#thankfully its bright and i do love some creepiness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook fic

7K notes · View notes

lustbile · 3 years ago

Text

The Journal

TenxReader

Word Count: 7.3k+

Summary/Warnings: Smut with plot, semi public, a lot of biting, mentions of supernatural and just general weirdness, and small amount of blood play

Apart of the Club X series: Masterlist (can be read alone or within the series, but unlike others it might just be the slightest amount confusing)

“So that’s what you’re into now,” your best friend’s voice is bored and distant, her task of wiping down the bar that stretched out in front of her taking a majority of her attention away from the babbling you’ve tried to subject her to since you entered the empty restaurant only about 20 minutes before, “weird demon sex clubs?”

—

“Ah ah, I never said they were demons,” you correct quickly, the thought of defending yourself never crossing your mind as you petulantly slap your hands against the polished wood, “I just said it was…. weird.”

“Weird is an understatement,” she scoffs quietly as she turns to dip her dirtied rag back into the bleach water and ring it out, “I mean look, I’ve always been supportive in the witchy stuff you’ve been into but this…. is a bit much.”

“I don’t see how this is any different than any other thing I’ve read into.”

“Oh you don’t see?” you finally manage to pull her attention towards you as she harshly slaps the rag back onto the wood with a stern glare pulled on her pretty features, “you’re talking about vulnerability and abandoned warehouses and public sex. That last one is definitely new.”

You fully expected this type of response, only hoping she’d be busy enough that you would dodge the motherly scolding she liked to give you when you pitched your schemes to her with your eyes wild and wide, but nevertheless, she was completely right.

It came from an old book, tattered and torn from being flipped through one too many times, that you found at your favorite antique store. The store itself was already notorious with your tight inner circle of friends as the creepy shop that was corrupting your brain, a constant taunt being that the little old woman that ran it was the actual devil and she was just waiting for the right time to jump you and eat you whole, but this did nothing to stop you from visiting at least once a week.

But the book, it was different from any other you had found. It was completely handwritten, including amazingly done sketches in a deep unfading ink, and spoke of outlandish things.

Some were easily brushed off, like a murder that happened in the 50’s that was known to stay in the mouths of the older folks, both to them and the book it was widely believed to be the doing of some long tongued and wild eyed creature, until a local sweet old man admitted on his deathbed that it was instead his one crime of passion.

He had been a young soldier that snuck into his lover’s room one night, and upon learning that she was to marry a nice lawyer the day after he was meant to deploy, his mind went blank and his hands were carving out her heart. He luckily escaped any questioning after being shipped off, and once he returned home he captured the heart of a pretty young girl and lived out a long life sitting on top of a horrid truth.

So yeah, stories of those sorts, having been solved in your lifetime, meant very little to you, but the one you were going on about now, meant the world.

The writing looked like it had been put down by a panicked chicken rather than the woman who’s name was written neatly in the front. It lived in some of the pages towards the back of the small book and spoke of a dark club. Club X.

She went on and on about stumbling across the club purely by accident, and meeting another woman with glittering eyes. Graphic details of being taken in the middle of the dance floor with a million eyes looking but not fully seeing her as she fell apart against a dancing and eager tongue made your heart thump lodged in your throat. But the more and more she visited the club, the more incoherent her words became, but towards the end the writing had become stained and obscured by a deep brown stain, before it stopped altogether.

Thankfully, the details of where the building was was completely visible regardless of being the thoughts of a mad woman, and with a lot of thinking and staring at the town map, you’ve come to believe that you knew exactly where the mysterious club stood.

Only a street down from the restaurant you sit in now.

“Listen, I know it sounds ridiculous, and it probably is, but what’s the problem with just going to check right?” you scramble to pull the delicate book from the bag that sits in the stool beside you as your friend moves closer and closer to where you sit, laying it flat to show her the page you’ve had bookmarked since you read it, “and look at the name she puts, I think it’s the man who ran it and it’s a long shot, but maybe he’s still alive, or if not maybe some family is! Right here, Asm-“

“Don’t say it again,” she’s quick to interrupt, sliding her free hand to hover above the page you’ve glued your eyes to, “I don’t wanna hear any old man names, especially that one it gives me the ick.”

“It’s just a name,” murmur to yourself, but move to put the book away regardless, “but anyways, I have something that most people who were going to the club didn’t, knowledge of what exactly I’m walking into. I can just go and look around, worst things worst its still a freaky sex club and I just go home, but I’m willing to bet this lady was just off the shits and its just an empty building with some funky vintage beer bottles that you can add to your collection.”

You feel like you’ve won an award you weren’t even trying to compete for when she finally breaks out into a soft smile. The huff that leaves her chest is endeared, and you swear your heart began to vibrate when she reached to run a gentle thumb across the swell from your cheekbone.

“Fine, do what you want, but if the bottle isn’t completely intact when you find it I don’t want it.”

“So you’re not coming with me?” your head tilts to the side in confusion as with things of this nature in the past, she’s always followed along to ensure that you didn’t do anything to stupid. You never felt like the company was fully necessary, but it was appreciated regardless.

“Baby, as much as I’ve enjoyed your info dumping you’ve done tonight, the other person that was meant to clean with me had to leave early with a stomach bug so I’m busy pulling a clean up job that’s truly a job for about five people. But you seem to really believe in this little adventure of yours,” she leaves the rag in a damp mass next to the stack of dirty glasses beside you to take your hands in her’s, her slightly wrinkled fingers are still warm and the way they lace with yours makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you, “besides, you’re as smart as a whip and I know you have me on speed dial. I trust you.”

——

You no longer love the feeling of being trusted.

When your friend had given you the heartfelt speech only a little over half an hour ago, you felt like you had been put on a nice pedestal before she handed you a cookie with a pat on the head.

Now the “cookie” had turned to rot in your belly and you were faced with your own perfectly dreamed up reality.

It was already late by the time you had walked into the restaurant your friend works at, the sun already setting and the last few customers gathering their things and paying the bills, so once you got her stamp of approval and we’re heading out the door, the only light left was a bright and full moon, and flickering street lights.

You took your time walking in the direction that your book and personal sleuthing had pointed you in, the closer and closer you got to the one warehouse in town that seemed to never be bought back from the city, the knots in your belly pulled tighter and tighter.

But regardless of the almost painful twist in your gut, you surprisingly almost missed the building in its entirety.

It was as if your entire being blocked out the thumping bass that shook the sidewalk and the blinding red light that spilled from beneath the entrance and out the fractured windows. Your brain trying to force itself from entering the building you spent so many weeks trying to locate.

But the way your heart thuds in your chest when you stand in front of the entrance is something you couldn't even pretend you didn’t feel.

Your tongue digs into the side of your jaw, and you're confused at the feeling of warm tears burning at your waterlines. It’s exactly the way the owner of the journal described it in her manic writings, weirdly exact considering the other stories that surrounded it that dated it back far before you were even born.

You want to go in, the shaking steps your legs take is evident to that, but the tense muscles of your shoulders and stomach makes you hesitate and even grumble out into the air.

You almost jump out of your skin when you hear a shuffling to your side, your throat tensing when you look over, and are put slightly at ease when you see two men who you assume are acting as some type of security. You almost expect them to look up and ask you for some type of ID when you’re being very weird and blatant about your presence, but they seem too preoccupied with the dim screens of their phones and the way they lean forward at different times as if they’re waiting for someone.

Your hands are shaking slightly as they scramble down to grab for your bag, desperately looking for something to occupy you to walk by them without being even more weird, and when your fingers wrap around the flaking leather that binds the book, you grab it like a lifeline.

Your fingers flip through the pages with perfect muscle memory as you trip up the few steps that lead to the door, the tabs you carefully placed on the first page mentioning the club not even necessary with the way you could find the page even in your sleep.

You subconsciously hold your breath when you walk past the two men, almost as if the book is instead something wildly illegal and you're trying to sneak past your parents, and your washed with a temporary wave of relief when you pass through the doors without even a glance from the two.

Though the relief is stolen from your bones the second your feet touch the floor of the club.

It’s as if you’ve entered a place you’ve known your whole life, and from the amazing descriptions from the woman in the past, its not a completely surprising feeling.

But another part of you feels like this is the first time you’ve seen human beings in the flesh.

You can't help but to feel like you must look like an absolute nerd as you pull the book up to your face as you start to survey the club, but thankfully the book told at least one truth, and many of the club goers are too busy grouping and grinding against one another to even acknowledge your existence.

More truths come to light as you flick your eyes between the pages and the walls.

The bar is still tucked in the same far corner as she described, the flittering red and blue lights making it feel like a beacon of calm regardless of it being surrounded by drunken forms and its intimidatingly pretty bartender.

The dj is just a stoic and unimpressed looking as the one from so many years ago as he subconsciously bobs to the beat that he creates as he messes with the nobs and switches in front of him. He’s actually so similar, you wonder if you were right and the owner did have family floating around, and maybe the dj is one of them.

You stumble further into the room as you pick out small details she wrote about so lovingly. Your legs carry you to the back of the building as you smile at the sight of the wine stain the writer claimed to have created when her lover shocked her with a playful bite to the neck.

You almost feel like the universe is gifting you everything you could have possibly asked for when you see the loose board that she said a friend of hers would always trip over, and electricity zips up your spine in excitement when you spots the large painting that still hangs over the booth she claimed as her favorite, and she meticulously sketched out next to a paragraph about what she thought the artist was feeling.

All these things though, lead to the things that make your jaw hang slightly open.

The large balcony above you is larger than you ever imagined. The hundreds of bright red carnations she loved to sketch drip from the golden bars like water, and the black velvet curtains that hang over the room it leads to look heavy enough that they suffocate someone if they fell.

She seemed so intensely in love with the place you stand in, and the woman she met there, and those emotions were more than evident from the way the recreated the energy of the club with her words and art. Which only tips you towards the part that caught your attention perhaps the most.

It was exactly where it was meant to be. Just below the balcony that hangs high on the wall, gaping wide and dark like the mouth of a hungry monster coaxing you to enter its throat. The only issue that you can see being the hanging rope that blocks you from entering, but with only shining bright clasps holding it onto hooks on the walls, you don’t think you're above sneaking past it with little guilt.

The hall was the one thing that taunted you the most about the story the woman spun in the little worn book. The empty and dark vass space being something that coaxed her as well, but unfortunately for you, and maybe her as well, the parts of her journal that began the tale of her passing the temping rope, was the exact spot that was stained with bleeding ink and a suspicious brown color.

You survey the space around you, looking for anyone that could possibly be a worker or just a stickler for the rules, but seeing as everyone in your range of vision was attached by the mouth on someone’s neck or sloppy lips, you figured you were in the clear.

You drop the book gently back into your bag before you step slowly forward. Your heart feels like a wild animal trying to break out of the cavity of your chest, and it feels like your intestines have been successfully replaced with writhing worms that are desperately trying to reach your gut. You feel heat traveling up your chest and neck, and as you get within a few feet of what feels like the end of your life, your body begins to shake.

If you had the ability, you would have screamed, and if you had the strength, you would have fought back. But right when you're about to reach the threshold of the hall, and right when you feel like your legs are about to collapse from underneath you, strong fingers clasp over your trembling mouth, and an arm wraps tightly around your waist.

You’re turned faster than you can blink, the sudden motion making your brain swirl in your skull and making you go lightheaded and dizzy. And while keeping their hand clasped tightly over your mouth, the person that cages you in slams your back into the cold wall and knocks the air from your lungs.

The eyes that meet you are cat-like and dancing wildly, the grin the man you're faced with now smiles at you wickedly, and when your hands dart up until your nails dig harshly into the skin of his forearms, his smile only widens.

“Now,” he starts, the remains of a chuckle shaking his chest and his words slightly, “what exactly are you up to?”

You wait for a moment for him to release you from his hold, and when after a minute or so he still hasn’t budged, all you can offer in response is an annoyed arched brow.

“What?” he has the audacity to ask with taunting sincerity, “you thought you were smart enough to go wandering around, so you should be smart enough to figure out a way to talk around my hand right?”

It’s with immense irritation that you realize the two possibilities you’re faced with.

From the book you know about the weird concept of soul mates or whatever they were meant to be. The woman and the mysterious dancing girl she met so many years ago, and similar stories from the friends she met during her many visits to the club who had almost identical tales that she had to recount.

So with that information you know the possibility of this grinning man being your person is high, but your person or not, he was lighting a fire in your chest regardless.

You don’t think or even weigh the negatives before you send him a hard glare, and you show very little hesitation when you push forward to sink your teeth into the first finger you can catch.

His yelp is covered by the blaring music, but you hear it loud and clear before he reaches his free hand up to pinch at the bridge of your nose to pull you off like a rabid kitten.

“You know what I’m up to,” you huff petulantly as you lean back into the wall with your arms folding over your chest, “or at least I’d assume you’d be smart enough to use your context clues right?”

His lip curls when he glances back up to you as he pets at his now bruising finger, but even with the thin veil of irritation on his pretty features, you can tell he enjoys the sarcastic tone you’ve adopted.

“Yeah you’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he bites back as he steps closer, crowding your personal space and pushing his chest tightly against yours, “you’re lucky I’m who caught you and not boss man.”

“Boss man?” you ask, trying not to show you excitement over him spilling the treasured information about the club that you want so desperately.

He doesn’t answer you verbally, and the sly wink he throws at you shocks you more than you would like to admit, but when he tilts his head back quickly you don’t hesitate to follow his line of sight to the edge of the balcony.

If it weren’t for the thin wires of light that create hatching over his eyes and mouth, you probably would have missed the masked figure that leers at you from over the railing. His hands and shoulders are covered by the masses of flowers, and the hollow black where he hides his eyes stares down at you two with a look that you assume is annoyance and possible curiosity.

The moment you two look up, the figure jerks back. Your eyes flick quickly between him and the man in front of you, and from the bratty grin he wears as he looks up, you feel as if the masked man didn’t have any intention at being caught.

You get lost slightly in staring at the man pressed against you, his teeth that look sharper in the red lighting and his eyes twinkle in mischief, and even with the obnoxious start to your interaction, you’d be lying to say you don’t find him beautiful.

It takes you a second to regain your senses, tearing your eyes away from the fascinating side profile of the man, but when you glance back up to the balcony, the mask man has retreated back.

“He doesn’t like much when we take people back there before they’re ready,” he attempts at an explanation as he turns back to you, and seems unfazed when he misses the mark and just confuses you further, “he let the two goons outside have a little exception, but that's because they don’t know how to go easy y‘know.”

“No,” you shake your head at him with a quiet scoff, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you know more than you think,” his voice drops as he speaks now, and as he speaks he reaches out his hand to hold himself propped against the wall next to your head while his other hand moves to run gently up the side of your neck, “I mean, you know who I am at least right?”

“I have an idea,” you admit with a huff, but you also admit to yourself that this probably means you won't be getting into the hall. You do mentally jot that down as a loss, but decide to take the man pressed against you as a win and you reach to grab at his shirt in retaliation, “but you could at least give me a name to work with.”

“Hm, I didn’t expect you to be one for such formalities,” his head tilts in amusement at his own words, and the action nudges the tip of his nose into yours and makes your heart flutter up into your throat, “but you might as well know the name of the man you’ll be destined to fall in love with.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to start to ache, and he quietly laughs and moves to press his nose into the soft flesh of your cheek as he feeds off your annoyance.

“Ten,” he answers quietly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he moves to whisper the syllable in your ear, and you never thought that with just one word he’d have a shiver rushing up your spine.

You respond quietly with your name, but the word comes out strained and rushed when he begins to nibble on the lobe of your ear and pushes his knee harshly between your thighs.

Both your hands now hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt, and when his lips move to trail against the side of your neck that isn't enveloped by his hand, you tug roughly at the fabric and your back arches slightly away from the wall.

His tongue is hot when he lays it flat on the center of your throat, and when he swipes it up until it flicks against the end of your chin, you can't help but cringe slightly at the feeling regardless of the way it makes heat pool in between your thighs.

The wicked grin on his face never falters, it only grows wider and more hungry when your eyes meet again, and with his staring so deep that you fear he may be collecting every ounce of your soul, you two have a silent agreement on the unnatural waves of electricity that connect you.

When his lips finally land on yours, it's the roughest and clumsiest kiss you’ve experienced. Both of you fight each other with hungry and eager tongues and the way your teeth gently knock together has your skull rattling in a way that, if you weren’t so hell bent of devouring each other whole, you’d probably have to take a breather.

Your hands reluctantly release the wrinkled fabric of his shirt, and in a desperate attempt to stay occupied, they shoot up the tangle tightly into his hair. You admit, you probably tug harsher on the strands than you probably should, but the groans he pours into your mouth, and the way his hips rock roughly into yours, has you tugging again and again.

He presses you further and further into the wall, and without thinking your hips begin to kick and tilt down until you're grinding harshly and sloppily against his tense thigh.

You let out a quiet whine that's muffled and garbled by his moving at the feeling of him pressing his thumb gently into the dip beneath your jaw, and pressing into your jugular. The sound is followed almost immediately by a small yelp when he latches his teeth to your bottom lip and gives you a stinging bite.

You’re frustrated almost immediately with the lack of friction you can feel from the layers of clothing between you, and now the slight shooting pain from the tensing skin between his teeth, you can feel the impatience in your belly crawling up and invading your chest and throat.

He’s quick to pull away when you retaliate with your own nipping bite to his top lip, your teeth still sinking down when he does and making his sting probably just as much as yours. And when he eyes you as his eyelids droop down into an accusatory squint, you assume he’s not used to getting a taste of his own medicine.

He mutters something to himself about your feistiness, and a sly comment about how he shouldn’t be surprised as he was expecting to get a handful, but he gives you no time to make a snide comment or even question about any of the words, before his fingers are closing firmly but loosely around your neck.

He keeps you rooted in the spot that you stand, the only change in your posture he allows is pulling you slightly away from the wall, just wide enough for him to slink behind you and tug you roughly back into his chest.

“You like poking around into business that isn’t yours?” he asks rhetorically as his free hand reaches around your shoulder to push past the neckline of your shirt, and right as he pressed down the center of your chest and his fingers brush the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers curl and he starts to drag his blunt nails up your sternum as he continues, “need to know and see every single little thing right? So… what’s the harm of being on the other side of it for once?”

“What are you on about?” you as sharply as you try to turn your face towards him the best you can, but his hand tilts under the bottom of your chin until your head is forced to lean on his shoulder and he’s nothing but thrilled at the way it makes you struggle.

“To be seen, or not?” he presses his lips back against the shell of your ear, and the way he whispers roughly makes you shiver again as your thighs press tightly together, “you know what I mean, and you know the answer I want, but its all up to you in the end.”

The electric and slightly humiliating buzz of being seen in a mass of bodies committing the same sins as you was something the woman in the book went on about frequently. She mentioned that there were a few times where she and her lover snuck off to get alone time of course, but the almost blinding pleasure that came from being worshiped by not only one person, but the eyes of an entire room, was addictive. And you wanted just a taste.

You grumble in response, the idea of admitting to the already confident man that you did indeed wanted the same amount of attention as he did made your chest burn even more than it already was, and you’d rather take your chance with his terrifying looking boss than to give him the satisfaction of your verbal confession.

He seems unaffected by your nonverbal confirmation, the way you press into him as his hand wraps around your waist again and creeps down to the button of your shorts, and your own hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his rolled up long sleeve shirt to guide him to undo the clasp or just dip below the waistband, is enough of an answer for him to know.

He chooses to pop the button, and once he has the zipper pulled down enough that he can work with, he begins to shove the worn denim down your hips along with your underwear until they are wrapped around your knees and he can push his fingers roughly between your thighs.

You try to clear the fog that he creates in your mind from his teasing fingers long enough to reach your free hand back to give the same treatment to the dark jeans that wrap tightly around his hips and thighs in a way that had you mentally drooling from the moment you got to get a full look at him, after he ambushed you of course.

You’re not sure how he undid your shorts so quickly without being able to see, but as you fumble and scratch your nails against the sensitive skin of his hip, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt seeing as your trying to work while his middle and ring fingers tease over your entrance and the heel of his hand presses clumsily into your neglected clit.

He, on the other hand, doesn’t give you any benefit of the doubt. He at least has the decency to press his lips across your cheekbone and temple to muffle his quiet laughs, but to make your task even more difficult, his fingers shallowly curl up into you just enough to make you twist and curl.

Once the button of his jeans finally releases, you instinctively let out a huff and sink your shoulders back into his chest as you reach past the fabric to wrap your hand around his stiff length and pull it from the confines until you can press it against his lower belly. And you get just one tally on your side of the boards you’ve created in your mind when his amused laughs devolves into pleased grunts and tilting hips.

“Please,” you start quietly, trying to rock more against the parts of his hand that press against you while running your palm up and down the length of him and smearing him with his own pre come, “I can tell you’re just as impatient as me.”

He swears in your ear, using his hold on you with both hands to shift your hips up and pull you closer before he clears his throat to speak, “well could you imagine, looks like we are a match made in heaven.”

“More like hell,” you retaliate, digging the heel of your own palm into the skin just below the tip of him to egg him on even further, “but either way, that's the point isn't it?”

“I should have expected you to be just a little bit of a smart ass,” he mutters a half hearted complaint, but he only contradicts his own words when he pushes your hips away enough for you to guide him between your thighs and to glide against the arousal that spilled from your body and his hands spread messy along any available inch of skin.

He thrusts smoothly against your back a few times, bringing his arm down to guide him towards your entrance painfully slow, but when you let out a gravely moan of his name, he cant deny himself for any longer, and he’s sinking into you until your eyes start to gently flutter.

Once he’s seated inside you, his hand tenses slightly tighter around your neck, and when you both start pushing towards each other to meet in the middle of your thrusts, his other hand takes the opportunity to map any inch of you he can reach.

He gropes almost painfully at your chest, traveling over your stomach and up your shirt to dig his fingers into your skin until you swear he’s tattooed his finger prints onto you, all while nipping and lapping at the skin of your jaw and neck.

No one immediately in front of you is watching, they’re all in their own worlds of flesh and saliva, but you can still feel eyes of someone on you. His first and foremost as they burn holes into the side of your skull and glance to watch where you push back against him desperately, but there’s another feeling you get of being seen and studied thats so intense that you’re a little shocked when you chance a glance up and see that whoever the masked person was from earlier wasn’t there at all.

So no, you have no idea who, or what is watching you right now, but you can feel the unusual heat it stirs in you as your body flutters around him as he fucks you sloppily. You feel a deeper relation to the woman that owned the book that still rests in the bag that feel unceremoniously from your shoulder when he first put his hands on you, and you hope that maybe you’ll eventually slip into the life of bliss that she meticulously wrote about and possibly learn what happened that demolished the stories that lived in the back of the journal.

You could feel the pleasure crawling up your spine like a monster out creature, your panting breaths tipping the man that works you over off to this even though you’re sure he was already aware before you were, and you think your legs are back to the edge of collapsing when his creeping fingers dance along the expanse of your stomach to find their place back between your thighs.

Your back stiffens at the first touch of his rolling finger on your clit, and your head tilts even farther back onto his shoulder than he already had it. He doesn’t seem interested in coaxing you to your finish slowly, at a pace that would have mercy on your melting mind and shaking form, but he instead abuses your clit until your whimpering out and stumbling and stepping slightly on his toes.

You feel like you’re waiting out the suspense of a horror film that’s score is too obvious to the incoming jump scare. You tilt your neck in a way that seems normal to him, but in reality your trying to feel the many rings that decorate his fingers with the delicate skin of your throat to test if any of them could possibly be sharp enough to cut you and draw blood. You know what blood means to him, and you know it's something he’ll have to do soon if he truly can feel how close you are to the edge.

You feel like you’re floundering a bit, confused from the possible deviation from the story you’ve committed to memory. Was there any chance in this world that this wasn’t your person?

You push this thought away as soon as your panicked mind can construct it though, because there’s no way the spell that it feels has been placed on you would be there if that was the truth, and your body is heated almost like a furnace, but you suddenly love the idea of being burned by him.

You pull in a gasping breath of air that pierces through the music and grunting that rattles in your ears, the taste of your orgasms dancing on the back of your tongue and your back arching so harshly you fear that one of your muscles might seize up and cramp. And right when you feel his hips start to stutter in tandem with yours, and when you’re only seconds from blabbering out mixed syllables that you could only hope would come out as a coherent question, you feel it.

His teeth latch onto you again, his canines not sharp enough to make a clean cut as they dig into the muscle of your shoulder, but his determination is strong enough.

It burns painfully, and makes hot tears well up in your eyes, but almost embarrassingly, is the exact thing that pushes you scrambling over the edge.

You feel like it hurts to breathe, your lungs so focused on letting out puffs of air and broken moans that they can't seem to remember how to bring oxygen in, and your eyes roll for a completely new reason for the man and much more painfully.

It’s when you feel him start to suck the rushing blood from your newly christened wound that you also feel the rumble of his groans against your skin and feel him start to come inside of you. His fist tightens again around your neck as he pushes aftershocks through your nerves with his own orgasm, and with flying hands you grab at both of his wrists, not to ask in any way for him to ease up, but from a sudden wash and need to hold onto him possibly until you die.

He lets you collapse to the floor once he pulls out, but he follows your sinking form and sits alongside you and partially underneath you as you both try to catch your breath.

The club scene in front of you is now blurs of flashing lights and abstract writhing forms, and if it wasn’t for the zaps of energy you feel from every brush of his finger tips, your brain would probably be too muddled to register him fixing both your clothes and his.

You become just slightly more aware when he shifts your body against him enough to grab at the strap of your bag with the heel of his shoe, and you try to sit up faster than necessary and give yourself a small head rush when he pulls it to himself and flips it open.

“You seemed a little weirdly unaffected by the whole,” he flails his hands in front of you for a second as he speaks, and your lagging mind takes a second to catch up with his attempts at implication, “not the fucking part clearly,” he teases, “but the leading up to it. The meeting part and all.”

“I know what this place is,” you admit, and if your legs had gained just a bit more strength you probably would have stood and requested a glass of water just from how gravely your voice had become, “I knew I was probably going to run into you.”

“But you weren’t looking for me,” he tries, and fails, at hiding the slight edge of offense his voice shows, “if you knew I was here why didn’t you look for me?”

“I didn’t worry about it,” you say, warming up a bit again in the fear that it may have come off slightly rude, “or, like, I mean I knew you’d be able to find me easier than I could find you. I was more interested in finding answers.”

“Answers to what? You said you knew this place, or at least what it is?”

“Well I only know the basics,” you shift in his hold, knocking his hands away as they sift through your bag, and grabbing blindly until you can pull out the book, “I found this journal and it-“

��A journal?” he asks in a volume that could have been obnoxiously loud if it weren’t for the thumping bass that shook the floor beneath you, and pulls the small book from your hands.

“It was written by a woman who came here a long time ago,” you explain, deciding to not take offense to his rough and grabbing hands, “I found it and tracked the club down, I needed to see if it was real.”

“Oh it's real alright,” he laughs as he starts to flip through the pages, stopping for a moment to smile at a simple sketch she had done of a cat that she said lived in the back alley, “hey wait I think I know this name, and these people.”

“What are you on about?” you ask with a scoff as you tug the book from his grubby fingers, “you can’t possibly know these people, this was written in like the fifties. Stop pulling my leg.”

“Oh I see,” he smacks your thigh playfully as he leans over your shoulder to glance at the first page that mentioned anything about the date, the ink clear enough to read 1953 in the swirling handwriting, “you think you know everything.”

“I do know everything, fuck you,” you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, “or I would know, if you’d let me go into that weirdo hall.”

“No hall, for now at least,” he sighs, the gears in his head turning as he thinks of the next thing to say, “but you know, time doesn’t exist the same way here, the woman who wrote this probably didn’t know that at the time, so I’m not surprised you don’t either.”

“What do you mean time doesn’t exist?” you look at him as if he’s grown a second head, but do you really have the nerve to question him like that? Considering that entire concept of the club you are very aware of its existence now, a time situation shouldn’t be the most shocking should it?

“Well, it's hard to explai-“

“Then don’t explain it,” you almost jump fully out of his lap at the deep voice that rattles above you, and both him and you look up at the figure that looms over you now.

The man is tall, his black hoodie looking weird in contrast to the clothes of the other club goers, and with a squinting observation and a familiar and annoyed sigh from the man seated behind you, you realize you’re being stared down by the mysterious entity that is the DJ, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket in annoyance.

“Huh?” Ten lets out more in the form of a noise than a word, as his arms wind tightly around your form.

“I said don’t explain shit,” the man begins to tap his foot in irritation as he speaks, and you wonder if he’s aware that he’s in rhythm with the song that surrounds you, “you need to chill out with the loose tongue, its bad enough we have the big mouths outside.”

“I wasn’t gonna go that far,” Ten sounds reminiscent of a scolded toddler, and considering the man is hindering you from getting information that you wanted so badly, you can feel yourself mirroring the pout he wears, “I know what I’m doing alright man? Why are you over here anyways, shouldn’t you be at your little booth minding your business.”

“No one minds their business over at that booth, and you should know that better than anyone pervert,” the words are sharp, but the curl to his lips and the underlying playfulness to his tone tells you the likeliness of them being friends is high, “anyways, I know we don’t follow any regulations or anything here, but I’m still gonna take a fuckin’ break or two.”

“Well breaks over,” Ten reaches out a hand to playfully swat the man away, “I didn’t wait this long for you to just interrupt my bonding time with my person alright?”

“Alright, alright,” he finally starts to shuffle away, throwing one last comment about Ten being bitter his person showed up first over his shoulder with a grin.

“What a loser,” Ten starts, looking at you playfully and rolling his eyes, “too bad he’s like my best friend or whatever.”

“You seem to have a lot of fun around here don’t you?” you take a shot at voicing your observations, your heart fluttering in a completely new way at the warm smile he shoots you.

“Just wait a see, my love. Just wait and see.”

#nct smut #ten smut #chittaphon smut #nct imagine #nct series #nct fic #ten imagines #ten oneshot #nct oneshot #kpop smut #wayv smut #wayv imagine #wayv oneshot

210 notes · View notes

lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

Double edged scalpel ch.11

ch1 ch2 ch3 ch4 ch5 ch6 ch7 ch8 ch9 ch10

Summary: last chapter, let there be some sweet stuff

----

By some miracle, the bullet did not hit anything major, which meant a rather uneventful recovery. Laughing and sudden movements still sent a jolt of pain through her body even a week later, but at least she could move around now.

Every day Daniela would come to Cassandra’s room where she was staying and change her bandages while listening to her instructions. She wanted to learn, and Nicole was more than happy to oblige. Especially when having a wound free of infection was on the line. Cassandra would simply busy herself with something else or talk to the eldest sister in the meantime. They were too far to hear, not that Nicole actually cared to listen while inspecting the literal hole in her skin, but she did catch Bela huffing out a fine.

After a new bandage was in place, the other two sisters left, Daniela with a bright smile at the skill she was learning and Bela rolling her eyes at the thanks from her middle sister. Once they were alone again, Nicole raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the brunette.

“What was that about?”

Cassandra pressed her palms together, eyes darting around the room before finally landing on her lover.

“You know how my moms invited you to dinner?” Nicole widened her eyes in mild panic. “Well you can’t exactly go wearing a uniform, so I asked Bela if we could borrow one of her dresses. Sine she’s the shortest,” Cassandra added with a snicker.

Nicole furrowed her brows. While Bela was the shortest among the three sisters, she still had quite a few inches on her, so any of her dresses would just turn into an impromptu floor sweeping. Maybe a shorter one could work. Cassandra didn’t seem to care to dwell on it as she plopped down on the bed beside Nicole. She seemed oddly nervous.

“I-... I have something for you.”

She turned around and pulled something from her nightstand’s drawer. When she got back to facing her, a dagger wrapped in black leather was in her hand.

“Not that you’ll need it again. But if you must stab someone this will work better than a scalpel.”

Nicole slowly slid the blade from its holster, the metal almost shiny in the room’s low light. The handle, like many other objects in the castle, had the Dimitrescu crest on it. The intricate leaves and petals wrapped around each other as if they weren't made from metal but just freshly plucked from the garden. To top it off, the tip of the handle had an ochre gem, not too different from the one on Cassandra’s choker. Nicole traced her fingers gingerly over the details, a fond smile tugging at her lips. It was lovely.

"Thank you," she whispered, almost afraid that speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

Cassandra didn't reply though, only shifting closer and pressing a kiss to her temple. She didn't really need to say anything, the gesture speaking loud and clear without the aid of any words.

Nicole pulled Cassandra down into a deep kiss. A kiss that was meant to say all the things neither of them could put into words, that seemed so insignificant compared to their lips sliding together in that moment. Her hand left the dagger on the sheets and found its way into dark locks, pulling Cassandra even closer. To her annoyance, it was the brunette the one to pull away with a knowing smirk.

"As much as I'm enjoying myself, Bela's gonna be back in a few minutes and then we're heading to dinner. Wouldn't want to be late now would we."

Nicole's reply was overly dramatic and drawn out. "Oh my, I wouldn't dream of it."

Cassandra only chuckled at her and got up to change into something more dinner appropriate herself. She chose a white blouse with beautiful intricate embroidered patterns all around the collar and sleeves, complete with a pair of leather pants. Leather pants that Nicole would've enjoyed the view of were in not for the knock on the door.

"Come in!" Cassandra called from where she was strapping in a pair of boots.

The door opened with a slight creak, and the eldest sister slipped inside, a black dress draped over one arm. She came over to Nicole and set it on the bed, careful not to cause any wrinkles.

"I hope it goes without saying that if you spill anything on it I will break your legs."

"You will do no such thing," Cassandra said quickly, having finished dressing. She leaned over her sister's shoulder and whistled at the sight of the dress. "Wow darling I hope you like looking like a creepy gothic countess."

Nicole laughed at Bela's annoyed eye roll. "I'd love to. It's an awesome look actually."

Bela huffed at her younger sister, pointing exasperatedly to the redhead. "See? She gets it. Glad to see at least you found someone that understands fashion."

"Your fashion is either gothic vampire, good job with the stereotype there by the way, or tired teenager who's wardrobe consists only of baggy shirts. It's always a fifty fifty with you."

Cassandra was now openly laughing, one arm around her midsection. Bela simply smacked her on the shoulder and turned to leave the room. Before she could slip out however, she called out to her sister.

"Oh and Cassandra," she waited for the brunette to look at her. "Mother's in a good mood."

Cassandra grinned, suddenly seeming a lot more excited about dinner.

It took thankfully little effort to slip the dress on, a shorter one that normally would reach the knees, but on Nicole it was more around mid calves. She only needed help with the zipper on the back. Help that her lover was happy to provide, complete with a kiss at the back of her neck.

When they looked at themselves in the full length mirror standing in the corner of the room, Nicole couldn't help the feeling of pride swelling in her chest. Pride at being there with the woman she loved. Actually loved. And who shared her feelings in kind.

"What was it about wanting to become a creepy gothic countess?"

Nicole chuckled at the sly smile the brunette was giving her through the mirror. She decided to humor her, intentionally not letting her mind run with the possible implications. "Oh, isn't that every girl's dream," she said, fully aware that it was not.

Cassandra tapped her chin for a moment, eyes looking to the side in thought. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and decided to interlock their fingers instead. She pulled Nicole away from the mirror and into a gentle kiss before she spoke.

"Let's go."

She simply nodded and let herself be guided through the castle's ancient dark halls, hand in hand with Cassandra. They walked in silence until they reached the door to the dining hall, light spilling from the small crack underneath. Looks were shared. They both had a mix of nervousness and excitement clear on their faces. Beyond the door, the other members of the family could be heard, Esteria's voice telling a tale too muffled to reach their ears, that seemed to make Daniela laugh. Even the Lady chimed in with a comment that made the youngest sister blurt out some protesting words.

Cassandra chuckled and gave her a final kiss on her temple, before pushing the heavy door open for the both of them and pulling her inside.

Had a less… unhinged person been in her place, they'd be full of dread. But for Nicole, she couldn't remember a time when she truly felt like she could call a place home. And if home was a terrible castle led by women that could tear anyone to pieces, then so be it. She'd happily sit by their side, by Cassandra's side, and let herself be wrapped up in all the horrors within the ancient walls.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #bela dimitrescu #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #fanfic #hopefully that final joke doesnt fall to flat to anyone not following for a while #im freeeeeee #see yall with the sequel lmao #*sob*

122 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still taking requests, could you do one where someone is making Remus really uncomfortable and someone from the team helps him out? (Preferably Sirius, Leo, Logan, James, or Dumo but everything you do is so good so it really doen't matter 😂❣)

Yep! Please take a look at the TW below before reading, since there are parts of this that are a bit intense. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Combined with protective Sirius and Leo/ Loops friendship!

TW for a super creepy guy, unwanted handholding, unwanted flirting/ not taking no for an answer, innuendo, moderate panic attack, and alcohol

The folding chair next to Remus creaked as a tall man in a perfectly-tailored suit sat down hard in it. He was clearly a drink or two past tipsy, and something in Remus’ throat itched at the way the man’s eyes flickered across his chest and arms. “You’re Lupin, right? The new Lion?”

Remus set his drink down. “That’s me.”

“Stan Martin, nice to meet you.” Stan held his hand out and Remus shook it; his palm was clammy, and he held on just a second too long. Remus was the first to pull away after he felt a light squeeze from wrinkled fingers.

“Pleasure’s mine,” Remus said with a polite smile. Sirius was nowhere in sight, and everyone else was occupied in their own conversations. He swallowed hard. “Do you own a team?”

“Nah, I just fund ‘em,” Stan snorted. “Too much work otherwise, not enough time for play, if you know what I mean.”

Remus forced a laugh. “Right, yeah, totally. Are you involved with the Lions? I’m a bit new to the whole administration thing.”

“Even after being a PT for so long?” Stand gave him an incredulous look, but beneath it there was a shadow Remus didn’t like.

“Yep. I was pretty contained to my tape pallets and charts.” Joke it off, Lupin.

A hand, heavy from alcohol and lack of inhibitions, fell on Remus’ forearm with a few clumsy pats before settling on his wrist. Stan looked directly into his eyes. “If you ever need someone to, ah, show you the ropes, give me a call.”

Remus cleared his throat and tried to pull his arm away, but the hand didn’t budge. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

“No, really. The NHL is a complicated world. I’d be more than happy to take some of that weight off your shoulders.” Stan leaned closer and Remus tensed as his eyes roved his face. “Your freckles are much more striking in real life, Lupin.”

“Please let go of my arm, Mr. Martin.”

“Call me Stan.”

“Let go of me, Martin.”

An awful little grin spread over his thin lips. “You’re a spitfire, aren’t you? Too much for Captain Solitude, I bet.”

He jerked his head to the side of the room, where Remus saw Sirius making polite conversation with a woman in a long dress. A spike of fury bubbled up. “Are you talking about my fiancé?”

“Easy, tiger, I’m just saying—” He hiccupped and Remus tried to pull away, but Stan’s grip tightened by a fraction. “—I’m just saying, you could do better with someone who knows how to handle you.”

“I can handle myself just fine. If you don’t stop talking shit about my fiancé, I’ll—”

“What? You’ll do what?” Stan leered at him and Remus paused to shove down his nausea. “You know, you were much prettier before you tried to be like the rest of these jocks.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“I’m just being honest,” Stan huffed, never releasing Remus’ arm from his hold. Remus could feel his shoulders starting to shake. “You’ve got those cute little cheekbones. Very delicate, like—almost feminine. Those training regimens they put you on ruined it, in my opinion. Look, Lupin, when you get tired of tall, dark, and boring over there, gimme a call and you can be pretty aga—”

“What’s going on over here?” a falsely bright voice cut in. The chair on Remus’ other side clicked at its joints as Leo sat down, looking between them with icy eyes. “Am I missing out on all the fun?”

“Hey, Knutty,” Remus managed, wincing as his voice cracked. Stan leaned back in his chair and Remus quickly yanked his arm away, tangling his fingers together.

“Lupin and I were just having a chat,” Stan said, glancing back down at Remus’ lap until he tucked his hands under his thighs. “Nothing big and important.”

Leo’s knee pressed against his own. “Sirius was looking for you a minute ago.”

Stan’s jaw tightened. “What, we can’t finish our conversation?”

“No.” Remus channeled all his roiling discomfort and the urge to knock the creep’s teeth in as he stood up. “No, this conversation has been done for a while. Have a nice night, Mr. Martin.”

Leo’s arm was steady across his shoulders as they walked away; Remus’ vision tunneled, sparkling black at the sides. “Are you gonna be alright?” Leo asked under his breath, his accent soothing. Remus nodded. “You’re shaking, Re.”

“No, I’m not.” He grabbed a plastic cup of water off a nearby tray and nearly sloshed it all over himself. “Jesus fucking—”

“Re.” He could feel his teeth starting to chatter and sweat rolled down the too-tight collar of his shirt. Leo’s hand closed loosely around his own and took the cup. “C’mon.”

“Sirius was looking for me,” he protested as Leo led him down a side hall.

Leo shrugged. “Probably.”

“…he didn’t talk to you.”

“Nope.”

“You came to get me anyway.”

“Yep.”

The clog in Remus’ chest grew and he nearly tripped over his own feet. “Thanks, Knutty.”

A sharp puff of air cooled his burning face. “I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“I tried to leave.” The words tangled around his tongue as Leo pushed open the bathroom door and led him to the sinks, dampening some paper towels. “I—fuck, Leo, I’m stronger than him but he was holding my arm so tight and I was so fucking freaked.”

“Easy, Re.” Leo sounded like he was trying to calm a spooked horse.

The towels were a balm in Remus’ hands and on his face as he pressed them over his mouth to muffle the wheezing noises. “I’d rather be called a slur to my face than have that happen again.”

The gentle circles on his back stopped for a second. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t—no. I just wanna go home.”

“Deep breaths.” Leo handed him a new towel to blow his nose, then pulled his phone out.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a kickass friend?”

A weak smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but his face was still troubled. “Once or twice.”

Remus’ lungs were tight with a mix of fear and disgust; he felt a little like he wanted to throw up, and while Leo’s hand on his back was an anchor to the world, the rest of him screamed ‘don’t touch me’.

Barely two minutes later, the bathroom door swung open. “Honey? What happened?”

“Holy shit,” Remus managed as gray eyes swam into his field of view. Sirius. Sirius meant safety. Reality zoomed back at double speed and the dam broke—tears poured down his cheeks as his whole body began to shake again. “Holy shit.”

Sirius shushed him softly, pulling him close with a kiss to the top of his head. “D’accord, mon loup, je t’ai.”

“I love you,” Remus sobbed. The fabric of Sirius’ suit was probably wrinkling under his tight grip, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I love you so much for exactly who you are, okay? Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I know.” Confusion edged his voice, but he kept it low and gentle. Remus loved him for it, wildly. The door creaked as Leo left, and then there was silence.

He finally pulled his face out of Sirius’ chest, kissing his jaw, cheek, and lips before resting his forehead in the curve of his neck. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ hands eased through the curls above his ears as he cupped Remus’ face in his hands. “What happened, Re?”

Remus shook his head as revulsion rose again. “There was this creep and he wouldn’t let me go. Said some shitty stuff.”

“He was homophobic?” An angry furrow appeared between Sirius’ brows.

“I wish.” Stan’s words rang in his ears and made his mouth bitter with shame. Remus closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Sirius’ face during his confession. “He, uh—he propositioned me. Kind of.”

“He what?”

“I didn’t catch on until he already had my arm.” Remus sniffled, pressing the heel of his hand below his eye to stem the tears. “He followed it up with some bullshit about you, and then some bullshit about me, and just wouldn’t shut up. I just froze. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, mon amour.” Sirius’ touch was so gentle on him, warm and broad compared to the crushing discomfort of Stan Martin. His hands were heavy, but they let Remus move however he liked.

“I love you,” Remus said again.

“I love you, too. Are you ready to go home?”

“I need a minute.” He rubbed his face against the soft lapels of Sirius’ jacket, desperate for comfort around the guilt wedged in his chest; his next words spilled out before he could choke them down again. “You still like me, right?”

“I love you so much—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You—am I still nice to look at? Now that I’m not, y’know, pretty and kinda twink-y.” There was a long stretch of silence. “Is that a yes?”

“Sorry, I had to take a second and stop myself from putting that fucking idiot through a table.” Sirius took a step back and met Remus’ eyes, fixing him with a hard look. “First of all, I love everything about you, and you will always be the most beautiful man on earth. Second, your muscles are the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen. Third, you’ve never been—what word did you use?”

“Twink-y. It’s like…delicate. Femme. Etcetera, etcetera.”

More anger sparked in Sirius’ eyes. “Yeah, and you’ve never been delicate. You are the strongest person I know, Re. Whatever he said to you, it wasn’t true.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Absolutely.”

The ballroom was still crowded with high-end management and people Remus never wanted to see again when they finally left the bathroom; thankfully, the throngs of sparkles and dark suits made it easy for them to slip away with minimal human interaction. Stan Martin was over by the water cups, dabbing uselessly at a large wine stain across the front of his crisp white shirt—Remus saw Leo watching him like a hawk with a suspiciously empty wineglass in his hand and internally vowed to give him the biggest hug of his life at the next practice.

Remus slowed down to take in the fresh nighttime air, holding Sirius’ hand tight in his own as they crossed the parking lot. He paused at the passenger door and tugged him in for a slow kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and cologne.

Sirius’ arms wrapped around him and Remus melted into the hug. He felt him trembling slightly, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from the chilly breeze. “You are the best part of my life, Re,” he whispered, his voice thick. “The best part, no matter what. I’m so sorry for what happened tonight.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t yours, either.” Sirius kissed the top of his forehead once before giving him a squeeze and going to the other side of the car. “I’m sure Hattie will agree with me once we’re home.”

Two hours, one hot shower, and thirty minutes of puppy cuddles later, Remus curled up against Sirius’ ribs and felt his chest rise and fall under his palm. “I love you,” he said quietly.

Sirius let out a slow breath and entwined their fingers, kissing the inside of his wrist. “Love you more.”

“Love you most.”

“Impossible.”

He could hear Sirius’ smile, even in the darkness of their bedroom, and fell asleep to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

249 notes · View notes

eirikaanemo · 3 years ago

Text

Trust Fall

Warnings: Description of a panic attack

Venti x GN!Reader

2k Words

Venti helps you get over your fear of heights.

Things started out alright. You were at Angel’s Share with some friends, relaxing after a long day of work. “Jean works us to the bone. And I can’t even be mad at her! She does so much too,” you groan. Kaeya and Amber nod in agreement.

“I know how you feel,” Amber sighs. “Sometimes I really wish I could be mad about it but we’re so short on hands that she just can’t help it.”

“I’d almost blame Grand Master Varka, but he’s just too likable,” Kaeya commiserates. You all simultaneously take a good, long sip of your drinks.

“Wow, you guys look awful,” someone behind you comments. Amber glances over her shoulder.

“Oh, hi Venti,” she replies. “Sorry, we didn’t see you there.” You turn in your seat to see your boyfriend, Venti standing there. It looks like he’d just finished performing for other patrons and was ready to get some drinks himself.

He slid into the seat next to you and waved to Diluc, who was managing the bar himself tonight. “Dandelion wine, please,” he called out excitedly. Diluc rolled his eyes but slid a drink over to him and walked to the other end of the bar to serve other customers. Venti hummed in delight as he took a swig of his wine.

“You sure like dandelion wine a lot, huh Venti,” Amber remarked.

“Of course I do, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he proclaimed with a smile.

“And here I thought your partner here was the best thing that ever happened to you,” Kaeya mused loudly.

“Them too,” Venti agreed. “Both of them have a special place in my heart. I love them a whooooole lot!” You hid your face in your hands and groaned, hoping no one noticed your ears turning red.

“You know, if you’re doing that much maybe you should take some time later to relax and have fun,” Venti observed.

“Maybe we could go gliding together or something.” Amber considered it, but then noted, “That wouldn’t really work, with your partner being afraid of heights and all.” You pulled your head out of your hands to glare at her.

Thankfully Kaeya seemed to be too busy flirting with someone to have heard what Amber had said. Convincing him to keep it a secret would have been much harder. Glancing at Venti you noticed him looking at you, thoughtful and concerned. He’d definitely heard and you were definitely not ready to deal with that right now.

“Amber, I thought we agreed not to talk about that,” you whispered not-so-quietly.

“Oops,” Amber said sheepishly. “I forgot you were keeping that a secret.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “They know now so there’s nothing we can do about it. Just keep your mouth shut about it from now on please.”

She nodded vigorously. “I promise,” she assured you.

Kaeya seemed to have completely forgotten about you, chatting with yet another group, this time half-way across the bar. With your friends gone you took another sip of your drink and turned your attention back to Venti. He still looked contemplative, and it was starting to make you nervous.

Amber finished off her drink with a gulp. “Well, I’d best be heading home now,” she admitted. “I have to get up bright and early tomorrow.”

“Alright, sleep well then,” you wished her. “And get home safe.” She responded with a big smile and a ‘thank you’, and headed home.

“What’s on your mind, Venti?” You asked nervously.

“Are you really afraid of heights?” He asked.

“Well, kind of,” you confessed. “It’s honestly more like a fear of falling, to be honest. I’ve noticed that I rather enjoy the view when I’m confident I won’t fall.” He nods in understanding.

“And I guess gliders don’t really look all that trustworthy,” he ponders out loud. You nod sheepishly.

You consider your options, but keep coming back to how he seemed to have a longing look in his eye when he mentioned wanting to go gliding with you. He really did want to go. And he’d done a lot of things for you that he hadn’t really wanted to do. Maybe you could give this a try. Just for him.

“Well, do you think you could trust me?” He asks. You send him a funny look.

“Of course I trust you, you’re my boyfriend.” You explain exasperatedly.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head, “that’s not what I meant. I meant to ask if you would trust me to not let you fall.”

“Why do you ask?” You inquire nervously.

“Well, I would like to go gliding together sometime and I was thinking maybe I could help you feel better about doing it. Y’know, since I have an anemo vision and all. I could help keep you from falling."

---

“Alright,” you sighed. “I’ll give it a try.” The smile he gave you in response was almost enough to make it worth it all on its own.

“Thank you,” he exclaimed as he reached over to drag you into a hug. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

You regretted this already. Venti chattered excitedly as the two of you made your way up to the place he’d decided to glide from. Apparently it wasn’t as high up as some other places, according to him, and you were really grateful for how considerate he was being, but you still felt really, really nervous.

There weren’t just butterflies in your stomach, there were all sorts of other creepy crawlies that sent a shiver down your spine as you thought about what was going to happen soon. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you continued to follow Venti up the slope. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you tried to not look over the edge to your left.

You made it to the spot much too soon in your humble opinion. Daring a glance over the ledge, you could feel yourself pale as you saw how small the trees looked. Without realizing it you started to breathe faster, slipping into hyperventilation with panic seeping into your bones and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Visions of every way this could possibly go wrong flashed through your mind.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality. Venti had maneuvered you into a seated position and was gently humming a tune that you recognized to be one of your favorites. “Hey, come here, it’s alright,” he murmured softly. Shuttering, you tucked yourself closer to his side and closed your eyes. Focusing on your breathing you started to calm down. In, one two three. Out, one two three. In, one two three. Out, one two three.

When you had finally calmed down you chanced a glance at Venti, ashamed of your sudden reaction. Would he be angry? Maybe frustrated? Upset that you weren’t trying hard enough to do something he wanted to do? But when you actually met his eyes you saw nothing other than pure concern and worry.

“Are you okay if I hug you?” He cautiously asked. “I really want to help in any way I can but I know that sometimes people don't want to be hugged and need space and I don’t want to make things worse for you-” You cut him off by pulling him into a hug yourself. He carefully, slowly wrapped his arms around you and gently held you- not so tight as to make you feel trapped but not as loose as to make you think he didn’t want to hug you.

Pulling away quickly, you wiped the tears from your eyes. “No, no,” you exclaimed, “if you want to do this then I want to do this. Besides, I’ll have to face my fear sometime. And what better time to do it than when I have someone I trust there to catch me if something goes wrong.” A watery smile makes its way onto your face, your tears not quite ready to leave yet.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “I know you really wanted to do this and I’ve messed it all up.” Your eyes were moist. You blinked. And you could feel tears start to roll down your cheeks.

“Shhh,” he whispered, “there’s nothing to apologize for. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I love you and want you to be happy. And if that means we don’t go gliding together, that’s okay.”

“How, uh, how exactly do I hold this again?” You inquire sheepishly. Venti quietly laughs a little, stands up, and walks over to you. He gently adjusts your hold and explains how to use the glider for what’s probably the twentieth time. Holding tightly to the glider you walk a little closer to the edge.

“Are you sure? You really, really don’t have to,” he said as he wiped some tears from your eyes.

“I’m sure,” you stated, determined to give this a try. For him.

“Alright,” he said softly, “just let me know when you’re ready.” You nod, take a deep breath, and stand up. Picking up your glider you turn it over in your hands.

Backing up some first, you started running and, closing your eyes first, you jump off the edge. “Open your eyes if you can,” Venti called to you. “The view is half the fun!” Then you heard him whoop as he jumped off the ledge to follow you, his glider already out and ready to catch him. You cautiously open one eye, then the other, as you choose to trust Venti and admire the view.

“Alright,” you start a little shakily. “How is this going to work?”

“Well, first you run to the edge and jump off the edge,” Venti describes. “Then you hold onto the glider until you reach the ground. I’ll make sure the wind doesn’t bother you.” You nod, determined to do this.

Just like Venti promised, no winds blew you off course. With his help and your trust in him, you somehow felt safe knowing that he could and would catch you if you fell. Because of this you were able to actually enjoy the view. He was right, it was beautiful and a lot of fun to see it grow as you gently glided towards it.

Eventually, and much too soon for your liking, you touched down to the ground. You fell to your knees and thanked Barbatos for your safety and for your amazing boyfriend. Even though you had been able to trust Venti, you felt yourself shaking from both remaining fear and the adrenaline running through your veins. You could feel more than hear Venti touching down behind you and jogging over to you.

“Are you okay? What did you think?” He asked carefully. You looked up at him and smiled.

“I think,” you said slowly, “that we’ll have a lot more gliding dates in the future.” He beamed and pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, “I’m really glad that you trusted me enough to give this a try. And I’m glad that you enjoyed it too.”

You grin and pull away again, this time completely. You laugh as he pouts at you, before picking up your glider and running back towards the slope. “Ready to go again? I bet I can make it back up first!” You tease him. His pout turns into a grin as he grabs his glider and chases after you. And that’s how the two of you spend the rest of the day.

You smile and pull back a bit to kiss him on the cheek and smile up at him. “Thank you for helping me overcome my fear, Venti. You’re the best partner ever.”

He blushes, pulls you back into the hug, and whispers in your ear, “No, thank you. You’re truly the best thing that’s ever happened to me, dandelion wine doesn’t hold a candle to all you mean to me. Thank you so much for being my partner.”

#eirika writes #venti x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin venti #venti

155 notes · View notes

contemplativepancakes · 4 years ago

Text

yarn rants with dandelion

3.5k of Geralt poorly hiding the fact that he knits from his family and, in general, being an idiot, read here on AO3

Geralt slams his laptop shut as his apartment door swings open, causing Eskel to quirk an eyebrow. “Whatcha doin’?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Geralt says in a rush.

“Uh huh.” Eskel raises his hands. “Can’t be any weirder than the porn Lambert watches.”

Geralt grunts, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

Eskel glances at his watch. “I figured you might want help before the game.”

“I’m ordering pizza,” Geralt says. “Actually, do you want to do it? I have cleaning I still need to do before everyone else gets here.”

Eskel’s eyebrows climb higher on his forehead, and Geralt starts to sweat as he sees Eskel's skepticism. Geralt always makes a spread on game day, telling everyone he’s not going to wait two hours for delivery while they’ll be so busy.

“Um. Okay.” Eskel stares at him for a beat before finally pulling out his phone. “What am I ordering?”

Geralt shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He goes to his room, shutting the door behind him and hearing Eskel’s voice as he talks to the pizza place. Geralt looks to his bed, where a half finished baby blanket is laid out, before hastily gathering it and its attached ball of yarn up and stuffing them in a basket, piled high with various colors and weights. He throws some dirty clothes from his floor on top for good measure before reemerging from his bedroom, Eskel looking at him suspiciously from his spot on the couch.

“Sure you don’t need help with anything?” Eskel asks.

“No, I’m, uh, I’m good.” Geralt goes to the fridge and pulls out two beers, passing one to Eskel and keeping one for himself.

Thankfully, Eskel doesn’t say anything about his odd behavior, just watches the pregame show with him without comment until Letho arrives, followed shortly after by Lambert and Aiden. Geralt’s relieved, because then Eskel’s attention goes to their ridiculous dancing around each other instead of scrutinizing Geralt.

After everyone has left for the night, Geralt pulls his laptop back out, settling it on the coffee table in front of him and goes to get his blanket. He spreads it across his lap as he clicks play, the sound of a cheerful voice filling his living room.

“Hey, guys! It’s Dandelion, back with my latest yarn haul! I’ve got some awesome ones, and ones you should avoid at all costs, so watch and see which is which!”

Geralt lets himself stare for a second before he jerks himself out of the trance and looks back down while his needles click together as he starts to knit.

Geralt lets the feeling of the yarn between his fingers soothe him. That’s why he watches these yarn reviews, after all. He hates going to the store for yarn, but he hates wasting his money on yarn that’s scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin even more.

Needless to say, he’s grateful to Dandelion for doing all the prep work for him, and he may or may not have developed a crush on the man. Who watches these videos and hasn’t? Geralt reasons.

Dandelion has an infectious enthusiasm, and Geralt can’t help the soft smile from spreading across his face as he listens.

Geralt keeps knitting until his skein is almost out. When he has less of a ball and more of a tangle left, he casts his eyes around for the next one before looking despairingly back at his blanket when he doesn’t find it.

Fuck.

He knew he should have ordered extra; he always does this to himself, but somehow he never learns. He groans as he pulls his computer onto his lap and opens up the website he orders his yarn from. He goes into his history and clicks on the link to his blanket yarn. It’s teal, velvety, and Geralt can’t stop running his fingers over it. When the page finally loads, out of stock blinks back at him.

Double fuck.

He’s never made a blanket before, and he’s drastically underestimated how much it would take. He’s going to need at least three more skeins. Yen’s baby shower is in a month and a half, and there’s no telling when the yarn is going to come back in stock. What if they discontinued it?

There’s nothing for it; he’s going to have to go into the store. He looks at the clock. First thing tomorrow, he decides, before it gets busy. He’ll go right when they open, before the store gets noisy and filled with women who always try to draw him into conversation for some reason.

Geralt huffs at the thought.

Geralt tugs his scarf a little tighter against his neck before he gets out of the car and heads into the store. There’s only four cars in the parking lot, so Geralt hopes he’ll be able to get in and out quickly.

Once he’s inside, he makes a beeline for the yarn aisle, trying to hold in his noise of dismay when he sees someone already standing there. Geralt avoids eye contact and feigns interest in the brightly colored acrylic yarns at the end of the aisle. The person is right in front of the baby yarn section, and Geralt tries not to tap his foot.

Just when Geralt is getting ready to pretend to browse other aisles while he waits, there’s movement behind him. “Lovely scarf,” a man’s voice says. “Looks very soft.”

Geralt turns around, only for his eyes to widen as he comes face to face with Dandelion.

He’s sure something very intelligent sounding comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t register it.

Whatever it was makes Dandelion laugh, sounding familiar and alarmingly close when they’re not separated by a screen. Geralt glances down at Dandelion’s basket to see it piled high with yarn.

“Nice colors you have there,” Geralt finally manages.

Dandelion beams. “Thank you!”

Geralt takes a closer look and realizes they’re rainbow colors. He heaves a tiny sigh. He’s a disaster. Does Dandelion think he’s flirting with him? Not that Geralt doesn’t want to be, per se, but—it’s complicated.

“Did you make your scarf yourself? Or did a boyfriend make it for you?” Dandelion asks.

“I made it myself,” Geralt mumbles. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved by this line of questioning or not.

“Oh?”

“No boyfriend.”

Dandelion turns another smile on him, and Geralt tries not to melt. “What are you shopping for?”

“Oh. Um. A blanket.”

Dandelion turns back towards the shelves with a critical eye before he plucks out a chunky bright yellow and holds it out to Geralt for his inspection. Geralt runs his fingers over it absently. “Feels nice.”

“Right? I love this brand. How big of a blanket are you making?”

“It’s for a baby.”

Dandelion’s eyebrow arches in question.

“My friend is adopting soon; I thought this would be nice,” Geralt says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Dandelion shifts his basket from one hand to the other. “Oh, my. That is very nice.”

Geralt grumbles as he piles more yarn than can surely be reasonable into his own basket while Dandelion eyes the shelf thoughtfully.

Geralt finishes putting the yarn into his basket and goes to leave the aisle, but Dandelion stops him before he takes more than three steps.

“Better get more than you think. I get what I expect to use, and then add 25 percent more.”

That makes Geralt crack a smile. “That makes an expensive hobby even worse.”

Dandelion shrugs. “The curse of being a creative.”

Geralt picks two more bundles from the shelf. “I suppose you’re right.”

Dandelion clears his throat. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Geralt answers, and Dandelion looks him up and down. “Would you like to join our yarn circle?”

“What?” Geralt asks, throat dry.

Dandelion shakes his head glumly. “Nevermind. It’s just there are so few men…”

“I’ll join,” Geralt says, before he fully thinks out his words.

Dandelion brightens instantly. “Excellent!”

Dandelion follows him to the register, chattering the whole way, and by the time Geralt leaves the store, Dandelion has his number saved in his phone. Geralt can’t help but notice how the women are leaving him alone today, just shooting him the occasional baleful look. It’s a nice change of pace. Maybe he should run into Dandelion more often.

“I’ll text you, okay?” Dandelion says after he’s walked with Geralt to his car.

“Um, yeah, okay,” Geralt replies.

He slides into his car and watches Dandelion walk to a bright yellow slug bug. He quirks a grin. It fits him. Geralt’s just turned the key in his ignition when he realizes he didn’t even get the yarn that he came for. He sighs and shuts the engine off.

If he reemerges from the store with the yarn for the rest of his blanket in addition to two skeins of blue that remind him of Dandelion’s eyes, well, that’d be creepy, and it’s nobody’s business but his, anyway.

Geralt looks down at his phone. yarn circle at that coffee place on Main tomorrow at ten! you in?

He saves the contact in his phone, debating with himself before typing Dandelion 🌼.

He puffs a breath through his lips. He shouldn’t be this worked up about a text.

See you then , he types, and goes back to make the s lowercase.

“Who are you texting?” Eskel asks from his spot on the couch, setting down his own phone.

“Who are you texting?” Geralt retorts weakly.

Eskel looks at him, unimpressed. “My girlfriend, dude. Did you finally get yourself one? You know, it’s kind of weird Yen’s replacing you with a baby…”

Geralt grits his teeth. “She’s not replacing me. We just had conflicting goals for the future.”

“And what, pray tell, are these goals?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not kids. I’d be a terrible dad.”

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve hashed out many times before. “Hmm,” Eskel says pointedly, and Geralt gives him an eye roll right back.

“Are we watching this movie or not?”

Eskel mumbles something too low for Geralt to hear.

The next morning dawns bright and early. Too early for Geralt to reasonably head out to the coffee shop by the time he’s ready, so he takes the time to work on the blanket. He’s inching closer to being done, and he’s looking forward to starting something with the yellow yarn, but he’s not quite sure what he wants to make yet.

He wonders if he’s supposed to take his blanket to this yarn circle. Do they knit? Or just talk about it? What if they gossip the whole time? Geralt doesn’t have anything juicy to contribute; he doubts they want to hear about Eskel’s latest problems with his goat yoga business. Giving customers ringworm probably isn’t the best breakfast conversation. He takes in a deep breath, trying to stop the panic spiral.

It’s fine. It’s going to be fine.

It’s not fine.

When he walks in, Dandelion is already sitting at a table, wearing a floral button down that has entirely too many buttons undone to be decent. Geralt tries not to imagine what Dandelion’s chest hair would feel like under his finger tips, if it would be coarse and wiry or smooth and silky.

Geralt shakes his head and grunts a greeting when Dandelion waves him over.

“Hello, hello! Find the place okay?”

“No issues,” Geralt says, pulling out a chair and settling his bag with his knitting awkwardly on the ground.

Dandelion glances down at his phone, and whatever he sees makes his face tighten.

“Hmm, looks like the rest of the circle isn’t going to be able to make it. Flat tire.”

Geralt arches an eyebrow at him. “Do they...need help? I could go change it.”

Dandelion mutters something to himself before looking back up at Geralt. “I think they already have that covered.”

Geralt laughs and rubs a hand on his neck. “You know, I’m going to start thinking you were just trying to get me alone.”

Dandelion returns the nervous laugh and warms his hands on his mug. “Are you going to get some coffee?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Geralt stands up before turning back to Dandelion. “What do you recommend? I don’t come places like this very often.”

“Yeah, I bet. You seem like a coffee, black kind of person.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Geralt admits.

Dandelion’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “What do you mean you don’t drink coffee?”

“Makes me jumpy. My hands shake.”

Dandelion lets out a sharp exhale. “Wow.”

Geralt scowls. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! Well, maybe a little. You just better get hot chocolate, then.”

“Fine. I will.”

Dandelion’s laughter when Geralt returns to the table with a mug piled high with whipped cream is infectious.

He’s not sure what comes over him, but Geralt sticks out his tongue.

It’s not until he gets home that he realizes he never even pulled out his knitting.

Dandelion starts texting him more and more, and Geralt feels vaguely guilty when he watches Dandelion’s latest video.

He should probably tell Dandelion he watches them, but he doesn’t want it to turn into a thing , and he certainly doesn’t read too much into it when Dandelion mentions running into a handsome stranger on his latest yarn expedition.

He could be talking about anyone.

Geralt finishes his blanket for Yen, and he starts to think about what his next project should be. The yellow yarn is bright and warm; silky smooth between his fingers. He starts another blanket, because why not? He’s been wanting to practice cabling, anyway.

He brings it to the next yarn circle Dandelion invites him to, but it doesn’t get worked on, and Dandelion doesn’t say anything about where the rest of the circle is. Geralt doesn’t ask.

Finally, four yarn circles in where no knitting is accomplished, Dandelion gives up the ghost and asks Geralt out on a date. “That’s not what we’ve been doing?” Geralt asks with a small smile.

Dandelion shoves him in the chest, a teasing glint in his eye before his hand lingers on Geralt’s pec for a little too long. He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. “Great. I can’t wait," Geralt says.

“I’ll choose to believe that’s not sarcastic.”

Geralt pokes at him. “It’s not.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and hmm s right back.

A few weeks later finds Geralt sifting through Netflix for a movie to watch. “Hey, Dandelion!” Geralt calls from the couch, tugging a blanket up to his chin.

Dandelion freezes from his spot just outside the living room with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt says.

“What did you just say?”

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt repeats, more slowly this time.

“No, no, before that.”

Geralt thinks. “Your...name?”

Dandelion blinks at him. “My name is Jaskier.”

Now Geralt is the one who’s confused. “No, it’s not?”

“Geralt, I think I know my own name.” Dandelion’s face pinches. “Wait. You watch my videos?”

Geralt steels himself for the conversation. He had been wondering if he'd just be able to take the fact that he watches them to his grave. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“It seemed...weird," Geralt says haltingly.

Geralt’s still reeling from the revelation. He’s the world’s worst boyfriend; Dandelion has to be playing a cruel prank on him.

“And it didn’t seem weird to you that you were watching me literally sing your praises last week?”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

Dand—Jaskier drags a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this.”

“How was I supposed to know that wasn’t your actual name?”

“Geralt, we have been together for a month. How do you not know my name ?”

“It’s never come up!” Geralt says defensively. “You’re the one who never even introduced yourself. Talk about bad manners.”

Jaskier splutters, and Geralt can’t help but quirk a grin at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jaskier finally rallies. “We’re going to have a talk about online boundaries, but—”

“But what?”

“You’re so god damned stupid,” Jaskier says, before dragging Geralt into a kiss.

Geralt goes without complaint.

While Geralt ponders the new nature of their relationship, he finally finds a use for the blue yarn he’s been hoarding. The whole time he’s knitting the hat, he thinks of Jaskier. It’s exactly the right shade of his eyes, but Geralt doesn’t let himself contemplate it too hard.

When he’s finished, he finds an index card and scrawls a message. He wraps up the whole thing and gives it to Jaskier the next time he sees him.

Jaskier tears the package open and rubs the yarn between his fingers in delight. “You made this for me? No one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“I’m glad I could remedy that,” Geralt says gruffly, shifting uncomfortably at the adoring look Jaskier is giving him.

Jaskier notices the card and reads it before bursting into laughter.

Sorry I didn’t know your name <3

“You’re forgiven.”

On to the next order of business, then. Geralt clears his throat. “Yen’s baby shower is next week.”

Jaskier makes a noise of polite interest, not looking up from where he’s examining the stitches in the hat. Geralt really hopes he doesn’t notice where he dropped one.

Geralt waits for a few more seconds and sighs. Jaskier is really going to make him ask. “I was wondering if you would want to go with me.”

Jaskier tilts his head up and gives Geralt a bright smile. “Of course I would!” He pauses to think for a moment. “Are you...out to them?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbles. “It turns out my hiding spot for my play girls when I was 16 wasn’t as clever as I thought.”

Jaskier snorts. “It never is, is it?”

In the days leading up to the shower, Jaskier’s anxiety starts to show, but Geralt politely doesn’t comment. They walk up to the party arm in arm, Geralt carrying both of their gift bags. Geralt had told him he didn’t need to get anything, but he had anyway, insisting that he had just happened to stumble across the cutest onesie, Geralt! What a coincidence!

Geralt can’t help but smile as he looks over at Jaskier. Jaskier’s thumb is compulsively stroking over a spot on Geralt’s hand, and he’s even wearing the hat Geralt knitted him. Geralt’s chest feels tighter than normal.

“Oh, so this is why you haven’t been such a grump lately?” Triss asks once they walk through the door, taking their gift bags to set on a side table.

“I’m never grumpy,” Geralt says, and Jaskier has the audacity to laugh, so Geralt elbows him in the side.

Triss laughs at that, too, before she goes off to find Yennefer and drags her back to them. “Geralt!” she exclaims, rubbing a hand up his arm. “I’m glad you could drag yourself away from your very important activities that you refuse to tell anyone about.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks over to see Jaskier staring at him curiously.

“Ah, and this must be Dandelion!” Yen says, turning to Jaskier.

“Eskel wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that!” Geralt hisses, but Yen just gives him a delighted smile.

Geralt sighs as she moves on to terrorize her next guest.

“Your friends are pretty brutal, Geralt,” Jaskier says lightly.

“You have no idea.”

Geralt leads Jaskier over to where Eskel and Lambert are sitting by the food table and attempts to make small talk.

Almost immediately, Lambert asks, “What’d you get her?”

Eskel and Geralt share an exasperated look. “Why so competitive, Lamb? Over compensating?”

Lambert scowls. “I was just curious. You’re not going to be able to top what I got her, anyway. Best uncle ever.”

“You’re not going to be an uncle,” Eskel says.

Lambert is unconcerned. “Best uncle ever.”

Geralt crosses his arms and leans into Jaskier, trying to block out Eskel and Lambert’s bickering.

“I hate things like this,” Geralt mutters.

“Oh, don’t worry, Geralt. You being an unbearable softie is our little secret. I won’t breathe a word.”

Geralt grumbles. “That’s not why.” He pauses, then, “Why do I put up with you?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Jaskier says, turning his head to press a kiss against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt flushes at the touch and looks around, but no one is staring at them like anything out of the ordinary happened. Geralt relaxes back against him.

He’s almost dozing off by the time Yen gets to his gift, and he only realizes it by Jaskier digging a bony elbow into his stomach. He pinches Jaskier in retribution.

Yen opens the gift carefully, making the appropriate polite noises as she does so.

“Isn’t it soft?” Jaskier asks as she strokes her fingers over the blanket. “Geralt chose some great yarn.”

Geralt whips his neck around to look at Jaskier so quickly he thinks he heard something pop.

“What?”

“The yarn! It’s so nice and such a lovely color, don’t you think? Geralt did a wonderful job.”

“Geralt, you made this?” Yennefer asks incredulously, and great, her voice cracks.

Geralt sighs and tries to accept his fate of all the merciless jokes that are going to be made in his defense. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“When the fuck did you learn how to do that?” Lambert asks.

Geralt shrugs defensively. “I’ve been knitting for years.”

Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the blue cap perched on top of Jaskier’s head, and teasing grins spread over their faces.

Geralt groans. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

As Jaskier takes his hand in his and squeezes, he thinks maybe that’s okay.

#fluff #au #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #contemplative writing

206 notes · View notes

itsallyscorner · 4 years ago

Note

Ooo I finally got a Tom request for you! This one’s more fluff since you’ve already written a smut so~

Tom stumbles into a library and falls for reader that works there and tries passing off as a regular guy just so he can watch her from afar whether it’s cataloging books or reading to kids.(libraries were the original bookstores so they’re superior)

I’ve seen you’ve read my smut for Tommy! It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written😏Thank you love for the support and request, I appreciate it! Happy reading❤️

💌.

Sequel: Through Your Words

From Afar

warnings: none. Some spelling errors?

(Gif from Pinterest)

(I love him sm, ugh. He’s so cute in glasses🥺)

The brisk winds of New York City blew harshly against his cheeks as he walked towards the book store. The faster he walked the closer he saw the book shaped sign and baby blue store front that he had been visiting for the past few weeks. When he approached the door, he took his hand out from his warm pocket and pulled it open. He felt a wave of hot air embrace him as he entered the store. The sudden change in temperature caused his glasses to fog up, obscuring his vision. He didn’t actually need the glasses, but it helped him get around the city without being noticed every few minutes.

He wiped his glasses with his sleeves and slid them back to rest on the bridge of his nose. He took in the warmth of the cozy book store, sniffling as his body adjusted to the heat. He had stumbled upon the unique store when he first came to New York. It had been snowing when he first arrived and he was looking for a place to get some nice hot coffee. There wasn’t a single Starbucks near his hotel and the closest thing to coffee was a small cafe just a few blocks away from him. He ended up visiting the cafe, later discovering that it had a library hidden in the back. After days of hanging out at the cafe and reading some books, he had become familiar with the staff there. Especially you. Although he’s never spoken a word to you. Instead he’s only seen you from afar, exchanging glances and shy smiles at each other.

He approached the counter and was greeted by Marco, the barista of the cafe/library.

“Hey man, you gettin’ your usual?” Marco asked as he reached for one of the festive cups near the register. Tom pursed his lips as he looked at the menu.

“D’ya know what, I think I’ll have a hot chocolate today.” Tom smiled as he took his wallet out. Marco nodded and scribbled the order onto the cup.

“Anything else?” Tom shook his head and handed Marco a $10 bill. He shoved his wallet back into his pocket, scanning the store for a place to sit.

“Keep the change, mate.” Tom told Marco waving a hand at him.

“I’ll bring your drink to you.” Tom nodded thankfully and found a table towards the back. The smell of books brought him peace and comfort as the low hum of music surrounded the store. He took a seat debating on whether or not he should go through the library or read his script. He decided to read the script, remembering that he should go over his lines for the scenes they were going to shoot tomorrow.

Pulling the script out his backpack, a smell of vanilla and a hint of fruit breezed past him. He looked up to see that you had walked past him. A small smile made its way onto his lips as he watched you interact with some of the customers. Your bright eyes were accompanied with a kind smile as you conversed with an older lady. You were dressed in a knitted sweater, some jeans, and brown boots that went up to your knees. You settled into the seat across from the old lady which was a few feet away from him. You were wearing something so simple, but he thought you looked absolutely stunning. Tom found himself being more focused on you than his script.

Suddenly a steaming cup was placed down on the table, startling him. He looked up to see Marco smirking at him as he followed his line of sight. Tom quietly thanked him as his hands gripped onto the warm cup.

“Ya know, she’s single.” Marco whispered before walking away from Tom’s table. Tom blushed furiously as Marco turned back to him with a shit eating grin. He’s been caught staring at you. Tom rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment as he forced his focus onto his script. He barely looked up, only looking at his script and cup.

An hour had passed and he was halfway through his lines. His cup was almost empty, only a few sips of hot chocolate left. Tom sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing his tired eyes. He put the glasses back on and looked around. Outside, the sun had started to go down and there were different people in the store. He suddenly heard a laugh, a sweet sound, like a melody. His eyes followed the sound, only to see you laughing with one of your coworkers. The two of you were organizing books at the back. Your eyes averted from your friend, connecting with Tom’s brown eyes. A strand of hair fell from your face and Tom couldn’t help but feel tempted to tuck it back behind your ear. You shyly smiled at him with a small nod towards his direction. Tom felt the butterflies erupt in his stomach, making him feel breathless. He smiled back at you, his fingers fiddling with the highlighter in his hands. You were the first to turn away, returning to your task at hand.

At that moment, Tom felt pity for himself. You were just a few feet away from him looking as beautiful as ever. But there he was glued to his seat, only admiring you from afar. He was too scared to approach you, you just seemed too good to be true. His leg bounced nervously as he continued to sneak glances at you. His script was long forgotten, the hot chocolate now cold. He wanted to approach you but he was too nervous to go up to you. Suddenly an idea popped into his head.

Tom looked around, trying to discreetly wave down Marco. The man was busy wiping down the counters until he saw Tom flailing his hand at him. He threw the rag into the sink and approached the British man.

“What’s up? Refill? Or have you finally mustered the balls to ask (y/n) out?” Marco questioned him nonchalantly. Tom’s head snapped at the barista.

“H-how? Wait, her name’s (y/n)?” Tom’s voice trailed off as he paired the name with your face. (Y/n). The named rolled off his tongue so naturally.

“Yeah. How can I help you?”

Tom leaned in closer to Marco keeping his tone low, “Has she been reading any books lately? Like anything in the library?”

Marco took a minute to think to himself, “Ummm, she mentioned something about rereading The Great Gatsby.”

“Great, uhm. Where can I find that?” Tom asked eagerly.

Marco waved him off and patted his shoulder, “I’ll get it for you.”

Marco returned a few minutes later with the book. The book was aged but still in good condition.

Curiously, Marco asked, “What are you gonna do?”

Pulling out post it notes from his bag and a pen, he opened the book to the first page.

“I’m going to leave a note for her.” He muttered, “For (y/n), I mean.” He quickly elaborated to Marco.

He stuck the post it note to the page and thought of something to write.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it. If you want, I could give it to her. Just hand it to me when you leave.” Marco offered beginning to walk back to the counter.

“That would be great, thanks man.” Tom sent him a grateful smile and looked down at the book. He racked his brain for something nice to say that would set a good impression on you, but instead he went with the first thing he thought when he would see you.

“I think you look very beautiful today :) — Tom xx” were the words he scribbled onto the post it note. He closed the book, looking down at it nervously. Would you think the note was creepy? Would you cringe? Maybe you would appreciate it? Would you find it cute? Many questions formed in his head making him second guess his decision of leaving the note for you. But then he finally mustered the courage to just give it to you and hope for the best.

Packing his things, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and threw his cup away. He quickly looked around and saw you standing on a ladder. You were still sorting books, but now your hair was pulled up into a ponytail. With one more glance at you he took the book and approached Marco.

Marco looked at him expectantly. Tom double checked to see if the note was still in the book.

“You good?”

“Yup, I think I am.” Tom sighed finally giving the book to Marco.

“I’ll give it to her as soon as she’s done over there.” Marco motioned to you placing the book in his large apron pocket.

“Thanks, Marco. I appreciate it.” Tom smiled at him. Marco shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“No problem man, you have a good night.” Marco waved at Tom as his hands pushed on the door. Tom was about to leave but heard Marco call out to him again.

“I better be seeing you tomorrow. She’ll read the note by then.” Marco pointed at him.

“I’ll be here.” Tom confirmed before leaving the store with one more wave at Marco.

As he walked through the blanket of snow a smile was on his face the entire time. When he got back to his hotel, he laid in bed wondering if you have read the note already. He found himself anticipating the upcoming day. He couldn’t wait to visit the cafe after set or during his lunch. Maybe by tomorrow he’ll stop admiring you from afar and finally talk to you, who knows?

#ally’s requests #marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland imagine #tom holland one shot #Tom Holland Drabble #tom holland fanfiction #Tom Holland fluff #tom holland headcanon #tom stanley holland #Peter Parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman

363 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

A Rare Brew (dark!Steve x Reader oneshot)

Summary: The second he met you, Steve sensed your innocence. So shy, so adorable, and so perfectly sheltered. He knew instantly that he had to have you, that you would be the perfect blank slate to train into his obedient slut. And the first real step of his plan began once he finally got you to join him for a drink.

Warnings: heavy dub con (if not non con), sex pollen/drugging, stalking

Word Count: 3k

(cause sometime you need to write something with a naive reader and manipulative, creepy Steve, so you do it in two hours and post it immediately)

“Drink?!” you replied incredulously to his proposition. Sure, he’d been hanging around your desk from time-to-time since you’d begun working as a graphic designer in Stark Tower, but you still never expected for Captain America to ask you on a date. That’s what this was right, a date? That’s what “join me for a drink” meant?

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol. Do you like tea?” he asked. Of course, he already knew that you did, because he’d been tracking your every move for a month now, but he feigned ignorance.

“I do,” you answered.

“Me too,” he smiled. “I’m sort of a tea snob, actually. I have some unique blends that I keep in my kitchen. It’s the one thing I spend a decent amount of money on.”

“I don’t want to waste your expensive tea,” you blushed.

“Sharing it is anything but a waste.”

You hesitated, finding it all a little too good to be true, but decided that moving to New York was about trying new things and experiencing life to the fullest-- so why not? Plus, free tea!

“Sure,” you smiled shyly, “I’d love to have a cup with you sometime.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sort of busy…”

“You have plans? With somebody else?” he asked in a way that felt a little aggressive, like he was accusing you of something. He knew you didn’t have plans, which was the real cause of his change in tone, but you didn’t realize that and let him call your bluff.

“No, I-- it’s fine. I can work hard this afternoon and finish everything. Can my keycard even get me up to your floor?”

“Yeah, I’ll have somebody update your clearance in the database,” he offered. “I’ll leave you be now, so you can finish your work… don’t be late.” “Of course,” you nodded, watching him get up from where he was sitting on your desk before turning back to your screen and continuing progress on the logo you needed to finish.

You wished you’d dressed differently today as you rode the elevator up to Steve’s quarters. You hadn’t realized this morning that you’d be on a date with Captain America. You would’ve worn something fancier, flashier, and not your current, preppy-yet-plain work outfit. You were surprised that he would even want to go out with you when you were dressed like this.

“You can set your bag down on that table, if you’d like,” Steve offered when you stepped into his open door. He must have seen you clutching it for dear life. “You seem a little nervous.”

“I am,” you admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he laughed, and you couldn’t tell if he meant “don’t be sorry” or “don’t be nervous.”

“I feel a little out of place knowing I’m in Captain America’s kitchen,” you explained. It was nice-- everything was steel and sleek. Unexpectedly modern for a guy like him. You wondered if he was actually able to pick it out himself or not.

“You’re not out of place. This is exactly where you belong,” he dismissed. “So, I’ve got a whole cabinet of teas… you can try anything you like.” He opened a door to reveal an extensive collection-- bags, looseleaf in jars, even an array of decorative steeping tools and a mortar and pestle.

“You really are a tea snob!” you exclaimed.

“You like it?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you sighed.

“I do,” he grinned, reaching for a small black box. He opened it to reveal a few small bags. “I just picked this up recently. It’s incredible. If you’re a serious tea addict, this is the next step on your journey for sure.”

Just looking into the box, you could smell the aroma a bit. “It’s strong.” “Yeah, but there’s a mildness to it, too. You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, sure,” you smiled, “I’ll try it. You’re sure you don’t mind? It looks really expensive.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he waved his arm, pulling out a bag and closing the lid.

“You aren’t having any?” you asked.

“No, I’m gonna keep it simple tonight. I just want to watch you experience this.”

You were a little confused by that but said nothing, moving to take a seat at his dining table as he picked out a mug for you and filled it with water from the kettle.

He steeped the bag for you, and you were shocked when he brought the mug only to see a deep red liquid inside. “I didn’t expect it to be this color.” “It’s the rosehips. And I bet you can smell the ginger.” “But there’s something else in it…” you realized as you let the steam rise into your face. “Is it… cayenne?” “Damn,” he laughed, “you know your teas. I was hoping to surprise you with the spiciness, but oh well.”

“It’s not gonna melt my face off or anything, right?”

“No, no, it’s just a little heat in the back of your throat. Nearly an aftertaste.”

You felt a little awkward as you realized he was staring at you while you went for your first sip. It was just a little too hot to drink but you kept on anyways. It was delicious, that much was obvious from the moment it hit your tongue. Swallowing it was what brought the heat he’d mentioned, though it was stronger than he described. Not too spicy, thankfully, but it was definitely apparent. There was something unexpected about the flavor. Maybe it was just the way the natural acidity of the ginger mixed with the spiciness of the cayenne. There was an earthiness to it as well, moreso than you were used to from rosehips.

You didn’t notice the sweetness until you had swallowed your sip completely-- it was that kind of sweetness that you could only taste on the sides of your tongue, bright and fruity.

You looked to where Steve was watching you expectantly and gave him an approving nod. He smiled.

“It’s good,” you informed him.

“Just good?”

“No, it’s… it’s really good. It’s great. I’m still processing it, honestly. It’s very complex.”

The mug was half-empty when you started to feel… off. Tea always warmed your chest from the inside out, but suddenly the warmth was beginning to spread. You didn’t even notice it until you started to feel a little light-headed, like you had just woken up from a dream, or maybe like you were just beginning to have one.

Steve was talking about something but you couldn’t pay attention anymore as you tried to understand what was happening. You felt like you needed to go to the bathroom, or maybe you needed to take a cold shower, or maybe you needed some air… but you really, really needed something.

You realized that Steve wasn’t talking anymore. You looked to him and saw him staring at you, his eyes trailing to your chest which heaved with quickened breaths.

“Steve, what… what’s happening?” you whimpered as you felt your knees shake a little, your whole body becoming weak and tingly. Your core ached in a way you didn’t understand, and you pushed your thighs together without realizing you were doing it.

“Is the tea getting to you? It’s a very rare brew... I’ll admit I’ve never tried it before. I didn’t realize it would be so fast-acting,” his eyes got a little darker and his voice got deeper as he watched you unintentionally roll your hips against the chair, “or so strong.”

“What’s in this?” you asked nervously, staring at the mug as if it would suddenly reveal its own contents.

“Exactly what I said was in it: rosehips, ginger, cayenne. I just forgot to mention the black market aphrodisiac.”

You whimpered in fear, your hands gripping the ceramic so tight that your nails dug into your own palm. You felt hot, suddenly, and yet you found yourself wishing Steve was standing closer. Your eyes trailed over his body as they welled with tears.

“Don’t worry!” he piped up. “It’s organic!”

“I don’t feel well,” you murmured, “I don’t… I need to go…”

“No, baby, you need to stay here,” he cooed, moving closer to you and sliding an arm over your shoulders. His touch made your skin erupt with goosebumps and you suddenly wished that you weren’t wearing a cardigan and that he was touching you with nothing in the way.

“S-steve?” you whispered. “What… why?”

“Shh, I’m gonna take care of you, okay? You’re gonna feel so good.”

You knew he was right, and even as a little part of your mind was screaming that this was not right, that this was not going to go well, you melted into his touch as he scooped you into his arms and carried you to his bedroom.

You whimpered as he set you down on the fluffy quilt, feeling like a doll in his strong grip.

He reached up to push off your cardigan and start unbuttoning your blouse.

“Steve, what-- what are you--” you gurgled.

“Shh,” he soothed, but refused to explain. He pushed open your shirt to find your nipples visibly hard through your bra. “Oh, baby,” he praised, “you’re so needy, huh? You want me so bad.”

You yelped when he grabbed your bra and tore it open from the front, exposing your breasts to the colder air. And yet his hands were so warm, hot even, as they grabbed them and massaged them and traced over your nipples. It felt good, nothing like you expected it to. You hadn’t even realized it could feel good to be touched here.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “been thinking about these since you first came in for that interview. Did you even realize how perfect your tits looked in that dress?”

You had no earthly idea what he was talking about. And it scared you, even as your body begged for more; your back arched, pushing your chest into his hands.

“How do you feel?”

“I…” you began, unable to find the words. “Sore. Achy. It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt, baby?”

You blushed but couldn’t answer.

“Does it hurt between your legs?” he asked with a low voice.

“Yes,” you admitted, “please, Steve, help me.”

“I’m gonna help you, I promise. Gonna make you feel so good.”

His hands moved down to your skirt which he pushed up to find white cotton panties-- soaked as you squirmed under his touch.

“Oh,” he groaned, clenching his jaw, “no wonder it hurts. You’re dripping.”

He reached down and pulled the fabric aside, nearly coming right then and there as he saw your perfect little pussy; he had to look away for a second to compose himself, before turning back and biting his lip as he rediscovered it all over again.

“So wet,” he purred, “so wet for me.” He slipped a finger over your folds and you gasped, your legs kicking a bit.

“I’m not supposed to…” you began with a whimper. “I’m not supposed to let people touch me there.”

“Almost,” he nodded. “You can’t let anybody but me touch you here. Do you understand?”

No, you thought silently. “Yes,” you answered aloud, fearing the response to any other answer.

“Good.” His finger suddenly moved to something that made your leg jerk as pleasure jolted through your body. He touched it again and you moaned before you could stop yourself. You tried to ask him what was going on but he just kept going, drawing little circles around the spot, until you were a total mess with no shot at forming sentences any time soon.

Something was building in you, something so powerful that you couldn’t keep from moving your hips against his hand and you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping and moaning desperately. Suddenly, his hand pulled back and you bucked up against nothing.

“Why… why did you stop?” you asked breathlessly.

“You were about to come,” he explained.

“I was?”

“Yes, but you have to ask my permission before you do that. Okay?”

“O-okay,” you nodded. “Will you… touch me again, please?”

“Hmm…” he considered.

“Please, please Steve, touch me more,” you whined, “I’ll be good, just please--”

He finally acquiesced and began rubbing circles around your clit again. “I know you’ll be good,” he praised, “you’ll be good and come for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I will,” you promised with a sob. He wrapped his other arm around you and pulled you close until you were surrounded by him, your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“Say my name when you come,” he demanded. “Always say my name when you come.”

“Can I?” you murmured.

“Ask nicer,” he instructed.

“May I please come, Steve?” you repeated, louder.

“Yes,” he hissed, and his name poured from your lips in a chanted moan as you came, your whole body tensing up all at once as electricity tingled across your skin.

Only for a second did you feel relief before the feeling of need got even worse. “Do it again,” you demanded, “make me come again.”

You were sobered out of your trance with a restrained slap across the face. You gasped as your eyes shot open. “Never tell me what to do,” he barked. “You take what I give you, okay? I know what you need.”

“Yes, Steve, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, eyes welling with tears.

“I forgive you. Now lay back. I’m gonna make you feel good again, but I’m going to do it my way.”

You were apprehensive but felt you had no choice but to do as he asked. You laid back on the bed and watched with wide eyes as he stripped, pulling off his t-shirt and making quick work of his boots, belt, and jeans. You gasped when you saw the shape of his cock through his boxers.

“Have you ever seen a cock before?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Once,” you admitted. “On a dare. I watched porn.”

“Then you know what I’m going to do with this,” he presumed as he rubbed the shape of it through the fabric.

“You’re… you’re going to put it in me,” you realized with a gasp.

He pulled his boxers down to reveal it in its full glory and you scrambled backward on the bed.

“Steve, it’s too big,” you whimpered, “it won’t fit.”

“You’d be surprised,” he laughed, climbing on top of you and pinning you down. “It’s what it’s made for, doll, it’s what you’re made for. You can take it. You will take it.”

“Steve, I--” you whimpered, but he was already touching you down there again and suddenly you couldn’t think straight.

He slipped a finger into you and hissed at the feeling of your soaked walls fluttering around him. You bit your lip and tried to focus on anything else.

“You’re so tight,” he praised. “Too bad it’ll go to waste; with a cock like this, it really doesn’t matter.”

You nearly screamed as he pushed into you. You felt like your whole body had to relax to fit him and even then, you felt him molding you to his shape, stretching and opening you to his will.

Your head was spinning from the unbelievable mix of pleasure and pain, satisfaction and need, fear and hope.

When he was finally sheathed inside you entirely-- a moment you thought might never arrive-- he stilled and let his head fall back with a choked moan.

“God, it’s so good. You’re so good. Knew you would be.”

You could only choke on nothing as he pulled back out only to slam back home. He moved with slow but deep thrusts, pulling noises from you that you couldn’t even believe were originating from your body. You grabbed onto his arms and gripped them for dear life as his movements rocked you on top of the bed. You could feel how wet you were, you could hear how wet you were, as he slid himself into you each time. He looked down at you and smiled at your flushed face, hair sticking to your skin from a thin layer of sweat, eyes wrenched shut yet mouth fallen open into a perfect little moan… you looked exactly how he’d pictured you that first time he met you. You were exactly as perfect as he’d imagined.

“Steve, Steve, I need to-- please let me--” you whimpered.

“Not yet,” he frowned, and you whined with frustration.

“Please,” you cried.

“Don’t beg,” he sternly warned. “It’s unbecoming of a lady to beg. I’ll let you come when I’m ready for you to come, alright?”

“Yes, Steve,” you sighed, putting all your energy into holding back the wave of pleasure threatening to break through at any moment. His own moans got louder as he started moving faster inside you, balls slapping against your ass with a lewd clapping sound.

He could feel how badly you needed to come, but he needed you to prove you could be good for him and obey. “Fuck, baby,” he cooed, “so good. Fuck, just hold on a little longer.”

“Steve, please,” you sobbed.

“Say that you’re mine,” he growled. “Say that you belong to me.”

You blushed just hearing it, but you knew that the time for pearl-clutching had long since passed. You would do anything to come at that moment.

“I’m yours, Steve,” you sobbed, “I belong to you. Please let me come.”

“Fuck,” he moaned in approval, “so good. Just like that. Say it when you come. Say it when I come inside you.”

“Steve!” you cried out. “I’m yours, please!”

You lost track of what you were saying as he slammed into you so deep that it made your head hurt. All you could understand was the feeling of his cock flexing inside you, painting your walls with an absurd amount of thick, hot cum.

He moaned your name as he did it and you felt dizzy. He stayed like that for a while, holding you down even as you tried to squirm away to avoid the overstimulation of him inside you.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he pulled out, leaning back to watch his cum drip out of your hole. He felt a sense of accomplishment as he compared how your pussy looked now to how it had when he first saw it. There was a tinge of guilt for ruining you so thoroughly, of course, but pride as well.

“Why do I still feel funny?” you groaned as he laid down beside you. “I thought it would go away, once you… did that.”

“Oh, it lasts all night,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry, I just need a few minutes to recover and I’m gonna fuck you again. At least, as long as you ask nicely.”

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america smut #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #chris evans fanfic #dark!chris evans #dark!chris evans x reader

1K notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!

Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.

He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.

After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.

The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.

“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.

Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”

“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.

“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.

He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”

“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”

“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”

He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.

An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”

Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.

His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.

The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.

“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.

“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”

Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”

“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.

“What?��

“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.

“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.

Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.

He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”

“No costume?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.

Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.

“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”

Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”

“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”

“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”

The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.

Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.

After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.

“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”

Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”

“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”

At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.

“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.

“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.

Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”

Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”

“But you think otherwise?”

“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.

“Perhaps.”

His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”

“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…

“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”

“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”

Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”

With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”

And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”

At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”

Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”

“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”

“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”

“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.

“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”

Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.

Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…

As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.

Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.

Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”

Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”

With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.

“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”

The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.

Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.

Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.

The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.

Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”

“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”

When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”

A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.

“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”

It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.

“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.

“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.

The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”

Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”

He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”

“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”

“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.

Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”

Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.

“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.

Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”

“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.

Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.

“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.

“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”

With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.

Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.

Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.

He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.

Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.

The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.

Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.

His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.

“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?

Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”

“To watch you come,” he said immediately.

“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.

He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.

“Yes?”

“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”

“Look at me,” Sebastien said.

“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.

“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”

Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”

Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”

“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.

“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”

“Yes,” he said instantly.

Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.

His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom.

___

Part Three

Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #male vampire #male vampire x human #exophilia #vampire boyfriend #male vampire x male human #male monster #mlm #mlm exophilia

229 notes · View notes

kurinoot · 4 years ago

Text

[day 1] one box of chocolates | tendou satori

-> you’ve been wanting to surprise your boyfriend with your own batch of chocolates and better yet, grace him with your presence this coming valentines. to your shock, you got more than what you thought it would be.

pairing: tendou x reader

themes: fluff, post-timeskip

word count: 2125 words

author’s note: I can’t believe I’m writing again! hahaha, and tendou being my first haikyuu character to create a fic uwu anyways, he was kinda hard to write on as he only got shots from seasons 3 and 4, so this may somehow seem ooc but please, I do accept constructive criticisms :) enjoy!

btw, I added a music in specific parts of the story so you can play them if you want so as to add some touches while you’re reading :)

"Ah, I hope the chocolates haven't melted yet!", you sigh tiredly with worry as you scramble your hand inside your carry-on bag, carefully checking your box of handmade chocolates as you make your way through the bustling Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport. The almost 14-hour non-stop flight has definitely taken a toll on you and the jet lag is definitely not helping you either.

You finally feel the cold air kissing your skin as you drag your way out of the airport, gingerly carrying your baggage all the while ensuring that your handmade gift is in good hands. Apparently, you weren't informed that Paris in February would require you more layers of clothing than what the thin sweater you’re wearing could offer. With a rush, you immediately went to the nearest vacant taxi. You rattled your brain for some basic French, muttering a soft “Bonjour” as you pinpoint the driver to your phone, showing him your destination. After a while, you finally feel the weight of the jet lag in your body. You deeply sigh as you finally let yourself sink in the back seat of the taxi. The driver seemed to know something, if you fumbling with your words and the way you slumped on the back seat was a sign.

"Rough day, mademoiselle?", the driver asks you in English (to, at least, your surprise) with a rough French accent, smiling. You brighten up a bit despite the stress, "Uh yes, monsieur. Am I right? It's probably the jet lag, but yeah.".

"Don't worry, your basic French is good! So, what is a young mademoiselle doing here alone? And on Valentines’ Day?”

“Ah merci! I’m actually here to visit this chocolate shop.”, you reply with a bright smile as you pinpoint your phone to the said location once again. He grins, to your surprise.

“Ah yes! That shop is actually famous around these parts, especially this Valentines’ season. Although, the owner is quite weird and even creepy for most people from what I heard around here.”, he mentions, and despite getting accustomed to how most people see Satori, you felt your hand cusp into a fist as you gritted your teeth, seething in annoyance and preparing to fight back or even to get off the taxi.

“Yet despite the rumors, he’s a kind young man. Eccentric one, I admit, but he knows the chocolate fit for the customer. Hell, he even helped me pick for my wife!” The driver continues, chuckling at the memory.

You feel all the anger in you disappear, proud of your boyfriend, as it was somewhat kind of rare for you to hear good compliments about him, “That’s just probably how other people see him. I would say, he’s a tad too eccentric for most people. He’s kind and soft-hearted and cute if you get to know him beyond the surface.”, you reply languidly with proud eyes.

You saw his eyes glance at you, before looking back at the road.

Unknowingly, your smile didn’t falter at the memory of Satori. “In fact, the owner is my boyfriend! And I’m actually here to visit — or rather, surprise him today!”

The driver chuckled softly, “Figures. You were talking about the owner like he’s your lover, and,” He paused, his eyes gazed towards the photograph of a woman that you took notice of earlier. “I can say the same.” His voice became tender as he continued driving.

You have finally arrived at your boyfriend’s little happy place, much to your joy and excitement. You immediately paid the driver and thanked him for the ride (and for the conversation). As soon as you get out of the cab, the driver calls you out, rummages something from a compartment in his cab, and surprises you with a lush red rose, thankfully free of its prickly thorns.

"You somehow remind me of me and my wife when we were younger, and it's Valentines' Season and better yet, you're in the City of Love! So please, take this as a Valentines' souvenir, mademoiselle".

"Oh you didn't have to, monsieur!"

“Good luck with that boyfriend of yours, mademoiselle! Yer both lucky to have each other.”, he says, somehow inspired by how you defended Satori as he mutters an ‘ah, young love’ to himself afterwards as he waves before driving to his next destination. Despite the jet lag creeping in your system, you grasp the remaining energy you have to at least surprise your boyfriend with your presence in the spirit of Valentines' Day in the City of Love.

I can't believe I'm in Paris, and I'm seeing Satori's shop for the first time!, you thought as you giddily reached for the eccentric gold-gilded handle of the door, slowly opening the door to the shop. The instant scent of the cocoa hit right through your senses as your eyes ran across the various chocolates on display. Walking further, you were graced with the view of your beloved with his back on you, occupied with washing his tools to finish the day as he sways his hips to the rhythm of the song he’s humming so softly.

He stops humming as soon as he hears the chime of the door bell, "Je suis désolée, on est fermé. (I’m sorry, we’re closed)", you hear Satori with bits of his Japanese accent as he continued humming afterwards, clueless of who had entered his shop.

"Well, I was thinking of grabbing a Valentines' special with my boyfriend.", you replied teasingly, emphasizing the word boyfriend, which left the budding chocolatier a bit frozen in shock as he turned to your direction with wide eyes before shifting to a smirk as he leans on the countertop, narrowing his eyes towards you as an “Oh, what do we have here?” leaves his mouth.

“My Sugar!”, he nearly screamed, seeing you as he dropped everything he’s doing and rushed to hug you tightly, not caring about his wet hands.

You lovingly welcome his arms as you hug him back tightly, soaking in his presence after being separated for so long.

“I missed you so much, Satori!”, you pout as you felt him tightening his embrace, as you savored his warmth after a long flight, his breath tickling the nape of your neck. You gasp a little bit as he gently caresses your hair, maximizing his hug with you to finally see, touch, and feel you in person.

You felt Satori loosen his arms, as you immediately replaced with the warmth of the Parisian cold, much to your disappointment. Without you knowing, Satori sees even the slightest of your body trembling from the current weather and rushes back in the kitchen to grab his Shiratorizawa jacket, much to your surprise. He then returns to you, gracefully sliding the jacket over your shoulders.

You pout at him with a prominent blush on your plump cheeks, “Thank you, Satori”, to which he replies with another hug much tighter compared to the one a few minutes ago.

“I love, love, LOVE you so much, my chocolate ice cream!”, he exclaimes as you were suddenly smothered with a couple of pecks — light kisses on your head. You snuggled closer to his chest, eagerly smelling his sweet scent of chocolate that suddenly reminded you of your handmade chocolate that you’ve left unattended for hours. You quickly scramble away from the contact, much to your endearing boyfriend’s curiosity, to see if the chocolate has withstood not only the long flight, but also Satori’s warm, tight hugs. Luckily, the red cardboard box was sturdy enough and only had a couple dents — making you sigh in relief. As soon as you pull out the box, you see your boyfriend narrowing his eyes to the direction of the box with peaked curiosity.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Satori teases, pulling off a smirk, eyes still on the box as he receives it. He gave it a little shake, that made you giggle as he playfully tried to guess what was inside. Although you could feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment with each second passing. You look away in embarrassment as you watch him. He looks at you with piqued interest, wondering what has gotten you a bit tad embarrassed, if the pink in your cheeks were even a telltale sign.

You anxiously mumbled, “W-Well, I mean, my boyfriend probably makes the best chocolate in the world, so it k-kinda sucks that the only Valentines’ gift I can give you is a box of chocolates that I have made—”, you got cut off as you see and hear your boyfriend already popping one of the chocolates in his mouth, much to your chagrin. To your surprise, he kept popping more and more of the chocolates, savoring each delight.

“Waif, lemme geth sum hot milk.” he says, with his mouth full of your handmade chocolates as he scrambles back to the kitchen, heating up some milk. As you wait for him, you notice a gramophone on the countertop with a vinyl record already in place, with Edith Piaf written on on the center portion in black marker, which you found cute as you imagined Satori listening to Edith Piaf while doing his daily chocolate-making routine. You try to play the music and much to your delight, your head gently swayed to the song, and eventually your body. Immediately after the song has started, your body has already succumbed to the rhythm of the music that you didn’t notice Satori returning with two mugs of hot milk. He grins, enjoying the view of you dancing to French music as he places the mugs down on the counter. He slowly sways as he walks up to you, his hands snaking around your waist from your back as your bodies swing leisurely to the rhythm, much to your surprise yet you quickly relax as you lean back on him, holding his hands around your waist.

Never in your wildest dreams have you imagined that the Satori Tendou, your boyfriend, the oddball, would be dancing with you like this, alone in his chocolate shop under the moonlight on Valentines’ Day in the City of Love. It was too much for your heart to handle, and probably for his heart, too.

You dance for a couple more minutes until the song slowly fades. He then relishes the way he holds you, albeit the music has already finished. You both savor each other’s presence a few more, before Satori then gets the mugs of hot milk, not wanting to waste the good heat on a cold Parisian night. You gladly accept the milk with one hand, as you grasp his jacket with the other, not wanting to feel even the slightest cold breeze. Your boyfriend then leads you to a seat on the counter, sitting next to you as he prepares his mug and your box of chocolates, now with only a few pieces.

“I never thought you would actually go here in Paris”, he starts, as he pops another one of your chocolate in his mouth, followed by gulping down his warm milk.

“I never thought I would actually go here, but I’m grateful that I did, because this is the best Valentines’ Day I’ve ever had!”, you beam as you hold your mug with both hands, relishing the warmth as you drink down your milk.

Tendou then takes note of your chocolates, “You know, I was thinking of adding your chocolates to the menu, and credit you also. Probably name it Le Chocolat Y/N Au Lait Special or something!” You smiled and held a hand on your chest, feeling how warm it suddenly felt.

“Satori, I’d love to.”, you replied, to which his smile grew bright that could burst your heart to how cute he is.

Your beloved continues to chew and drink, looking around when he notices the fresh red rose from earlier sitting atop of your luggage. You follow his line of sight, immediately seeing the lone rose. You finish drinking your milk before you tell him enthusiastically, “Ah! That was given by the taxi driver that drove me earlier. Said that we somehow reminded him of him and his wife on Valentine's Day in the City of Love in this same shop, so he gave me one.”, imitating the way your driver said City of Love. Much to your shock, Satori sardonically laughs, saying it was a tad bit too French, at least for his taste.

While finishing the last remnants of your warm milk, he then goes to the nearby gramophone and plays another Edith Piaf classic. You glance at him with curiosity as he looks at you smugly, stretching out his hand as he invites you to another dance.

“So, where were we?”

back to valentines masterlist

#tina.writes #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #tendō satori #tendou x reader #valentines #haikyuu valentines #haikyuu fics #haikyuu imagines #14 days of valentine

70 notes · View notes

jenoptimist · 4 years ago

Text

request:

can i request something with lucas? 💖

✮ Pairing: yukhei x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fluff | werewolf!au

✮ Additional info: accidental marriage (werewolf style)

✮ Word count: 5.6k

♡ Yakult says: thank you for your request !! i was a clown when i said i’d have it up before the new year 🤠 but well here it is nonie !! i hope you like it 💙

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moon hung big, bright and beautiful in the dark sky as it illuminated the thick forest. The brightness of the surrounding stars didn’t even compare. Not one bit. You stood up from your position on the porch and stretched your arms and legs, the tattoo on the inner part of your wrist tingling. You watched with impatience as your wolves emerge from the trees and you couldn’t resist the urge to run over to them, the soles of your feet becoming slightly wet due to the damp grass. You couldn’t go with them as they raced through the forest, no matter how much you pleaded, so you wanted to be in on their joyous energy. They were quick to pounce on you, hard enough to tackle you to the ground where you soon find yourself covered by them.

“Finally!” You said, feigning exasperation as they surrounded you and took turns rubbing their snouts in the crook of your neck, effectively scenting you, “took you guys long enough!” They couldn’t talk to you, at least not in their shifted states, so you moved so that you could stand up and then took off to warm up inside the Wong residence without so much as a warning. They weren’t too far behind you, evidently not burning through their energy just yet.

Once on the porch, the boys shifted back into their human forms. Their voices overlapped each other as they walked in, telltale sounds of them shoving at one another through the back door good naturedly. You kept your eyes away from them as they entered, stared pointedly at the variety of colorful magnets that were on the fridge. Nudity didn’t bother them in the slightest simply because it was in their nature. However it was not in yours. You were just a human that somehow wormed your way into their pack - you’d often jokingly said that they just couldn’t resist your charm - and so nudity didn’t come as naturally to you as it did them.

“Aw,” cooed Yangyang in that playful tone of his, “still shy after all this time, y/n?” That earned him nothing but your middle finger which resulted in laughter from the others.

“I’ll order some pizza so go shower and get dressed.” You told them when they stopped laughing, already grabbing your phone from where you placed it near the microwave earlier. They let out a chorus of cheers, thanking you by ruffling your hair while they passed by you. The last hand lingered slightly; it lowered from the crown of your head to your nape before skimming over to the crook of your neck and stayed there, warm and heavy. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Yukhei. It was the large size of his hand that always gave him away.

“There’s money in the hallway, under the orchids.”

“I know,” you said while lowering your phone slightly so that you could turn your head towards him, “there always is.”

Try as you might, your eyes seemed to have a will of their own as they trailed from his eyes to the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips and then slowly, very slowly, your eyes roamed down his neck and followed the lines of his collarbones. Remembering yourself, you lifted your gaze, practically looking at him through your lashes, and found him staring at you intensely; there was definitely something in those dark eyes of his. Whatever it was, there was one thing that you were certain of: it was a combination of both man and wolf. It was evident from the color of his eyes, while not fully changed they contained a sliver of gold, just around the edges. You couldn’t decipher what it meant and you weren’t too eager to ask the others either—it would probably resulting in them teasing you, like they always did.

His warm hand lightly squeezed you for a fraction of a second and then he was off, striding towards the direction of the hallway so that he could join the others upstairs. Against your better judgement, along with the mentality that you already crossed the line earlier, anyway so this couldn’t be a bad thing to do, you watched him go. Your eyes focused on the smooth and tanned expanse of his upper back, not daring to look any lower because you had already went passed the line further than intended—it also felt wrong and creepy if you did. You shifted your stare to your phone, not wanting to be caught practically gawking at his behind when he would inevitably turn so that he could go up the stairs.

After having your fill of pizza - Dejun and Yangyang bickered for the last slice - the eight of you took your respective seats; Kun, Yongqin, Dejun and Kunhang squished together on the largest couch on the left side of the room while you sat on the other couch, with Sicheng on the far and while Yangyang and Yukhei were on either side of you. As the start of Ocean’s Eleven played on the TV, you tried very hard not to concentrate on your left thigh, where you could practically feel the heat of Yukhei’s hand underneath your joggers. Touching between all of you was a regular occurrence, heck Yangyang was even leaning into you, but it was different with Yukhei. His touches lingered the way your stares on him did; sometimes they were feather light, fleeting, and other times they were heavy and prolonged, as if you’d disappear if he didn’t have a grip on you—like last year when you almost. . .when the incident with the wendigo happened.

Three and a half movies in, Dejun, Kunhang and Yangyang were sound asleep. Kun and Yongqin had taken it upon themselves to clear up the space a little and rearranged the sleeping boys into much more comfortable positions. You would have helped them but your parents were expecting you to return home. They understood your connection with them - after what happened last year it was important that they knew the truth - but they valued family time.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you said as you and Yukhei reached your driveway. Although your living room windows were covered by a set of blinds and curtains, the lampshade was still visible. Yukhei flashed you a quick smile and a quick shrug of his shoulders.

“Goodnight.” He replied, stopping just a handful of steps away from where you stood in front of your door. You returned his words to him and just as you turned and unlocked the door, one foot barely inside the house, he said, “oh hold on!” There was the sound of his shoes tapping against the pavement in rhythmically as he jogged towards you. “I forgot to give this to you earlier.” His hand was fisted and stretched out to you. When you held out your opened palm underneath it, he released his hold from the object. It was an agate rock, you could tell by the lines and how it had several colors. “I got it during our run.” Yukhei said while he peeked at you through his lashes. He wore a small, shy smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocked back and forth between his heel and the balls of his feet. He looked positively endearing, especially with the way the moon casted its light on him.

You ran your thumb across it’s smooth surface, secretly pleased that he thought of you. It probably didn’t mean anything (even though you desparately wanted it to) because the others did it, too. On one, most recent, occasion Kunhang bought the two of you matching cat shaped night lights just because. So, really, Yukhei most likely meant nothing about it; he just happened to spot a rock that he thought you might like. Now if only you could convince your heart that. Along with the fluttering in it that you felt, there was a rush of warmth that flooded through your entire system. Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable—their senses, as well as their healing, weren’t as enhanced as usual during the full moon which served to be in your favor at the moment.

“Thank you,” you finally said, a smile that stretched from ear to ear as you closed your hand around it. “I love it.” Although he barely showed it, you could tell he was relieved. Yukhei smiled softly at you, his eyes full of joy. “Goodnight, again. Text me when you get home.” You could feel his eyes on you as you walked in and once you shut the door, you were quick to look through the peephole to make sure that nothing happened to him while he walked off.

Later when you were cozy in your bed, marvelling at the rock, lifting it up so that the moonlight could kiss it through your window, your phone buzzed. Setting the rock on your beside table, you patted around your duvet for your phone.

from: xuxi

made it back in one piece!!

With the text came a picture of him, thumb raised. Yongqin was making a silly face in the back while Sicheng formed a ‘V’ with his index and middle finger, his face neutral as if he wasn’t originally intended to be in the picture. It coaxed a small huff of laughter from you. You were quick to send him a text back and then you repositioned yourself, closing your eyes so that you could go to sleep.

There was something different about you when you woke up. It wasn’t noticeable, not at first, but the more awake and alert you became, the more you were aware of the thrumming? No. Current. It felt like somebody had inserted wires inside of you while you were asleep, somehow, with the buzzing that you could feel inside your body. It didn’t hurt but it was definitely there although, surprisingly enough, it didn’t feel wrong for it to be there. If you weren’t in the know (read: if you didn’t know about werewolves) you could have chalked it up to excess energy. But seeing as you did know about the supernatural, whatever had happened to you overnight could be a problem. Thankfully, however, the current was faint. Faint enough that you could probably forget about it. Unfortunately, a habit of yours was that once you noticed something, you couldn’t stop concentrating on it.

The panic set in when, after eating your breakfast and rushing to work, the feeling was still there. It was like an itch but no matter how hard you tried to forget about it or subtly shake it out, nothing happened. In fact the exact opposite happened; it became just that bit stronger, as if to say, ‘hey I’m still here’. Thankfully it was a slow day at work which allowed you to think about what could have caused your current condition? Situation? You didn’t even know what to call it. There weren’t any current threats or anyone who posed danger that you knew of. Maybe some fae casted this one you? No. That didn’t make any sense. The fae may have been known for trickery and deceit but they wouldn’t do anything to anyone who didn’t strike a bargain with them.

By the time you were on your break, your head was practically pounding at the amount of possiblities you had thought of. You took a bite of your panini, staring out the window of the café you decided to eat at. Trying not to get caught up in thinking again - you had done enough for the day - you focused on watching the people that passed by. A few bites into your sandwich, your tattoo tingled. It didn’t override the other current in your body in the slightest, not that it could, because it only affected the skin where your tattoo was. You wondered who was out and about. It could be anybody since it was a Saturday so none of you had any lectures—although Kunhang did mention that he would be in the campus to work on his project today so it couldn’t be him. Kunhang, bless his heart, tried to explain his project to you and you were nothing short of confusion by the end of it. You and engineering simply did not mix, like oil and water, but it was nice to watch him speak about something that he was clearly interested in.

The tingling stopped as soon as you found yourself face to face with Yukhei, who stood on the other side of the glass. When you locked eyes with him, he was quick to wave and then weave his way through the sea of bodies moving in two opposite directions so that he could enter the café. He made a beeline towards you and spared no time in occupying the seat opposite you, although he stood up almost immediately.

After a quick, “I’ll go get us a drink,” he was off. You didn’t even see his gaze wander to your empty cup. There was that pleased feeling again, the one that warmed up the inside of your chest and spread itself to the rest of your body. You bit the inside of your cheek and forced yourself to tamper it down. It meant nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. You seared the word into your mind but it didn’t do anything to dissipate the fluttering in your heart. When he came back, two steaming beverages in hand, the two of you fell into an easy conversation. It hardly took any effort to get lost in Yukhei whenever he spoke because he always spoke with his whole body; his eyes bursting with emotion, the various facial expressions he displayed and how he used his hands to go along with his words. He was telling you about the shenanigans Bella had gotten herself into that morning, his voice full of both amusement and fondness. You did nothing but listen to him, lips curled into an affectionate smile while your cheek laid in the palm of your hand.

It was only after the two of you said your goodbyes that you realized that the current stopped when you were in Yukhei’s presence. The gears in your head turned, perhaps instead of a current, it was a pull. A pull towards Yukhei. That was ridiculous, though. Why would that be the case? You were probably just mixing up your feelings for him with the current or something. You made a plan to ask Kun and Sicheng what they thought because if anyone could provide you with answers, it would be those two brainiacs.

When your shift ended, you were quick to leave the building and call Kun so that he was aware that you were going over to the apartment that he shared with Sicheng.

“Wait, y/n,” concern colored Kun’s voice, “you’re not in any trouble, are you?”

“No,” you assured, “but you’d know if I was, wouldn’t you?” It was an alpha thing, you remembered him telling you when you woke up in the hospital and had a boatload of questions. It was because of that alpha quirk that he found you.

“Yeah,” his voice took a softness to it before he cleared it away, “I’d know. Sicheng is already here, by the way, and so is Yongqin. He’s asking if you could pick up some Doritos on your way.” You gave him an affirmative, feeling lucky that the two people you were looking for were in the same spot.

You all but sprinted to Kun and Sicheng’s apartment, the handle of a paper bag full of various snacks in your hand. The usual pleasantries were exchanged which consisted of mainly scenting rather than words. And then once the snacks were distributed on the coffee table in the living room, the four of you were down to business.

“Hold on, so, you just woke up and, what, bam there it was?” Yongqin asked through a mouthful of chips. From beside him Sicheng simultaneously flipped onto the next page of the grimoire with one hand, which he had on loan from the local coven, and stuffed a handful of chips with the other. His eyes scanned the two pages lightning fast before turning them, decidedly not finding whatever he thought the solution was for your current problem. Ha. Current problem.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, popping some Maltesers into your mouth. You tilted the bag of Maltesers in Kun’s direction on your right and retracted when he shook his head in refusal. His brows were furrowed, head tilted as he chewed on his bottom lip. Not wanting to disrupt his train of thought, you shrugged at Yongqin and said, “it could be worse.”

“I’ve got nothing,” Sicheng said as he closed the grimoire. “I could ask Jaehyun but if it’s not in his grimoire then I doubt he’d know. I’ll text him anyway, just in case.”

“Wait don’t,” Kun ordered. When the the three of you looked at him, he was staring at you with the same contemplative expression that he had been wearing since you told them about your situation. “Yukhei walked you home last night, right?” You nodded, wondering what theory he had come up with. “By any chance, did he give you something?”

You smiled brightly, “yeah, look!” The rock was nestled inside the pocket of your jeans because you didn’t want to leave it at home, you thought of it as a charm of some sort, and you made quick work of fishing it out so that you could show them. “Isn’t it so pretty?” Yongqin agreed whereas the other two traded looks with each other.

“Oh,” Sicheng breathed out, as if he connected all the dots which, knowing him, he probably did. He glanced at you before looking back at Kun. Their conversation was silent; nothing but a series of brow movements. Dread immediately flooded your system, your outstretched hand dropping onto your lap. Whatever happened to you was probably horrible, considering that they didn’t outright say what they thought it was. You thumbed at your rock to try and soothe your nerves while you waited for them to reveal whatever it was that they figured out.

Yongqin jerked suddenly, eyes wide with surprise as he spread his arms out wildly, smacking Sicheng square on the chest. “You married Yukhei?!”

You returned his surprised expression with one of disbelief. “I think I’d know if I got married to him.”

“No,” Kun said softly, “he’s right. Y/n you”-he arched a brow at Yongqin-“bonded with Yukhei last night.”

“What! But- I couldn’t have.” You all but exclaimed. “How?”

“Everything witnessed by the moon, specifically the full moon, is binding for werewolves. When a wolf, or a human in a pack for that matter, gives a token to another under the moon it takes full effect. Although it only works when there are particularly strong feelings involved.” Sicheng explained in a tone that was both gentle and matter-of-fact.

Oh great. So all this happened because your feelings ran extremely deep for Yukhei to the point where you got werewolf married to him. All he was doing was being his usual self and the moon went ahead and bound the two of you together because of your feelings. It must have been the immense joy you felt, on top of your feelings for him, about the fact that he saw a pretty rock and thought of you. It felt a little bit pathetic in a way. Yukhei probably didn’t even want to be married to you, werewolf married or not. He called you a ‘good buddy’ two weeks ago! There was absolutely no way he thought of you as marriage material at all! You felt a little ill all of a sudden. While you may have fantasized about being married to him - it was one of the many scenarios you conjured up when you closed your eyes and waited for sleep to take you - you never wanted it to happen like this—non-consensual and without meaning.

“Don’t worry!” Kun rushed in, “you can undo it. All you have to do is give the token back to him at the next full moon then the bond will be dissolved.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you have to give him a token and then you’ll be together forever.” Yongqin piped up. You thought as much. After all, werewolves never did anything in halves when it came to their love lives. “The current will disappear eventually, too. Or at least it should.”

“Perfect,” you said with false cheer before laying back on the couch, groaning as you squeezed your eyes shut. Then you sat up, all but yelling, “please don’t tell Yukhei!” Sicheng looked as though he wanted to disagree but you silently pleaded at him until he dutifully nodded. Kun and Yongqin followed his lead. “I’ll tell him myself.” You mumbled, dread already creeping up inside of your system at the thought of it.

There was a couple of minutes of silence before Yongqin spoke up. “It could be worse.” He said, mimicking your words from earlier.

A bubble of hysteric laughter escaped your lips before you agreed. It really, really could have been worse.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Yukhei said over the phone. You could hear the frown in his voice and could already picture the expression he wore on his face. There was hurt there too, just a hint as if he was trying not to let it show, and it made you hate yourself a little bit more, especially since the statement was true. You had started avoiding him since the revelation of your marriage three weeks ago. Confrontation was never your strong suit and it doubled in this particular situation because not only would you have to tell him that the two of you were accidentally werewolf married, but also because your feelings regarding him would be out in the open. The full moon was in a couple of days, however, so it would all be over soon.

“Sorry I’ve been busy,” the words felt like ash in your mouth. “We can hang out later though, if you’re free.” Half of you hoped he was and the other hoped that he wasn’t—if he was free then you didn’t know how you could look at him and not think, ‘we’re married’ or similarly ‘we’re bound’ over and over again.

“Yeah ‘course I am! I’m working on something with Kunhang right now, we’re just taking a break, so he’ll probably stick around with us. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Sounds good,” and it really did because with Kunhang there maybe you wouldn’t have to think about your marriage to his best friend or worse, accidentally tell him. “See you later!”

Later came sooner than expected. Time seemed to pass in a blink of an eye and so you found yourself in front of the Wong residence, waiting for someone to open the door for you. They definitely would have heard you as you were walking up their driveaway and normally, Yukhei’s little brother would have opened the door already so you assumed he was out with his friends. The door swung open to reveal Mrs.Wong - your, oh God, secret mother-in-law - who all but beamed when she saw you and beckoned you inside.

“It’s been a while,” she said after she closed the door behind her. Within a second she had an arm around your waist and lead you to the kitchen. “You came in just in time! Someone from my book club gave me her curry receipe and I just finished making it.” She was quick to pass you a spoonful of the dish, watching you in expectation as you tasted it. “Too salty?” She asked and then smiled delightedly when you assured her that it was lovely. “That’s dinner sorted,” she said as she placed the lid back on the pot. “Now, tell me, what’s the latest gossip in town these days.”

Halfway through telling her about how apparently there was drama in the Zhao family because of the late Mr.Zhao’s will (some even suspected that he was murdered but you highly doubted it), Yukhei - your secret husband - and Kunhang walked in. Yukhei immediately made his way towards you, placing a hand on the crook of your neck which he slowly moved downwards to rest in the middle of your shoulder blades. It stayed there until Kunhang took the seat beside you and started chatting animatedly about what he and Yukhei were working on. Yukhei’s stare practically seared the side of your head but you refused to look at him. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mrs.Wong look slyly between you and her son and you hoped that she didn’t figure it out—silly considering she herself was a ‘wolf and therefore would definitely work it out. But, still, you hoped.

“The others are coming by later,” Yukhei informed you and Kunhang, his eyes locked on his phone as he tapped away. The three of you had moved to his room a few minutes ago. Once he finished typing, he stood up and said, “I’ll be back.” Then left his room.

There was a beat of silence as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, double tapping on pictures while Kunhang played a game on his phone that he recently downloaded. He either completed a level or his character failed because he lowered his phone and looked at you, waiting until you returned his stare before he spoke.

“You know,” he started, shifting his legs until he was in a more comfortable position, “he was pretty torn up about not seeing you lately.” You bobbed your head. “And if this is about the token he gave you—”

You shot up immediately. “How did you know about that?” Did Dejun and Yangyang know, too? But the others said they wouldn’t say anything or, well, not to Yukhei at least. Unless they were all in the know?

“Who do you think gave him the idea?” He asked rhetorically and then launched into how he, Dejun and Yangyang helped Yukhei with his plan. “The token could have been anything because it’s the thought that counts but he found that rock and polished it ‘cause he thought you’d like it.”

Your lips parted in shock while your brain scrambled for something, anything, to say. So Yukhei did want to be werewolf married to you? He had feelings for you? He went to the trouble of finding a rock and polishing it because he thought you’d like it? It felt like a dream come true. Suddenly, his shy demeanor on that night made sense. Being bound to him wasn’t horrible - life was short and you knew it - but you did wish that he asked you on a date—the two of you could have done anything; a picnic, go to the cinema or drive to the next town over.

“He was really nervous about the whole thing, y’know? I mean I thought you’d definitely say yes because it’s not like he was asking for your hand in marriage or anything,”-wait, what?-“he just wanted to court you.”

“Kunhang,” you said slowly, “we are married. I asked Kun and Sicheng and he- we’re- he didn’t ask to court me.” Even though he did accidentally marry you, at least you were aware that he liked you back. Courting, like all other things involved in a ‘wolf’s love life, was considered serious business.

“Oh shit,” Kunhang exclaimed, slapping a hand on his mouth with wide eyes.

Yukhei chose to re-enter his room at that moment. His brows furrowed as he looked back and forth between the two of you. “What’s wrong?”

Kunhang’s hand slid from his mouth, about to speak when you quickly said, “I was telling him about how some people think Mr.Zhao was murdered.” You gave Kunhang a brief, pleading look.

Yukhei huffed out a laugh, “and he believed it? Dude there’s no way. They would have said so when they examined the body.”

“Exactly what I said!” You laughed along with Yukhei, forcing down the giddiness that spread through you at the sight of him. He shot you a big smile before trapping Kunhang in a playful headlock.

Before you knew it, the others arrived and as usual, dinner was a loud affair as everyone voiced their opinions on the topic of conversation which steadily continued to change. After dinner, everyone helped clean up excluding Yukhei’s parents because you all insisted that they relax. There was a couple of rounds of Uno at the dining table after everything was cleaned and put away and then the seven of you were on your way home. One by one, the number dwindled until it was just you and Yongqin.

“He was meant to ask to court me,” you told him just after Yangyang turned left onto his road. “Not marry me.”

“Let me guess,” Yongqin replied, amusement in his voice, “the three rascals helped him out without asking anyone.”

“Who else?” The two of you laughed, briefly recalling the mischief the four of them had gotten into whenever they did something without consulting their parents or anyone else in the pack.

“So what are you going to do?” Yongqin asked as the two of you approached your driveway. “If he was planning to court you then obviously marrying you is already on his mind.” You tried not to flush at the bluntness of his words because of course courting was only done when marriage fit into the equation.

Still, the corner of your mouth lifted. “I think you already know.”

Yongqin threw his head back to laugh and then beamed at you. “Yeah, I do.” He then ruffled your hair in that brotherly way of his and said, “remember, it’s the thought that counts.”

“You know, not enough people give you credit for being smart.” It was true. People thought Yongqin was nothing but an airhead who liked to dance and draw in his spare time because obviously you couldn’t possibly be intelligent when you enjoyed those things.

“I know,” he agreed while he jammed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “But it gives me an advantage, don’t you think? Now go on, I’m sure you have lots to think about.”

“G’night.” You said as he spun around and walked across the road to his own house. He just waved without looking back.

With the little time you had to think of a token to give Yukhei, you hardly slept for the past two days. There were so many options to choose from but ultimately, you chose a bracelet that had agate stones which matched the one that he gave you. It remained hidden in a box on your shelf and you thought about what Yukhei’s reaction would be while you sent him a short text.

to: xuxi

let’s talk after the run tomorrow

from: xuxi

okay

The full moon was big and bright as it always was. You and Yukhei stood underneath it, allowing yourselves to be soaked in its light, in the clearing between his house and the forest. Your rock was hidden in the saftey of your chest, just under your hoodie - you had asked your dad for help so that you could loop a necklace chain into it - while your token for Yukhei was inside of your loosely fisted hand.

“You asked me to marry you,” you said softly, peeking at him through your lashes. “You like me enough to marry me. You might even love me.” Although he was visibly shocked, he did nothing to assure you otherwise. His expression of shock melted into one of shyness, maybe even embarrassment, as he wrung his fingers together.

“Yeah, I did and,” his voice was low and gravelly, “I do love you.”

You didn’t even try to fight your smile as you stretched your hand out towards him and waited for him to place an open palm underneath it. When you released your token, you watched his expression turn into astonishment. He picked up the bracelet gently, examining it for a couple of minutes before slipping it past his hand and onto his wrist.

“You have one month to divorce me just in case you change your mind,” you tried to make it sound like a joke but it fell flat. “Just like I did with you.” At least according to Sicheng.

Yukhei strode towards you, his steps full of purpose until the two of you were practically chest to chest. “I don’t need it.”

Your heart soared as he leaned in closer and closer until your faces were a hair’s width away. “No?”

“Absolutely not.” And then he kissed you, a hand cupping the back of your head while you snaked your hands up to his shoulders.

“I love you, too.” You said breathlessly once the two of you pulled apart. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Yukhei’s laughter was as warm as sunlight. His hand moved from the back of your head to cup your cheek while he stared at you in complete adoration. With the press of his lips on yours, he removed it so that he could step back and hold your hands onto his.

“Mother Moon,” he began to say, his warm hands giving your cold ones a light squeeze, “may your light shine on our love through all of your phases for eternity.”

Yukhei’s eyes searched yours as if waiting for you to tell him that you were joking even after all that has happened. You just smiled at him, already knowing what to do next thanks to Yongqin.

“Mother Moon,” you repeated, taking pleasure in seeing Yukhei mirror your smile with awe in his eyes, “may your light shine on our love through all of your phases for eternity.”

58 notes · View notes

subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

Text

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled.

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?”

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’.

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!”

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!”

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him.

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ��normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means.

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink.

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?”

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something.

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted.

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was.

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying.

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that?

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?”

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch.

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal.

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil.

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable.

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation.

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor.

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time).

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other.

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?”

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands.

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting.

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

“Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim.

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently.

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want.

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary.

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke.

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.”

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss.

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better.

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off.

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch.

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?”

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open.

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces.

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl.

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?”

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.”

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially.

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it.

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room.

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation.

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

194 notes · View notes