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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

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Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol)

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now.

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense.

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell.

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough.

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly.

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now.

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister.

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with.

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds.

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth.

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers.

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine.

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising.

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?”

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her.

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her.

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge.

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away.

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed.

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily.

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean.

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood.

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.”

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta?

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that? Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?"

Rhys grimaced, shaking his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?"

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it.

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this.

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly.

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.”

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel."

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years.

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.”

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either.

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated." Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.”

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated.

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate.

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes.

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either.

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was.

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.”

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?”

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up.

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow.

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?”

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat.

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again.

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel.

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face.

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love.

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her.

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion.

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love.

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer.

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted.

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal.

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he’s happy to oblige.

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently.

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things…

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked.

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it…

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying.

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long. And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort.

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs.

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel.

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly.

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting.

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before.

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest.

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister.

Feyre could just stare.

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were.

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know.

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him.

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers.

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself.

The reactions were immediate.

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter.

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say.

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion.

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them.

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together.

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him.

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened.

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation.

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things.

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach.

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach.

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue.

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well.

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth.

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them.

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked.

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before.

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said.

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded.

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight.

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways.

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight.

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana.

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips.

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist.

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction.

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and Cassian actually growled at him. Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world.

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.”

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs.

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears.

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards.

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too.

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his.

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently.

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.”

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered.

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.”

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully.

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel.

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #Brighten Up The Sky

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sundropflowerr · 7 days ago

Text

Keep Me Warm? | Steve Harrington

★ Warnings: no use of y/n, soft but slightly intense make-out session, fluff, established relationship, playful teasing, cozy domestic vibes, light banter, Steve being a human heater, mutual affection, soft touches, silly moments, clumsy attempts at making s’mores, cuddling, lingering glances, emotional softness, brief moments of flustered tension

★ Summary: When the weather turns cold, you and Steve love getting cozy together—warm sweaters, lots of laughter, and kisses that start sweet and fuzzy, and end breathless and hot. 2.9k

★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

★ Fic Inspiration: "Love to Keep Me Warm” - Laufey & Dodi

★ Dividers: thank you to @saradika for the adorable banner, it’s greatly appreciated!

★ Author's Note: steve definitely gives off “let’s stay home and cuddle” vibes on a cold night, which brought me to write this! i hope you all enjoy, this isn’t anything serious just relationship material. ignore how messy this is…

★ REMINDER: this has a slightly intense make-out session, if you are under 16 DNI!!

It was December, and the first real snow of the season had finally fallen.

The flurries were delicate at first, the kind that dusted the world like powdered sugar, covering the streets, the roofs, and the trees in a soft, white blanket.

It wasn’t quite Christmas yet, but the air had that distinct wintery feeling—a calm that came only with the cold and the promise of something festive just around the corner. The holiday season always seemed to make everything feel more alive, more full of possibility, and tonight was no different.

Inside Steve’s house, the warmth of the living room stood in stark contrast to the chilly air outside. A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. The Christmas tree, freshly decorated, was proudly displayed in the corner, its lights twinkling like stars in the dim light. The soft scent of pine mixed with cinnamon candles, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

A few stray ornaments that Steve had clearly hung haphazardly were balanced on the tree, reminding you that this wasn’t some pristine picture-perfect holiday home—it was Steve’s home, and it was perfect just the way it was.

You and Steve had been dating for a while now—this was your second Christmas together as a couple—and it still felt surreal at times.

You hadn’t started out as a love story. No dramatic confessions, no grand gestures. Just two friends who had spent countless hours together, laughing, talking, and eventually realizing that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t want to spend their time with anyone else.

The transition from friends to something more had been easy. It had happened gradually, like a soft shift you barely noticed until one day you were holding hands or stealing soft kisses when no one was looking, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

This December had been especially busy—Christmas events with your friends and the kids had filled up most of your days. You’d gone to Robin’s Christmas movie marathon, attended parties with Eddie and Jonathan and Nancy, and of course, you couldn’t forget the Secret Santa party with the kids—Dustin, Max, Eleven, Mike, and Lucas. It was always chaotic and loud, but you loved it. Still, after all the festivities, there was nothing better than this quiet evening with Steve, just the two of you tucked under a thick blanket on the couch. It felt like the calm after a storm of holiday cheer.

And tonight, with the fire crackling softly in the background, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, breaking the comfortable silence. His voice was light, playful, like he was about to reveal some grand idea. “I know you said we’ve watched this movie, like, a million times, but I’m telling you—this one is different.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the TV screen where another classic holiday film was playing. “Steve,” you said, half-laughing, half-sighing, “this is literally the third time we’ve watched this exact movie in the last week.”

He grinned at you, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I know, I know, but this time, you’re going to feel the magic. You’ll see.”

You shook your head with a smile, snuggling deeper into the blanket. You loved the way he could turn something as simple as watching a holiday movie into an event, even if it was the same thing over and over. It was one of the reasons you liked spending time with him—his enthusiasm for even the most mundane things was infectious.

You found yourself settling into his side as the opening credits played, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm comfortably around your waist. The warmth of him seeped into you, wrapping you in a feeling that was just… right.

“I’m just glad we’re having a quiet night in,” you murmured, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his sleeve.

“Yeah, me too,” Steve agreed, his voice softer now, the playful edge gone. He shifted slightly, turning toward you, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment longer than usual. His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so simple yet intimate that it made your heart flutter.

He’d always had this way of looking at you—like you were the most important thing in the room, like he was seeing only you and no one else. It was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place. Despite his loud, sometimes goofy exterior, Steve had this quiet intensity to him, a depth that showed in moments like this.

He never rushed anything. His affections were slow, steady, but always filled with a kind of warmth that made you feel completely at ease.

The movie continued to play, but the two of you weren’t really paying attention to it anymore. Instead, you both leaned into each other, enjoying the rare peace and stillness that a night like this could bring. The fire crackled in the background, its warmth creating a cocoon of comfort around the two of you.

Every now and then, Steve would chuckle at a cheesy line from the movie, and you’d tease him, calling him out for quoting it verbatim. But the laughter was lighthearted, natural. There was no rush, no pressure. Just the simple enjoyment of being together.

After a while, Steve broke the silence again, this time with a more mischievous tone. “Hey, what if we do something really holiday?”

You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like…” He paused, clearly considering his words. “Like make s’mores.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “It’s freezing outside, Steve.”

He was already pulling his jacket off the back of the couch, throwing it over his shoulders with excitement. “Exactly. That’s what makes it perfect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound coming out more easily than you expected. “You’re insane.”

“No, no,” he insisted, reaching for his boots.

“You’ll see. It’ll be fun. S’mores and snow. Firepit. Hot chocolate. It’s the ultimate December date.”

You sighed, but you were already getting up with him. “Fine, fine. You better not burn down your backyard, though.”

He flashed you an impish grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Then he added, “Plus, you love my ridiculousness.”

Rolling your eyes, you followed him outside, immediately hit with the chill of the night air. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, the soft fabric warming you only slightly against the cold. Steve was already at the firepit, fiddling with the lighter and looking overly proud of himself.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way over.

Steve’s eyes lit up as he glanced over at you. “What’s ridiculous about a cozy firepit in the snow? This is perfect! The holidays, marshmallows, and us.”

You tried to hide your smile, but it slipped out anyway. There was something about his childlike excitement that made everything feel a little lighter, a little brighter.

He lit the fire with a flourish, the flames licking at the air as the warmth of the fire began to reach you. You held out your hands to warm them, watching as the snowflakes continued to fall softly around you both. The world had slowed even more out here, and it felt like you and Steve were the only two people in it.

“Alright, let’s roast some marshmallows!” Steve cheered, grabbing two skewers and handing you one.

You stared at the marshmallow bag, then back at him. “Are you sure we can pull this off? I don’t want a repeat of last year’s burnt mess.”

He waved you off confidently. “Trust me, I’ve totally got it under control this time.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. You both started roasting marshmallows, laughing as Steve kept getting his too close to the flames and setting them on fire. You couldn’t help but laugh each time, even though you were pretty sure he’d managed to set his marshmallows on fire on purpose at least once.

You were concentrating on getting your own marshmallow just golden enough when Steve suddenly let out a loud groan.

“I swear this is impossible,” he complained dramatically, inspecting his marshmallow like it was an insult to his very existence. “Why is this always harder than it looks?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Because you’re holding it in the flames, Steve.”

He held it up proudly, the marshmallow now completely blackened. “That’s called advanced roasting. It’s gourmet, trust me.”

You shook your head but couldn’t stop laughing. You gave up on trying to control your own marshmallow for a second, just to enjoy watching Steve with his ridiculous, over-the-top attempts.

Once you both managed to salvage your s’mores—admittedly, with a bit of extra chocolate and a lot of mess—you headed back inside, shivering from the cold but laughing from the silliness of it all. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much fun making s’mores that weren’t exactly perfect.

As soon as you stepped back into the warmth of Steve’s living room, you felt the tension leave your shoulders. Steve immediately grabbed the blanket from the couch, pulling it over both of you as you settled back in, curling into his side. You could still feel the chill from outside in your fingertips, but it was quickly replaced by the steady warmth of the fire and the even steadier warmth of Steve next to you.

The movie was still playing on the TV, but neither of you were paying attention to it anymore. Your focus was completely on each other. Every so often, Steve would catch your eye, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. You’d smile back, your heart fluttering at how natural it all felt.

“You know,” he said, his voice light but with a trace of affection, “I think this might be my favorite way to spend a cold night.”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging him. “What, getting all cozy and not having to do anything productive?”

He laughed, shrugging. “Pretty much. But I think what really makes it great is having you here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words making the room feel even warmer. “You’re cheesy, Harrington,” you teased, nudging him back. “But I’ll admit, this is pretty perfect.”

Steve’s smile softened, his eyes locking with yours as his hand gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. “I mean it,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, “this—you—are perfect.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the space between you two suddenly feeling much smaller. Without saying another word, you both leaned in, your lips meeting in a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened, the quiet of the evening wrapping around you both like the softest, warmest blanket.

You found yourself completely forgetting about the outside world-the snow falling softly against the window, the movie still playing in the background, the fire crackling quietly in the hearth.

There was only him, and only this moment.

His lips were gentle but eager, as if he couldn't wait to close the space between you both. Steve's hand came up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb softly brushing your skin as if memorizing every contour of your face. His touch was warm, steady, and it made your heart flutter.

You kissed him back just as gently, your lips fitting perfectly against his, a rhythm forming between you both that felt natural, like you'd been doing this forever.

The air between you two seemed to thicken, the room growing quieter despite the sounds of the fire. It was a comfortable quiet, one that let the moment linger, unhurried, like the two of you were savoring the closeness of each other.

Steve's other hand moved down to your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer, his body now aligned with yours. The subtle shift made your breath hitch, but it wasn't uncomfortable-quite the opposite. There was a sweet urgency in his movements, like he wanted to feel as close to you as possible without pushing you.

He wasn't rushing.

Neither of you were.

You could feel the heat of his body through his sweater, the soft, worn fabric brushing against your skin as his hand slipped under the blanket and found the bare skin of your side. You shivered slightly at the warmth of his touch, the contact sparking a deeper sense of closeness. His fingers were light, almost tentative, as if waiting for a sign from you to pull him closer or back off.

But you didn't want him to back off. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, steady and soft, as your kiss turned a little more insistent. It was gentle, but there was a hint of longing in the way your lips moved together-an ache that seemed to build with every press of your mouths, every soft exhale.

Steve let out a low hum of approval, a sound that made you smile against his lips. He responded to your kiss with a new intensity, his hand sliding further up your back, his fingers splaying against the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as if he couldn't get enough of you. His other hand drifted from your waist to your cheek, gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as though he were trying to memorize every inch of you.

It was a soft, slow kiss-every movement deliberate, every touch more intimate than the last. His lips parted slightly, and you mirrored him instinctively, your breath mingling as you pressed a little closer to him.

The kiss was becoming deeper now, the kind that made your heart race, the kind where time seemed to stop. There was no hurry, no rush to go anywhere else. The entire world outside felt far away-just the warmth between your bodies, the comforting softness of the blanket, and the warmth of Steve's hands, which were now trailing lightly along your arm.

You felt your chest tighten with a fluttering sense of warmth, a mix of affection and longing. You wanted more-more of him, more of the feeling you were creating between the two of you. And without thinking, you shifted slightly in his arms, pressing yourself just a little bit closer, letting your hands slip from his chest to his shoulders, your fingers brushing along the soft fabric of his sweater.

The simple touch felt like an unspoken promise, a mutual understanding that the connection between you was growing deeper, the bond between you two thickening.

Steve's kiss deepened as well, his lips soft and persistent, his body language conveying a kind of quiet desire that matched your own. He pulled you just a little closer, his chest brushing against yours. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath against you, his heartbeat faster now, as the kiss became more urgent, more heated-but still tender.

Every inch of his touch felt like a question, a gentle inquiry into how far you both could go, without pushing each other too fast, without rushing.

But in that moment, neither of you cared about the pacing, the slowing down. There was no reason to hold back anymore, not when this was so perfect, so right. You both seemed to move in sync, as if your bodies were finally telling each other what you had known all along-that you belonged together, in this space, at this moment, in this soft, intimate exchange.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the intensity of the kiss slowly beginning to match the warmth of the fire that still flickered in the background.

His lips, though warm and soft, had a new kind of desperation to them now, as if he was afraid that if he pulled away, the moment would slip through his fingers.

He kept his hand at your neck, pulling you slightly up into him, the angle of the kiss shifting so you could taste him more, feel him more.

Your hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, and you heard him sigh softly in response. That sound, soft and needy, sent a wave of warmth rushing through your chest, a deep connection settling in your bones.

The kiss breaks, and you both pull back just enough to catch your breath, eyes meeting, soft smiles playing on your lips as you stay close, the space between you two still small, your foreheads resting against each other in that moment of shared intimacy.

The silence was thick with affection, both of you a little breathless, hearts still racing in the wake of the kiss.

Steve's eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek, as if savoring the moment. He smiled, a little sheepish but with genuine affection in his gaze.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and a little teasing, “I think you’re the best thing about this cold weather. You keep me warm.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart fluttering at the tenderness in his voice. “Yeah? Is that so?” you replied, raising an eyebrow playfully. “You sure it’s not just your sweater doing all the work?”

Steve looked down at his oversized sweater, the sleeves of which were too long, making his hands disappear. “Hey, don’t underestimate my sweater,” he said with a mock defensiveness, pulling you even closer as if to prove his point. “It’s a crucial part of the equation.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “Well, maybe it’s the combination of your sweater and you,” you teased, leaning in just slightly to brush your lips against his once more.

Steve’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Well, I guess I’m glad I’m not just a walking blanket,” he chuckled, his voice light. “But seriously, if it weren’t for you, I’d just be a big pile of cozy clothes, no personality.”

You laughed, the sound warm and easy as you cupped his face in your hands, your fingers brushing against the soft stubble along his jaw. “Good thing you’re more than just your clothes, Harrington.”

He grinned, kissing you gently again, his lips warm and soft against yours. “Yeah, I’m pretty great, huh?”

You smile, feeling your heart swell with warmth, both from the kiss and from the words. You lean into him again, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered back,

“Definitely.”

thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #x y/n #christmas #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #tv series #steve harrington masterlist #steve the hair harrington #songfic

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yourmidnightlover · 6 months ago

Text

the story

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

w/c: 3.5k+

summary: the weeks following bucky ordering that steve be your bodyguard, followed by an insightful night at a gala with your beloved husband.

warnings: mention of the incident with john (groping), slight threats of violence, mention of fear, lip on lip action (the upstairs ones), if i've missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: hiii! the third installment of my forever? series! i didn't even intend for this to be more than one part, but you guys have inspired me to write more for it! my writing schedule is a bit off since i recently started a new job, but i'll try to be a bit consistent with it. i hope you guys enjoy this next part, more to come!

part 2 -> control

the first few weeks with steve as a bodyguard wasn’t too bad. he was actually kinda funny in a grandpa kinda way, and he was an amazing listener. you had bounced a few ideas for your book off of him and he seemed to be very intrigued by some of the plot points you had planned. he even promised to be one of the first customers, right behind bucky (which you may have rolled your eyes at), of course, as long as he was promised a signed copy.

but, at the two month mark you began to miss your independence. of course, the chef bucky had hired was amazing and had years of experience in italian cuisine, but sometimes a girl just wanted some greasy smash burger to chow down on. most nights you ate alone with steve until bucky walked through the front door.

he always seemed beaten down and tired, as though work was more straining than usual. he would shrug his jacket off, place it on the hook by the door, then his shoes on the rack, and walk upstairs to shower before coming downstairs to eat as you and steve were finishing your plates. you tried your best to start conversation, to be the best company you could but eventually the silence always grew awkward and steve would usher you to go upstairs to your room with a pressed smile.

after two months of not really needing to show you off i any way, there was an important gala for him to attend. of course, that means that you were to be his beloved arm candy for the night.

“buck sent me the address for a local boutique that he thinks would be right up your alley,” steve read from his phone as you took a stroll in the garden that was full of beautiful colors. “the appointment is at 3:45, so we have plenty of time to get ready and head there too. oh and he says you should get something in that one shade of green… i’m assuming you know what that is?” his brows raise in confusion, as your mirror his in a stunned expression.

“surprisingly, i do know what he means for once.” about six weeks before the wedding, you had spent an all nighter with him amidst all of the chaotic planning.

“accent colors are super important! right now, all we have is an off white color, and while it’s a good color, i don’t want my wedding to wash everyone out that much,” you shoved his side as you sprawled your binders out on the coffee table.

“i say… green,” he says after pondering for a minute.

“green… like tree green?” you chuckled at the notion.

“i mean the green that’s light yet earthy, not too dark but not scream-in-your-face bright. it’s beautiful. plus, i think you’d look stunning in it,” he shrugs casually as if he hadn’t described a mundane color in such an alluring way.

“so a sage green?”

“maybe more on the jade green side,” he tried to hide a smile as his thumb began to mindly trace nonsense on your thigh.

there was such elegance in the way he described the simple color, as if saying light green wouldn’t have sufficed. clearly, there was a significance to the mundane shade that he felt the need to recommend it.

but you knew not to ask anything further to pry, doubting his readiness to comply so easily so early in your relationship. while it was during the happiest days of your relationship, you still knew he held you at arms length.

at the appointment, you had found several dresses in the perfect color, but only one stood out to you after trying them on. steve was also a good guide in ensuring you were choosing the right one, although you’re sure he would just say every dress looked good regardless.

growing up, you’d read about a love that was so encapsulating that one would rather face death than be without their lover. you’d yearned for that kind of love. the kind of love that was consuming and irreversible. the kind of love where your partner wouldn’t love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them.

and now you were married to a man who didn’t seem to feel an ounce of that towards you. sure, the months leading up to your wedding made it seem otherwise. it made you hopeful that he could maybe grow to love you, as you could grow to love him.

because truthfully, it was hard to see many flaws in the man, other than those that were rumored in the tabloids. you’d read or heard of his anger issues and his lack of patience but abundance of irritability. yet all you’d observed is his laughter, his diligence and compassion.

it was definitely confusing to want to believe these two contradicting tales of composure, but ultimately seeing is believing. you’d decided to believe whatever he showed you, what was right in front of his face rather than believe whatever was whispered in your ear. besides, if something was worth believing it should be said with their full chest rather than in such a low tone.

“almost ready?” bucky’s low voice rang through the door as you were doing finishing touches on your hair, making sure you looked as presentable as possible.

“i just have to put the dress on, and i’ll be ready to go!” you replied, unzipping the bag that the dress came in, even though you suggested that doing so was overkill.

“let me know if you need any help.” you heard a thud from the other side that suggested that he was leaning against the door, waiting to hear if you did happen to need any assistance.

you replied in silence, just stepping into the dress and lifting the straps over your shoulders. it was such a beautifully made gown, truly. it hugged you in the most flattering places, accentuating just the right amount without flaunting too much. the material felt like a warm hug from a lifelong friend, you almost never wanted to take it off.

the only downside was the damn zipper. it was a bit rough to pull over your hips alone, but once you reached your mid back it seemed to reach a snagging stop. you twisted your arms every way possible, trying to avoid the totally cliche scene of calling him in to zip you up.

alas, the universe had other plans for you. although, how much could you complain when that would mean his rough, yet gentle hands would be against your skin…

“...bucky?” your voice meekly called out, trying to interrupt your own thoughts from spiralling down the path you wanted them to so bad.

“yea?” his voice piped up, seeming to jump an octave or two in the process. maybe you jst startled him.

“could you maybe help me zip this thing up?” you became quiet before the twisting of your doorknob broke the silence. “my arms can’t quite contort the way they need to in order to zip this all the way…” you refused to meet his eyes as he trailed inside the room.

the first sign of his presence was his hands grasping your shoulders, lightly tracing down your arms. then he leaned down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, more affectionate than he’d been the entire duration of your marriage without it being prompted.

“you look beautiful,” he pressed another kiss to your other shoulder before letting his hands fall to a respectable place on your waist, stepping back to seemingly find where the zipper got stuck. “but what’s new, right?”

you chuckled at the compliment.

“what’ve you been doing recently?” you asked meekly. “i haven’t seen you much at all since steve started his new gig as my babysitter.”

he sighed, stopping his antics to clarify what he felt he needed to. “he’s not a babysitter. he’s my best friend, and the only person i trust to look after the woman that i-the woman that i married, okay?” you felt his deep breathing on your neck before he continued, “i don’t know where john is yet. john is notorious for taking whatever he thinks is his and that night he made it very clear what he believed.” he turned you around to face him, the dress’ zipper be damned. “if anything happens to you… just the thought keeps me up at night. i need you to understand,” his voice was desperate, pleading almost.

you understood what he was saying. at least, you were pretty sure you did. men in positions of power like bucky typically saw the people around them as pawns. part of you thinks that he’s saying all of this as the controlling, possessive boss man bucky. and that’s the large part of you. but the small part of you, the part of you that still believes in that fairytale love you used to read about, believes that maybe he’s saying all of this because he does feel something for you… something real.

but that part of you is like… 15 percent. maybe 20…

“i understand,” you nodded, meeting his eyes and seeing desperation, fear. seeing fear radiating from a man that projects a version of himself that’s fearless is a scary thing.

“good,” he nodded, his eye contact faltering to the dress that clung to your body. “you look indescribable, i’m a lucky man to call you mine.” once again, he grasped your shoulders to turn you around.

this time, he promptly found the zipper, his metal hand tracing nonsensical patterns on your shoulder as he zipped the dress with his flesh one.

“all done,” he pressed a lingering kiss to your right shoulder. “my beautiful bride.” you wanted to believe him.

“thank you,” you took a deep breath as you turned to face him. “so, tonight… what should i be expecting?” “well, there are a few people i’ll introduce you to, and a few i have to talk to. but i’ll be with you the whole time,” he pressed his hands into his pockets. “i scheduled a car to take us, and we have about 10 minutes before it should get here.”

“so we’ll be playing the roles of loving wife and doting husband?” you nudged his shoulder before you went to grab your shoes.

“playing? this is all real, sweetheart,” he took the shoes from your hands, promptly dropping to his knees.

“what are you-”

“i’m putting your shoes on, my love.” you chuckled before he guided your hand to his shoulder. “gonna want to hold on.” he picked up one of your legs by your calf, grabbing the correct shoe before slowly placing your foot inside and doing the same for your other shoe.

meanwhile, you were stuck staring down at him like a lovesick idiot. this behemoth of a man was beneath you treating you like a princess by putting your heels on for you. what the hell kind of alternate universe have you entered and how can you never leave?

“well, aren’t you a romantic?” you cleared your throat as he remained on his knees, a sight you could get used to.

“don’t let the news spread around town,” he chuckled as he let your remaining foot hit the ground but not without pressing a kiss to your ankle. “i can’t have others knowing how enamored i am by you, can we?” “enamored?” you chuckled out. “what a word,” you shook your head as you helped him to his feet.

“the perfect word.” he trailed his hand to a loose strand of hair, twirling it around his flesh fingers before he sighed, “the car should be here soon. we should head downstairs for it.”

it was a 45 minute ride there. you sat in a respectable silence, this time it wasn’t as awkward as it has been in the past. upon arrival, the door was swiftly opened for you, bucky getting out first and then offering his hand to help you step out. the first thirty minutes of the gala went very similarly. he would introduce you to a new face or say ‘hello’ to a familiar one, wrap his arm snugly around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and move on to the next person.

for a bunch of folks in banking and finance, everything seemed very high stakes. there seemed to be walls up all around you, from each man and woman you said a brief hello to or were meeting for the first time. everyone had decided to adorn a mask for the night, or maybe the mask was a semi-permanent fixture. maybe they’d worn the mask for so long they forgot how to function without one. you hoped you wouldn’t face the same fate.

to be doomed to fake face for so long that you no longer remember what was once real. you wanted something real, even if what you and bucky had was technically fake when you were in public. something about what happened behind closed doors when nobody was around gave you the illusion that part of it was real.

“have i told you how ravishing you look tonight?” bucky held you close as you swayed to the soft melody. his metal hand was clutching your waist, his flesh hand holding your own.

“i think in different words, yes,” you both began to laugh at his flattery. “you don’t have to keep doing that, y’know? the compliments and everything… i think people get the idea that this is real by now.”

“you don’t get it, do you?” he shook his head before he moved his vibranium hand to your chin, nudging it up for you to meet his eyes.

“get what?”

“buck,” steve’s voice interrupted your dance, but that didn’t stop bucky from pulling you taut to his side.

steve leaned in to whisper in his ear, but you were able to tell by his stone cold expression that whatever message that was being relayed to him wasn’t as delightful as the desserts from tonight.

“when?” you barely registered bucky’s low voice over the music.

steve went back to whispering in his ear and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you wanted to speak up, “what’s going on?”

bucky looked down to you, and when you looked into his eyes, what you saw was very similar to your earlier conversation with him. this time, however, there seemed to be anger buried beneath the stoic traces of fear. that’s when it clicked.

“did they find him?” his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“you told her about-”

“i told her what she deserves to know,” bucky interrupted steve’s accusatory tone. “you don’t get to question me or the decisions i make, especially not when those decisions are in regards to my wife.”

you weren’t sure if bucky was defending you or himself with the way he jumped on steve’s gears.

“okay, got it,” steve rse his hands in defense before he nodded.

“what steve was telling me was in regards to him, yes,” bucky clarified. “but it’s nothing important for you to need to know. you don’t have to worry about it, my love,” he let his flesh hand play with that same strand of hair as earlier as he looked down at you like his prized possession.

oh yea, you almost forgot. that’s what you are to him. his trophy wife, as much as you hate that phrase.

“when can we go home?” a shiver ran down your spine. what would john even do if he did get his hands on you? was he actually as bad as bucky made him seem, or was he worse? you gripped bucky’s arm tighter as thoughts raced through your brain.

“hey,” he turned to face you again, his eyes no longer reflecting anger or fear but tenderness. “if you want to leave, we’ll leave. steve can get the car,” he turned briefly to steve who nodded before walking off, “we can talk on the way home. i can tell how many questions are running through that pretty head of yours right now. but i can assure you,” he cupped your face in his hands, and the contrast between the cold metal and the warm flesh was oddly grounding, “as long as your with me, or steve for that matter, you won’t have anything to worry about. i would do anything it takes to keep you safe.”

you nodded, pressing your lips together in a fine line, maybe a bit of doubt running in your head at the lengths he would go to in order to protect you. would he really go to the lengths necessary? would his hand be forced to do that?

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i was scared right now?” you couldn’t meet his eyes as you admitted it.

“it’s not bad at all. in fact, i understand. i just hope that you know that this is why steve is watching out for you now,” he dropped his hands to your shoulders, down your arms to hold your hands.

“will you-would you be up for staying with me tonight?” you popped the question, almost scared of his answer. “like… like you did that night? i don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

“you don’t have to explain,” he smiled. “of course i’ll stay with you.”

the ride home was similar to the ride there, but this time with your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you. you’re sure he thought you were asleep when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. it also wasn’t beneath you to say you liked when he did it…

so much so that you apparently did fall sleep. when you woke up, it was wrapped in strong arms. you strained your neck to look at the clock beside your bed, the one that read 2:35 am. turning in bed to look at bucky, you realized you’d never seen him so peaceful. his hair had grown out a bit long, evident by the way it laid across his forehead.

when you moved the few locks of hair from his forehead, he began to stir awake.

“shhh,” you hummed softly. “it’s just me. sorry i woke you.”

“don’t be sorry,” his raspy voice was alluring this early in the morning, or was it late? “i don’t think i’ve slept this good since… well, since that night.”

“are you a secret cuddler, mr. barnes?” you smiled as he pulled you in a smidge tighter as he replied.

“and what if i am?” “there are no complaints coming from me,” he pressed yet another kiss to yourforehead, then your cheek, your other cheek, and then you pulled back to look in his eyes again.

the only light that was peaking through was from the hallway underneath the door, but that didn’t stop you from being able to see the bright smile decorating his face, a rare sight to see.

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i really wanted to kiss you right now?” his thumb trailed across your bottom lip, gently pulling it down and watching it bounce back into place.

“it’s not bad at all,” you let your eyes find his lips before looking into his eyes once more.

he made the first move, taking his flesh hand and cupping your face before he softly met your lips with his. every other kiss you’d had with him had been for show, cameras or people around to witness and aww at the romantic antics of the newlyweds. this one wasn’t for show. this was purely authentic. gentle, soft, delicate. for a man like bucky, you figured he wasn’t like this very often. this was a side of him not many other people got the privilege of witnessing.

he was precise in his movements, every swipe of his tongue and every placement his hand made was deliberate, yet he was so tender. the soft grasp of your hair, the easy glide of his hand that began to hold your waist. it was all so consuming, in the best way possible. in the way that you wanted to drown in his presence.

when you sweeped one of your legs over his, now perched on his lap, you felt him smile against your lips.

“you’re astounding,” he breathed into you. “breathtaking,” he rearranged his hips, accidentally brushing his hardon against your center. “shit.”

“sorry,” you smiled against him as you pulled back, resting your forehead against his.

“nothin’ to apologize for,” he shook his head with a laugh. “i mean, you are my wife an’ all.”

“i know, but,” taking a deep breath, you tried to figure out how to word what you wanted to say to him. you came up with nothing. “i don’ know. it’s different. we haven’t necessarily been the most affectionate since our wedding.”

“i didn’t think you wanted anything more,” his face shone with disbelief. “i didn’t want you to think you were forced to be ‘affectionate’ with me. you didn’t really want to marry me in the first place. i realize that.”

were you not this puppet in his master show? some play thing for him to own and display whenever he pleased? had every story you’d heard about him been nothing but that… just stories? could this story of you and him have a happy ending?

tags:

@blackbirdwitch22

@onceithough

@learisa

@mrsnikstan

@cjand10

@mrs-bucky-barnes-73

@armystay89

@adesum

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@loki-laufeyson68

if you'd like to be added to the tag list, please just leave a comment or message me!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes smut #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky au #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader

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ofjunemoment · 1 year ago

Text

getting even | lee haechan (P1)

synopsis — Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, (one-sided) enemies, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 11.6k

content - clubbing scene, reader is drunk at one point, random idols mentioned, university settings

warnings: mentions of throwing up (nothing too detailed)

a/n - hi lovelies <3 heres the first part to getting even!!! while i was writing the story i noticed it was getting very long (and i still have like... five more scenes to write lol) so i thought of getting this out first ^^ not a lot happens here but stay tuned for the next part because.. a lot.. happens there hehe. i hope you enjoy readingggg!!

Walking into your lecture, your eyes scan around to find an empty spot to occupy, but you were pleasantly surprised to see your friend Naeun sitting in one corner, leaning back as she scrolls through her phone. She beams when she sees you, patting the seat next to hers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You plop down your bag next to your chair, teasing her from the get-go. She whines shyly at your callout.

“I was struck with academic motivation never felt before. It felt like I was destined to come in today and be as studious as possible,” She points towards the lecture, which is barely filled with students. It’s a nine a.m. lecture, but you decided to come in early today to snag a good seat that lets your focus on the lecture with your upcoming assignment that's due; Naeun on the other hand barely comes in after the first two weeks of the semester, regardless of what time the lecture is. If it’s not mandatory, why go?

Her motto is what makes you raise your eyebrow at her now, scanning her figure as if to fish out the real reason why she’s here.

“Don’t look at me like that! I actually came in to study today,” you raise your hands in self-defence, looking away from her with a giggle, opting to stop teasing her.

But not even a minute later, she cracks; “Okay, fine. If you keep insisting me to tell you I guess I have no choice,”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I heard from Haneul who heard from Heejin’s girlfriend who was at that book club meeting with Renjun, which for some reason thought Norwegian Wood the book didn’t match the song, which is such a hot take that only he would take. Anyways,” She crosses her leg over her knee, leaning in as if to tell you a secret, manicured hands cupping the side of her face.

“Haechan might pull something today, at this lecture.” You barely caught her words, but after a few seconds of taking in what she said, you lean back and look at her with wide eyes.

“Haechan? I thought he was finished?” Naeun nods her head at lightning speed, her expression matching yours too.

“See, that’s what I thought too, but apparently he only had some sort of weird writer's block but for his pranks. I think he missed all the attention he used to get, not that he’s any less popular now, but you know what I mean,” You, in fact, have no idea what she means. But with the new information that you’re now fed, you’re hyperaware of your surroundings, looking around for any abnormalities within your vicinity.

Ever since the orientation of the first year of your course, when you met Naeun and had to fight against falling asleep with all the alcohol the seniors were feeding you as a sort of welcoming ritual, Haechan had already made a solid impression on everyone. With the seniors pushing all the first-year students to drink, Haechan had gotten into a bit of trouble for refusing to drink something they’ve poured out for him, as the older guys go around with mindless gossiping, stating how much of a prune he is and that he’s just ruining the fun, all while they stick around girls who are out of their league.

Later that day, Haechan had made a few drinks for the few who he had angered as a form of apology. With his head bowed in tow, he honestly looked like he was asking for their forgiveness.

“It was careless of me to disrespect my seniors so blatantly like this, could you accept these as an apology? I’ll even pour out the soju for you.” With the bottle in his hand, his other hand cradled his elbow, showing respect as he barely met their eyes. The seniors were ready to make him work for it more, but with the way he was bowed in front of everyone in the hall, it looked like they were picking on the poor boy.

“Ah, Haechan, you don’t have to do that.” One of them chuckles. “We were just joking aroun—”

“Please! Just accept this, I don’t know how I can last the rest of my uni years knowing that I had disrespected you on my very first day.” He shouts in his high-pitched voice, making the already quiet hall of murmuring people all go silent. The seniors were now all flustered, before being ushered to take the cups Haechan had provided, waiting for him to pour them drinks.

From the corner of the table, you were slumped against, you remember two things very vividly that night; one, Naeun was an only child, which we can definitely work with. And two, when Haechan looked up at the second and third years of his major accepting his drinks, his grateful smile was laced with some sort of sinister glint.

As the seniors grumble in embarrassment while Haechan finishes pouring each one of them a drink, they swish their cups around as if it’s wine, delaying drinking from them while Haechan insists on signifying their bond with a toast.

“To my seniors, I hope to perform up to your expectations,” And with the tip of their cups in an imaginary circle, everyone cheered ‘one-shot’ as the seniors down their drinks. Haechan merely sipped his, and you had noticed his lips tilting to one corner, and even in your drunk state, you knew something was off.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the seniors all started coughing wildly, some clutching the corner of a table or one anothers’ shoulders, seeming like they were coughing their lungs out.

Turns out that Haechan had slipped hot sauce into the drinks, creating a fusion of different burning sensations to travel down their throats as they drink the alcohol in one shot. Instead of being chastised, he was cheered on by the other first years who were either tipsy or barely hanging on. Ever since then, he was known to pull pranks every now and then, most harmless, some embarrassing, but nothing serious and nothing to spite anyone. Like tampering with clocks in the lecture halls, making them chime a tune every ten minutes, or when he had swapped his blonde friend Jeno’s shampoo with a firetruck red dye, leaving his neck and the better part of his forehead red from the dye for days on end. The only prank done with motivation was the first one as if it was some sort of initiation in itself.

“Wait, at this lecture? But there’s barely anyone here. Doesn’t Haechan carry out his pranks with a full-blown audience at tow?” Naeun shushes at your words, trying to get you to quiet down with your words, but it was too late. The deed was done as the guy from behind you perks up at your conversation, leaning into your conversation bubble.

You recognise him as Sunwoo, as he quickly shifts his gaze between the two of you. “Haechan’s doing something today? Like, at this lecture?”

“Oh.. well, I wouldn’t say so,”

“Naeun,” He turns to your friend, and you look at her with doom written on both of your faces. Naeun can’t lie to save her life, most people know that by now, but never really have the balls to test the theory. Until now, of course.

“Naeun, is Haechan gonna pull a prank today?”

“Naeun, remember what we talked about restraint.” You tried to keep her attention on you, knowing that if her gaze wandered to the boy, she would break.

“Come on Naeun,” Sunwoo whines now, stomping his feet, making you look at him with disgust written on your face at his sudden burst of cuteness. “Just say yes or no. Ywes or nwo.”

“Dude, gross,” You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to finally relent. Naeun squeezes her eyes shut.

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Fine! Fuck, oh my god. Yes, he is, Haechan is maybe doing something today.” She leans back into her chair, chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon. “I hated that, please don’t ever do that again.” Sunwoo winks at you two as he suddenly stands straight in his seat.

With hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts out. “Hey everyone! Haechan is pulling a prank today! Tell all your friends to be careful, and to keep their cameras rolling! Remember to post it on the campus’ blog!” And with that, phones chime as people text and call the imminent news. You and Naeun look at each other, defeated.

“At least they don’t know that we spread it?” You try, shoulders now hunched in as Naeun rubs at her temples.

“Oh! Also, it was these two who told me, so you should thank them!” Sunwoo yells one last time as he points at the two of you, with some hoots and cheers now being sent your way. You two shrink into yourselves even more.

“Haneul is never gonna invite me out for bubble tea ever again,”

As the lecture hall fills up to its max capacity, everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for something to happen. The star of the show himself is nowhere to be seen, but his friends are huddled in their usual corner, trying their best to smile kindly and repeat on about how they ‘don’t know what Haechan is up to. Can I send him a text to see where he is? Why are you telling me what to do—’. Thankfully Jeno was able to stop Renjun from pouncing anyone, even though they both knew nothing would’ve happened.

The lecturer seems over the moon to have the hall filled as much as it is, excitedly explaining statistics and their significance in the current world. She doesn’t seem to notice that the majority are here for some sort of public performance and not the different ways you can find the probability of whatever it is she’s droning on about. You try your best to nod when she looks towards your general direction.

As the lecture ends, people grow restless with the lack of action in the last two hours. But no one had dared to step out of the hall, much less out of their seats in fear of something happening. But when the lecturer thanks everyone for joining her this week and talks about gratitude, people slump into their chairs, grumbling and huffing about their time being wasted. Everyone starts packing straight away, slowly maneuvering to the exit as they cook up theories about why Haechan had gone so long without a prank, and how the word got spread in the first place. You and Naeun sit static in your chairs, not wanting to attract any attention, alongside Haechan’s friends, who merely go on their phones and twirl their pens.

“Do you think this will come back to bite us in our ass?” You’re careful to whisper this time, shoving your laptop into your bag and Naeun clicks her pens closed. She merely shrugs, “I don’t think they even know our names, so I think we should be fine.” You look at the lecturer, who seems to be skipping her way to the exit now, undoubtedly feeling ecstatic at doing her job. As she opens the door and steps to the hall, you last see her beaming smile before a screech echoes out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

The people who were the closest to her are now looking at the ground where she lies, bags and items now askew across the floor outside of the hall. A few step up and help her get up by grasping her wrists, pulling when she seems to have found their bearings. But their effort ends fruitless, as not only does she stay on the floor, but the two people who had helped her also collapse again on the floor.

“What the fuck…” As people go to help their friends and the lecturer from the floor, the three figures on the floor attempt to skid back into the lecture room instead of out. A guy you recognise as Beomgyu looks out onto the hallway outside the lecture hall, before pressing the tip of his shoe against the floor as if to test something. When he pressed his sole against the floor, he tries shifting left and right before pressing his other foot on the floor, rebalancing himself when he’s tilted a bit to the left. You see him squat down and take a big whiff, face confused as he stands back up, but not for long.

Smiling like a radiating child, his laugh echoes throughout the hall as he pulls on his friend Jeongin’s hand to join him. “The floor is covered with butter!”

At that, the once quiet hall grows loud, as people slowly step onto the floor, while some treat it like a skating rink, gliding and spinning right outside the lecture hall.

“The whole floor with butter? When did he have the time to do that?” You question as you now stand with your bag slung over your shoulder. Jeno, who was walking past you with Renjun, turns back to you. “He did it while the lecture was going on. If you can’t handle skidding on the floor, you might wanna use the other door,” And with a blinding smile, he turns back around and heads out the alternative door.

Naeun clutched at your bicep. “Did he talk to us right now? Like, look at us in the eye and speak words?”

You nod your head. “I think you can put your delusional days to an end. He totally likes you,” She smacks your hand as you tease her, but huddles closer nevertheless.

“I am, for once, thankful that you just speak words without thinking,”

You’re tugging at the waist of your skirt as Naeun pulls you by your locked elbows, shoes clicking towards the direction of the club. The Beehive club is known to harbour students of all majors from your university, as it is the closest club to the dorms situated just a five-minute walk away from campus, making socialising as easy as it can get. Naeun had urged for you two to go this week, even when you’d rather rest after giving in the assignment that you were slaving over for the past few days. She insisted that it would be worth this time.

“Haechan finally put a cease in his hiatus. That means he will be at the party, which means Jeno will be at the party, which means I need to make my presence known and somehow rizz him by sending him brainwaves.” She had explained while getting ready, as she blows on her false lashes before putting them on. You sulk from your position in bed, slowly trying to hype yourself up to get ready.

“You’re not even gonna talk to him? What’s the point then?” Naeun groans at that.

“You know that if I open my mouth around him I’ll pee myself. Come on, and you deserve to have some fun after all that hard work,” And so half a bottle of soju and an hour later, you find yourself covering one of your ears as you descend the stairs to the Beehive club. You feel the bass of the song travel up your legs as you enter the club, and are offered free drink coupons. It’s when you’re squeezing a lemon slice into your mouth at the bar that you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn to see Haneul, a grin gleaming even in the dark of the club as she squeals and pulls both you and Naeun into a hug.

“My favourite girls, how have you been?” She shouts against the booming music against your ears, to which you give her a thumbs up while Naeun further squeezes herself against Haneul's figure in excitement, the alcohol already making her feel giddier. She pulls you towards the dance floor, muttering about how she has a VIP booth that someone had offered her, and leads the way. Plopping down, Haneul gestures for staff before saying something into his ear, before giving a wink and pointing at the VIP booth you’re settled at.

As you three start conversing, the staff comes back with more drinks, and Haneul encourages you to drink, assuring you that it’s attached to the tab of the booth. “Some guy called Jay has this booth under his name, and he said to put any drinks I wanted on the tab,” You toast your free drinks against one another, the clink of the glasses barely audible as you each take a sip. Haneul shares the anecdotes and stories that have while she was away on vacation, while you and Naeun nod and react accordingly, slipping in your commentaries at the climax of her stories.

“What about you two? Any news recently?” She takes a sip from her straw as she says this, glancing between the two of you excitedly. You and Naeun share a sheepish glance, knowing neither of you has anything as exciting to share.

“Oh come on, what have you been doing these days?”

“Just work,” Naeun frowns as she says this.

“And school,” You follow up.

“You’re right, and school. And then work again,”

“And scho—”

“You guys are miserable,” Haneul scoffs jokingly. She reaches for the bottle of champagne that's sitting in the ice bucket, grabbing two clean glasses. “Here, have more drinks so you can have something exciting to tell me later on,” Although mixing your drinks is never good, the loud music and the flashing lights encourage you to drink more, and your body craves to let loose.

Two glasses and a twenty-minute dance break later, you’re at a corner of the club huddling near each other. Naeun had caught a glimpse of Jeno at the bar, and the alcohol in her system removed all brain-to-mouth filters she had.

“He’s so—” She cups her face as she hiccups. “So fine. So so fine. You know, when we were at our lecture… the other day with Haechan’s …comeback or, fuck, butter floor, he spoke to us,” Her warm eyes fluttered as she thought back to that moment. “Jeno said real words, in real life and my ear heard them. I think he looked at me too, what the fuck?” She grabs her forehead as if taking the information in for the first time before she presses her head against your shoulder.

“She’s not being delusional, he did speak to us,” You nod your head at Haneul as she shoots you a questioning look, with Naeun clinging onto you harder. “He even helped us go out through the back door so we don’t end up all oily with the butter rink.” Naeun snorts, which catches all of you off guard and even herself, her eyes opening and locking onto something in the middle of the dance floor. Her gaze suddenly shifts, and before you know it she’s shoving her way through the crowd and heading towards her target.

“What is she—? Oh no, fuck,” You gasp while Haneul’s mouth hangs open when you both see Naeun heading toward Jeno, who’s dancing with someone at the moment, at full speed.

Haneul looks at you with contemplation. “I mean… it could turn out for the better?” She tries.

“Or she would wake up embarrassed as fuck for the next week or so,” You contemplate with her. Naeun is never the type to be aggressive, even when she's drunk. The most she’s done once was point a finger at you while she was angry and then look away to calm herself down.

But before you could relax back into your corner, you see her reach up for her earrings.

“Okay, fuck. Take this, I’ll be back,” Shoving your drink in Haneul’s hand, you make your way through the crowd and towards Naeun, rushing before she reaches her imminent doom. Jeno and his dancing partner are oblivious to the devil baby that Naeun takes the form of at the moment, which gives you hope that embarrassment can be evaded.

But then she full-body slams into Haechan.

“Woah,” He places his free hand on her shoulder, stopping her from tipping all the way to the right and losing her balance. The cup in his other hand now seems to be empty as its contents drip from both of their bodies, but Naeun is too drunk to notice and Haechan seems to have barely processed anything, seemingly working on autopilot at this point. You catch Naeun by the waist, your other hand going to her arm and slinging it around your shoulder to ground her, inspecting the mess she made. Your expression is apologetic when you make eye contact with Haechan, but he merely purses his lips and gestures putting Naeun’s other arm around himself for more support.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ and heave her body outside of the dance floor and towards the booth Haneul had brought you to earlier. Placing her on the couch, she slumps down and immediately whines when her hand makes contact with her torso on the descent.

“I’m all sticky now…” Her eyes are barely open as she says this, as the bass of the music dwindles in the semi-confines of the booth.

“That makes the two of us,” As Haechan says this, your eyes glance over his figure to see his once white button-up is now tinted blue and sticking to his body, outlining the faintest of lines in the dark of the club. You advert your eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking at him like a man in the Victorian era.

“I’m so sorry, thank you for helping,” You bite your lip momentarily, feeling mortified for ruining his shirt. He merely waves you off, “Don’t worry. I’m not too fussed about it,” His hand is placed at his hip as he says this, but his free hand gestures at your intoxicated friend. “But she seems to be the most bothered out of all of us,”

As if on cue, Naeun whines from her slumped position on the couches, shifting left and right in an attempt to gain some leverage into standing up, only to slip back down. She calls for your name and then squints at Haechan as if trying to remember his.

“Naeun, let’s call it a night, yeah?” You try telling her and you look around to find her bag that she’s left. She protests like a child in a grocery store, huffing as she droops further onto the couch, her cheek now pressed against the cushions.

“No, not until I bag the class clown's hot friend.” Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks grow hot, trying your best to not glance over at Haechan and somewhat blow Naeun’s cover. You reach over and pat her cheeks lightly in a warning.

“Naeun, you’re blabbering nonsense now. Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’m not! I’m talking about Jeno, not nonsense. Haechan’s super hot friend Jeno,” Your whole body does a reset as she says this, shoulders going stiff while Naeun is oblivious to everything. She opens her eyes and locks them on something behind you, now pointing her finger and smiling giddily.

“Oh! Look, Haechan is here! Hey, do you think if I ask reallyyy nicely he’ll—” Her next words are muffled by your hand and a forced laugh. You cast a look at Haechan to see him trying and failing to contain a smile, as his hand pushes at the corner of his mouth. Upon making eye contact with you he quickly looks away and tries to retain himself from laughing. You sigh as you think about the number of things you’d have to run down to sober Naeun tomorrow about drunk Naeun’s antics right now. Gathering both of your things and shrugging your jacket on your friend, you quickly grab a tissue paper from the table and the eyeliner pen from Naeun’s bag, scribbling down your phone number.

Once Haechan has regained his composure, he’s met with your hand extended towards him holding a napkin. He picks it up from your hand as you wave it a bit impatiently before you quickly go to shoulder your friend up.

“This is my number, send me your details and I’ll cover for your shirt and the drink,” You grunt as you adjust Naeun’s deadweight before she gets the memo and tries standing on her two feet. “Thank you again for helping, uh, please ignore everything she just said. I know it’ll be a good payback prank but—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Haechan’s chuckle resounds deep even in the loud bass of the club. “I wouldn’t pull anything on her for this.” He comes to Naeun’s opposite side, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder, heading towards the exit of the club without casting a glance back at you. You fumble with your belongings before quickly catching up, heels clicking as you ascend the stairs, your hands hovering around Naeun’s general direction, in fear that she’ll decide to fling herself off Haechan’s grip in an attempt of brushing her drunkenness off.

Outside of the club, cars whizz by the busy streets as people go for second and third rounds of drinks at this time of the night. Haechan lets Naeun sink into the ground as the latter pulls her weight, and you scramble towards her on the floor.

“Are you gonna hurl?” You ask. She hiccups.

“No,” And that’s all you needed to hear. Standing up, you fish out your phone and decide to call a cab back to your dorms, not wanting to carry your friend in the ten-minute walk back.

“Hey,” Haechan calls and you had momentarily forgotten that he was still here. You look up to see him scratching at his neck, mulling over his next words. “Uh, if you’d like, I didn’t drink anything and— I mean I was going to but then your friend just… What I’m saying is that I can drop you off?” The alcohol swimming in your brain may be playing with you, but you think you see a dust of pink settle into the boy’s cheek and neck.

“I mean, you’re Haneul’s friends, right? I remember you were her roommate at the dorms last year, so if you still live there I can drop you off,” He straightened his shoulder as he said this, now looking more confident about his offer.

You shift your weight, as you now actually get to take a good look at him. Under the club's dark and strobing lights, you could barely see his features far past his white button-up shirt and the light reflecting in his eyes. The street light illuminates the figure in front of you fully, allowing you to see the blue stain in his shirt, but also the tight fit of his jeans and the veins adorning his arms as he pushes up his sleeves at his elbows.

“Oh, thanks. But we should be okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.” You’re a bit flustered as you say this, your eyes flickering from his forearms to his face, not wanting to come off rude but also not being able to contain your monkey-sex brain from forming thoughts. You’re salivating over forearms.

“Okay…wait. Here,” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, typing in the phone number that you handed to him earlier in the night, calling you briefly. “Give me a text when you arrive home or if you need any help with warding off any weirdos.�� You feel your stomach warm at his gesture, punching your name into his phone when he gives it to you. When you give it back to him, he mouths your name, before smiling at you.

“Will you be alright going alone?” He says as he helps you bring Naeun to a stand, the latter squeezing her eyes open and trying to regain balance and focus.

“Yup,” You pop, fixing your friend's bag on her shoulder. “She said she wasn’t gonna throw up, which means I have around twenty minutes until she changes her mind. She’s always the most self-aware pre-vom, so the walk back should be okay,” You don’t know why you’re reassuring him from getting kidnapped on your way back, but it feels nice to have someone care for your safety like this. Naeun starts marching away once you face her in the direction of your unit, and with a last wave goodbye, you turn your back to Haechan and the club.

[FRIDAY; 1:26 AM]

you: hii im home now

haechan: thats good

haechan: did she thrw up yet??

you: nah not yet

you: but we’re getting there you: t-minus three secs

haechan: remember to drink water b4 u sleep

you: okayy thank u for today :)

Telling Naeun how she almost embarrassed herself wasn’t as dreadful when she was fighting a hangover. She seemed to be more concerned about her water intake than almost causing a scene with Jeno at the club, complaining about the dryness of her skin.

“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without telling me to wash my make-up off,” She says this as she adds her expensive serum to her face, grabbing a guasha tool and pressing the cool instrument against her temples, completely disregarding its original use. You continue brushing your teeth next to her against the sink, unable to reply with the foam in your mouth.

“You passed out on the toilet after throwing up, I almost threw up myself trying to bring you to your bed,” You say as you spit out your toothpaste.

“Wait, then how did I not cause a scene?”

“Haechan stopped you,” You reply seamlessly, drying your hands on the hand towel, oblivious to the bewildered stare Naeun throws your way.

“Haechan? Like, Jeno’s friend Haechan? The guy who put red food dye in the campus’ water which made everyone's mouth red?” You remember the initial shock of walking by the water fountain the day he did this, the blood red of the water being a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather last year.

“Yeah, you even spilled his drink on him and everything.” You giggle at the groan that she lets out, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna now plant a hidden alarm in my room like he did to this other guy in the dorm, or put plastic cockroaches in everything I own. I can’t believe I did that, was his shirt white?”

“Not after you spilt his neon blue drink,” You egg on even more. “But don’t worry, he said he won’t pull anything on you.” At that, her shoulders slump down in relief, as she leans against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m safe,” She cheers, heading to the kitchen like nothing had happened. But being the drama queen that she is, she quickly turns to look back at you with a sharp gasp. “But you aren’t!”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “What do you mean? Why would I not be safe?” You disregard her sceptics as you pass by her and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something to eat.

“He said that he wouldn’t do anything to me, but he didn’t say anything about you.” For someone whos nursing a hangover, it’s alarming to see her raise her voice and move as swiftly as she does around you, trying to get you as panicked as she is about her made-up scenario. “He can glitter bomb your bag, or hack your laptop so that whenever you have an assignment it doesn’t go through until a few seconds after it's due, or—” You cut your friend off by stuffing cereal in her mouth, stopping her mid-rant.

“Why would he do that to me? You have to know he only did those to relevant or well-known people, like Somi or Sunghoon. He wouldn’t do some grand prank on someone like me.” You turn to pour your chosen cereal into a bowl. “And if you say anything else, just know I’m ignoring you.”

“But—”

“I’m ignoring you,”

“You can’t do this to m—”

“Ignoring youuuu,”

You don’t hear of or see Haechan until Wednesday, when you’re walking to your second class of the day from the library.

Adjusting your items in your bag, you wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all until he had cleared his throat and brushed his shoulder lightly against yours.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen by reflex, taken aback by his sudden approach before they soften again at the smile adorning his face. “Hi,”

“Hey, you heading to class?” He small talks, and maybe you should spend less time with your roommate, because what should be a simple interaction between you and one of your peers is putting you on edge. Even when you had ignored Naeun’s dramatics about you being dunked on by the boy before you, you can’t deny the jittery feeling coursing through your body, as if your body is gearing in to go into fight-or-flight mode.

Not wanting to come off rude, you hum an agreement and attempt to cast a friendly glance at him, which doesn’t last long as you see him looking back at you.

“Did you, uh, have fun?” You attempt at making small talk, but Haechan looks at you quizically at your lack of context. “At the club, that night. Sorry for interrupting your night and ruining your shirt.” You can’t help but circle back, feeling apologetic when you recall the massive blue stain you had left him in.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I hated that shirt anyway,” You gape at him as he says this, but quickly close your mouth shut and roll your eyes when you see the teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “And don’t worry about the prank thing too, I wouldn’t think about pranking a pretty girl like you,” You flush momentarily, but remember that you’re talking to ‘the biggest flirt on campus’. Haenul’s words, not yours.

“Good to know,” You egg him on, feeling your shoulders slump down as you grow more relaxed in his company. His jovial manner eases your thoughts of him coming after you, as his presence in front of you proves that he’s merely another student on your campus, trying to have fun and get by with crippling student debt.

Small talking a bit more as you head towards your tutorial, you revel in the drama he tells you that has occurred after you had left the club, remembering to list down the details to recall back to Naeun when you see her later. It’s when you’re at the door of your classroom when Haechan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I have a call to take, but I’ll see you around?” He looks at you with a friendly smile, and it takes everything in you not to melt right there. You can see why some of the girls in your year are fond of him.

Waving him goodbye, you wait until he turns a corner before you go towards your class. You’re just a few minutes late, which explains why you’re met with the nearly closed door of the classroom. Readily, you grip the handle and creak open the door, eyes ready to scan around the room for a vacant spot for you to sit at. But before you could comprehend much, you’re suddenly soaked cold.

Turns out, there was a bucket of water placed on the top of the door, which explains why there was a slight gap instead of the door being closed like it usually is when your tutorial begins. No one in the class had a clue of why the bucket was there or thought to dismantle the bucket, not wanting to mess with the inevitable of something occurring. The door you had entered from wasn’t a main door to the room either, but instead, a back door that barely anyone used, so they were all equally shocked when you had chosen to walk through the obscure entry. Oblivious to the minute signs, you walked right into the classroom and were immediately met with water and a few cubes of ice.

You convey all of this to Naeun when she sees you damper than normal at the campus cafe, where you two usually meet during your free periods; you’re usually dryer than this, so it wasn’t hard for her to realise. She laughs, because is she truly Naeun if she doesn’t laugh at your demise, but then she falls silent, brows now furrowed.

You look at her in question. “Why do you look like you’re a shiver away? I’m the one who’s soaked.”

“Oh my god, Haechan did this to you,” She completely ignores your words, making her point with theatre-level dramatics.

You wave your hand at her, disregarding her theory. “He couldn’t have. He was walking with me when I was headed to class.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims, the hot coffee sloshing around in her cup as she almost jumps out of her seat. You flinch at the handling of the hot drink. “He walked with you to distract you from the fact that he’s gonna pull something. He must’ve set it up before and came around to slow you down. I mean come on,” She slams her cup down on the saucer. “A phone call right when you reach your class? Isn’t that too obvious?” And you hate to admit it, but Naeun does have a point. The main topic of your conversation was about him not pulling anything on you, only for you to walk into his trap just a few minutes later.

“Oh my god,” You slouch against the booth seat of the cafe, the information slowly settling in. “But—”

“Why you?”

“Why that prank?”

Now it’s Naeun’s turn to look at you quizically. “What?”

You feel incredulous now, heat building up inside you. “A fucking bucket of water? That’s it? Is that all he could think of; he’s the same person who filled a whole lecture room with ping-pong balls and tied his roommate's bed to the door with rope. Why was my prank so low-effort?” Naeun now realises the anger budding within you, as she looks around the cafe when your voice raises slightly. She splays her hands out in front of you in a lieu to calm you down, but you’re too warped in your fury to acknowledge her attempts.

“Water? Water? With like, four cubes of ice, and that’s it. Is that all I’m worth? He couldn’t put a glitter bomb in every second purse of mine, or change my ex’s contact name to yours, or anything.” You down your drink quickly, feeling too worked up to be cooped in the booth of the cafe. Naeun follows after, quickly gathering her things and putting her laptop and pens in her bag. You would feel bad for cutting your study session short, but she was barely studying, so the guilt dwindles just a bit. The anger overpowers it by a margin.

“Hey, what are you— don’t go and do something stupid.” Naeun tries as she loops her arm with yours.

You sigh when she squeezes your bicep, feeling the heat inside you cool down just a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. If anything, if I act like it affected me and lash out at him, it would be exactly what he wants.”

“So you’re gonna act like nothing happened?” You nod your head with hesitation.

“Well, something along the lines,”

It is no surprise that Haechan thrives on attention. That’s the sole reason why he continues with these pranks, and it doesn’t take a psychology major to figure this one out. You did think about pulling something back on him, maybe like pantsing him in the middle of campus or putting some hair removal cream in his shampoo so he thinks he’s slowly balding, but even with how embarrassing and risky they are —you don’t want to leave a huge impact on him, just ruffling his feathers a bit, you know he’ll revel in the attention regardless. So you go for the next best thing.

Ignoring him.

It was a good idea when you and Naeun were walking and passed by his group of friends, who exchanged some pleasantries with you, your friend barely holding it together at Jeno’s eye smile. You held eye contact and waved at Renjun and Jeno, but barely spared a glance towards Haechan’s direction, and when you finally did, you just gave him a blank stare.

You think it worked when you saw the corner of his lip slip down from the smile he was sporting, and you almost felt bad for acting so cold to someone who didn’t do anything. Then you remind yourself that he did, in fact, do something. You thought it would be enough to do this just a few more times when you see him in the next few months of the semester, and you barely see him so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s like fate has a personal vendetta against you, because ever since that fateful night, you see him everywhere.

You barely remember him coming into the campus library, let alone the quiet corner that you huddle yourself in to get your grind on. So it’s safe to say that you were shocked when you feel a tap on your shoulder only to look up and see Haechan looming over you, a shy smile sporting his face at the prospect of reaching out to you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand tugging at his earlobe as if shy. He looks at the seat opposite yours, as if wanting to sit there. You feel shame burn inside you when you don’t go to offer the seat, but you attempt to dwindle it when you remind yourself that you had to sit soaked throughout the entire class because participation is mandatory for your grades.

“How was your class the other day,” Your grip on your pen tightens as he says this, and you’re sure that the tilt in the corner of his mouth is to keep himself from laughing at you straight to your face. But you don’t give in, and instead nod your head with your eyebrows slightly raised, as if exasperated.

“It was okay,” You can only keep your replies short instead of ignoring him by keeping silent. His lingering form by your table and your avoidant gaze is already fueling the awkward air surrounding you, but you’re not giving in until he does.

And it seems like he’s not backing out anytime soon. “ Oh, I heard from Haneul that you’re planning on picking up cross-cultural management next session? I took that course last year so if you wanted some notes I can send them to you,” Fuck. How is he so good at this? His words make you think about your initial assumptions, and looking at his face, he does seem genuine about his offer, the tips of his ears now growing pink.

You soften a bit, ready to apologise to him for being overstrung, but then his gaze goes to something behind you, and now he covers his mouth with his palm as if stopping himself from bursting with laughter.

Confused, you turn around to see what was so hilarious for him to shift his demeanour so suddenly, only to be met with his friends, Jeno and Renjun, who go cartoonishly still at your attention. Of course, all of this is a running joke for him; sweetening up to you after the incident just so he can prove that no one can resist him.

Scoffing, you shut your laptop and gather your things, ignoring Haechan’s noise of surprise with your sudden movement, shoving everything in your bag and shouldering it. “I have to head out now, forgot that Naeun wanted to meet me before her class.” You make up an excuse as you look at your phone for the time. Naeun is taking a diligent afternoon nap at this very moment back in your dorm, completely oblivious to the trials you’re facing; but he doesn’t need to know your every move.

You almost slip out a ‘sorry’ as a reflex, but one glance back at the shocked faces of both Haechan and his subordinates brings you back, as you merely give him a tight smile before brushing past him.

“Oka— I’ll see you around!” Your shoulder bunches up at his volume as you hastily make your way out of his presence and the building.

Stepping into the radio broadcasting club room, you greet everyone present, apologising for being late.

“I got caught up on the way,” You take a seat at the table, putting your bag on the ground. Naeun, whos seated next to you, taps repeatedly at your bicep as a greeting, squealing away from you when you attempt to deliver a pinch to her skin.

“Did you get another bucket of water dunked on you?” Your senior Yubin comments, making everyone in the room laugh. You deliver a strained chuckle as Naeun casts a worried glance at you, but you wave her concern away

“Yubin’s just kidding, you’re not late either, we just sent Minseok to pick up the pizza boxes. Then after we’re done eating we can start brainstorming for the university mini carnival event.” Sohee softly informs, looking up from her clipboard to give you a kind smile.

“If anything, Jihoon’s the person we have to chastise. He texted saying he’ll be here in five minutes fifteen minutes ago.” Juyeon huffs at his phone screen.

As if on cue, the door opens and in comes Jihoon, but he isn’t alone.

“Sorry for coming in late, but look what I found along the way. Isn’t he so cute?” He coos at Haechan who stands beside him, looking at his friend incredulously, mockingly raising his hand. Ignoring Haechan’s disdain for his words, he pinches at his cheeks as he looks towards Yubin and Sohee. “Can we keep him? I always wanted a pet bear,”

Naeun leans in towards you. “He’s more of a cocaine bear than a pet.” You smack at her as she whispers this to you, reminding her of restraint. “You’re not the best at whispering, babe” You tease. “Keep your tone down if you also don’t wanna get dunked on.”

You feel your heart melt when you see look towards Haechan’s direction and see his cheeks turning pink. It seems like you’re not the only one when you hear a chorus of dreamy mutterings echo throughout the room. He swats at Jihoon’s hand before tilting his head lightly at the two leaders of the club. “I wanted to make sure this devil spawn doesn’t make a mess every step he takes. I’ll head out now,” He starts to wave at everyone in the room but sounds of disapproval travel around, and before he knows it Haechan is being dragged by Jihoon and Juyeon to take a seat at the table. In the midst of all the commotion, he looks up and catches your gaze, making you still in your seat, before he’s handled once more to sit down.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Yubin beams, and not for long Minseok comes in with a mountain of pizza boxes in his grip.

You see the tip of his ears turn red (something you now notice that you see a lot) as he thanks your seniors. “I’ll be out after I steal your food,” He grins, and it takes much more than your initial willpower to look away.

So far, you were willing to categorise seeing Haechan manifesting everywhere as chance; maybe some sick and twisted form of coincidence. Because before all of this, if you were to get a dollar for every time you had encountered him throughout your whole degree, you would have six, maybe seven dollars if you count that one Zoom call. You had your doubts in the beginning when you saw him at the library and then at your club meeting, that he was doing all of this on purpose; but every other time you would see him in the hallways and lecture halls, you can’t chalk it up to anything but pure coincidence. Haechan is a uni student doing uni-student activities.

It takes you some time to get that idea jammed into your head, and you’ve nearly convinced yourself until today. A relaxing wind-down with one glass of wine turned into you finishing a whole bottle, which amplified your cravings for something sweet. Meeting in the breakfast aisle in your local grocer shouldn’t be something shocking, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he, too, decided to purchase cereal at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“Nope,” You immediately put the two boxes of cereal you were choosing back on the shelf clumsily, looking around for the nearest exit in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait—”

“No, nope. Not at all,” You’re now putting back all the drunk midnight cravings you’ve picked up, shoving them back in their designated areas on the shelf haphazardly as you make your way back out of the place. Your drunk and sleep-deprived brain can’t handle the fact that you’re supposed to interact with Haechan here, out of all the socially acceptable exchanges. You hear a shuffle behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to look back around, focusing entirely on exiting the store without tripping over anything.

Outside, the cold of the night engulfs you as you try to find your bearings, but you’re stopped from lumbering your way back to your dorm by a hand grabbing your arm.

“Y/n, slow down—”

“Stop manifesting yourself into my life,” You groan as you weakly prod away his hand, but his soberness gives him an upper hand, as he merely grabs your hand and holds you by your wrists instead.

“Manifesting? I’m not— actually, that’s not even important. Is there anyone with you tonight?” You groan lightly, still trying to free yourself from his grip. “Naeun?” He prods.

You sigh when you realise he’s not giving up anytime soon. “Naeun is at home, waiting for the Oreo cereals I was gonna impulse buy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about them? I don’t know,” You mumble, hands now lax in his grip, head tilted down. When you don’t hear a reply, you look up and are met with Haechan fishing his phone out of his pocket before pressing the dial button.

“Hi Jen, I’ll meet you at the dorms, it’s…” He glances at your slumped figure, and you’re not sure if the heat in your cheeks is due to the drinks or his attention on you. “A long story. I won’t be long.” Pocketing his phone after ending the call, he lets go of your wrists in favour of clasping his hand into yours, fingers interlocking as he starts heading in the direction of your dorms.

“What are you…” The dark of the night doesn’t help you navigate your way back, so you’re slightly grateful that Haechan is guiding you the way he is.

“Our dorm buildings aren’t far from one another. I can’t let you go home alone in this state,” He answers your question before you could even voice it, looking at you with a soft gaze. He chuckles when you go to look away from him every time he looks at you, squeezing the grip he has on your hand.

The walk is silent for the most part, but Haechan’s brows are furrowed as he thinks about something. Just as you start seeing the entrance of your dorm building, Haechan starts. “Why are you ignoring me?”

The heat in your cheeks disperses momentarily as a cold wave washes over you. The heat comes back when your wide eyes meet his questioning gaze, and you can’t help but squirm in place from being put on the spot.

“That’s cheating,” You slur with a frown. “Ask me when I’m sober. Or when you’re also a bottle of wine in.”

“A whole bottle? Jesus,” He laughs lightly as you groan, tightening his hold on your hand when you try to run away. The pull of his grip catches you off guard, as you stumble forward and closer to his figure. “I hope you can keep a promise, pretty girl.” He teases. Before you can retaliate, he plops you at the entry of your dorm building, swiping the access card to the building poking out of your front pocket and on the reader, before removing his hand from yours and dropping the card back in your possession. You already miss the warmth of his touch, but by the time you look back up, you’re only met with his retreating back.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Did you know that if I did a handstand for almost two minutes straight I can get myself to feel— Why are you empty-handed?” Naeun’s slurs have toned down since you last saw her, but it’s still there. You sigh as you plop yourself face down onto the couch.

“Naeun?” Your voice comes out muffled from the couch cushions, but Naeun hears you regardless, grunting a reply as she shuffles from her position on the floor, probably to find a not-empty bottle of alcohol.

“You know that saying about seducing the things that scare you?” You move your head out from the cushion halfway through your question, wanting to breathe more than to wallow for once.

“Ohhh, I know what you’re talking about,” She hiccups only once. “The fearing what you attract.”

“Attracting your fears.”

“Tomato-tomato. What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they were lying about it,” You had only possessed the fear of saying Haechan in the past few weeks, and now you only see him. If only you were that much fearful of money.

“Are you serious?” Naeun straightens her posture quickly. “I’m so scared of puppy play. Like, truly terrified. If someone handsome were to come up to me with a collar around their neck and a leash in their hand I would scream in fear,”

“Okay, I got it the first time.”

“I don’t think you understand, if they were all whiny about how they wanna be my pet and have me stroke the—”

“I get it!”

Although you had came to the epiphany that you’re attracting what you fear (you don’t know if the exaggerated gasp you let out when you walk by a bank or ATM helps, but it’s worth a try) you still can’t get yourself to not think of Haechan when you walk around campus.

But you don’t see him for the entire week after your last drunk interaction with him, and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or scared. So you choose to be both simultaneously, When you step into your corner of the library, your heart beats like you’ve run a marathon, only to be met with the usual vacantness it always was. You then go through your usual tasks until you have to a secondary location, and before you know it you’re nervous for simply wanting to walk to the bathroom.

“Am I going to constantly piss my pants every step I take on campus?” You complained over dinner with Naeun, as she constantly flips the meat on the grill to avoid burning it.

“If you keep thinking about him, then I think the answer is obvious.” She puts one slice on your plate before continuing. “But also maybe take this as a sign? He’s not popping up randomly anymore, which means that your life is like it was before.” Your reflex is to fight back for no other reason than to counteract your friend, but you cut yourself short when you realise she has a point. Ever since that fateful night, your life is now like it was before you had briefly acquainted with the man.

And so you’re not scared anymore. You even forget to double-check your surroundings to see if he’s anywhere in sight. Your life is as peaceful as a student's life can be. Of course, until it isn’t.

The university’s yearly fundraising festival had come around again, and the broadcasting club had decided to run a barbeque booth to raise their supply funds. You were assigned to take orders, while Juyeon and Yubin tended to the skewers. The heat of the booth mingles with the cool wind of the summer night, as you fan yourself with your hand, handling the money given to you as someone makes a new order.

“One order of chicken skewer please,” You raise your voice enough for Juyeon and Yubin to hear over the sizzling noise of the grill, as you find the exact change to give back to the girl ordering. As the next customer shuffles up, you’re too busy writing down the order on a slip of paper to spare them a glance (which, if this was a running business, would not be counted as good customer service).

“Welcome! Would you like to order our rice cake skewer? We have a special combo of two for the price of one,”

“How much is it for a few minutes of your company?” You feel your blood run cold upon hearing his voice. Looking up, you’re met with Haechan’s gaze your eyes locking in an unexpected encounter. Adorning a smile on his face, he looks past you and greets your club members before you can think of what to say.

“Hi Channie, how are you?” Yubin asks as she put a chicken skewer in a cup. Juyeon comes up next to you as he reaches out to pinch Haechan’s cheeks. “Hey there cutie, do you wanna do us a favour and buy everything from our booth?” He flutters his eyelashes just for good measure.

Haechan chuckles as he smacks his friend's hand away. “I’m the wrong person, only Chenle has enough money to do that. But can you do me a favour and let me steal your beloved club member?” You don’t realise that he’s talking about you, until you see his hand gesturing towards your figure as he looks at you. You’re about to protest, your brain already conjuring something up about how you have the heavy duty of being the booth’s designated accountant for the night, but Yubin is always a step ahead.

“Go ahead! Her turn was gonna end soon anyway, Sohee is gonna arrive in a few minutes with more of our supply,” She beams at you as she waves you two off. Before you can say anymore, Juyeon is shoving you out of the way, and you have no other choice but to trudge after him.

You walk side by side in silence, as the noise of the multiple booths being run by different clubs and societies encapsulate you two. You try your best to look at everything but him, even when you feel him stealing glances at your figure.

The silence doesn’t last long, though, as Haechan speaks up after looking around at the booths set up. “It’s quite stuffy with all these booths and people,” Not knowing what to say, you merely glance at him as you nod along. He purses his lips, before trying again.

“You must be feeling pretty warm, running the grill and managing everything at the booth. Jihoon used to complain all the time about how hot it got when he was in charge of these things." It's true you've been avoiding the grill area, so you’re not necessarily overheating, but does he deserve to know?

You hear him lightly huff when you just give a shrug and an ambiguous sound, but he doesn’t back down. “Do you want me to get you something to help you cool? Maybe ice cream or a can of coke.” You're on the verge of giving your umpteenth non-verbal response of the evening, but when you look at the boy walking next to you, you’re met with a glare and a quick snarl of his lips. Faced with his insistence, you decide to speak up.

“I’m okay,” You thought this would appease him, but it seems like anything you could’ve done would eventually send him over the edge. You feel his hand clasp onto your wrist before you’re being dragged away from the congested corridor of booths and into a secluded corner of the campus grounds. Even in the shade of the tree, the little light that slips through the lampost nearby highlights the frustration on Haechan’s face, both arrogance and apprehension flood your senses as you realize that his frustration might be a result of something you've done.

His voice is calm when he speaks, “Okay, did I do something to offend you?” He briefly closes his eyes and mentally counts a few numbers before opening them and looking back at you again, this time with a calmer yet stern expression. But rather than soothing your irritation, this seems to send you over the edge.

“I don’t know, did you?” You know you’re being childish, but that’s the point. You’re not planning on giving in until he apologises. By the look of confusion he’s sporting on his face, it doesn’t seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon.

Admittedly, he does look cute when confused, as his front teeth poke ever so slightly from his slightly gaped mouth, as if he’s about to say something but blanked at the last second. “I did do something?” At your scoff, he gathers himself. “Look, if I did do anything, I didn’t have any bad intentions. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything.” But this explanation only sends you over the edge.

Your hands drop from where you had crossed them in front of your chest, as you give Haechan an incredulous look. “No bad intentions? You didn’t want to hurt me? Are you serious? The fact that you even did it is terrible, but such a useless, no-brainer prank?” You’re too angry to notice Haechan’s shift of expression, as his scared grimace falls into another confused furrow of his brows.

“Like, a fucking bucket of water? Even a toddler can pull that. Couldn’t you have done something harder, more creative? Something with more effort, like, I don’t know, expired slime or a skateboard at the door. And I feel even more stupid because I believed you when you said you wouldn’t prank me, I even defended you when Naeun was going off about how I’d be your next target, and I turned out to be a fool, fuck. And for what? A lame bucket of water? Am I only worth that much?” You pause to catch a breather, hand splayed at your waist as you point the other accusingly at Haechan. He widens his eyes slightly, but then a smile falls on his face, and you’re sent spiralling.

“Are you smiling right now?” And at that, he starts laughing. Oh my god, you think, he’s a sociopath.

But Haechan starts laughing even harder, his body falling forward as he leans towards you, clutching your extended finger with his thumb and forefinger, shaking it around before folding over with laughter once more. You’re so, so confused, and now a bit scared that Haechan’s gonna keel over and fall from how hard he’s laughing.

But you don’t need to do such a thing, as he sobers up pretty quickly, straightening himself up and walking closer to you, while his hand now lightly holds your palm in his. You feel heat course through you, from the comfort of his hands holding yours and the sweet laughter that now rings in your head. You feel embarrassed that you bursted like that when you were so determined to make him fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness. Instead, you’re left blushing like a schoolgirl who confessed with a heartfelt letter.

“Okay, okay. Wait, don’t go sullen now.” You look away, your cheeks growing hotter at being so easily read. Haechan grips onto your hand that was lightly resting on his palm, grabbing your attention.

“I swear on Renjun that I didn’t pull that prank on you. I didn’t even know that happened to you.” Your first instinct is to not believe him, but he’s looking earnestly into your eyes, and the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours makes you melt.

“I don’t know how I can prove it you that it wasn’t me, But I told you I wouldn’t do it and I always stick by my promises. I can maybe help you find who did it?” He offers this while smoothly clasping your hands together, fingers now lacing in yours. The intimate gesture sends a wave of flustered warmth through you, and his chuckle in response only confirms that your emotions are evident.

“Wah,” He sighs bumping his shoulder into yours, “What a relief, I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

“Wait, you—” You’re interrupted as Haechan starts striding forward and back into the busy atmosphere of the campus. “Haechan, slow down.” Your voice gets lost in the throng of the crowd, the bustle of people and echoes of activities happening making it hard for your plea to reach his ears. That, or he's simply ignoring you.

In a blink, you're situated back at your booth, the savoury scent of skewed chicken and rice cake wafting through your nose. Haechan releases your hand, and you both face Sohee, who's manning the cashier with a somewhat indifferent expression. “Hi, I just wanna return her,” Haechan says casually, his gaze shifting between you and Sohee.

Sohee regards the two of you with a blank stare, her expression unreadable. Haechan pats your shoulders twice before he waves the two of you goodbye. Sohee goes back to organising the money gained from tonight’s business, not sparing you another glance. “We have a no return and refund policy, especially with damaged goods.”

“Hey!”

You’re not surprised when you see Naeun in the lecture hall, but you are slightly taken aback when you see her situated just a few seats behind Renjun and Jeno. When you rock up next to her, you let your eyes do the talking as you glance back and forth between her and Jeno’s back, with the latter all the more oblivious to what’s happening.

She smacks at your leg before grabbing you and pulling to sit you down. “Shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything?”

“Your empty brain echoes really badly when you conjure even a single thought,” You’re too shocked to retort back (how did she think of that so quickly?), so you simply go to unpack your bag. When you sit back from organising your items, your eyes fall on the door of the lecture room, and you’re surprised to see Haechan stride in. Even in the middle of summer, he has a leather jacket swinging from his fingers at his shoulder, sporting a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his black jeans. You’re about to say something to Naeun, maybe have her indulge in your admiration for a bit, only to be met with the same look you’re sporting but just aimed at the back of Jeno’s head.

When Jeno turns his head to greet his friend, Naeun quickly whips her head away, clearing her throat. You poked at her sides teasingly, as she squirms and smacks your hand away.

“I thought you were gonna ‘act chill’ around him?” Naeun huffs at your words.

“I am acting chill, I’m basically freezing.” You raise your brows at her. “There’s nothing chill about staring at the back of hi—”

Naeun smacks at your mouth when Renjun turns his face sideways, but the loud smack of skin garners more attention, as all three of them look back at you. As the other two merely glance briefly before going back, Haechan’s eyes stray longer while the corner of his mouth quirks up. You offer a simple wave and he flashes a smile before turning back around.

Naeun sighs as she releases her hand from your face, but quickly corners you with a glare. “What was that? Why was he smiling at you like that?” You’re grateful that she’s been practising her inner voice, as you know that Naeun from two weeks ago would have had the whole lecture hall aware of her words with how loud she whispers.

“Long story short, he didn’t do it, and I think …” You’re not sure if you should tell Naeun about the possible confession that occurred. Not because you don’t trust your friend but because you’re not even sure if that could be counted as a confession.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he said it to get on your good side,” Naeun stares daggers at the back of Haechan’s head, but her gaze quickly softens when Jeno plays with his hair.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “He said he didn’t do it, and I trust him.” Naeun surveys your expression for a bit with a glare, before nodding her head in acceptance.

“Alright, I trust your trust in him. But if he ever pulls anything…” You pinch your friend's cheek in gratitude. “I know, you’ll have my back.”

“Speaking of back, did you see Jeno’s when he stretched? It’s okay if you haven’t he’ll do it again when we're a third through the lecture.” You slowly pat her shoulders, speechless once more as you sigh and try to tune her out for the rest of the lecture.

read part two here !!

#nct dream fluff #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #7dreamnet

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loganhowlettshousewife · 2 months ago

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animal

chapter 1

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts

series masterlist │my masterlist

you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.

what the fuck.

you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.

you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.

you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.

it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea.

you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.

you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”

by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.

the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.

despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.

“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”

you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.

one thing at a time, you tell yourself.

your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.

(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)

you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn.

he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.

whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him.

he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.

you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.

he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.

“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.

he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.

it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.

you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.

he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger.

“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”

he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.

you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”

he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.

it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.

you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.

what is your story? you think to yourself.

“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.

he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.

you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.

it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look.

you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.

“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”

this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.

you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.

he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long.

you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.

you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.

your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.

you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”

you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.

shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.

“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”

and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.

you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams

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hp-hcs · 10 months ago

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HIII i love your stories,can yiu pls write one where you hookup with theo after a slytherin party?Y/N thinks that this is a casual hookup but you were actually his longtime crush/obsession

• smut • drunk words, sober thoughts — best friend! theodore nott x gn! reader

warnings: SMUT MDNI, dubcon—sexual acts performed under the influence of alcohol, no anatomical descriptions/pronouns/gendered terms used, unsatisfying/disappointing ending, teen drinking/partying

having a really really really shitty week and solving my problems by writing smut 😐👍

hey! please don’t have sex while under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol! you are physically unable to consent in that situation!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is a bad idea, innit?”

“Definitely,” Theo agreed, leaning down to kiss the join between your neck and collarbone.

Your body thrummed with the alcohol running through your veins. You could feel that your senses were dulled and fuzzy, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You giggled at the ticklish feeling of Theo’s hair brushing against your jaw.

“Promise this won’t change anything between us?” You asked as he moved, shifting his full weight on top of you and pressing you down further into the mattress.

“Promise, Y/n,” he mumbled distractedly, listening your tiny pleased sounds as he returned to nibbling on your collarbone.

You giggled, splaying your hands across the smooth expanse of his freshly exposed chest, sliding them down to trace his abs.

Theo let out a shaky breath between his teeth, closing his eyes to try to regain composure. “You’re gonna be the death of me, caro.”

“Probably,” you agreed.

His hands trailed down your sides, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your bottoms and simultaneously tugging them and your underwear down in one smooth motion, tossing them to the side to join the slowly growing pile of shed clothing.

Theo groaned at the sight; you, fully exposed, splayed out across his bed. It was like Yule, Samhain, and his birthday all rolled up into one. “Merlin, Y/n- you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, love.”

You didn’t acknowledge what he said, instead more focused on trying to unbuckle his belt. As it turns out, Drunk You had absolutely no concept of belt buckles and how they work.

Eventually, you got it open, reluctantly letting go of Theo so that he could yank off his trousers.

Your body buzzed with alcohol and adrenaline, making you feel fuzzy and distant. You watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he crawled back on top of you and kissed the shell of your ear. He murmured something to you that you couldn’t quite understand, but you laughed anyways. This was great! Why weren’t you drunk all the time?

You were jolted back into the present as Theodore’s nimble fingers sent zaps of pleasure shooting up your spine as he teased you, the sensation only magnifying as he gripped your hips and fully sunk into you.

You gasped out a startled moan, your hands flying up to hold onto his shoulders tightly.

He began a quick rhythm right off the bat, far too impatient to go slow.

“Fuck- that’s it, darlin’. Jus’ hold onto me,” he panted reassuringly, spreading a large hand across your stomach and smoothing it across your flesh. As his hand travelled further down, he pressed the heel of his hand into the space right below your navel, you both moaning in unison at the intensified sensation.

“Theo- Te-Teddy-” you panted as your fingers scrabbled for anything to hold onto, your nails raking along Theo’s back and leaving shaky pink lines. “Shit- shitshitshit- Theo!”

Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as you were hit with the strongest orgasm you’ve ever felt before.

Theo started laughing at how quickly you’d finished, but not before being abruptly cut off by his own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of you, limbs trembling. You petted his hair, kissing his forehead and mumbling your thanks.

You both fell asleep, the combination of alcohol and…exercise working hard to make you pass out in his bed.

~~~

You hummed softly at the comfortable feeling that surrounded you. You just felt so cozy in this soft and warm bed that you barely even noticed your pounding head.

You did, however, notice the strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

Ah, shit. Who’d I hook up with this time?

You slowly turned your head to look, praying to Salazar or Merlin or whoever that it wasn’t a Weasley.

It wasn’t.

However, your stomach dropped when you saw a familiar head of brown curls laying next go you.

Ah, double shit.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself. “Oh, fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

Theo stirred next to you, his arms tightening around your body and tugging you back into his chest.

“You’re thinking too loud,” he mumbled against the back of your neck, his warm breath causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

“I…” you trailed off. “Uh-”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, one of his hands beginning to caress your side. “I’ve always been hoping for this to happen.”

You stiffened. “What?”

Theo chuckled, his sudden exhale ruffling your hair. “Y/n, I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve.”

“What?”

“Look…would you please go steady with me?” He asked, his thumb rubbing small circles into your hip.

“...No.”

You were rather offended. This was your best friend. And he was only friends with you because he wanted to get laid?

What a douchebag.

“I- No?” Theo sounded entirely caught off guard, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to understand. He was certain that you’d say you’d always felt the same, that you were meant to be together, that the sex was good, and then kiss him.

This was not going according to plan.

“No.” You pulled back, rolling out of his bed. You were actively looking anywhere but at him as you picked up your clothes off the floor and hurriedly tugged them back on.

“Y/n-” Theo stuttered, his eyes still wide and tone uncomprehending as he watched you shove on your shoes, not even bothering to tie them.

You just hurried out of his dorm without a single glance back, leaving him alone in his bed and entirely shattering his heart.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

part two

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott smut #hp smut #theo nott x reader #hp x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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wholoveseggs · 2 months ago

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Kinktober - {Day Twenty-One} {<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Damon Salvatore x F!Reader} Request {Anon}: This is for your Kinktober event! I've had this idea floating around since your story with Damon S and Elijah. Threesome/Cumplay/Squirting Fem!Reader getting taken to Paris by D & E only for Elijah to cum inside them and Damon eats it out. This is pure filth, I know! Love your writing!

♡♡♡ Omggg, YOUR MIND!!!!! Holy hell this idea is perfection. First, I'm so thrilled you were inspired by Respect! It's based on one of my favorite Elijah moments from TVD (& favorite ship) IF ONLY THE WRITERS WERE BRAVE ENOUGH. Second, because I love you & your beautiful mind... YOU GET A CERTFICATE. This isn't a greedy amount of kinks... but in the idea.... well... (see bottom of post for your reward) ♡♡♡

3.5k words - Kinks: very very very bisexual, threesome, squirting, you and Damon worshipping Elijah (duh!), Elijah being dom, oral sex (m & f receiving) &&& lots of filth ...

When Damon insisted on you wearing a blindfold as you exited the plane, you knew something was up. You let him take your hand, leading you out of the cabin and down the steps. As you felt a cool breeze tickle your legs and a new smell fill your nose, you frowned.

"Can I take this off now?" You asked, referring to the blindfold.

"No," said the voice of Elijah. You could hear the smirk on his lips, and the fact that you couldn't see him made you want to take it off even more. "Patience, my love."

You grumbled a bit, nearly tripping down the last step. But you felt the firm grip of Damon's hands on your hips, and his body behind yours.

As soon as your feet hit the ground, he took a few steps away, and you heard two car doors open.

"In," said Damon. "I'm in the back with you."

"So bossy," you teased.

You slid in, Damon's hands helping guide you into the backseat. Elijah was already sitting next to you, his arm draped around your shoulders. His warmth seeped through his suit jacket, and you relaxed into his touch.

Damon got in next to you and closed the door.

"I can't wait to be alone with you both," you whispered, nuzzling into Elijah's neck.

"Don't worry, love," said Elijah, kissing the top of your head. "We have a lot planned for you."

Damon placed a hand on your thigh, sliding it up your leg. Your skirt had bunched up from sitting down, and Damon's fingers brushed your bare skin.

"Are we really doing this now?" You asked.

"Why not?" Damon chuckled, but before he could go further, Elijah’s grip tightened subtly on your shoulder.

"Later," he said, his tone firm, but there was a promise hidden in his words. Damon sighed in mock frustration, pulling his hand away, but you could sense the unspoken exchange between the two of them. The silent communication they shared only heightened the anticipation, the feeling of being wanted by both of them.

You were tempted to take Damon’s hand and slide it back to where you needed it most, but the teasing was part of the game. And you loved the game.

The rest of the drive was filled with a charged silence, your senses heightened by the darkness behind the blindfold and the warmth of both men pressed close to you. The car eventually stopped, and Damon helped you out, your fingers clutching his as you carefully followed him across uneven cobblestones.

The sounds around you, the distant chatter in French, the soft hum of city life, gave away your location before they even removed the blindfold. You were in Paris, the city of love, and your heart leaped in excitement.

Finally, you stopped. You heard keys jingling, a lock turning, and then Elijah’s hands were on you, slipping the blindfold away.

“Welcome,” he said softly, his voice filled with affection. “To our little getaway.”

The room before you was luxurious, the golden hues of the décor bathed in the fading light from a large window overlooking the Eiffel Tower. It felt like a dream, one they had crafted just for you.

You spun to face them, a broad grin spreading across your lips. "Paris!" you squealed, leaping into Elijah’s arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Thank you!”

Elijah chuckled, catching you easily. “Only the best for you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice a deep, comforting hum in your ear.

Damon was speaking to the staff in French, ordering room service and more than a few bottles of champagne.

"What would you like to do first?" Elijah asked.

"Well," you started, walking over to the window. You glanced out, admiring the view. The sun was setting just past the city, making everything glow. "First, I'd like to enjoy a bottle of champagne. Then… maybe, a tour?"

"Whatever the lady wants," said Damon, grinning.

Elijah kissed your forehead and excused himself to the bathroom, and as soon as the door shut behind him, Damon was in front of you, kissing your neck.

“Oh, hello,” you laughed, your hands finding their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric.

“Hi,” Damon whispered against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hands were on your hips, tugging you back against him. “I was thinking we might stay in tonight... just the three of us.”

You turned in his arms, the tension between you palpable. “I like the way you think,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

Without wasting another second, Damon pulled you to the bed, laying you down on the plush mattress, his hands never leaving your body. He crawled over you, pressing his lips to yours, a gentle moan escaping his mouth. You reached down, trying to work the button on his jeans.

You barely heard the door open, but Elijah cleared his throat, and you and Damon pulled apart.

"Don't stop on my account," he smirked, and Damon gave him a look, which made Elijah chuckle. "You can keep going."

You grinned, but before you could pull Damon back to you, there was a knock at the door.

"Damn it," groaned Damon.

"That would be our food," Elijah said.

Damon pouted and rolled off you, and you stifled a laugh. Elijah moved to answer the door, tipping the delivery man generously and pulling a cart filled with food and drink inside.

Champagne flutes were filled, bubbles rising in the golden liquid as the three of you clinked glasses. You took a long sip, savoring the moment. The sunset outside bathed the room in a soft glow, and for a moment, everything was perfect. Still, warm, full of anticipation.

Elijah’s gaze darkened as he looked at you, the intensity of his stare making heat rise in your chest. Damon, always quick to follow suit, watched you with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

You placed your glass down, feeling the charge in the air shift. Elijah’s hand slipped under your chin, guiding you into a kiss. His mouth was firm, insistent, tasting of champagne. His control was intoxicating, and you melted into him, giving in to the feeling.

When his lips left yours, you barely had time to miss the taste of him before Damon’s mouth was on you. His hands roamed your body, sending sparks of pleasure through your skin.

"Mm," Elijah chuckled, his voice low and teasing. "I do love it when you're greedy."

"I want this off," you whined, tugging at his suit jacket impatiently. "Now."

With a grin, he stepped back, slowly slipping out of his clothes, revealing the toned, muscular body underneath. Your eyes darted to Damon, raising your eyebrows in silent challenge.

"I'm not taking anything off until you do," Damon teased, his gaze smoldering.

You smiled, getting on your knees on the bed, and slipped your dress over your head, tossing it to the floor. The cool air grazed your skin, but the way their eyes lingered on you, like they were ready to devour you, sent warmth flooding through your body.

Damon followed suit, stripping off his shirt and jeans. You leaned back, watching as they undressed, their bodies a tantalizing display of strength and desire.

“I think the lady likes what she sees," Elijah smirked, his eyes dark with intent.

"You could say that," Damon agreed, his gaze drifting over Elijah's body before locking on yours. The hunger between them was palpable, and seeing it unfold before you made your pulse race.

Elijah stepped closer to Damon, his hand pressing against his chest, guiding him back onto the bed. Damon grinned up at him, and Elijah bent down, their lips crashing together in a rough, heated kiss. It was raw and unrestrained, their desire for each other on full display.

Without breaking the kiss, Elijah's hand reached out, tangling in your hair, pulling you in with a growl.

"Come here," he commanded, his voice husky.

You moved closer, and he claimed your lips with the same intensity, his kiss demanding and unapologetic. His tongue pushed into your mouth, sending a wave of need through you that made you moan. When he pulled back, his eyes flicked between you and Damon, a wicked gleam lighting up his face.

"On your knees," he ordered, the edge in his voice impossible to ignore.

You and Damon exchanged a quick, knowing glance before grinning and obeying. You both sank to the floor as Elijah, ever the gentleman, threw down a pillow for your knees. You shot him a grateful smile, placing a quick kiss on his thigh.

Standing tall before you, his erection just inches from your face, Elijah looked down at you both, the power of the moment simmering in his eyes. You and Damon leaned forward together, tongues flicking out to lick up and down his length, your mouths meeting as you worshiped him.

The sensation of Damon's lips alongside the heat of Elijah's cock on your tongue had you whimpering in arousal, your body aching for more.

"Oh, love," Elijah purred, his fingers tightening in your hair as he guided his cock deeper into your mouth. "Is someone feeling needy?"

You nodded, eyes wide and desperate, and Elijah chuckled softly, clearly relishing the control he held. The feeling of him filling your mouth made your core throb with desire.

"What about you?" Elijah asked, turning his gaze to Damon.

"Always," Damon replied, his smirk wicked as ever.

Elijah shifted, pulling you off him with a firm hand in your hair, making you whimper in protest at the sudden emptiness. His hand found Damon's hair next, pulling him closer. "Your turn. Take what you need."

Damon wasted no time, taking Elijah's cock into his mouth with a practiced ease, his head bobbing up and down as he worked him with skilled precision. You watched in awe, your arousal growing as the wet sounds of his lips sliding over Elijah’s shaft filled the air.

Not wanting to be left out, you leaned in and kissed along Elijah’s length, your tongue tracing the path Damon had just left, meeting his in the process. Your hand slipped down to fondle Elijah's balls, rolling them gently between your fingers as you both continued to worship him.

The way Elijah groaned, his head thrown back in pleasure, only spurred you on. The tension built in the room, palpable and intense.

"Enough," Elijah growled, his voice ragged as he pushed you both away.

You and Damon fell back, sitting on the floor, gazing up at him, your chests rising and falling as you caught your breath.

"So perfect," Elijah murmured, his gaze sweeping over you both with clear admiration. He ran his thumb over your lips before leaning down to kiss you, the weight of his dominance ever-present. His hand curled around the back of your neck, and with a playful shove, he pushed you back onto the bed.

You landed with a breathless laugh, looking up at him, your body buzzing with anticipation. His devilish grin made your pulse quicken as he turned his attention back to Damon. Their mouths met again in another fierce kiss, their bodies grinding against each other, and the sight was intoxicating.

Unable to resist, you slid a hand between your legs, teasing yourself as you watched them. A soft moan escaped your lips, drawing their attention.

Both Elijah and Damon broke the kiss, turning their gaze to you. The look in their eyes was nothing short of predatory.

"Look at you," Elijah teased, his voice dripping with desire. "Already so desperate."

You bit your lip, spreading your legs wider, showing off the wet patch on your panties. "What do you think, Damon?" Elijah asked, not breaking eye contact with you. "Should we give her what she wants?"

Damon's eyes darkened with lust as they swept over you. "I think we should have a taste," he said with a wicked grin.

The two of them crawled onto the bed, one on either side of you. They leaned in, their tongues lapping at your breasts. Elijah pulled your nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting, and Damon's hand drifted down, slipping under the wet fabric. You gasped as his fingers brushed over your clit, teasing you. You moaned and pushed against him, desperate for more. Your eyes wide and desperate, locked with his.

Elijah’s lips ghosted down your stomach, the heat of his breath sending shivers across your skin. His stubble tickled as he moved lower, replacing Damon's hand to slide your panties off. Lifting your legs onto his shoulders, he dipped down, and the warm sensation of his tongue circling your clit made you moan, arching your back toward him.

Damon bent down, capturing your lips, muffling your cries. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his hand cupping your face. You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your core, the sensation growing stronger and stronger. You reached down, your fingers tangling in Elijah's hair, pulling him closer. You rocked against his face, and his arm wrapped around your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin.

Damon pulled back, his hands pinning your arms to the bed. He held you down, watching as you writhed under their touch. His bright blue eyes wild and lustful.

The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing through your body as you cried out Elijah's name. Pleasure rushed through you, leaving your thighs slick and Elijah’s face glistening. Damon released your arms, chuckling as he looked at Elijah's usually impeccable appearance, now messy with your wetness.

"That's a good look for you," Damon teased, leaning in to lick Elijah’s chin. Elijah shot him a dark, hungry look before grabbing Damon and pulling him into a rough kiss.

You sat up, watching the two of them. Elijah pulled away, and his gaze snapped back to you

"Lie down," he ordered. "And spread your legs."

You obeyed without hesitation, anticipation thrumming through you. Elijah's hand slipped between Damon's thighs, stroking him slowly. His touch made Damon moan, his hips jerking in response.

Elijah glanced back at you, smirking. "Do you see how much he needs me?"

"Yes," you breathed, watching them hungrily.

"And I need you," Elijah said, his voice softening as he turned his attention back to you. He pushed Damon onto the bed next to you, crawling between your legs. His eyes met yours, full of intensity and adoration.

"Please," you whispered, lifting your hips to him.

Elijah positioned himself at your entrance, pushing into you, inch by inch. His mouth found yours, claiming it in a hungry kiss. Damon watched from the side, his own hand stroking his length.

You wrapped your legs around Elijah's waist, pulling him deeper, the delicious feeling of being filled by him making you cry out in pleasure. He moved with slow, deep thrusts, leaning back to watch your face, savoring every reaction.

His thumb circled your clit, his touch light and teasing, and the sensation made you arch your back, desperate for more. You turned your head, finding Damon's lips, kissing him deeply as you clung to him. Damon chuckled against your lips, positioning himself so that you could take him into your mouth. You moaned around him, tasting the salty pre-cum, sucking him greedily.

Damon groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair. He held you there, fucking your mouth. You took him as deep as you could, gagging slightly, the sensation only making you want him more.

"That's it, sweetheart," Elijah cooed, his thumb rubbing faster circles on your clit. "Show him how good you can take it."

Elijah's praise, mixed with the taste of Damon's cock, the feeling of him filling your mouth, was too much, and you came again, shaking and moaning around him.

As your body spasmed, Damon pressed his hips up, pushing himself deeper into your mouth.

"Fuck," he growled, his hand gripping your hair.

You felt him tense, the heat of his release pouring down your throat. You swallowed around him, sucking him clean, looking up at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes.

He grinned down at you, panting. "Good girl."

Elijah's pace was growing erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, his hips slamming against yours. He was letting out these sexy little moans and grunts, his jaw clenched in concentration.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice rough and low. "Come for me again."

He shifted, leaning back and thrusting harder. The new angle sent waves of pleasure through you, and you came with a cry, clinging to him as he fucked you through your release.

Elijah's eyes locked with yours, the intensity of his gaze taking your breath away, he pulled you to him, crushing his lips to yours. His hands squeezed your ass, and he thrust deep inside, bouncing you on his lap. His grip was so tight, his body trembling, the sound of him groaning against your lips filled the air. You could feel him twitching inside you, his orgasm washing over him, the feeling of his cum spilling into you making your toes curl.

Elijah pulled away, gently setting your legs back down on the bed. He walked over to the table, pouring a glass of champagne, taking a sip, watching you and Damon with a pleased look on his face.

Damon looked down at the mess between your legs, grinning. "Looks like someone enjoyed herself."

You giggled, your eyes half-lidded, a satisfied smile on your face. You reached up and cupped his beautiful face, his bright eyes twinkling. The blue seemed to grow a shade darker, his smile turning devilish, and you felt his hands on you, his touch electric.

"I don't think I'm quite done with you yet," he murmured, his breath hot on your ear.

You let out a gasp as he moved between your legs, kissing along your inner thighs, his fingers teasing your opening. He lapped up Elijah's cum, his tongue circling your sensitive clit.

"Fuck," you moaned, reaching down and pulling his hair.

Elijah watched for a moment, entranced by the sight of Damon's mouth on your cunt. He moved over to the bed, sitting behind you, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

Damon continued, his tongue and lips working magic on your pussy, the soft sounds he made vibrating against your sensitive skin.

Elijah kissed along your shoulder, his hands roaming over your breasts, gently pinching and twisting your nipples.

"Look at him," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "So eager to please you."

You looked down at Damon, his gaze locked with yours. His tongue was lapping at your clit, his mouth sucking and licking.

"Doesn't he look pretty like that?" Elijah asked. "So focused on making you feel good."

You nodded, whimpering as the tension built inside you, your hands twisting in the sheets, pulling and gripping them.

"You're going to come for us again, aren't you?" Elijah murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You're going to come so hard. So fucking loud."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came, screaming and bucking your hips, pushing yourself against Damon's mouth.

Your body trembled as the pleasure washed over you, wave after wave, leaving you panting and shaking. Elijah's grip tightened around you, holding you close.

Damon licked you clean, his tongue lapping up every drop. When he was finished, he kissed the inside of your thigh, his lips lingering on the soft skin.

"That's my good girl," Elijah cooed, holding you as the last of your tremors faded away.

You collapsed into his arms, the exhaustion and satisfaction taking over. You lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. Damon laid down beside you, his arm draped over your stomach.

"I don't think I can move," you muttered, closing your eyes and resting your head on Elijah's chest.

Elijah chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. "Then don't."

You drifted off, wrapped in the warmth and comfort of their bodies, the sound of their breathing filling the air.

Paris was everything you could have hoped for, and more. But the best part was sharing the experience with them. This was a perfect night, and it was only just the beginning.

{<- kinktober masterlist}

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vorishthings · 9 months ago

Text

The Last Delivery

This is my first vore story, and I hope you like it! Let me know if I can improve my writing by liking it, or just message me. If you want more send me some ideas or writing prompts. Enjoy!

It was any average Tuesday. Bryson was hungry. Not hungry in a simple, “I will eat food” sort of way. No, he was hungry for prey. He didn’t feel like going on a dating app and seducing his way into eating his prey, or finding some other convoluted way to go about getting his dinner. He decided to simply call in a pizza and have it delivered to his home. What a simple easy way to get his prey delivered to him.

Eventually, the pizza arrived at his door, with a hot delivery guy to accompany it. Man, and he is hot too? I love hot prey. Hot prey for Bryson made it all the more appealing for him, as he loved the hot of someone gorgeous becoming worthless belly fat on him. Bryson opened the door, and the delivery guy greeted him.

“Hello, I have a pizza for a…Bryson?”

“Yes, that's me.” GURGLE. Bryson’s stomach must have had a mind of its own as it must have known its prey was nearby, and it grew upset in waiting. “Oh, excuse me, I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Haha! It’s all right! I hope this will satisfy your hunger. One large pepperoni pizza with a liter of soda.”

“Thank you, wait, hold on for one second.” He took the pizza and the soda bottle and set it down on the table, ran over to his desk and grabbed a ten dollar bill from it. He ran to the door.

“Here is your tip, and…oops!” Bryson purposefully dropped the ten dollar bill on the floor. “I am so sorry…”

“Oh no, it is okay. I can get it.” The delivery guy bent down and went to grab the dollar bill from the floor.

Now was his chance, for his prey was distracted. Seizing the opportunity, Bryson grabbed the delivery boy by the back of his shirt and dragged him inside the house, slamming the door behind him with his foot.

“Hey, what the fuck was that for? Let me go!” The delivery guy questioned and moved around to get him to let go of his shirt. Instead, Bryson took the delivery guy and put him in a chokehold.

“Don’t worry, you will be fine…I promise. Just let me do what I need to do, and it will all be over.” Bryson tried to reassure the delivery guy. But the delivery guy was not reassured, and instead acted in a fighting response, kicking Bryson in the balls. “Oh, fuck!” Bryson yelled out loud. “Ok, that is it! You are going in there right now, so you can think about what you just did!” Bryson opened wide, his huge mouth leaking with drool to help maneuver his prey through his esophagus. He quickly shoved the guy’s head into his mouth, and removed his arm from the guy’s neck and put both his hands around the guy’s arms, forcing them to stay to his side. Mmmmfff! The delivery guy was yelling, but his voice drowned out, as Bryson’s body made it impossible for any voice to be heard clearly from the outside.

Now, Bryson got his head down his esophagus, it was time for the shoulders, and eventually the guy's chest. Bryson was enjoying every second of his prey squirming, and his dick immediately got hard. The same could be said about the delivery guy. The guy’s dick was hard as a rock, and once Bryson got to the guy’s crotch, he started playing with the guy’s dick with his tongue. Mmmmffff! The delivery guy immediately moaned and orgasmed, with a cum stain appearing on the outside of his khaki pants.

Bryson could taste the cum with his tongue, and wanted to continue playing with his prey, but couldn’t, as the guy’s legs grew stiff from pleasure, and he stopped fighting. Pulling the guy’s shoes off of his feet, Bryson seized his chance, put his hands around the soles of the delivery guy's feet, and sent him with one final push to his stomach. GULP! Bryson’s neck bulged as the guy was being pushed by his insides to his stomach.

“There, was it really that hard?” Bryson asked him. “Well, your job is now accomplished. You delivered my meal straight to my gut. Technically, you are the meal, but the little details don’t matter.”

The delivery guy was pounding on the sides of Bryson’s stomach. “Let me out! Please! I will let you have the pizza for free! I will do anything! Just please don’t let it end like this!” Unfortunately for the delivery guy, Bryson’s stomach covered the sounds of his words, and it could only be heard as muffled voices from outside. “Oh, fuck! Your struggling is making me hard.”

Bryson’s dick was vibrating from the pleasure of having prey in his stomach. He took out his dick from his pants and started aggressively, pumping. Bryson couldn’t handle it anymore, and thick, gooey cum erupted from his cock and got shot all over his stomach, and the couch. He admired the orgasm he just had, and was too lazy and tired to clean it up. His stomach however, was not lazy, its job was just getting started. Grrrrrroan. “Wow, my stomach must be having a field day with you in there, my friend.”

Bryson went to sit down on his couch and took the pizza box that was on his table that the guy delivered. “Don’t worry, I won’t let this food go to waste. Here, why don’t you try some?” Bryson rolled up a pizza slice, and swallowed it whole. Once it got to Bryson’s stomach, it unrolled, making it more cramped and less air was inside of Bryson’s stomach for the delivery guy to breathe.

Bryson downed more pizza slices, and followed it with some sugary soda, which his stomach received with enthusiasm. Grrrrrrrrrrooooaaaaan. “Hey man! Not cool! I can barely *cough* breathe.” He kept punching at the sides of Bryson’s stomach, and it only made it more upset and aggressive.

Bryson moaned. “Just give up, and make yourself comfortable. You can’t escape your demise.” He patted his belly in an attempt to make the delivery guy calm down. “Your life will serve as a matter of sustenance. I mean you did wish earlier that my hunger would be satisfied didn’t you?”

“What? I didn’t mean me! I meant the pizza, and I…*cough* *cough*” Bryson’s stomach rumbled, as it contracted and splashed acid all over the delivery guy and the pizza. The delivery felt the acid burn through his clothes and eventually his skin. His shirt fell off of him, and so did his pants. He felt himself becoming deformed, and he tried to stop it. He aggressively used all of his might to pound on the outside of Bryson’s stomach, to no avail. He grew weaker and weaker, and eventually, he gave up and subsided to his fate of becoming his customer’s dinner. Well, at least I made a customer happy. At least I did my job right. Sort of.

Bryson’s warm, smooth stomach walls started squeezing around the delivery guy, mushing him into whatever form it desired, almost like the stomach was playing with clay. Soon, the delivery guy became just soup and miscellaneous piles of flesh and bones. Bryson felt his stomach grow peaceful and quiet. The delivery guy stopped thrashing around his stomach, and his stomach stood still. “What? Gone already? Man, prey always digests so quickly.”

Bryson felt pressure rise from his stomach, and braced himself, and let out a huge belch. BURRRRRRRRPPPP. With a splat, what seemed to be what was left of the delivery guy’s uniform: his pants, his shirt, and his socks, got thrown to the floor. Bryson assumed that the guy’s underwear must still be inside his stomach, but that was fine with him, as he could just collect his underwear when it passed through his body as a keepsake of his victim.

He slapped his stomach, and started playing with it. “You are now a part of me, as useless body fat and energy that I can easily just exercise and burn right through. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay there, because my metabolism goes through things fast, and next thing you know, you will end up as undigested remains in my toilet. Thanks for feeding my hunger.” Grrrooaannn. His stomach erupted with groans and gurgles from within and kept eating away at the pizza and the remains of the delivery guy. As for Bryson, he went back to watching TV, while the delivery guy was stewing in his powerful stomach, along with the pizza he delivered.

#male pred #digestion #gay #gay vore #pred #male vore #v0re #vore digestion #vore belly #m/m vore #bellies #oral vore #prey #unwilling prey #lgbt #fatal vore

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frudoo · 5 months ago

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reader convincing slasher 141 to let her help when they kidnap and torture someone. she wants to be the victim that escaped or found a why to escape but in reality she's leading the other victim(s) into a trap to be caught. its all to see the look on their face and get praise from the 141 I love all your writing and hope you stay safe.

You are so sweet! I'm glad you're enjoying the series!! <3

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE. Suggestive content. Mentions of bad people. MDNI.

“No. Absolutely not,” John crosses his arms, stern voice booming throughout the dining room.

“Why not?” You huff, setting down your fork to focus your full attention on the guys.

“Jus’ cuz y’live with it doesn’t mean we want y’involved,” Simon grunts, unimpressed.

“Ah dunno, hen,” Johnny frowns, crystal blue eyes boring into yours. “Wha’ if one of us mistakes ye fer one o’them?”

“Do you really think that would happen?” You challenge, cocking an eyebrow.

None of them seem sold on the idea, but you’re not giving up. There’s a need for vengeance hidden deep inside of you that’s just begging to burst out, and although you can’t stomach anything the boys actually do, just knowing that you’ll be helping them scrape the scum off the face of the earth is enough. There’s only one of your husbands that hasn’t voiced his opinion—the very one who can’t resist your charms.

“Kyle,” you puff your lips out into a pout, batting your eyelashes at him. “Please, baby, just let me help you all out?”

His eyes widen and he throws his hands up in surrender, shaking his head vigorously.

“Uh-uh, don’t put tha’ on me, dove.”

You groan dramatically, standing from your place at the table.

“I’m thinking about practicing abstinence.”

Long story short, they took a chance, and now you’re covered in blood and dirt, wearing nothing but an old nightgown and leading a group of horrified victims into the barn with the promise of hidden escape routes just inside. It surprises you how gullible each of them are, and you almost feel bad for leading them straight to their death. You have to remind yourself that these are rapists, abusers, and cons getting what they deserve. You have to remind yourself that your lovers would never do this to someone undeserving of only the worst fates.

“No, it’s okay! I-I’m just- hey, you’re fine,” you coo to the sobbing woman who refuses to let go of your arm.

Eventually you just have to shove her down and slam the barn doors shut, locking her along with every other piece of walking garbage inside. You pass John on his way towards the very building you’re leaving, yelping when he pulls you right into his burly arms.

“Clever girl. Shoulda never doubted you,” he murmurs, lifting his mask to press a hot, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Get it over with. I need to wash the fucking bitch’s germs off of my skin.”

John laughs, giving your ass a tight squeeze before replacing his mask over his face.

“Hope you were jokin’ about that whole ‘abstinence’ thing,” he hums, pointing his pinky finger up to a window on the second floor of the barnhouse, where your remaining three lovers have been watching the whole thing play out, hands down their trousers.

“They look hungry.”

#ask me!#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #slasher!141 #slasher!141 x reader

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arabella0001 · 14 days ago

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Hiii do you write kakashi smut czI I have a req I have an idea .. I'll dm you

sure, i saw your request before, hope this is good! ( sorry if its too long)

"Marked by Fate" (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Anime: Naruto Synopsis: "His clan’s mark burns on my skin, a secret even he doesn’t know." Warnings: light teasing, fluff, fingering, rough/light sex

The flames consumed everything. Shadows danced across the walls of your crumbling village as screams cut through the night. You’d fought, you’d run, but there was no outrunning chaos. Your back hit the corner of a smoldering hut, your legs shaking as a rogue shinobi closed in.

You thought this was it. The end. But salvation came like a lightning strike. A kunai sliced through the air, and your would-be killer hit the ground

“You okay?” a boy’s voice asked, loud and bright like it wasn’t coming from a battlefield.

You stared up at him—wild blonde hair, a foxlike grin—and nodded numbly.

“Get her out of here,” Sasuke ordered, his voice calm and sharp. Sakura was already at your side, her hands glowing with chakra as she hauled you to your feet. “You’re safe now,” she said, and her words felt like a promise as your vision blurred and the world went black.

You woke up to unfamiliar walls and the quiet hum of life outside. Konoha.Your body ached, but you were alive. Sakura hovered over you, focused, her chakra seeping into your wounds. You muttered a quiet thank you, but she barely seemed to hear it.

Her hands froze mid-motion as her gaze fell to your shoulder blade.

“What is that?” she murmured, tracing a faint, intricate mark etched into your skin.

Tsunade appeared in the doorway, her presence commanding even in silence. She leaned closer, her brow furrowing as her fingers brushed over the mark.

“Impossible,” she said softly. “What?” you asked, sitting up, dread twisting in your chest.

Tsunade didn’t look at you when she spoke. “That’s a soulmate mark.”

“A… what?”

Sakura’s face was pale. “It’s Kakashi-sensei’s mark.”

The name hit you like a weight. You’d heard the stories—the cold, brilliant shinobi who lived half in shadow. A man who, by all accounts, didn’t believe in soulmates. And now… now you were tied to him by some weird twist of fate.

Naruto found out, of course, and his reaction was loud enough to shake the hospital walls. “You’re Kakashi-sensei’s soulmate?! He’s gonna lose it!”

“I’m not telling him,” you said quickly.

“Why not?” Sakura asked, trying to be gentle, though you could feel her curiosity bleeding through.

You shook your head, the weight of it all too much.

The kids didn’t listen.

They schemed, planned, and eventually set up a casual “coincidence.” A bar. Kakashi would show up, you’d just happento be there, and they’d introduce you.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this.

The moment you stepped inside, you saw him. Silver hair, relaxed posture, mask tugged slightly down as he leaned in toward a woman at the bar. She was laughing, her hand brushing his arm, and he didn’t move away.

Your stomach twisted, you d come here hoping—foolishly—that maybe, maybe, this would make sense. That you’d meet him, and it would feel like fate instead of a curse.Instead, you were watching the man fate had tied you to flirt with someone else, his smirk lazy, his body language too easy.

Sakura caught your arm before you bolted. “Wait—”

“No,” you said, voice trembling. “This was a mistake.”

You left before anyone else could stop you, but the crack in your chest stayed.

You buried yourself in Konoha life.

The Hokage gave you refuge, a place to live, a job at a small café. You found a rhythm, a way to quiet the ache that wouldn’t leave.

Naruto and Sakura visited often, always hovering like guilty little conspirators. They wanted to tell him, you could feel it in the way they watched you. But they didn’t.

You were grateful for that. And yet, every time Kakashi’s name came up—his voice, his quirks, the way they talked about him like he was more than just a legend—you felt that ache again.

Months later, fate struck again.

The bell over the café door chimed. You glanced up out of habit, your greeting catching in your throat as Team 7 walked in, Kakashi trailing behind them.

Time slowed. His presence filled the room without effort—silver hair, lazy posture, his eye scanning the café like he wasn’t paying attention. But then his gaze landed on you and he made a curious look. Your breath caught.

“Have we met?” he asked, voice smooth, curious. You shook your head, managing a tight smile. “No.”

He watched you for a moment too long, his sharp eye narrowing slightly like he didn’t believe you. But then Naruto dragged him to their table, and the moment passed. It didn’t take him long to notice something was off.

Kakashi was sharp, and Team 7 was terrible at hiding anything. He caught their sideways glances, the tension in the air whenever you walked by. Naruto couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it, and Sakura wasn’t much better when she started side-eying him during missions. Even Sasuke had been unusually quiet, which was more alarming than the loudest confession. It wasn’t just them, either—Tsunade’s cryptic looks, the way his students avoided certain topics, the odd tension that lingered in the air whenever you were around.

You.

There was something familiar about you, something he couldn’t place but couldn’t shake.

And Kakashi wasn’t one to ignore his gut. It came to a head late one night. He caught Sakura and Naruto whispering in a hallway outside the Hokage’s office, their voices dropping the moment they noticed him. Naruto froze, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Sakura groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, like she knew what was coming.

“Care to share?” Kakashi asked, his voice deceptively casual.

“N-Nothing, sensei!” Naruto stammered, backing up a step.

“...Right.” Kakashi didn’t buy it for a second. “Sakura?”

Her shoulders slumped. “It’s not my place to say,” she mumbled, refusing to meet his eye.

Kakashi’s patience was thin, but it wasn’t until he went straight to Tsunade—knowing she wouldn’t bother with games—that he finally got his answer.

He wasn’t ready for it.

“She’s your soulmate,” Tsunade said bluntly, leaning back in her chair, her eyes steady on his.

Kakashi blinked once. Twice. It felt like the words hadn’t landed, like they’d slid past him into someone else’s world. “What?”

Tsunade sighed, like she was tired of explaining herself. “The mark on her back. It’s the Hatake soulmate seal. You’d know this if you’d bothered to read the records your father left behind.”

Kakashi stiffened at the mention of his father, but his mind was still spinning. Soulmate? Him? He almost laughed, the idea so ridiculous he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“You’re joking,” he said finally, voice flat.

Tsunade’s gaze hardened. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

The weight of it sank in slowly, pressing against his chest. Soulmates weren’t supposed to exist. Or at least, not for him. That was for other people, for brighter lives. Not for someone who had lost too many people to ever believe fate could be kind.

But then he thought of you—of the way you avoided him, the way you flinched when his students talked too loudly about you. The way you wouldn’t look him in the eye, even though his presence seemed to pull something fragile from you.

“She didn’t tell me,” he murmured, more to himself than Tsunade.

“She didn’t want you to know,” Tsunade said, her tone sharp, cutting. “Can you blame her? She’s seen what you do when you think no one’s watching.”

The image hit him like a punch to the gut—his flirtations at the bar, his careless attempts to fill the hollow spaces of his life with fleeting touches and empty nights. You’d seen that. You’d seen him. And you hadn’t said a word.

He left without another question, his mind spinning. It wasn’t hard to find you. You were at the café, wiping down tables, your back to him as you hummed softly to yourself. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching, trying to process the weight of everything.

You noticed him eventually, stiffening when you turned and saw him. “Kakashi,” you said, voice quiet but steady.

He stepped closer, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture lazy but his gaze sharp. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question.

You froze, your knuckles tightening around the rag in your hand. “Who told you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Why didn’t you?” There was no anger in his voice—just a quiet curiosity, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You dropped the rag and sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Because it doesn’t matter.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like you were stripping him bare. “I saw you. At the bar. With her.” Your voice didn’t waver, but there was something raw in it that cut straight through him. “What was I supposed to do? Walk up to you and say, ‘Hi, I’m your soulmate,’ while you were busy trying to take someone else home?”

The words hit their mark. He didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened, “I didn’t know,” he said softly, his voice low and rough.

“And now you do,” you shot back, your eyes burning. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

He stepped closer, his presence filling the small space between you, and you felt your resolve falter. “It changes everything,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, more insistent. “You’re not just anyone.”

You shook your head, backing up, but he didn’t let you retreat. “You don’t have to want this,” he said, his tone gentler now, almost pleading. “But I do“

Your breath caught, his words settling over you like a fragile thread.

“Don’t walk away,” he whispered. “Not yet.” And against every instinct you had, you stayed.

You shook your head, stepping back. “You don’t even know me,” you said, voice sharp, trying to steady the way your heart raced.

Kakashi leaned casually against the doorframe, but his gaze pinned you in place, sharper than you wanted to admit. “You’re right,” he said, voice calm, almost lazy. “I don’t. But I’d like to.”

You let out a bitter laugh, folding your arms. “Why? You’ve lived this long without me. What difference does it make now?”

He tilted his head, like he was genuinely considering the question. “Because now I know you exist.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. You opened your mouth to push him away again, but he stepped closer, not touching you, not crowding, but enough that you felt his presence like a weight.

“I’m not asking for everything,” he said, voice softer now, the edge gone. “I’m just asking for a chance.”

You swallowed, your walls cracking against his quiet persistence. “And if I say no?”

His eye softened, and for the first time, you saw something raw beneath the mask. “Then I’ll respect it,” he said simply. “But I don’t think I’d stop hoping you’d change your mind.”

Your chest tightened, a lump forming in your throat. You barely knew him. This wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. And yet, the way he was looking at you—steady, unflinching—made it impossible to walk away.

“One chance,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze.

The corner of his mouth twitched in what might’ve been a smile. “That’s all I need.”

And somehow, you believed him.

Kakashi wasn’t the type to beg. He wasn’t the type to chase, either. But with you, it wasn’t about pride or ego. It was about something he couldn’t quite name, something that wouldn’t let him walk away, no matter how often you pushed him back.

At first, he kept his distance, unsure how to approach. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures, and he didn’t see himself as someone who could offer you what you deserved. But he couldn’t ignore the weight of knowing you existed. He couldn’t ignore you.

So, he tried in his own way. Small things. A quiet “Good morning” when he passed you in the street. An extra cup of coffee dropped off at your workplace, with no explanation. A subtle nod of approval when you’d mutter a sarcastic jab at Naruto’s antics during team dinners

When he asked you to dinner the first time, you said no. Flatly. No hesitation. He’d only nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, murmuring, “I understand,” and walked off.

But he didn’t stop.

He didn’t push, didn’t pry. He just... lingered. Always nearby, always watching—not in an overbearing way, but enough that you started to notice. Enough that when you caught him helping an elderly woman with her groceries or quietly fixing the fence around the local park, you found yourself lingering, too.

The second time he asked, it was quieter. No grand invitation, no fanfare. Just a casual, “I’ll be at the ramen stand around eight. If you feel like joining.”

And somehow, against your better judgment, you showed up.

The café was quiet, warm light flickering against the wooden beams above. Kakashi sat in the corner, his usual laid-back posture, but his eyes—his eyes were focused entirely on you. It wasn’t the casual glance you were used to; it was different tonight. There was a quiet intensity in the way he watched you walk toward him, the faintest trace of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated just outside the table, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world slowed down. “You’re not as punctual as I imagined,” Kakashi teased, his voice smooth, the usual playful edge there, but something softer underneath it.

You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Maybe I just didn’t want to seem too eager.” The words were light, but the look you gave him was anything but.

He chuckled, pushing his headband up slightly as he leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as ever. “You could’ve fooled me.”

The way he said it sent a wave of warmth rushing through you. There was an undeniable chemistry between you two, something that had only grown stronger with every passing day. You had tried to deny it at first—tried to keep it at arm’s length. But there was no mistaking it now. The tension, the connection, the little sparks that flew every time he glanced at you—it was all too real to ignore.

You sat down across from him, trying to keep your composure. “So, what do we do now?”

Kakashi leaned forward just slightly, the playful gleam in his eye never leaving. “I could ask you the same thing.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air before his voice softened, just a little. “I’m not great with this whole... getting to know someone thing. But with you, it doesn’t feel as... difficult.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. His honesty, raw and almost vulnerable beneath his usual teasing, caught you off guard

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” you said, voice quieter now, eyes meeting his in a way that said more than words ever could.

The silence stretched between you two, not uncomfortable, but full of something—something you were both trying to figure out. The waiter came and went, but neither of you seemed to care. Your focus remained on each other, the distance between you shrinking with every passing second.

“So,” he said, his voice lower now, tinged with something more serious, “what’s been on your mind lately? What are you really thinking about?” He didn’t ask out of curiosity; it was more like a challenge, a dare for you to reveal whatever it was that had been building up inside.

You hesitated, his question lingering in the air between you. The way Kakashi asked wasn’t pushy—it wasn’t even entirely intentional. It was just him, quiet and steady, drawing you out without even trying. His gaze was unreadable, but there was no denying the way it made your pulse quicken.

“I’m thinking about why you’re really here,” you said finally, fingers tracing the edge of your glass.

Kakashi tilted his head, his lips curving into that faint, lazy smile that always seemed to disarm you. “Why I’m really here?” he repeated, his tone light but with a flicker of something deeper. “I’d like to think it’s obvious.”

You raised an eyebrow, the skepticism in your expression enough to earn a quiet chuckle from him. “It’s not,” you said, leaning back slightly. “You’re hard to figure out.”

He took a sip of his drink, his visible eye fixed on you, studying, softening.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve met before,” he said suddenly, his tone quieter, more thoughtful now. “And that’s... rare for me. You don’t make it easy, but I like that.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, but you weren’t about to let him see how much they affected you. “So you’re saying I’m difficult?” you quipped, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Very,” he replied smoothly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dipping into something almost playful. “But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t worth it.”

That hit harder than you expected, and you swallowed, glancing down at your glass to avoid his gaze. “You don’t even know me,” you murmured, but your voice lacked the conviction it once had.

“I know enough,” he countered, and the softness in his voice made your breath hitch. “I know that you’re strong. Stubborn, too. I know you’ve been through hell and back, but you haven’t let it break you. And I know that when you look at me, you’re still trying to decide if I’m worth trusting.”

You froze, his words cutting through the carefully constructed walls you’d been trying so hard to keep up. “And what if I decide you’re not?” you challenged, though the waver in your voice betrayed you.

Kakashi leaned back slightly, his smile shifting into something more sincere, almost wistful. “Then I’ll have to keep proving that I am.”

The simplicity of his answer—how calm and certain he sounded—made something inside you crack. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the space between you charged with a tension that felt almost tangible.

“Kakashi…” you started, but the way he was looking at you—so steady, so unshakable—made your words falter.

“I’m not perfect,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that made you look at him again. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ll probably make more. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s this.” His voice dropped, his gaze unwavering. “You’re worth the effort.”

Your breath caught, and the resolve you’d clung to so desperately finally crumbled. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, closing the space between you.

Kakashi didn’t hesitate. His lips met yours softly at first, testing, but the warmth of his kiss quickly deepened as his hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face gently toward him. His touch was deliberate yet careful, like he was holding something fragile.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting lightly against his, the air between you was heavy and electric. His thumb brushed your cheek, and the corner of his lips quirked into a smirk.

“Was that convincing enough?” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar teasing edge, though his gaze held nothing but sincerity.

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest tight but lighter than it had felt in a long time. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice teasing but your heart already betraying you.

Kakashi chuckled, the sound low and warm, and you realized with a jolt that, for the first time, you weren’t afraid of letting him in.

The café was quieter now, the hum of conversation from other tables fading as the night wore on. You leaned back in your chair, watching Kakashi as he lazily spun the last sip of tea in his cup. He wasn’t in a rush, not even close. In fact, it felt like he was trying to stretch time, holding onto every second of this evening.

“Do you always do that?” you asked suddenly, tilting your head at him.

“Do what?” His visible eye lifted toward you, curious.

“Act like nothing affects you. Like you’re always one step ahead.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair and resting his elbow on the armrest. “Maybe I am one step ahead.”

You gave him a skeptical look, crossing your arms. “I don’t buy it.”

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully, his smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “It’s not that nothing affects me. I just don’t show it unless I want to.”

There it was—that honesty he had a habit of slipping in when you least expected it. It wasn’t showy or dramatic, but it caught you off guard every time. You felt your defenses lowering without even realizing it.

“Why show it now?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Because you don’t buy it,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours and holding it.

It was such a Kakashi answer—straightforward, disarming, and oddly intimate. You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you picked at the edge of your napkin, trying to find your footing again.

“What about you?” he asked, breaking the silence. “What do you show people?”

You blinked at the question, startled by how direct it was. “That’s not fair,” you said, your lips curving into a faint smile despite yourself. “I’m not the one with a mask on.”

Kakashi chuckled at that, low and warm. “Touché.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “But the mask doesn’t hide everything, you know.”

You couldn’t tell if it was the way he said it or the way he looked at you, but something about that moment made your breath hitch. His gaze felt heavier now, less playful, like he was studying you in a way no one else ever had.

“You’re not what I expected,” you admitted softly, breaking the tension before it could overwhelm you.

“Good or bad?” he asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks warm. “Different.”

He smiled at that, not a smirk this time, but a real smile, subtle but there. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The night wrapped itself around the two of you as the café began to close, but neither of you seemed eager to leave. When Kakashi finally stood and gestured toward the door, you found yourself following without hesitation.

The walk home was quieter, more reflective, but that same connection lingered, hanging between you both like an unspoken agreement. It wasn’t until you reached your door that the tension came to a head, your heart pounding as Kakashi lingered just a little too close.

“You’re dangerous,” you said softly, half to yourself.

“Am I?” he asked, stopping just slightly in front of you. You turned to look at him, and for the first time all night, his expression was unreadable, his single visible eye searching yours.

“Yes,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “You make it really hard to keep my guard up.”

Kakashi tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. “Maybe that’s the point.”

Your breath hitched as the space between you suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. He didn’t move closer, didn’t touch you, but his presence was overwhelming—calm, steady, but intoxicating all the same.

“Do you always talk like this?” you asked, trying to sound teasing, though your voice betrayed you.

“Only when it matters,” he replied softly, his tone serious enough to make your heart stutter.

For a moment, you both stood there, the world around you fading into nothing. Then, almost as if pulled by an invisible force, you took a step closer. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

Kakashi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk, and in one smooth motion, he leaned down, his hand ghosting lightly against your arm. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your skin.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you closed the space between you, your hands brushing the fabric of his shirt as you tilted your face up to meet him. His lips found yours, slow and deliberate, the kiss starting gentle but quickly unraveling into something deeper, something more consuming.

His mask had slipped somewhere in the moment, and his uncovered lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent warmth pooling through you. His hands settled at your waist, firm but not forceful, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his soft groan vibrating against your mouth. It was electrifying, intoxicating, and it left you breathless when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead lightly against yours. His breathing was uneven, and the intensity in his gaze made your knees weak.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he said softly, almost like a confession.

You smiled, your hands still resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “Guess we’ll ruin each other then.”

His laugh was low, warm, and entirely unguarded as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his hand lingering at the small of your back as he finally murmured. He looks down at you, his eyes searching yours in the dim light.

"I've never felt this way before,"he admits, his voice low and sincere. Kakashi takes a deep breath, he reaches out, gently tilting your chin up with his thumb, his gaze intense as he leans in closer.

Your breath catches in your throat as Kakashi's thumb tilts your chin upwards, his piercing gaze holding yours captive. You swallows, your heart pounding in anticipation of what's to come.

"Me neither." When your mouths finally touch again, you let out a soft moan, melting into the kiss. Your arms wrap around Kakashi's neck, pulling him closer.

He groans low in his throat, desire surging through him like a raging inferno. His hands roam over your curves, mapping the contours of your body as if committing every inch to memory. When you two break apart for air, Kakashi's breathing is ragged, his eyes blazing with lust. He takes your hand, leading you swiftly back to your home, urgency propelling his steps. Once inside, he pins you against the door, kissing you fiercely.

"I need you,"he growls against your lips, his voice husky with want.

His hands shake slightly as he frees your breasts from your kimono, cupping the soft mounds and thumbs brushing over your nipples. A gasp escapes you, and he captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing the sound.

"Please,"he breathes against your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his fingers find the delicate folds between your thighs."Let me make you mine..."His movements become more urgent while your body arches involuntarily as Kakashi's skilled fingers tease your most sensitive areas, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. You whimper into his demanding kiss and your hips buck reflexively, seeking more of his touch.

"Yes... please..."you manages to gasp out, your voice thick with need.

Kakashi's other hand slips beneath your robe, finding the warm, supple skin of your thigh. He drags his palm upward, his calloused fingertips grazing the delicate inner curves as he inches closer to your aching core.

"So responsive, so perfect,"he murmurs, his voice dripping with lust and admiration. Kakashi's fingers brush against the slick folds of your pussy, gathering the evidence of your arousal before delving inside. He crooks two digits, searching for that elusive spot that will send you soaring.

"Let go for me, Y/N,"he urges, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cries out, your back arching off the bed, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around nothing as your orgasm rips through you.

"Kakashi" you moan his name, as the aftershocks subside, you collapses back onto the mattress, panting heavily. You look up at Kakashi with glazed, lust-drunk eyes, a dazed smile curving your lips.Kakashi's lips move possessively over you and your body.

Breaking the kiss, Kakashi trails his lips along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before whispering, "You're incredible. So beautiful, so sexy..."

His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and hollow with reverent touches. Kakashi's thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks that ache for his attention. "Tell me that you want me too, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. "Let me please you..."

“I want you too, Kakashi...”you whisper and with that, Kakashi starts to undress you completly “Beautiful…” you blush under his glance while he murmurs, his lips trailing up the curve of your neck to nibble at your earlobe.His hands cup and knead the supple mounds, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples through the fabric.

Kakashi straightens, his own chest heaving with desire as he steps back to admire the sight of your half-naked and wanting. A wicked grin spreads across his face."Let's get rid of the rest of these clothes, shall we?"

With deft fingers, Kakashi unties the sash around your waist, letting your skirt pool at your feet. His eyes roam hungrily over your body, lingering on the swell of your hips and the gentle flare of your thighs.

Without waiting for a response, Kakashi drops to his knees and pushes the flimsy fabric aside, exposing your glistening folds to his ravenous gaze.

His tongue darts out, licking a slow, deliberate path along your slick slit, he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he delves deeper, swirling his tongue around your clit with increasing fervor.

Maintaining eye contact, Kakashi sucks gently on your nub, relishing the way she trembles and gasps above him. He slides a finger inside you, curling it to stroke that elusive spot within you that makes you moan uncontrollably.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against you, your hips buck wildly into Kakashi's face as he devours you, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in yourcore. You throws your head back, crying out

"Oh my.... "you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer."Don't stop, please" He continues to lap at you, coaxing out every last tremor until you goes limp beneath him, panting and spent. Only then does he release you, sitting back on his heels to admire the flushed, dazed beauty before him.

"So good... "Kakashi purrs, dragging his thumb through the remnants of your arousal and bringing it to his mouth for a taste and you watch in daze, blushing so hard.Kakashi swiftly undoes his pants, freeing his thick, hard cock and yoru breath hitch in your throat. He positions himself between your thighs, rubbing the swollen head against your slick entrance.

Slowly, he sinks deeper, savoring each inch of your tight heat enveloping him. Once fully sheathed, he pauses to relish the feeling, his hips pressing firmly against you.

"Fucking perfect," Kakashi groans, beginning to thrust in a steady rhythm, you gasp sharply as Kakashi enters you, you wrap your legs around his waist to urge him deeper.Soon he sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your heavy breathing and moans of pleasure.

"Kakashi....fuck...Like that... "your beg breathlessly, meeting each of his thrusts with your own eager movements.

Your body tenses, coiling tighter as the pressure builds toward a shattering climax. Kakashi groans low in his throat, each word from your lips sends a jolt straight to his core, fueling his lustful desire.

"You're mine now... all mine,"Kakashi declares possessively, pounding into you with renewed vigor, his breathing ragged. He leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim you as his own.

With a final, powerful thrust, Kakashi buries himself to the hilt, his member throbbing as both of you reaches your peaks.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight slipping through the cracks of the curtains. Everything was quiet now, save for the rhythmic sound of your breaths mingling in the stillness. Kakashi lay beside you, the mask and armor he carried with him every day stripped away in the intimacy of the moment.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His hair was tousled, and his sharingan was covered, leaving only his dark, unreadable eye visible. But it wasn’t unreadable to you—not anymore. There was a softness there, something so raw and genuine it made your chest ache.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask.

You turned to him, still catching your breath, and nodded. “Yeah. Are you?”

A faint chuckle escaped his lips, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Better than okay,” he murmured, his fingers lingering against your skin for a moment longer.

The silence settled again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Kakashi leaned over and grabbed the blanket from the edge of the bed, pulling it over both of you with a kind of quiet care that made your heart swell. He shifted closer, his body warm against yours, and rested his chin on the top of your head.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly, his hand trailing absentmindedly along your back. “I just... wanted you to know I’m here.”

It wasn’t grand or poetic, but it was Kakashi. No unnecessary promises, no overcompensating gestures—just the steady reassurance of his presence.

You tilted your head up slightly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, with a small smile, you reached up and cupped his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”

His eye crinkled in that familiar way, his smile lazy but tender. “I think you’re worth the effort.”

That was Kakashi—always knowing just the right thing to say, but never in a way that felt rehearsed. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and gentle.

As you nestled closer, the weight of the world outside the room faded. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in warmth and quiet intimacy, finding comfort in the shared vulnerability of the night and the more days that will come now that you accepted your fate.

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