I'm still looking at it." He pushed her hand back down to her side and kept his eyes on her like he was curious. "Tell me, can you read?"

She swallowed thickly. Yes, she could read but was it wise for him to know that? He likely preferred a wife that couldn't read which might explain why he chose her from the street. Most men liked their women without education. But, it would be difficult to hide that she couldn't read at all and she wouldn't want to pretend either, especially when she so enjoyed doing it when she could.

"A little." She compromised.

"And you found this in our library here?"

She nodded looking from the book to the king as he narrowed his eyes over the pages, flipping through them.

"I asked him if he was afraid of a lady, and with that took and carrying his hand to my breasts, I pressed it tenderly to them; they were now finely furnished, and raised in flesh so that panting with desire, they rose, and fell, in quick heaves, under his touch."

The king read a short passage, squinting up from the page at Y/n with a grin, and then continued as her face grew hot that he knew what she'd been reading.

"And now glancing my eyes towards that part of his dress which covered the essential object of enjoyment, I plainly discovered the swell and commotion there. I stole my hand upon his thighs, down one of which, I could both see and feel a stiff hard body, confined by his breeches, that my fingers could discover no end to: curious then and eager to unfold so alarming a mystery, playing as it were with his buttons, which were bursting ripe from the active force within…"

Y/n turned and covered her face. She could hardly believe he was reading out loud the same words she'd read in her bed that had her wiggling and tensing the slightest the night before.

"Did you enjoy reading this smut? Did it remind you of my own swell from last night?" His words were spoken very near to her ear as he stood behind her. She kept her face covered and shook her head no. A lie. She wasn't ready to admit to him all the strange emotions she'd gone through the night before. And certainly, she'd never let him know about the odd fantasy she'd had of him after reading certain bits in the book. Imagining Harry standing tall above her with his cock in her face made all the blood in her limbs race to her head.

She felt him place his hand on her hip. "You did like it. I could see it in your eyes. Do you know what I did when you left my chambers last night? Can you imagine what a man with a big swell under his breaches might do when he's all alone?"

Pulling her hands from her face she turned her head but didn't look at him directly. "You called someone in to help you with it?"

She was sure that was what he was going to say. He'd eluded to it the night before so it only made sense he'd find someone else to sate his desires when she wouldn't.

"Oh, you dim little girl. There was no one else I wanted for the task but you last night. My future wife…" he spoke the words close to her ear as ran a finger down her neck, still gripping her hip. "I had to deal with the undertaking all alone after your refusal. I've never had anyone deny my request as you did."

She pushed a shaky breath from her mouth as she closed her eyes. The sensation of his warm finger trailing the length of her neck up to her jaw and back down stimulated her blood, sending it to churn hotly under her flesh. His deep voice against the shell of her ear stoked a strange ache in the pit of her belly.

Strange… well, she understood the ache truth be told. Virgin, she may be, but innocent of feelings of lust, she was not. She recognized her body's natural reaction to her king but it confused her. Perhaps it was due to that book, stuffing all those improper ideas into her brain. Desire was something she'd known before but explaining the function was foreign. She'd never acted on desire before and now, she had to contend with a man who wanted her to act on his.

Her body, of its own accord, pushed back into his chest and she arched her neck into his touch. The pad of his finger drew lazy paths but soon was replaced by a moist warm and plush mouth. She pulled in a breathy gasp when she realized he was kissing her. But the feel of his solid form behind her, pressing his hips to her rear made her limbs nearly give out.

Harry grunted a laugh against her neck as he held her up with his arm wrapped around her front to keep her securely in place. "Do you like my mouth on you?"

Yes! She did and her pounding heart was proof of it. "No."

He laughed and squeezed her tighter into his chest as he ran his tongue along the space behind her ear. "You say no but your body says yes. Shall I release you? Or shall we continue?"

She didn't want him to stop but she couldn't possibly want it either. Could she? What was she to say? If she told him to stop then would he remove her from the castle and find another Queen? Then what of her family who was newly offered shelter and provisions by the king himself? She couldn't go and ruin it but if she said yes would he take what he wanted from her without permission? Would God smite her at once for her wayward acts?

"You are not yet my husband."

The rattled moan he let out as he pressed a warm kiss to her jaw, setting her skin to flame. "But you are mine. Yes?"

She looked at her unmade bed and down at his arm that was tight across her middle. She'd never felt such a longing to engage in her shameful needs as then. Even the night before, reading the sort of smut she'd read, she felt the pull of wanton thirst but resisted it still. With the king, though, his mouth smoothing against her skin, his body, hard, warm, granite, at her back, her soft bed beckoning, the vision seared into her memory of his member (a pretty one at that).

"Yes, my King. But it's indecent until God binds us."

"Not even God himself can stop us. You needn't deny yourself of base urges. We're all just animals, Y/n, seeking the same delicious release. Have you experienced it before? Felt the elation of your lust during climax and wetted your fingers when you got excited?"

She'd never been more embarrassed in her life. Shaking her head she grunted when he pulled at her and sat at the edge of her bed, bringing her with him to sit between his legs, her back to his chest. "Never? Not once?"

His hand bunched the fabric of her dress, slowly pulling at it, exposing her leg. "Never."

"Pity! It's one of life's finest pleasures. An indulgence you must know."He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and pressed his face next to hers as he looked down at her dress and the skin of her knee.

"We don't need to disgrace God for you to know such pleasure. You can remain a virgin still, until our wedding night."

She watched his large hand squeeze at her knee and drag slowly upward revealing her thigh inch by inch. "Would you like that? I can show you how good it feels. Give you something new to crave."

She was terrified and eager all at once. But the thought of ruining herself before she was wed and the stories she'd been told about how badly it would hurt had her unsure in her answer. "I'm… I'm scared. It hurts, doesn't it?"

"If you've never tried it, how would you know it hurts?"

"I heard my aunt telling her friend about it. They both agreed it was awful. Women's bodies aren't built to enjoy it. Only men can have pleasure in it. Otherwise, it's sinful. It's how God created us."

Harry chuckled and pulled at her to bring her further back into her bed, his breeches pulling up as he moved with her and leaned himself back, her body still against him and between his legs. "My little feather-brained girl… Well, maybe you're not so feather-brained as you can read, but you've been led astray. Let your king show you the truth so you can know the mountain of pleasure you're capable of. Yes?"

She felt so exposed. Without her drawers, she had nothing to hinder his hand from sliding up her thigh to her secret little tulip. It was something she rarely even touched herself for fear of betraying God and her own body. So to feel a man's hand on her flesh, hot and searching, it had her heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack through her chest.

"I'm… I feel faint…" She placed her hands on his forearms as he helped her spread her thighs apart.

"I swear I will do no more than make you feel like a queen right now. Let me show you how delicious it is. Or shall we stop?"

He tucked his chin over her shoulder to peek down at her as he pulled her dress and he could feel her wiggling into him. She was not well-versed in the truth of biological functions, but rather, as Harry understood it, had a deeply ingrained fear of God and Anglican Christian teachings. He was not shocked to know this, as the Church of England influenced most of the ongoings of society, especially the poor with its reprehensible practices that only hindered education and growth.

Poor thing.

"Let me see your hand," he spoke quietly, turning his arm to face his palm up. Y/n slid her palm into his and he slowly pushed her hand between her legs. "I'll show you how to do it yourself. Consider it a gift."

She felt his large, warm hand over the outside of hers as he nudged her fingertips into the soft fleshy inner parts of her thigh and guided her to her private quim, tucked away under layers of fabric. He couldn't see it but he could feel the heat radiating from it.

"Take your finger and touch. Give yourself a chance to explore."

Y/n inhaled shallowly as she did what he said. He squeezed her thigh, dangerously close to where her fingers were touching herself. She'd not touched it often. A quick rub to clean or to scratch, and maybe once or twice for curiosity's sake, but never like this.

It was warm and moist and fleshy bits moved and bent away from her touch with ease. Dragging her digit up and down she only grew bolder with her exploration knowing he couldn't see her and neither could anyone else. But the sensation of what she was doing didn't falter. She was keenly aware of the illicit act and that her king was dragging his fingers so close to where she was it made her feel fuzzy and hot.

"How does it feel? Describe it."

Closing her eyes, as if somehow that would hide her shame, she opened her mouth and did her best to tell him the way she felt under her fingertips. "Like a stiff jelly. Strange… A little moist. Warm crevice that folds and splits. It's… It's difficult to say…"

"That sounds about right to me. Bring your fingers upward, to the very top of that split. What's there?"

Drawing her fingers upward she pushed her labia apart and felt her hair scattered over the outer edges of her lips and inward to a fleshy fold. "It feels much the same. I can feel the hair there, and a soft thing at the center with none."

"Press that little merry bit gently. Small circles."

She already had been. Once her digit rubbed around the space she remembered her brief investigations from before. The tingle it sent throughout her groin felt connected to her inner turmoil.

"Yes."

He smiled as he ran his fingers along her inner thigh. "Yes? Yes, what?"

She gulped her saliva and nodded. "Yes… I feel it."

"You feel it. What do you feel?"

"It's just skin and gelatin."

"It's much more than that, little mouse. That's the key to your desire. The more you press her and play with her, the more you'll feel. She'll come alive underneath your fingers. Soon, you'll be able to juice her and she'll make a mess of your fingers but you won't want to stop."

"Juice her?" Y/n blinked in confusion.

"Yes. Like a citrus. She'll gush the better she feels."

It was already feeling like something so lascivious that she had to pause before she got carried away. It felt… well it was quite nice. But it was sinful.

"You've stopped, yet you have so much more to learn. If you continue you'll see what power you possess over your own body. You can reach the agony of bliss by persisting."

The agony of bliss. Y/n knew this phrase as a fake for women. To come to bliss from meddling with her bits or participating in amorous congress was impossible! Only men could be flooded with that kind of pleasure.

"It cannot be done. I'm sure of it," she whispered and turned her face in toward his, catching the outline of his face so close to hers.

"It can be done. Don't be stubborn. Allow yourself to find the truth. Would you like me to take over for you and show you?"

"But God—"

"No more talk of God. He's not here with us. He never was." Harry reached for her fingers and pushed them back against herself, circling slowly as he spoke. "I am the one here with you now. You will seek my presence, and you will acquiesce to my will."

Slowly, she let herself relax into him and laid her head back against his shoulder as he guided her movements. She wasn't ready to confess to anyone how delightful it felt. And the more he moved her fingers around the wetter she indeed got, just as he said she would.

Harry craned his neck over her shoulder, hoping to see her wetted queam but the fabric of her dress cost him a good view. He could however see her soft thighs spread and as he leaned outward and looked at her face saw pretty parted lips and closed eyes as her chest rose and fell patterned in lust. Then he heard the smallest whimper that had him quickening his fingers and staring at the side of her face in awe.

His own bits were enlightened by the heady wetness under his fingers and soon she slid her pelvis upward and she'd let go of her finger's movements in favor of grabbing onto his forearms to let him take over. He groaned when he had full access to her cunt-lips. And the little button he'd knocked into was swollen and slick.

"You have a delightful quim, Y/n. So warm and full of life, aren't you?"

She arched her back and panted as he slid lazy fingerprints to her sex. She hadn't felt anything like it but she was both thoroughly aroused and embarrassed. Even the wetness that leaked from her was audible as Harry moved his long fingers over her crevices.

When she gasped a breath he murmured against her ear—there's my good little mouse—and he pushed himself against her for his own relief. His cock was hard, and nudging it against her backside provided him with a bit of satisfied deliverance. His bride-to-be was stubborn but she was ripe. What a pleasure to have chosen her over anyone else. It was by chance that he had seen her the day before and now he was certain that he'd been right about his selection.

(When wasn't he right?)

And oh! Y/n was sure she would be sent straight to the pit of hell for all eternity but the sudden need to see it through and know the carnal pleasure King Harry promised, overwhelmed her existence. Nothing could stop the pull of her desire to climb the mountain's peak and throw herself down into the rough and unknown valley below. Dangerous it may be, but her new willingness to gaze into the depths and explore the truth burned in her stronger than any lake of hellfire could.

He rocked against her slowly and moaned as he worked her wetness. With one hand steady, gripping at her soft thigh to hold her open, he could feel her muscles straining, shaking as she humped toward his fingers. She liked it. He knew she would. Her skin was warm and her desperate inhalations turned into mumbled nonsense.

Oh! Oh my! Fooo… Hee ooohhh…

"I want to see you let go. Come into my hand, mouse," Harry's shaky breath against her face inferred to her that he was also aroused.

Everything in her body was aching and pulsing as she writhed into his fingers for more. Her soft pearl was coated in cream, the king's fingers smeared with accurate strokes around her quim and pressed into the knob of her pleasure as temptation slid through her tummy and seeped from her.

"You're going to crave a strumming from me like this every day. And once you let me show you what it feels like to have your insides pricked and your belly tickled with my staff you'll be begging me for it."

The limn of her vision turned red and spotty and rushing blood drummed in her ears, muffling the dirty things he said to her. She could not resist the pull of her orgasm as she let out a wobbled cry. Her whole body was beating and throbbing and her insides were molten, sweet jelly.

Harry tossed his head back and parted his lips in ecstasy as he rolled his hips up and down and finally, his vital spend coated the inside of his breeches. He pumped hotly against the fabric and squeezed at her skin in his release. He flushed hot as the girl in his arms moaned and slid into his hand.

Y/n had melted into him and her legs gave out, falling flat to the bed between his thighs as she closed her eyes. She felt like an explorer. Someone who'd discovered a coveted, secret treasure that no one else had ever known. When she felt Harry's mouth against her neck she smiled in satisfaction and relief.

The shocking realization that she was still in his arms in the castle and not struck down to ash by God was almost equal to the sensation of her orgasm. Why had God not taken action upon them? Flitting her eyes open she saw a drizzle of sunlight shining over her body and Harry's as they sat on her bed, as if the sun would still rise and the day would continue to tick on as normal. As if they hadn't just participated in something so vile.

But her feelings of narrow escape turned into shameful regret when she felt his hand brushing against her skin and he grunted behind her as he moved. She shot forward and turned to look at him and found his pleasant face all flushed and at ease. How could he be so casual?

"What have I done?" She spoke to herself as she climbed away from him and smoothed her dress down to cover her legs.

Harry draped his arms across the feathered pillows and watched her with an amused expression. "What is it now?"

She got to her feet and shook her head as she spun away from the vision of the handsome man spread out on the bed she'd just been in. "We've sinned! God will find his vengeance on us soon!"

He laughed and sat up. "Does it appear to you that God cares what we just did? You are still alive and well, mouse. And I am just as healthy and whole as before."

"That doesn't mean he won't repay us with his anger."

Getting off of her bed he pulled her back into his chest and grinned as he spoke quietly.

"You are no woman of virtue, Y/n. Do not pretend you didn't enjoy yourself. The only shame you should be feeling is that you have been led to believe that your pleasure is a sin. Soon, you'll be begging me for more."

She huffed as she jerked herself away from him and stepped toward the table with the pitcher of water, placing her palms down on the wood. She heard him walking away toward her door and glanced at him as he turned before opening it.

"I'll find Phoebe to bring you your breakfast. You still need plumping."

. .

His wife-to-be could read. Harry almost couldn't believe it but she had a book on her bed that she'd been reading (naughty little thing) and he tried not to show her how surprised he was by that revelation but he was quite taken aback. Thanks to The Enlightenment, it was becoming more common for women to read but the lower classes weren't educated in that way quite yet. In truth, he couldn't have been more pleased to learn that his little mouse had some brains after all.

The middle-class proletariats and the wealthy gentry would not agree that this was a good thing. Their Christian morals led them to believe that only those of rank should have the ability. Someone poverty-stricken with the skill wouldn't know how to control their urges and read the right things. They'd balk at a woman of poverty reading just as much as they'd soon balk at the idea of Y/n being their queen. He couldn't wait to introduce Y/n and her family to the public.

The Lord Mayor had only heard that Harry had found a wife, not who the girl was just yet. He smiled as he imagined the look on his face when he met her and the family at dinner. Of course, his council would be there as well and he knew they'd have a fit over it.

"Sir, Y/n's family has arrived. They have been shown their quarters, warm baths drawn, and wardrobes ready. Dinner will be served in one hour and a half," Fred spoke. "And Y/n… Well, it seems she's unhappy with the dressings she's been given. Something about the unmentionables being too tight. She refuses to wear the appropriate clothing."

"My wife may wear whatever she pleases. If she doesn't like the underdressings then she does not need them. Tell her assistant to stop trying to force her to comply or else I'll find her a new one."

Fred quietly left the sitting room where Harry was enjoying a warm fire and a stiff gin. He'd go and help Y/n dress himself if she wasn't so squeamish around him. Though, he did enjoy their morning tryst, he knew she'd need time to get used to her new setting.

"You!" Harry spotted a worker scurrying past the room and stood from his chair.

The young man stopped and looked at the king with wide eyes as if he were in trouble. He bowed his head quickly. "My Lord."

"Whatever task you've been given, forget it. Your new duty is to go into the library and find as many smut books as you can and have them delivered to the Rose Room before the end of the day."

The man nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

. .

Y/n was as shaky as a feather as she stepped into the Great Hall with Harry by her side. Her mother and father stood quickly, followed by her sisters, and then finally her grandmother. She noted they were all washed and wearing fine clothing. Her sisters wore big grins as her mother wobbled out a sob (the woman could tend to be a bit dramatic).

They'd never seen one another dressed so nicely before. It was a new world for all of them. Her grandmother had a large pearl pin in her hair and rouge on her cheeks. Her mother's linen yellow gown looked perfectly fitted for her. Y/n's father looked regal and influential in his dark blue tailcoat and silk cravat, while her sisters were adorned in colorful muslin with full skirts.

But Y/n… All eyes were on her as she walked toward the royal table, arm tucked into Harry's. Her extravagant velvet gown was a soft green color that matched the king's eyes. The ruffled bust was nearly draped from her shoulders, her neckline on display. The skirt of the dress was full (but not as full as it would have been if she'd worn the proper gear) and there were sewn-in patterns in the shape of vines and flowers in dark green. She was a vision.

Harry's chair was pulled out first and he sat at the head of the table as Y/n sat to his right. The long table was draped in white linen cloths, topped with silver and gold platters and plates, and crystal glassware. Lavish flower centerpieces were spaced out between the covered dishes and the room smelled divine.

There were seven men that sat with them, all scrutinizing the king's pick. They'd never heard the last name of her family as it was not common in high-class society. Which could only mean that the king had not selected advantageously.

"Y/l/n… Where does that name hail from?" One of the men spoke as the servers began to plate food for everyone.

"Does it matter?" Harry barked as he shot his gaze across the table to the man who spoke out of turn.

"Of course it does. The kingdom is relying on a favorable match. And to my eye, I do not suspect these people have any clue of the standard we must uphold. We must maintain—"

"You will keep quiet about your opinion, for it does not concern you who I marry or why."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect—"

"You too will not speak on this matter." Harry raised his voice at the other man who'd chimed in. "Let us enjoy our dinner, yes? No more talk of class or agreeable matches. I am the king and I have made my choice. I'm not interested in hearing your insignificant drivel."

Y/n's carving of meat was plated before her and she nearly gasped at the spectacle. She looked up at the man who'd served it and before he could step away to carve a portion for her father who sat to her right Harry stopped him.

"Give her twice as much as the rest of us, and the fat too."

Y/n looked at the king, down to her plate, and then back at him again. "Why? I can't possibly eat—"

"You need the fat. You have been underfed for too long."

"Enjoy it, dear. The king is right," her father spoke quietly to her.

She leaned forward and looked at her mother who sat on the other side of her father and reached across to take her mother's hand as she'd begun to cry. "Don't do that, Mother. There's no need for it."

Her mother inhaled a sob and nodded. "I know. I just can't believe this is happening to us. What did we do to find ourselves in such favor? And you!" She wobbled out a shallow cry. "Who knew you'd caught the king's eye? We didn't realize he'd been courting you!"

Harry chuckled and looked at Y/n as she tried to calm her mother while her plate was piled high with meat and roasted potato. Her sisters whispered amongst themselves, discussing their outfits and the jeweled pins in their hair as the Lord Mayor sighed in displeasure.

Y/n's family was a nightmare. They were unfit for such a designation and looking at all of them The Lord Mayor was sure they were as well behaved as street dogs. Her father began eating his food before the king even took a bite of his own, the mother was sobbing like a lunatic, tears falling onto her plate, and her sisters were whispering and giggling like they were playing child's games at the royal table.

He stood from his spot, his chair sliding back and he slammed his hands down onto the table. He was provoked to finally speak his peace. "This cannot go on! What a disgrace to Thornekeep to have these commoners assigned a place amongst royalty. I will not stand for this mockery! Your father—"

"My father is dead!" Harry stood from his chair and loudly spoke over the Lord Mayor's voice. "Sit down or leave at once! You will not insult these people or I will have your head!"

"You do not have that kind of power, yo—"

"The Bloody Code says I do and I will evoke it should you say another damned word against them. Leave! All of you!" Harry pointed toward the arched opening that would lead them from the Great Hall.

The council and Y/n's family all stood up quickly. "Not you. Just the blunderbusses who think themselves worthy of their titles," Harry spoke.

The men all mumbled unintelligible things under their breath as they left their untouched food on the table and scurried away in haste. When it was just Harry and Y/n's family at the table he smiled. "Please, enjoy your supper."

The king had to admit, he quite enjoyed the liveliness of the dinner once the council and Lord Mayor were gone. Y/n's family was not trained in the usual way of the upper classes and so their etiquette was unrefined at best. They slurped and laughed and chatted like they were at a pub. Even Y/n was a messy eater as he watched her once wipe her hands on the skirt of her dress. And halfway through, the young girls were chasing each other around the table and using the linens to play hide and seek underneath.

When the dinner was finished and the family had all left the table and were taken back to their quarters Y/n's chair was pulled from behind and she stood to take Harry's arm as she looked up at him before he led them out of the Great Hall. She spotted the guard who'd taken her to her room from the evening prior and greeted him kindly.

"Good afternoon, George." She smiled at the guard.

Harry stopped and looked at his guard and down to his queen-to-be. "Do you know one another?"

Y/n nodded looking from George back up to Harry. "Yes. Last night in the library. He stood guard."

"And how do you know his first name?"

"Phoebe called him by it."

Harry looked at his guard, releasing Y/n's arm as he stepped forward. "And what do you think of my wife-to-be? Dashing isn't she?"

George flicked his sight to Y/n before fixing it to Harry. "My Lord, she'll be suitable for the kingdom."

"No, she won't, which is why I picked her. But tell me. Did you see the books she selected?"

"No, sir."

Harry let his shoulders relax as he looked down at Y/n and pulled his arm around her back, clutching at her hip. "Your assistant introduced you to him? Why is that?"

She didn't understand the inquisition at first. "Because Phoebe was tired and I told her she could return to her room to rest. She asked George if he could help me back to my room after I was finished."

The edge of his mouth flitted up before it dropped back into place. "Is that so? You two were alone in the library?"

Y/n looked from George to Harry, suddenly realizing her error. "Well, only for a bit. I sent Phoebe away. It was quick. And then I went to my room. Nothing mo—"

"Did you invite him into your room as well?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Do not raise your voice at me," he snapped.

"Sorry," she whispered and looked downward.

"Did he touch you?"

"No, My Lord."

"I'd wager he wanted to. Isn't that right, George? Pretty thing such as this can be quite tempting when the night has come. Have yourself a good look at the future queen, then?"

"No, sir."

Harry looked at Y/n and she felt his cold demeanor pouring icy down her frame as he grasped the nape of her neck. "Why not have a gander now, George? Don't be timid. Go on. Look at her. The curve of her neck and soft cheeks arouse thoughts of youth and beauty. The way her chest rises heavily under such scrutiny is quite stimulating to the eye, is it not?"

Y/n swallowed and kept her sight forward on the silk flock wallpaper as Harry held her still. The moment was unpleasant with Harry scrutinizing and intimidating his guard. George remained silent as her heart rate ramped up wildly.

"You're not even looking at her. Why is that? Is it because you're only bold enough to glimpse at what's mine when I'm not in party? While I was sleeping in my chambers my wife-to-be was alone with the night guard. Look at her."

She tried to pry away from Harry's hold and scowled at him for his rough behavior with George. George hadn't done anything wrong at all and yet here the king was, berating him and acting like a foolish cracked twat.

The guard hesitantly looked at Y/n, keeping his eyes above the line of her neck as he remained silent.

"What do you see? Hmm?" Harry practically snarled.

"Sir, I see your bride-to-be."

"That's right. Mine. Your station will be with the front guards from now on. You are not to approach her or talk to her ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Do not punish him! He did nothing wrong!" Y/n balked and once again, tried pulling herself from Harry's grip.

Harry squinted down at her and scoffed. "If I say he did something wrong, then he did." He released her arm, making her tumble back a few steps as he looked at Phoebe. "Take her to her room. Do not let her come back out for the night."

"You're awful!" Y/n bellowed at him. She'd had such a wonderful dinner with her family and even began to feel warmth from the king as he'd stood up for her family with such fervour when they'd been insulted by the council.

Harry merely let out an annoyed laugh at her as he looked back at George. "Tell Niall he's been promoted to your position and send him here to set up. Go at once."

If there was one thing she'd learned about the king in her short time knowing him, it was that he both infuriated and confused her to her core. And there was the matter of the way he aroused her curiosity as well, but that was a thought for another day. Because at that moment, she wanted to strike his pretty face with her fist as hard as she could muster.

When Phoebe opened the door to her room she flung herself inside and began to pull at her dress as tears worked their way down her cheeks. "I hate him! I hate him!"

"He can be quite crude at times," Phoebe offered.

"He's awful! I will… I will…" She balled her fists and shrieked loudly as she bristled in anger. "I will not marry such a devil."

"Here, let me help you," Phoebe reached for her gown and worked the buttons at the back to allow her to finally pull it off, leaving her in only her chemise and drawers. "Better?"

Y/n nodded and rubbed at her face. "Yes, thank you." She breathed and sat down on the chair near her fireplace. "I need to be by myself, I think. Will you come back in an hour? Please?"

Phoebe smiled softly. "Of course. Whatever you like. I'll return in one hour."

The silence of the room surrounded her as she closed her eyes and laid back into the chair to breathe and to think. She wasn't used to the ways of the upper class and she certainly wasn't used to being bossed around as the king did to her and to everyone else. But, she could admit, she enjoyed the lavish things around her. Her bed in particular was of note.

She looked toward the perfectly made, pillowy cloud across the room and sat up quickly when she saw a basket on the floor next to it. She hadn't seen it before. Standing from the chair, she walked toward it, assessing the contents, and realized it was full of books!

Plucking one of the bindings up to inspect she inhaled softly when she realized what kind of book it was. Flipping through the pages she smiled and then looked down at the basket again and bent to see another book of smut and then another, and yet another.

She sat at the edge of her bed and stared toward her fireplace. There was no question to her who'd sent the books for her. Phoebe, could not only not read but wouldn't dare do such a thing. The only other person who knew about the smut book she'd gotten from the library was the same man she wished to give a thorough thrashing to.

The king, Harry Styles, had sent a basket of books to her room. And Y/n wasn't sure how that made her feel. She wanted to hold onto her rage for a while longer but as she pulled herself into her bed and opened up one of the books to read, she felt a sliver of her anger disintegrate. Perhaps things weren't perfect, but certainly, anyone would agree, it was much better than sitting out in the cold seeking small kindnesses from strangers who thought her no better than a street dog.

. .

NEXT

. .

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[strzlun]

TRAP

// park sunghoon //

pairing: player!sunghoon x quiet!femreader

word count- 3.6k

genre/cws- fluff, slight angst, falling in love, confessions, he fell first and harder, sunghoon grows a soft spot for reader, sunghoon becomes a changed man, reader is done with sunghoon

summary-Sunghoon didn’t realize he fell into his own trap until it was too late and he was falling in love

________________________________________________________

Sunghoon and you were the picture perfect polar opposites. He had people lined up trying to fulfill their deep desire of even getting a sliver of a chance with him.

And he thrived in this. He knew the sheer power he held so he always used it to his advantage. Everyone knew Park Sunghoon’s name like a chant and you never understood why people would crumble to his feet.

He lived a world that you wished to never get involved with.

Yet what made your world slow down is hearing his name called alongside yours.

Before you could even register what was happening, you could hear the painful drag of the chair next to you as you slowly turn to be met with the one and only, Park Sunghoon.

The infamous smile plastered on his face as his body was faced towards you. He had this demeanor that you were undeniably drawn to but forced yourself out of that daze.

“Guess we’re partners” The moment he spoke, all eyes were on you

You awkwardly nodded your head as you tried to ignore the stares burning into your entire existence and focus in front of you.

You knew there were people that would kill to be in your spot, and truthfully speaking you had no problem switching.

When Sunghoon who was waiting for some type of reaction from you received nothing, he raised an eyebrow, confused but assumed you were simply trying to comprehend how he was in front of you.

“No need to freak out or anything, it’s really me-“ Before he could even finish he sentence you raised a hand to stop him

Normally, you wouldn’t waste time even speaking to people like Sunghoon. There was no point, neither ever crossed paths before nor have you even acknowledged each other’s existence.

But now you had to bear with him until the end of the project if you wanted a good grade.

When you gave no response after shutting Sunghoon up, he could feel the embarrassment rising which was rare (a big lie).

“I look forward to working with you. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you” He tried to catch your attention as you seemed to focus on the lesson rather than on him

He gave a slight frown but wiped it off before having a smirk plaster onto his face. He could feel the excitement coursing through his mind and he knew exactly what it meant.

When the lesson was done, he turned expecting to see you beside him but to his shock you were already out of the classroom. He grumbled and quickly went after you.

What you thought was finally peace and no lurking eyes on you turned to ruckus around you when Sunghoon suddenly appeared next to you.

His mouth whispered right into your ear and you immediately jerked yourself away in confusion. He gave a warm smile and grabbed your bag from you to hold it.

“You walk so fast, it was hard to catch up to you” He joked and the look you gave him must’ve shown your discomfort because he awkwardly cleared his throat

You tried to grab your bag from him but before you could reach it, he moved his body and you almost lost your balance.

He was quick to catch you to make sure you didn’t fall (you were never going to fall in the first place).

You stared at him as he gave another smile but you quickly pushed him away and grabbed your bag from him before huffing out a sigh and walking away.

Of course you knew who Park Sunghoon is, but that also meant you knew the reputation surrounding him. He had people lined up for him for a reason and you weren’t going to allow yourself to fall for his trap.

As you were walking you were going to pull out your phone from your bag, but the moment you did a piece of paper fell out as well.

You tilted your head confused before reaching to pick it up soon your mouth was agape when you saw the written phone number on it.

‘My number -p.sh’

Now you didn’t want to text Sunghoon, especially with the way that he had given his number. It felt like he was treating you as someone who simply wanted to get the attention of being involved with him.

You knew deep down that was far from the truth but you had to swallow your pride for a moment as you typed his number in for a contact.

Sunghoon was in bed, lazily resting an arm over his eyes as he could feel the drowsiness take over. But right when he was going to shut his eyes, his phone pinged from a notification.

Normally, he would ignore it and deal with it whenever he had the energy to but something in him told him to check it.

He groaned before grabbing his phone seeing just who decided to text him so late at night.

He saw an unsaved number but the message attached to it made him shoot up from his bed with a slight smirk forming on his face.

: Let’s meet tomorrow to start the project

“Over here!” Sunghoon waved once he saw you, the people passing gave a weird look to him before going their way

You observed how he never truly cared about the public’s opinion on him. He knew that there would be people that praise him and people that despise him, nothing you could do about it.

But now that you were assigned a project with him you knew from the very start what it came with. You didn’t enjoy being the center of attention and having him lingering around you was quite troublesome.

“How was your morning?” He asked sweetly but you believed you saw right through it and simply ignored his question

He was taken aback from the lack of response but he nodded his head, realizing that it would take a lot more for him to slither his way into your heart.

“Let’s head in shall we?” Sunghoon opened the door for you and with the faintest ‘thank you’, he was already grinning like an idiot

He was sure that you would get caught up by him soon or later, it was only a matter of strategic timing and planning to get the job done.

“So what’s your favorite movie?” Sunghoon tried to garner your attention but you didn’t give him any, he sighed heavily after being rejected for the twentieth time

He was growing tiresome trying to get your attention on something that wasn’t something for the project.

“Uhm so what’s your favorite-“

“I heard you the first time, I am just choosing to ignore you” You finally put your pen down before looking at him which caught him off guard

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, not expecting that (or any) reaction. The two stared at each other for a moment and for the first time ever, Sunghoon was the one to shift his gaze away.

“Let’s continue working” You softly said before picking up your pen again but as he tried to recover from the lost of the staring contest he sighed heavily

“Why don’t we take a break for now, my hand hurts from all the writing” You glanced over to Sunghoon’s paper, only to see he had only written his name on it

You glared towards him and he gave a cheeky smile which he thought would make you smile at least but nothing. You kept your stoic expression, unamused by his attempt to make you smile (you found it humorous that he failed instead).

“Is this why you’re failing the class?” Sunghoon choked on air and coughed loudly hearing your response

“How do you know that?” Sunghoon loudly whispered as he looked around making sure no one heard your remark

“You always complain about your grade in class” You stated and he sighed before embarrassingly looking away but suddenly an idea popped in his head

“So you’re paying attention to me?” He raised an eyebrow to you teasingly

“It’s hard not to when you’re so loud about it” Sunghoon’s world alongside his ego shattered hearing your rebuttal to his attempt to tease you

This is not how he planned this day to go.

Sunghoon cleared his throat loudly before picking up his pen and taking glances at his laptop before writing on the piece of paper, wishing to simply disintegrate into the universe.

You noticed his reaction and you were glad he was working but you felt bad, you didn’t mean to come off as rude, it’s just what you observed from him.

You itched to apologize, your mouth opening every now and then but nothing came out. You sighed before continuing to write on your paper, an awkward silence resting over the two of you.

“I’ll walk you home” You didn’t expect for Sunghoon to offer this especially when the rest of the evening was pure silence between the two of you

You were going to deny Sunghoon’s offer but he was quick to gather your bag along with his.

Another thing that you observed about Sunghoon was that he was stubborn but troublesome for him you were also stubborn.

“It’s okay I can make it home by myself” You tried to grab your bag from him but he was already walking away with it

If this is what Sunghoon thought could win you over, he is mistaken. You sighed annoyed but decided to not put up a fight, you were tired and just wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

As you and Sunghoon were walking to your place he tried to make small talk with you. You wanted to walk in silence but he was determined to have a decent conversation with you.

The talks were brief but you realized that there a slight shift in Sunghoon’s demeanor. It was more relaxed and gentle and maybe even a little genuine. A side you’ve never seen before from him.

But you reminded yourself this could easily be one of his antics to have you wrapped in his fingers. But before you knew it, you were already at your front doorstep.

“Thank you for walking me home” Sunghoon easily waved it off as nothing

“Also I’m sorry if what I said earlier come off as rude, it wasn’t my intention”

“Goodnight” After you finally apologized, you entered your place and closed the door behind you before he could even respond

Sunghoon stood surprised for a moment before softly letting out a genuine chuckle.

You heard a ping from your phone and when you looked at it, you found yourself letting out the smallest smile ever.

Sunghoon: It’s okay you weren’t wrong. Goodnight to you as well

From when you stepped foot onto campus, all eyes were on you again. You tried to remind yourself that this was only temporarily and soon you could go back to your old lifestyle without Sunghoon in your life.

But that moment wasn’t now because you suddenly felt a poke to your head and when you turned, you were met with Sunghoon’s cheeky smile.

“Let’s walk together” He hummed, you sighed realizing that he really wasn’t going down without a fight so you weren’t going to put up one

You nodded your head as you waited for him to catch up to you. Sunghoon smiled realizing that you’re starting to warm up to him even if it is a tiny bit.

You: Where are you?

You: We said we were meeting today to finish

You sighed as time passed by and there was no sign of Sunghoon. You scoffed to yourself realizing he left you stranded.

What did you expect, he probably left all the work for you to ensure that he can pass. You scoffed as you placed your head into yours hands before groaning loudly.

Having to do the project by yourself wasn’t something foreign to you, but you were still annoyed.

You had to pick up on his slack. You weren’t going to allow someone like Sunghoon to taint your grade because of careless actions.

You were disappointed would be an understatement. You assumed the least he could do is give you a heads up if he isn’t able to make it, but it seemed you hoped too much for the impossible.

Hours passed by and you were still engrossed in the project trying to complete it, you could feel the pure exhaustion catching up but you needed to push through.

“Bye Sunghoon” The teasing tone had a faint smirk form on Sunghoon’s face whilst waving goodbye

He pulled out his phone and saw the time, 3 am, he sighed knowing he was going to get a good nights rest the moment he landed on his bed.

He placed his phone back into his pocket and right when he turned, there he saw you through a window.

You were yet to see him but he saw how you yawned and tiredly rested your head on your arm as a pillow and closed your eyes.

That’s when it finally clicked in Sunghoon’s mind. He was supposed to meet up with you today to finish the project. He cursed at himself before entering the place you were in.

He quickly made his way over to you but you were already fast asleep. He saw your laptop open with paper scattered around.

He got too distracted that he forgot he was meeting up with you today and he knew all efforts of trying to get you warming up to him now went out the window.

He wasn’t one to care about how people perceived him but you must’ve thought he’s even more of a jerk than what you already thought he was.

Sunghoon made sure to be quiet to not disturb your sleep as he carefully sat next to you before grabbing your laptop.

He scrolled and saw that you were practically almost done with the project. The guilt that rested in stomach grew even more and began to eat him up, you picked up his slack because of his ignorance.

Sunghoon knew you wouldn’t easily forgive him and he doesn’t blame you. But the least he could do is let you sleep while he takes care of the rest.

He carefully draped his jacket over you as he noticed you were directly under an air vent. He looked for a split second longer than what he wanted to, you looked so peaceful when sleeping.

He found a faint smile growing but stopped to bring himself back to focus on finishing the project.

He grabbed a spare sticky note and a few moments later placed it next to your mousepad, before starting to type into your laptop.

Your eyes fluttered opened as you could feel a bright light hitting your face. You used your hand to cover the sunlight but noticed a jacket draped over you and you froze.

You hazily looked around and you jumped when you noticed Sunghoon asleep next to you with your laptop in front of him. You quickly grabbed your laptop to see what he had done but to your surprise you saw the project was completely finished and revised.

You don’t know when you fell asleep, let alone when he even arrived so you were shocked to wake up next to him.

You were pleased that at least the project was done, however your gaze soon caught the sticky note stuck near your mousepad.

‘I know this is the weakest way to apologize, but I am really sorry for leaving you hanging.

Rest well, I’ll take care of everything else’

You shifted your gaze onto Sunghoon but what you didn’t expect was for him to be looking at you back. Normally you would’ve reverted your eyes away but you were in some trance, an extra flutter in your heart made you realize you were falling.

But you weren’t the only one. With the sunrise setting upon you and the look you were giving him, Sunghoon found himself in utter awe of you as his heart fluttered against his chest.

That was something new.

Now Sunghoonn was wide awake in bed with you haunting his mind, he doesn’t get it. The project was long done and no matter how much he tried to distract himself, he always found his mind drifting off to you.

He didn’t have a guilty conscience anymore, you made it very clear that you had forgiven him (after much apologies) so why could he only think about you.

You and him would even text quite often (he’s the one always texting first) but even still that wasn’t enough to quench his unexplainable desire.

He doesn’t know what was taking over him, it was like he’s flipped. He was leaving his old habits behind, deciding to hit the gym more often, barely going out the way he used to, he even started to pay attention in lessons and participate in activities.

And anytime he did anything, he felt an urge to text you and let you know what he has been up to. There were times where he did text you but then there were times when he held back.

Tonight was not one of those nights, he decided to give in to the burning desire that desperately needed to get extinguished.

Sunghoon: You awake?

He impatiently watched, hoping for your response and he immediately piked when his phone pinged.

You: Why?

Sunghoon found himself smiling dumbfounded at your message, in that moment his smile slightly faltered as the realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Now he finally realized what the desire that burns in him meant.

Now you didn’t expect to see Sunghoon at your front doorstep, especially to catch him mid pep talk. He froze when he heard your door open and the two stared at each other for a moment before he straightened out his posture.

He awkwardly coughed at the silence, all thoughts and rationality he prepared went out the window as he just stared at you with wide eyes.

“Uh what are you doing here?” You asked him and his mind immediately went on overdrive

He continued to stay silent and stare at you. You looked around for a moment before softly nodding your head.

“Do you want to-“ Before you could even finish, Sunghoon easily cut you off

“I like you” That was more straightforward than he intended to say but he’s never confessed before, he’s new to this

You stared at Sunghoon flustered with his sudden confession, does he actually like you or is he toying with your feelings until he gets bored and moves on.

“I know this is out of nowhere and you have every right to question my intentions” He was aware of the reputation he made for himself but he was really praying it doesn’t affect him now

“But I promise you wholeheartedly that I am genuine about my words and my feelings, I really do like you”

“I’m not sure when I started to like you, but you started to consume every crevice in my mind. Everything that I did, I wondered what you would say about it”

“It was actually driving me insane because I never and I mean it ever felt that way before and I can’t lie I was nervous at first”

“I thought you would’ve brush me off after the project, that’s why I kept texting you. Something in me needed to know if there could be a possible us”

“This burning desire wouldn’t let me go from its grasp and the only way I figured to subside it was to tell you how I truly felt” Sunghoon finished his small rant and let out a heavy pant before nervously looking to see your reaction

You stared at him wide eyed as you proceed the information. The pounding of your heart clearly indicated something and you knew that very well.

With each passing second of no response from you, the more it kills him slowly.

“You like me?” Your voice was soft and this melted right through Sunghoon, how he underestimated the hold you had on him

He softly nodded his head and your heart finally exploded. All the times when your fingers fidgeted over your keyboard wanting to text him and he somehow read your mind and texted you first.

But there was a thought lingering at the back of your head. What if he was just saying this to get you to fall into the trap you couldn’t escape from.

“How come you didn’t fall for someone else?” It was too late for your mind to register that you accidentally voiced out your thought

You stumbled over your words trying to take back what you said and Sunghoon found it amusing, he made his way over to you. The loopy smile he had as he brought his mouth to your ear, his breath feathered over your ear making your body shiver.

“Because I am too busy being yours” Sunghoon whispered and those words sent a shock throughout your whole body

“Is this you crawling to me Sunghoon?” You teased and he chuckled at you response but nodded his head before facing back to you

“If you allow me, I’ll crawl back to you as many times as I have to in order to prove my feelings to you”

“Never thought, I would be the one to hear those words from you”

“Special words for a special person” Your smile began to grow and you couldn’t hold it back any longer

Seeing your smile made Sunghoon weak in his knees that he knew he had to make you smile every single day. You had Park Sunghoon wrapped around your fingers and neither expected the tables to turn.

The trap that Sunghoon had intended to have you fall into now consumed him instead of you. But truthfully speaking, he didn’t mind it because deep down he unconsciously knew he was yours from the start.

“Will you allow me take you out on a date? Promise I’ll be there maybe even before you”

[yasministration]

Bloody quills and teary eyes - George weasley x potter!reader

summary: george comforts you after your first detention with umbridge wc: 0.7k+

George tapped his foot on the floor in front of him tirelessly, his homework lain untouched on the table. Fred and Ron played a quiet game of chess, with the occasional comment thrown, and Hermione’s face was dug in a book. You and Harry? Well, the Potter siblings just always seemed to be in detention, and today was no different. The portrait to the common room swung open and Harry walked in, quick footsteps beelining him straight to his dorm giving away his poor mood. George looked back and forth between the closing portrait and your brother, wondering where you had to be. 

Ginny trudged down the stairs, footsteps attracting Ron’s attention. While Ron was turning away from her and back to the game, he caught sight of George, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“You alright George?” He asked, pulling Fred’s attention from the game. “Yeah. She said she’d meet me back here after detention but Harry just came back alone.” Ginny plopped down on the couch next to him, offering him a candy. He declined. “She being the missus?” Ginny asked, chewing slowly. George nodded. “She’s by the Black Lake. I could see her from the window in my dorm.” She explained, watching her brother’s reaction carefully. The Black Lake was never a positive place to be on a cold, dark afternoon, and especially not after a detention. George stood up, ready to come find you when the portrait swung open once more.

Your focus was solely on that awful Umbridge woman’s face. If you could turn around right now, you’d go and beat her up, but unfortunately your stronger hand seemed to be injured. You thought sitting by the Black Lake would help you calm down, and momentarily, it had, allowing you to shed a few silent tears. But the second you began your trek back to the common room, your blood boiled with anger once more. Through teary eyes, you found your path up to your dorm, slamming the door shut behind you before slumping down on the floor against your bed. You brought your hands to your face, and immediately, your chest wracked with a painful sob.

George stared at the corner you disappeared behind from where he was stood, hearing the loud slam of your door all the way down to the common room. “How awful was that detention?” Questioned Hermione, a concerned look on her face. George ignored her, following you up to your dorm. He gently knocked on your door three times, listening for your call to come in, but it never came. Instead, he received a “Go away!” and he felt his heart break on the spot, hearing the pain in your voice.

“My love? You sound hurt, please let me comfort you.” George begged softly, resting his head against the door. He didn’t get a response, only hearing more sobs from the other side of the door, and he let himself in. “Oh sweetheart…” He started, immediately sitting down next to you and bringing you into a hug. You let George hold you close to his chest, and you cradled your hand close to yours, feeling the painful throb left by the evil witch’s blood quill. “I didn’t even check on Harry.” You cried when your sobs began to subside, wiping your tears away. “Why do you need to check on him, what happened?” You pulled away from George’s hug, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. You almost didn’t have the courage to tell him. You swallowed harshly, putting your hand up to show him the dried blood on your hand spelling out ‘I must not question authority.’ George gasped, carefully bringing your hand in his. He hand his thumb over a patch of skin where you’d desperately tried wiping your blood off, leaving a red tint to your skin.

“That bitch. I’ll tell Professor McGonagall tomorrow, she’ll do something.” He said, bringing you in a hug again. “Don’t listen to that bitch anyway. Questioning authority is what makes you stand out. Everyone just goes along with what people tell them to do, but you? You make rules of your own.” He told you. “Is that why you like me? Because I’m a rule breaker?” But you suppose you shouldn’t have asked that question because George went off telling you about all the reasons he loved you, and the last thing you heard before you fell asleep was “And one day I’m going to marry you for those reasons.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe