#the way her voice melts when she sings the word weekend

[itspileofgoodthings]

Just remembered that It’s Nice To Have A Friend exists, I need a moment

[iimplicitt]

GOOD LOOKING | OP81

pairings: oscar piastri x singer girlfriend! unnamed fem character (faceclaim suki waterhouse)

summary: oscar and his girlfriend had been dating for a while now, and what better way to hard launch their relationship than on her debut concert of her tour?

warnings: intense public make out, kind of an inappropriate time to have a boner but oscar isn’t exactly thinking straight, social media posts at the end

song inspo: good looking by suki waterhouse

wc: 2.8k

requests open!!

The roar of the crowd could be heard as the lights dimmed in the venue. Thousands of people cheered, all for her and the moment felt so surreal she thought about pinching herself. This was her biggest show yet, the debut of her tour after her album had blown up in the charts. Something she was beyond grateful for but she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So many stars burned out.

“Hey,” a hand ran comforting circles into her lower back.

Turning, her anxiety melted away easily as her boyfriend smiled down at her. His presence was always comforting with no words even needing to be spoken. He had helped keep her head grounded as fame started to pile itself quickly on top of her, given he had plenty of experience.

Formula One drivers don’t exactly have the luxury of flying under the radar. But his experience was helpful in easing her worries, teaching her how to tune everything out and still experience all the great parts it offered.

If she thought an arena of a few thousand was big, Oscar probably considered this a small scale meet and greet given his race weekends got up to around 300,000 people. She wasn’t sure how he adjusted so well, but maybe his stardom was more gradual as he moved up the leagues as he got older.

For her, it felt like she went to bed one day unknown and woke up the next with her face plastered on the side of buildings.

Still, Oscar was private. He went to as many of her shows as he was able to given his schedule was full for a good chunk of the year. It was difficult, but worth all the tears and stress.

Usually he was hidden away, sticking to the shadows to give his support. Although they’ve been dating for well over a three years now, they were very good at hiding it. Their work schedules being almost completely incompatible helped and there weren’t even the faintest of whispers on any gossip sites or accounts.

Tonight though, he made it adamant he wanted to be there for her first big night, headlining her own tour and the way he looked at her with such pride in his eyes made her feel like she was melting through the floor.

He was heaven sent, she was sure of it.

She had been going through hell, one of the worst break ups. The kind that made it feel like her heart was rotting out of her chest and she couldn’t breathe, even after months the pain and second guessing was there. Even if she no longer cared about her ex anymore, the thought of not feeling like enough for someone was brutal. The feeling of not being wanted by someone she considered to be her whole world shattering reality at its edges.

Being cheated on felt like hell. It was hell. Burning her up and killing her slowly.

All the sleepless nights blaming herself, wondering what she had done wrong to make him lose interest. Wondering what was the first day his eyes wandered and why hadn’t she noticed?

The pain was numbing, making it feel as if she was constantly flat lining as insecurities pummeled her into the ground. She lost her job and had been singing at bars and clubs across London, living out of her car and wondering when life would pick up again.

Then one night he walked in, watching her as if her voice was breaking him down as it poured out from the speakers. She couldn’t help but blush, something about him just felt different. Men stared at her all the time, but with him… when their eyes locked that weight in her chest lifted and it felt like she could breathe again.

After her show was done she lingered, keeping him in her peripheral vision as she drank and waited for him to come and talk to her. A few times she’d catch him looking, but then he’d quickly turn away and start talking to his group of friends again.

Eventually it got too late, her eyes dry with exhaustion and the streets a little uneasy.

Part of her couldn’t let it go though, maybe he was just shy. But that feeling in her chest said to at least try.

So she walked up to him, watching as his eyes perked up and a blush redding his cheeks. She didn’t spare his friends a glance as she crossed her arms, “you’re an idiot.”

He blinked at her, also ignoring his friends as they laughed at him behind their hands. “Sorry?”

The stranger sounded Australian and her knees went a little weak. “I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to come up and talk to me but now I have to leave.”

He stammered over his words and she couldn’t help but smile as she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out the bar napkin she had scribbled her number on. “Here, if courage finds you.” Dropping it in his lap, she sent him a wink before turning on his heels. Feeling a false sense of confidence but hoping something would bloom into fruition.

She had barely made it down the street when she heard him call out for her. Turning, she watched as he jogged up, napkin in hand. “Let me walk you home.”

Biting her lip, she looked away, slightly embarrassed. “That’s a little complicated.”

His brows furrowed, but before he could ask what she meant she clicked the key fob of her car and the lights of the beaten down four door parked on the side of the street lit up. He still looked a little confused so she shrugged, “makes for a short commute.”

Understating washed over him and he shook his head. “You are not sleeping in your car.”

“Then where do you suggest I sleep?” The question hung in the air as they stared at each other, the city traffic fading into white noise. His cologne wafted in the air, smelling like sea salt and sandalwood and she thought she could fall into an haze reminiscent of being doped up on opium.

He licked at his bottom lip as he considered her for a moment before holding out his hand, “I’m Oscar.”

Shaking it, his skin was rough and warm. Making a comforting shiver run a commotion on each of her nerve endings. “It’s very nice to meet you, but you haven’t answered my question.”

Maybe three martinis was too much because she was being much more bold than she was used to.

He didn’t hesitate. “Come back to my place.”

Maybe she hadn’t been in her right mind. Any normal person would have approached the offer with suspicion but from that night on the rest had been history.

He made her dinner and let her take his bed, a complete gentleman and when she woke up to the smell of coffee and burnt pancakes she knew she was done for.

Now there they were, both their careers taking off in ways that seemed like outlandish dreams.

However, she noticed as he shifted a bit on his feet and tugged at his sleeves. He was nervous, that much was obvious and she frowned. Oscar was used to being in the spotlight but perhaps what the stage director had suggested was a bit too much of a hard launch.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? It’s completely fine—“

“What? No, it’s not that.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and she slotted into his hold easily. Nestling her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around him, letting the beat of his heart calm her. “Well, it’s a little bit of that but it’s just because I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She laughed lightly. “What? Never made out with someone in front of thousands of people?”

He hummed, “have to say it’s a first for me.”

Tilting her head back to look at him, she took in the way his eyes seemed to glow as he gazed down at her. She never felt any doubt with him. Complete and utter security in the form of another person felt like life had renewed itself.

“If you’re not comfortable doing it, then we won’t. I don’t want to push you.”

Oscar shook his head, brushing the hair out of her face before cupping the side of her head gently. “I want to.”

Lexi approached them then, clipboard in hand and a headpiece perched on her head. “They’re ready for you two on the platform. I’ll signal you when it’s time.”

The couple nodded and Oscar took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as they maneuvered their way under the stage to get onto the rising platform.

They stood on their marks facing each other, with each breath their chests brushed and as their eyes met they couldn’t help but laugh. This was probably one of the most ridiculous things they had never done.

Lexi came back up to them. “Okay so, rundown. You two are going at it, make it raunchy but y'know, PG-13. Wait a few seconds after the platform has locked into place and then act surprised by the crowd, like they caught you. And you, Mr. Piastri just… keep looking at her like you are now, that’s perfect.”

She turned, looking up at her boyfriend and taking note of the stars in his eyes.

“Positions!” Someone shouted, but neither paid much mind to the people around them anymore as she hiked up her leg around his waist, his hand falling down to cup her thigh while the other wrapped around her waist and tugged her flush against him.

His voice was low as they slowly started to rise, the crowd deafening as they realised the concert was about to start, not at all anticipating the surprise they were about to receive. “It’s just you and me.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to twine her fingers in his hair and pulling his face down to hers. “It’s just you and me.”

Their lips crashed against each other with urgency that never got old. The sensation of his mouth against her was mind numbing and addictive. His tongue slipped past her lips and explored her mouth like it was their first kiss all over again. Teeth clinked and fabric was tugged, trying desperately to get closer if possible. The feeling of the platform rising had faded into nothingness as she was consumed by him.

His hand hooked under knee to tug her hips right against him, his erection evident and a near moan left her at the feeling of it. His fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh through her trousers and her thin shirt doing little to tame the heat between them.

Oscar’s mouth trailed down from her mouth to her neck, tugging on her hair to give him more space. His tongue was hot and his teeth sharp and he licked and bit at her skin lightly. Both in so much delirium that they forgot for a moment they were being watched by an arena.

She snapped out of it, only barely and looked out into the crowd in a daze as a very real blush reddened her cheeks. She tugged on Oscar’s hair to pull his face away from her throat, but it only resulted in him groaning.

A laugh left her, completely breathless and only a tad embarrassed when he finally leaned back to look at her. He looked unkempt, his hair a mess and her lipstick smeared across his mouth.

To play up the act, she gasped as she caught sight of them on the jumbo screen and stepped back from him, though he kept one arm wrapped around her waist, he dropped her leg.

The screams and shouts were enough to bust someone’s ear drums as people looked on in shock at the sight of the world famous Formula One driver making out with their favorite singer on stage.

She wiggled out of his hold and walked briskly to the microphone a few feet away from them, looking bashful as she laughed awkwardly, the sound echoing around the arena. “I am so sorry. They sent me up earlier than I thought.”

The crowd went wild for it and she looked over her shoulder, winking at Oscar and the way he was looking at her like she was the only one there made her want to pounce back on him again.

She smiled warmly as he leaned against the piano that was on stage, then waved to the rest of her band, before turning back to the crowd. “I guess introductions are in order?” She asked, screams and roars following.

“I’m sure most of you know him, but this is my boyfriend. He decided to pop me a visit in between race weekends.”

The night was a daydream as it went by, Oscar watching her with heaven in his eyes as she sang her heart out.

Finally, the song that had kick started everything was next and she looked down at Oscar who had taken a seat on the bench of the piano. “This next one is called Good Looking, and although Oscar is stunning, no this isn’t about him.”

Laughs followed and Oscar smiled at her warmly, watching in adoration as the song started. The song she had sang all those years ago in the bar about her ex who had turned her life into a nightmare and he had known then and there he wanted to be in her life. He wanted to erase the heartbreak that painted itself on her features as the words poured out of her.

“The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all.”

He watched as her body moved with music, entranced with the fluidity of her movements.

“I thought I’d uncovered your secrets, but turns out there’s more.”

He hadn’t looked at the audience once, not able to pull his eyes away from his girlfriend throughout the night. Oscar was sure his phone was blowing up with notifications and missed calls with the news, given absolutely no one knew.

“You adored me before. Oh, my good looking boy.”

The song ended and she bowed, her grin was a sight pulled straight from the bible and he knew he’d fall to his knees whenever she asked, ready to lay down complete surrender to get just a taste of the salvation she offered.

Oscar had been a little worried the night would be awkward with him just sitting there, but not a flicker of regret passed through him as he watched thousands of people shout their love for her and her work.

Not quite believing the stars had aligned so well for him. Not quite believing she was real and had chosen him, out of all people. Forever grateful she put trust in him not to break her heart and vice versa.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling the whole night and watched as if an angel was approaching when she walked up to him, leaning down to kiss him.

Oscar knew he picked the right night, she was on top of the world and he wanted to keep that high going later when they got back to the hotel.

He had a ring box in his pocket he needed to take care of.

auroratheband

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 829,039 others

auroratheband said yes to heaven last night, london you were beautiful

*tap to load more comments*

userone: WHAT

usertwo: WHO TF?? HOW TF?? AND THEY’RE ENGAGED HELLO????

landonorris: i’m sorry, what? osc answer your fucking phone

userthree: lando didn’t even know?? that is wild lmao

oscarpiastri: for the foul language your wedding invite has been revoked

userfour: apparently they’ve been dating for a few years, that hard launch had me losing my MIND

userfive: did you guys see how he was looking at her? MY HEART, he didn’t take his eyes off her once

usersix: I KNOW IM IN TEARS i cant wait for wedding pics

userseven: i need to see her in the paddock with the other wags immediately

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[authorforrosie]

Book: the secret admirer

Pairing: Lisa x You.

Warnings: none

Words: 947

In the vibrant heart of a bustling city called Paris. According to international people ‘the city of love’ which you thought is ridiculous, where dreams and ambitions interweaved with the daily grind, lived you a shy artist. You resided in a quaint cozy apartment, its walls adorned with your creations—portraits that captured the essence of life and the beauty of fleeting moments. Your world was painted with hues of solitude, but your heart was filled with unspoken affection for someone you admired from afar. A woman from Thailand who you have feelings for since she first met you.

Across the street from your studio was a cozy café, where a charismatic musician named Lisa Manoban who performed every weekend. With long brown hair and a voice that resonated with the soul, Lisa captivated the audience with every move of her body when she danced to her own singing. You had been drawn to Lisa from the very first melody you heard, and your heart fluttered with every note that filled the air.

You spent countless evenings in the café, your sketchbook in hand, capturing Lisa's presence on paper. You marveled at the way Lisa's brown does eyes sparkled with passion when she performed, how her body allowed her to dance with effortless grace. Your sketches grew into a series of portraits, each one a testament to your silent admiration.

One rainy afternoon, as You sat by the window, lost in You thoughts, Lisa walked into the café. Drenched from the downpour, Lisa shook off her wet jacket and looked around, her brown doe eyes landing on You. With a warm smile, she approached your table. She gotta admit that you look really cute in that oversized hoodie, the beanie you wore made you look very adorable.

"Mind if I join you?" Lisa asked, her voice with a Thai accent sounded as smooth and deep as the lyrics she sang

Your heart raced, and you nodded with your head, unable to find your voice. Because your crush was so close to you which wasn't expected. Lisa took a seat across from you, her eyes drifting to the sketches spread out on the table.

"These are amazing," She complimented, picking up a sketch that captured her mid-performance. "You've got quite a talent."

You blushed, your cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "Thank you," you murmured. "I've been coming here for a while, and your music... it inspires me."

Lisa's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that. It's always nice to know that my music resonates with someone."

As the rain poured outside, you chatted about art and music, finding common ground in your passions. Your shyness gradually melted away under Lisa’s genuine interest and kind words. You spent hours talking, and for the first time, You felt a connection you had only dreamed of.

Days turned into weeks, and your friendship with Lisa began to blossom. You continued to sketch Lisa, your affection growing with each portrait. You longed to tell Lisa how you felt, but fear held you back from confessing your feelings for her. You couldn't bear the thought of ruining what they had, of losing the moments they shared. You prefer to stay in a friendship with Lisa even if it’s gonna break your heart to thousand pieces literally.

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of orange and pink, Lisa invited you to her concert in Paris. It was a special event, celebrating the release of her new album. You arrived early while your heart pounding with anticipation. You found a seat in the front row, with your sketchbook clutched tightly in your hands.

The concert was a mesmerizing display of Lisa's talent, her voice weaving stories of love and loss, hope and heartache. As she sang the final song, Lisa's eyes met yours,she smiled—a smile that seemed to speak directly to your heart.

After the concert, Lisa approached you, her bag in her hand. "I've been meaning to tell you something," he stated, her voice tinged with nervousness.

Lisa’s face expression becomes more nervous and serious with each moment passing. She doesn’t know how to confess her feelings for you. Lisa was scared of showing her vulnerable side to you.

Your heart skipped a beat. "What is it?"

You saw the way Lisa took a deep breath. "I've noticed the way you look at me, the way you capture me in your art. And I need you to know... I've felt the same way. From the moment I saw you, I've been drawn to you. Your art, your presence—it means more to me than you can imagine."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized that your silent admiration had not gone unnoticed. "I've loved you from afar for so long," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I just never had the courage to tell you."

Lisa gently cupped your face in her hands, her doe eyes filled with affection. "You don't have to be afraid anymore," she whispered in a lovingly tone softly. "I'm here, and I feel the same way."

In that moment, under the soft glow of the empty stage lights, Lisa’s and your hearts found the rhythm together. Your love, once shrouded in silence, now flourished in the light of your mutual understanding with Lisa. As you both stood there, hand in hand, you knew that your dream had finally come true.

You actually couldn’t believe that Lisa would ever love you back. You thought you would always only be a fan and friend in Lisa’s eyes, until that exact moment. Lisa couldn’t wait to share her life while experiencing everything together with you.

[0oolookitsme]

Falling in Love

Type- One-Shoty Blurb

Verse- Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count- 1.3k

Warnings- Just sweet, sweet fluff and a very light description of the anxiety that comes with falling in love.

A/N- This one, y'all, is a special one.

This fic celebrates more than one occasion. I published my first ever fic on this site on July 20, 2021. And this is also a goodbye to The Love On Tour which ends today, July 22. I chose (Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n) for this, because it is the first universe I ever created, and Harry is a singer in this au, so that kind of fit as well. Also, you people never failed to show your favouritism when it came to any fic I posted in this 'verse -- I love you, and thank you so much for that. I'll be honest, this isn't the original the fic I wanted to post today, but I had to because somehow, I wasn't able to finish it in time. Maybe by the next weekend I'll have it finished, don't mark my words on that though.

So, I really hope you enjoy this fic, which depicts a scene from (Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n)'s early stages of relationship, when they'd just started falling in love.

I love you and thank you, a LOT ;) -A.

A little out of breadth Y/n climbed in her car, immediately turning on the AC on full. It was a melting hot day in New York, and she couldn't be more frustrated.

Sitting in the car, she switched on her mobile data for her playlist to start singing. But just as she hit play, a text from Harry popped up on her screen, a smile stretching out on her mouth just in time. She scrolled down her notification bar to see what it was, and it made her sad, the fact that she couldn't smile any wider.

Obviously, he was trying to make her insides churn -- why else would he ask her: 'would you like some croissant, mon chouchou?' Her nose scrunched up as she let her head hit the headrest of the seat, trying to swallow down her screech of giddiness.

With fists clenched tight because there was no other way she could express her ecstasy right now, she allowed herself to open her hand and loosen-up her jaw. 'I'd very much love some! Where are you right now?' She texted back, hoping she could pick him up.

Driving out and straight onto the main lane, she stopped about mid-way through, the street packed with cars and bikes.

Y/n looked up once again, to make sure the traffic light really was red, and right as she was about to look back down, they turned green -- and this is the first time she's been mad about that. Tossing her phone on the passenger seat as she turned her car on the left, she hoped that Harry would reply before she reached the U-Cut.

And while her full attention was on the road, she couldn't help but look at her phone screen from the corner of her eyes. Should she just call him? She slowed down her speed, waiting and waiting and immediately stopping on the side of the lane when he finally texted back: 'Cornelia Street, why?'

Her whole face scrunched up in confusion, as she quickly typed: 'what the hell?' She hit send too quickly, but still kept on typing. 'it's like an hour away! how are you gonna make it? the metro-station will shut down soon!' She texted him again, starting her car again to start driving.

The quicker she reached him, the better. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to stop at a red light again.

'I dunno... maybe get an Uber?' Her screen lit up with his text. 'Anyways, which one do you want?' He texted again, this time attaching 2 photos.

Y/n lightly shook her head, not able to believe that she's going to be driving for an hour to pick up this weird man she seems to have developed a huge crush on, when all she wanted to do leaving the office was to pass out on the lovely forest green sofa in her living room. And she only gets more confused when she sees her phone light up from the corner of her eyes again.

'Pick up whichever one you're eating, H' she sent him a voice message, not careless enough to text him that while driving at this speed. But just as she turns on the next road, a groan rumbles from the back of her throat when she sees another traffic-jam. It sure isn't as hideous as the previous one, but it's making her late, nevertheless.

Rien Que Toi et Moi started playing on low volume in the car as she picked her phone again, going straight to the text Harry had sent her.

'okay, you're clearly too busy to type 'gruyere croissant'. So, I will buy it for you even though I'm taking a chocolate one' was the first text, and the next one made her grin quite wide in slight embarassment. It said, 'Cause someone needs to be sweet to keep your salty ass sane'

'Don't get all grumpy with me now, we both know you can't live for even a day without salt' she texted back, chuckling already. 'And don't book any taxi, I'm on my way to pick you up!' She wrote again, now suddenly embarrassed.

This time, she threw her phone on the seat for once and for all, determined to stop only when she's on Cornelia Steet.

And as she drove, her mind was still on Harry. It hadn't escaped her, the fact that he remembered her favourite croissant, and knew she wanted that one only, even when she didn't say so. She knows that he too knows he'll be eating half of hers and then offer her a half of his'. Staying with her, he'd grown to like a lot of her favourites.

But what he's surely got to notice, is that a lot of his favourites, are now Y/n's as well. It's more than often that she's caught doing things that he loves to do, learning about things that he always talks to her about. And she remembered something flashing in his eyes when she told him that she's only doing it so that she can chat a little more about it with him.

Driving with her window rolled down, Y/n slowly and slowly felt herself calming down and little by little, falling for Harry -- with his little quirks and habits that make him who he is. But still there was a slight tightness in the midst of her chest that frightened her, a little alarm that always went off blaring every time her eyes landed on Harry, screaming at her to turn around, that she still had time, and her heartrate would go impossibly high.

But she knew, she had nothing to lose. The most that could happen was that he'd break her heart and people will stop murmuring about how she's got some colour in her face and a small smile on her mouth every time she walked by. And the gossips about her being cold-hearted would return. She didn't have anything more to lose and for some weird reason whenever she saw Harry, something inside her, maybe her heart, pointed at him and whispered without a pause in her ears, 'that's the one, that's the one.'

It's when she passes the board-sign with 'Cornelia Street' written across it that she parks on the side of the lane again. Picking up her phone, she texts Harry 'I'm in front of the 'Books and Lattes' cafe. Where are you?'

And it was like Harry was already on his phone because he responded right away. 'Should be visible on the first zebra-crossing you stop at!' his text said, and all of a sudden, a hint of giddiness bubbled inside her at the realization that finally she'll be seeing him.

And Y/n did see him, just as she slowed down as she neared the crossing. She looked to her left fist, out the passenger side window and in a split second her eyes found the pair of forest-green eyes that she longed to take a walk in all the damn time.

His Cheshire-cat grin so charming, it felt as though he had aimed it straight at heart, as he walked towards her. And just to poke fun at him, she didn't unlock the door -- rolling down the window instead. He waved at her with a dimpled smile, just a few steps away and as he went to open the door, "hey there, beau" she teased.

Harry rested his elbows on the sill, looking at her with a mockingly intense gaze. "Lose your croissant or unlock the door," he said quickly and laughed at her groan as he went to sit beside her. "I'm hurt that you'd choose a croissant over me!"

"I'm surprised that you're surprised," Y/n said, while backing up just a bit to turn into the other lane.

She heard him sigh and then saw him dramatically rub his forehead. "Disappointed, but not surprised," he said.

"Oh, c'mon darling-"

"I'm not your darling when 'm pissed at you!"

Letting out an amused laugh, she intertwined their hands in the heat of the moment, and that same old alarm went off blaring. "Now look who's being salty," she stated as a matter of fact, shaking her head when Harry muttered, 'you're never going to let that go, are you?'

And somewhere on the inside, a little voice in her head mumbled, "uh oh, I'm falling in love."

Tagging: @reveriehs <3 MASTERLIST :)

[messydiabolical]

I've been going though all my old documents of drell worldbuilding and such, so expect various snippets and rambles over the next few days! Kolyat Krios' early memories of his first home.

He was barely out of toddlerhood, and it was before his eidetic memory had fully taken hold. The memories he could recall from this time were hazy, there but hard to grasp. A lot like how the humans and turians seemed to describe their own memorisations.

He could see their first home in fragments. He knew it was small, cluttered, ramshackle. It was also very loving. An odd word to describe a building perhaps, but loving is how he remembered it.

 Mother bathing with me in the tiny shower, cursing when the hot water suddenly went out, then laughing it off. ‘Well that’s one way to really wake up and start a day!’ she waggles her eyebrows theatrically as she tickles my cold body through a towel, making me giggle, forgetting the chill. Her subvocal song trills in joy and I try to copy it, stuttered bursts of happiness in a staccato beat to her soothing tones.

 The neighbourhood was noisy, full of life and interesting, questionable smells.

Children were always outside, playing in the streets. Groups of teens and adults would also gather and mill about, though in retrospect, probably not for such innocent pursuits.

In the apartment upstairs someone was learning to play what sounded like an entire orchestras worth of instruments, taking a jack of all trades, master of none approach to the enterprise. They were very fond of practising late at night, the ceiling thudding with the beats.

A neighbour below them would watch Kolyat in the days while mother and father both worked. She was very old, saggy scales and eyes clouded over like the stormy clouds out beyond the dome walls. He adored her. She’d cook delicious soups that he’d gum and gnash at with his sprouting fangs, getting more all over his face and clothes than actually in his mouth. She’d just laugh in delight, rub his face with a cloth while he blew soupy raspberries in protest. She also loved to read storybooks, putting on funny voices for all the characters. Sometimes Kolyat would sleep over, and she’d make him a blanket fort on the sofa. Kolyat loved her very much.

‘Please Orla, I must insist you take some credits for your time.’ Mother shifts me on her hip. Her frillrings sparkle in the sputtering, broken hall light. I reach out with a pudgy little hand to play with them.

‘Now now dear, how many times must I insist. you keep those credits for him’. A wrinkly, gentle hand reaches over, stopping me before I grab too harshly on my silver hooped quarry.

Mother and father worked a lot. Mother seemed to like her work, exhausted as it left her. The same could not be said for father.

Father would come home from work dirty, dejected. Mother would rub his shoulders, kiss his cheek and put me on his lap, and he would melt a little. Kisses on my brow and a whispered promise. ‘I’ll make things better, do better for us’. Holds me a little tighter.

Kolyat can’t recall the exact words exchanged, but he remembers the night his parents fought, the first time he heard anything but loving devotion between them. The apartment only had one bedroom, so he usually slept in a crib he was vastly outgrowing, squeezed in next to his parents' bed. They had waited until he was asleep before bitter whispering began, then moved to the living room when it was clear things were escalating. It didn’t do much good; Kolyat had already woken up and the apartment had thin walls. It was a long night.

The next morning Thane was gone and Irikah, usually so positive, so determined, seemed to have lost a little spark about her. Usually when she made breakfast she would play music on her omnitool, singing off key and dancing as she moved.

That morning was too quiet, mothers movements too stiff and precise.

It was a Kalsef, a drell weekend day. Kolyat had begun to recognise patterns in time, knew that this was the day daddy always took him to the temple after breakfast while mummy got some me time.

‘Where daddy?’ the little drell asked, confused by the change in routine.

“He’s-” She pauses, looks side to side, runs her hand across her brow. She looks back up, leans across the table, strokes my cheek.

“He’s away on business Kolyat”.

Away on business. That was the first time he heard it. It would not be the last.

Three, perhaps four full Kalsefs passed, and father finally came home. He was dressed in sleek, fancy clothes, nothing like the overalls he’d worn for work before. He was smiling wide, rushed to Kolyat and swung him up in the air. Kissed mother and told them both he’d missed them so. Mother was all smiles too, but something was different. Something felt off to Kolyat. Like they were too eager, too desperate to seem normal, natural, which only served to make it feel unnatural.

A few days later they were packing up their meagre belongings. Emptying the apartment. A lot of it they didn’t bother with, too broken, not worth keeping. Father assured them they could get better things at ‘the new place’.

They travelled then, taking a skycar and then a shuttle, higher in the sky than kolyat had ever been. He clung fiercely to Thane when they looked out the windows, the vast oceans so far below, the islands and domes little specks on the surface.

“Fear not my son, we are quite safe. We’re going somewhere wonderful, you’ll see”.

Their second home was a lofty apartment at the very top reaches of the dome of Da’quin city.

The view out of the floor to ceiling windows made Kolyat feel sick. He had his own bedroom now, and he’d pile up toys against the glass planes, building a barrier between him and that fathomless fall. His new big bed accommodated his rapidly lengehtening limbs, but it felt so many miles away from mother and fathers bed. You couldn't hear the neighbours from the apartment. Never seemed to meet them at all; they could have been completely alone up there for all he knew. There were certainly no Orla’s in this building. He never saw her again. His second home was lonely.

[asoulsreverie]

Warmth

Gepard Landau×gn!Reader

Word count: 650

Summary: based off on @flufftober 2023 prompt list– Day 16: singing each other to sleep

Genre:fluff

Warnings/notes: this story is suitable for gn readers. Also, fluff overload too much fluff I melted while writing this it's too soft okay.

Reblogs appreciated

a/n: I am very proud of this fic pls treat it with love <3

Please do not copy my work or translate them to any other languages. Do not repost on any platforms.

Masterlist Hoyoverse Masterlist

It's a rare occasion– to feel the warmth of your lover at night, his arms wrapped around you as you both rest after a long week. On most nights, Gepard decides to sleep at his quarters in the Silvermane Guard Restricted Zone. Afterall, it's tedious work; protecting all of Belebog from the fragmentum monsters.

He makes a point to visit you whenever he's summoned to Qlipoth Fort– but you being an administrative official means it leaves little to no time for you both to enjoy each other's company. Especially after the bridge between the overworld and underworld has been restored.

Yet in the late hours of the night, when both of you made sure to be able to spend time together over the weekend, it's hard to fall asleep. It's the warmth you both radiate– the comfort that feels so familiar. It's the way his arm is wrapped around under you, his free hand gently tracing circles into your shoulder. Maybe it's his breath, the way it's synchronized with yours, warm in your hair as he kisses your forehead.

Gepard sighs contentedly, and you melt into him. You're both tired, and yet too lost in each other's presence to fall asleep.

"Serval wanted to meet you tomorrow…", you whisper quietly,"she misses her little Geppie."

He hums, adjusting himself a little as he now simply drapes his arm around you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to go see her tomorrow…" He smiles. You chuckle softly. Serval has become family to you at this point. From performing with her from time to time, and your boyfriend being her brother, you've both become very close. And one thing about the Landau's is their love for their family.

"We'll drop by at the workshop then"

Conversations continue on. It's been a while since you've been laying in bed, yet neither of you seem to fall asleep. Not that you want to sleep– you'd much rather spend the night talking. But you both need it.

You start humming quietly, a new melody the band has been working on. It's been a while since you've performed, so Serval and you have had quite a few song writing sessions instead.

Gepard smiles, trying to hum along with you. But having never heard the song, he keeps messing up the beat. You let out a small laugh.

"Gepard…!" you complain playfully. He doesn't stop, now purposefully changing the melodies as he smiles, his eyes closed.

You lightly punch his shoulder, a difficult feat in your current position and his strength. He finally breaks, laughing. You laugh too. Not being able to spend much time together means you've come to cherish every moment with him.

He settles a little, letting out a yawn. "Was that a new song? I've never heard it before", he asks.

"Yeah, we're…", a yawn interrupts your sentence, "...still working on it"

"... Can I hear more of it?"

You sing softly, Gepard nuzzling his face into your neck, bodies pressed together. You tap your fingers against his forearm, so that he can follow the beat.

Eventually you switch to songs you both know. Gepard joins you, his voice hoarse as he hums the familiar tune of his sister's songs.

It's easy, the way you both fit together, even when you have to spend so much time apart. The way you crave his love and he craves you. For you both, even a glimpse of the other; simple moments spent together are worth waiting a lifetime.

His humming is soon replaced by soft snores, his breathing slow and even. You sing him to sleep, kissing his forehead softly as your eyes start to grow heavy. You feel him hold you closer, soft 'good night's and' I love you's mumbled into your skin.

The landscapes of Jarilio-VI may be frozen, yet anytime you're with him, the world feels just a little warmer.

[mamasturn]

dirty dancing, pt 5

pairing: ep (2022) x black!fem!oc (cynthia)

content: a highlight of cynthia’s weekend in graceland. (i was gonna continue, but im gonna make her visit two parts instead of one long part)

warnings: fluff. suggestive content. brief 18+ steam.

wc: ?

The Memphis sun was bright. Its devious rays snuck past the thick blinds and dark curtains. Over and over they tickled at her eyelids. She groaned softly at the intrusion and threw the sheets of over her head.

Her actions pulled a deep chuckle from the man beside her. Her body jumped and her eyes popped open at the sound. She wasn’t in her quaint room with peeling wallpaper and a creaking bed with a busted headboard. No, she was in a large room, filled with luxurious knickknacks and a comfortable bed, entangled in the arms of her lover.

“Mornin’,” his voice was low and full of sleep. The thick accent that carried his words was even heavier. It sent a warmth through her body. “Sleep well?”

She sure did. Lulled to sleep by soft serenades and loving touches. They woke up shortly after they laid down, still desperate for moments together. Cynthia asked him to sing to her. So, he swiped he led her to the jungle room where he swept her off her feet with his angelic voice and beautiful chords. “I can’t help falling in love with you.”

He even taught her to play bit, sighting that she was a natural. He moved her into his lap. “Okay, you’re left handed, so put the neck in your right hand—okay angle it just like that…”

“What’s the cork lookin’ thing for?” she’d ask.

“Tunes the guitar, baby. Make it sound high or low ‘cause it tightens the strings. Use your thumb to swipe the string—dare I say, you’re a natural, darlin’.”

Shortly after, they made their way to the kitchen for the dessert they missed out on in a rush to be alone. A famous peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. They fed each other like couples in the movie. Until Elvis purposefully missed her mouth and allowed the ice cream to fall down the valley of her breasts. Cynthia gave him a stern look but it melted away when his hot tongue ran across her skin.

At that point, all thoughts of finishing that dessert were over, and he had the opportunity to taste something much better. Cynthia was loud, as he discovered.

“Shh, baby. Gotta stay quiet for me. You’re doin’ so good, darlin’.”

She could only answer with whimpers of praise, moans of his name, and pulls of his raven locks.

“Yes,” Cynthia replied with a smile after some time. She turned underneath the covers to face him. She was still bare and Elvis took the opportunity to caress her body in the way she enjoyed—gentle rubs of her hips and backside. He hooked his hand beneath her thigh and brought it across his hip, fingertips tickling the skin.

“I had a plan for today unless there was somethin’ else you wanted to do,” Elvis stated. He kissed her cheek then moved to her neck and collarbone. She bit her lip.

“Like what?”

He hummed against her skin. “Let’s go for a drive. There’s a lil’ park I know, has some water and lots of trees. Private and out the way. How’s that sound?” Sneakily, his fingers slid between her thighs, toying around her most sacred parts. Cynthia draped an arm around his shoulder and nodded.

“Sounds good,” she breathed out as he continued to work her. “Please…”

Elvis nipped and sucked along her neck and muttered into her skin, “I got you, baby.”

Cynthia finished getting ready before Elvis did. When he stomped down the steps, he found her laughing with his mother as they moved around the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

A bright smile was on her face as she allowed Gladys to instruct her on making pancakes. “Okay, now, you only wanna let a little bit go into the pan at a time ‘cause it’s gon’ fill out. Jus’ like that! Perfect! I’ll get the coffee started while you work on that, honey.”

“Okay,” Cynthia whispered with a smile. She looked very content, like she belonged. She and his mother worked in harmony together with smiles on their faces.

For moments more, he found himself admiring her. Her hair had been pinned up and out of her face. And she traded her pants for a simple blue dress and flats. Not without her sweater of course. A precious woman, she was.

“It smells good down here!” Elvis exclaimed, finally making his presence known. Both ladies greeted him with a wave. He welcomed the gesture gratefully, pressing two kisses on each cheek of the women.

“Bewbie, set the table please. Your daddy should be down in a minute.”

There was a comfortable silence amongst them. Soon, Vernon came to the dining area and they prepared plates. Cynthia stood next to Elvis by the counter, but he ushered her back to the seat, pulling it out then pushing her in. “I got it.”

“So, what do y’all have planned for the day?” Vernon said from behind his cup of coffee. Cynthia glanced at Elvis as she shoved a pancake in her mouth.

“Goin’ for a drive. Stop by a park. We should prolly pack some stuff for the road, huh?”

Cynthia nodded. “That’s the best bet. There’s no integrated places ‘round here. Save for Beale Street but that’s the opposite direction.”

“Packing from home it is then,” Gladys spoke up. “I’ll handle that while y’all gather your hearings. When do y’all plan to leave?”

“Hour or two,” Elvis gulped down some orange juice. “Shouldn’t take more than 45 minutes to get there.”

“Alrighty, then.”

“Baby, you ready?” Elvis called from the bottom of the steps. He flicked his wrist to check the time on his watch. If they wanted to get there and have plenty of time before the sun set, she’d have to stop examining herself in the mirror. “Cynthia, you look fine, darlin’, we gotta go!”

“Okay, okay!”

Elvis chuckled lowly and migrated toward the kitchen where his mother was, shoving snacks into a cooler bag. Sandwiches, fruit, colas, water, and his favorite candy all complied into the cooler. He smiled. “Thank you, mama.”

“Anything for you honey,” she replied to him with a pat on his cheek. “So, Cynthia, huh? She’s a sweet girl. She’s good for you, son. I like her. Wish things was different and she didn’t have to be cooped up in here. She seems to enjoy it, though.”

Elvis nodded. He did feel guilty, very guilty. He pursued her knowing the situation and as a result, they had to sneak around; dates at night, weekends at Graceland where she couldn’t really come out of the house, and phone calls when her family wasn’t around. It was hard, yes, but if she still wanted it, he would do anything in his power to make their relationship feel as normal as possible.

“Me too.”

Before he had the chance to expand, Cynthia skipped down the spiral steps with a smile. “I’m ready.”

Elvis swiped the cooler from his mother and pecked her cheek. “Thank you. We’ll be back sometime tonight. Don’t wait up!”

“Bye, Mrs. Presley!” Cynthia waved as she was dragged by the hand. “Thank you!”

“Y’all have fun, now!”

“C’mon, baby, it feels good.”

He was right when he said there was a park not too far away. It was beautiful, too. Trees larger than life. Botanical plants and vines wrapped around trunks and branches. There was a small garden with colorful flowers. Elvis plucked off a sunflower and tucked it behind her ear. “Wish I had a camera to capture how pretty you are.”

He mentioned water, too. She assumed a small pond that housed frogs, fish, and ducks. She thought to minuscule. It was a lake, one permitted for swimming. She eyed Elvis like he was crazy when he peeled off his clothes and jumped into the water like a madman.

“I don’t have the right clothes, baby,” she said lowly, glancing down at her dress. Was that the first time she called him aside his name, she thought. That’s not the point, she told herself. “I can’t wear in this.”

“So, take it off,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world. Cynthia sighed and broke eye contact.

“I can’t swim, Elvis. Last time I tried, my cousins were drowned for hopping in the pool. So, we stay away from the water.”

The mood shifted. Elvis, once again, felt guilty. The difference in their life experiences was astronomical. He just couldn’t understand; she was a human just like him. Sure, she was of a different race, but what did that matter? Drowned for wanting to swim? The stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

“Okay, honey, I’m sorry. But, no one is out here, it’s just you and me. There’s nothing to be afraid of, just wade wimme. Feels great.”

Cynthia’s jaw shifted as she thought long and hard. It didn’t help that his eyes were on her as she debated the scenario. He was right—it was just them and no one would hurt her. Right?

Slowly, she shimmied out of her clothing. One by one, her dress, sweater, and leggings fell at her feet. She stepped out of her flats and let the grass caress her feet. She wiggled her red painted toes amongst the blades.

“I got you,” Elvis reassured. He held his hand out and she accepted it. She dipped a toe into the water and yelped at the temperature. It was cold. She inched further into the water until she was in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support.

“Not so bad, is it?” Elvis spoke against her neck. Cynthia shook her head. He cupped her thighs in his hands and tugged them around his waist for extra security. Soon, she was comfortable. One hand dropped from his shoulder to play with the surface of the water.

“It’s relaxing. Do you come here often?” Cynthia craned her neck to look in his eyes. They were bright and full of zeal. Hell, they almost matched the color of the sky. And his dark hair was dripping against his skin. She brushed some of it back to get the best look of him.

“I used to. Every weekend, then music took over and I didn’t have much time to come down here, but now I do.” He kissed her lips quickly. “I hope you like it.”

“I do,” she said sincerely. “Thank you for sharing some of you with me. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, darlin’.”

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Days and Nights are Long

Pairing: clueless!Colin Shea x clueless!fem Reader

Words: ~4K

Summary: You and Colin are being idiots and it’s driving his band crazy.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, squirting), idiots in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: It took way longer than I had planned but here’s some more of our drunk, musical idiots in love for you hoes!!! I love them so, even though they’re morons. Tagging my Colin babes @starlightcrystalline and @wayward-blonde because I know they’ve been waiting for this.

I no longer do taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Colin shook his head and shrugged uncomfortably as he stared at his phone, wracking his brain to think of what exactly he should say to you.

“For fuck’s sake, Shea, just ask her to come up.” Matt looked exasperated, twirling his stick through his fingers as he rolled his eyes when Colin scowled at him.

He’d been moping for the past two weeks, ever since the two of you had slept together. All of his bandmates were getting sick of it, the man was the biggest pouty baby on the face of the planet. If they had to listen to him sing Everybody Hurts one more time they were going to kill him.

So they’d come up with a little plan to get him out of his funk, lining up a gig that would really lend itself better to a female vocalist and feigning innocence when Colin pointed that out. They had really enjoyed hanging out with you on that exceptionally hot evening, and if having you join them again was the only way to get their boy out of his funk, even better. He had actually smiled before pulling his phone out, but then he realized he had no idea what he should say.

The two of you had still been cordial whenever you ran into each other, but there was definitely a strain to your interactions now. No matter how much you both told each other it wasn’t awkward, it was definitely awkward. It was also weird that he was pretty sure you hadn’t come home after 1 AM at all in the last two weeks, and you usually at least spent your weekend nights at some other asshole’s apartment. Not that he’d had any visitors either, but he didn’t want to explore that too much.

He was still staring at his phone screen and trying to come up when some nonchalant greeting that would entice you to come sing with them when the phone was suddenly plucked out of his hand by an exasperated looking Keith, who ignored his spluttering as he typed a quick message before tossing the phone back to him.

“You’re thinking about this too hard.” The bassist said, setting to tuning his instrument and chuckling at the indignant look on Colin’s face.

Colin was about to give a snarky reply when he felt his phone buzz and looked down to see a text from you, grinning when he saw you saying you’d be right up. With an exclamation point! He didn’t even notice the pleased grins his bandmates were giving each other as they watched him start to tune his guitar, plucking a happy little tune and humming to himself.

They were all expecting you to come through the main door from the stairs, so when you shouted hello from behind them after climbing up your fire escape, you were greeted with the sight of five grown men almost jumping out of their skins before turning to greet you.

That grin on your face was enough to make Colin melt, all the awkwardness that had been lingering between you disappearing in an instant when you met each other’s eyes.

“Alright boys!” You took the mic Brad handed you with a warm smile, rolling it in one hand as you trailed the cord through your fingers. “You said you needed my help with something Col, what’s up?”

“Right, these idiots lined up a gig for us without consulting me first.” They all avoided his halfhearted glare with doe eyed innocence, focusing on their instruments. “And, well, the set list isn’t really in my range.”

“Lemme see.” You took the sheet of paper from his hand and scanned it quickly. “That’s a whole lot of girl rock.”

“Yeah, like I said, Ann Wilson and I aren’t really in the same register.” Fuck, it was nice to be able to talk to you again.

“Why don’t you just modulate it, then?” You mumbled absentmindedly.

He gaped like a fish at that question. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it, and even if he had, he wasn’t expecting you to know about modulation.

“If we modulate for him, none of us can hit the harmonies.” Craig piped up from behind the keyboards, and he could have kissed him.

“That right?” You teased, shooting a wicked smirk around at them. “You boys sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Colin tried not to sound too hysterical when he let out a laugh, missing the indulgent eye rolls his band mates were giving behind your backs.

“What do you think, we booked a gig where I can’t sing any of the songs on purpose just so we could hang out again?” Good thing he was pretty, the man was clueless.

“No, you’re not that clever, Col.” He made a mock wounded gesture and you grinned at him, looking over the set list some more. “What kind of gig is this anyway?”

“Yeah, Craig, you never told us what the actual gig was.” Colin and the rest of the band gave the keyboardist a variety of inquisitive stares.

“Uh, it’s a bachelorette party.” He mumbled, avoiding making eye contact with his bandmates when they started groaning.

“Fuck, Craig! I do not want to get felt up by a bunch of drunk, horny women!” Colin threw a balled up sheet of music at you when you started laughing.

“That seems right up your alley, Shea.” You teased, dodging when he threw a pillow from the couch at you. “You don’t want to pick up some rowdy bridesmaid?”

“No, they’re scary aggressive.” He shuddered when he thought about the last bachelorette party they had done, they’d practically ripped the band’s clothes off before they could get out of there.

“Aww, well I’ll be there to shield you this time, sweetie.” You winked at him and moved a little closer to everyone. “Let’s practice, boys. Don’t want to give those girls cause to complain.”

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

It was the day of the gig, and you and Colin had decided to drive together to streamline things. He was waiting in your living room and tapping his foot nervously as he waited for you to finish getting ready, anxious about what actually performing with you would be like.

“Y/N, we need to go!” He never thought you would be the type to take forever getting ready.

“Yeah, I know!” You strolled out to the living room with a grin on your face and he had to swallow a groan. “How do I look?”

“Good, really good.” The way he was looking at you made your grin grow even wider.

The outfit wasn’t even that special, just a denim mini skirt and a tight v-neck tee with a leather jacket. Oh, and thigh high leather boots. It was definitely the boots he was staring at, his eyes trained on the few inches of bare skin between the top of the boots and the hem of your skirt. You gave him a couple minutes to just stare at you before rolling your eyes and strolling towards your front door, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him after you.

“C’mon Shea, we don’t wanna be late.” You scolded, shoving his amp into his hand and slinging his guitar case over your shoulder before heading down the stairs.

He had trouble focusing on the road as he drove you to the bar the party was going to be at, all he wanted to do was memorize the way you looked in that outfit. It was like someone told you exactly what to wear to drive him crazy. Maybe bringing you into this gig hadn’t been the best idea, because all he wanted to do right now was pull over and let you ride him while you weren’t wearing anything except for those boots and that jacket, and maybe whatever lingerie you had on under that outfit.

“Colin, you’re going to miss the turn.” Your voice snapped him out of his little daydream, and he cursed as he took the turn towards the bar a little faster than he would have liked.

“Sorry, just got a little distracted.” He mumbled, slowing down as he turned into the alley behind the bar and put the car in park behind Matt’s van.

The rest of the band was already unloading, waving at you two as Colin shut off his vehicle and you stepped out. You actually gave Craig and Keith little side hugs before you started helping with the unloading, he hadn’t realized you guys had gotten that close over the past week, and for some reason it made him smile.

“How’s it going man?” He didn’t know how he felt about the look Matt was giving him as he helped carry the bass drum inside, it felt suggestive of something. “Y/N seems excited to be here.”

“Yeah, I thought she might be nervous about performing but she’s handling everything like a pro.” He watched you laugh at something Brad said as you worked on connecting your mic. “Maybe we should make her an official member.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Matt just shrugged, laughing when Colin rounded on him and started spluttering.

“I was joking! We can’t just ask Y/N to be in the band!” Could they? Having you around had been a lot of fun, and the band dynamic had helped alleviate some of the tension that had been growing between you two. But seeing you tonight looking like you did and knowing that you were gonna have to have some on stage chemistry to make this work was making him think twice about things. You got a little intense during rehearsals, and the added pressure of being on stage might make him combust if you kicked it up at all.

Matt shook his head at him and set to assembling his kit while the rest of the band started tuning and connecting their instruments. You just sat on a stool and sipped some water, running through a couple vocal exercises absentmindedly as you scrolled through your phone. It only took a couple of minutes for everyone to finish setting up and then it was mic checks all around.

Everything sounded good and balanced after a couple adjustments and the sound guys gave you the thumbs up to start warming up. Colin couldn’t stop watching you. You were so unbelievably relaxed on stage and it was just endearing you to him even more. He thought for sure you would have been a bundle of nerves but you seemed to be right in your element, tossing him a couple of lazy grins over your shoulder as you ran through a couple of songs before the partygoers started filtering in.

The band switched to doing some instrumental ambience shit while they waited for the party to really get going, and Colin wandered over to talk to you when you took a step back from your mic.

“Still feeling ok about this?” He asked, beaming back at the soft smile you gave him.

“Yeah, I’m excited.” You bounced on your toes a little, adrenaline flooding your veins as the crowd grew. “Think I’ll get any bras thrown at me?”

“You never know with bachelorettes.” He laughed, strolling back over to his own mic so he could introduce the band.

If he thought jamming with you was special, it was nothing compared to watching you perform. You were a goddamn natural, coming alive and feeding off the crowd’s energy until you were completely lost in the music. Every time his eyes met yours you were grinning at him, and your chemistry with the rest of the band was palpable.

Not to mention, you kept drifting close to him on the stage, brushing your hand over his shoulders or leaning against him when you harmonized and it was making his knees weak. , God, he could do this with you every night, even though he was pretty sure he was going to need to sneak into the bathroom to jerk off afterwards.

The show was over too soon, the extremely drunken crowd of rowdy bachelorettes finally getting crazy enough that the band was ready to make a hasty escape. You were bouncing on your toes with residual energy as you started helping the guys pack up their instruments, grabbing Colin’s amp after he shoved his guitar in the case and you both made a run for it to his car when a wobbly woman started to try to climb on the stage.

“Colin, holy fuck that was so much fun!” You managed to make it to the alley unscathed and were giving him the most heartbreaking grin. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

“Yeah? Well you did a great fucking job.” Goddamn it, he’d missed you. “We can do whatever you want, honey.”

“Really?” You slammed the trunk closed and started to prowl closer to him. “Whatever I want?”

“That is what I said.” He could feel his voice dropping into that low register that meant he was in desperate need of some sort of release, so he really hoped he wasn’t misreading this situation. “Why? Did you want something now?”

“I think I do.” Your chest was right against his and you could feel it heaving, gazing at him through your lashes while you ran your fingers over his abs. “I stole the keys to the van.”

“And, you wanna go on a joy ride?” He breathed deep when you brushed your lips over his, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Or, we could just fuck in the back while the rest of the guys search for these.” You pulled back a little and jingled the keys in his face, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth while he ran his hands over your hips.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” He smashed his lips to yours and let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your ass while the two of you stumbled towards the side door of the van.

You fumbled with the keys for a minute because you didn’t want to take your mouth off Colin for any reason, but then you were sliding the door open and the two of you were falling inside in a tangle of limbs before somehow managing to kick the door closed behind you. Trying to undress each other was a little difficult with how wrapped up you were in each other but you managed, tossing your garments away haphazardly as your tongues curled tangled together. Colin grabbed your hands when you went to remove your boots, pulling them up to his face and kissing your palms before winding your arms around his neck.

“Keep those on.” His voice was a low growl and fuck, you forgot how sexy he was.

“Well, cannot say I’m surprised you're a little kinky, Col.” You wound your fingers through his hair and yanked, purring at the groan he gave you. “I’m gonna suck that pretty dick of yours, but then I’ll give it to you nice and rough.”

“God, baby.” He wished he didn’t sound so whiny when you started kissing your way down his chest, but he hadn’t gotten any release except from his hand for the past two weeks and he really needed you to keep doing what you were doing. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“Yeah? Knew you were a good boy.” You winked at him when you started kissing the skin above the band of his boxer briefs before you were yanking them down his thighs and immediately licking a heavy stripe up the underside of his cock when it sprung up against his abs.

Colin had to brace a hand against the side of the van when you worked him over, spitting on his tip and watching it drip down his length before spreading it over him with your lips. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave him a nice, smooth stroke as you ducked down between his length to press gentle kisses over his balls while you jerked him off. He almost choked on his tongue when you wrapped your lips around his sack and tugged softly, the hum you let out sending a vibration up his spine while your thumb swiped over his swollen tip.

The sounds he was making from just a handjob were enough to soak through the thin lace of your panties, and when he shouted your name when you moved a little lower and teased your tongue over his asshole, well you almost fucking came just from that. You couldn’t believe you had stupidly waited two fucking weeks before indulging in this man again, you finally felt like yourself again. It was driving you absolutely crazy, the way his hips were wriggling underneath you spurring you on until you couldn’t take it any more.

If he thought your hand was incredible, it was nothing compared to the feel of your lips wrapped around his tip while your tongue swirled around his sensitive head. With all the women he’d slept with, he’d definitely suffered through some mediocre and downright disappointing blow jobs. But you felt like you were about to suck the soul out of him, and you’d only just started.

“Ah, Christ.” He was going to pass out if you kept going like this, your mouth was like fucking heaven. “Honey, fuck.”

You shot him a wicked look when you started bobbing your head, taking him just a little deeper each time while your tongue curled around him as much as possible. Then you opened your throat and swallowed him whole and he lost his mind.

He wrapped his hand in your hair and held your head still as he started fucking your throat, his hips bucking wildly while you choked and sputtered around him. Drool was running down your chin and soaking his thighs as you started breathing through your nose, digging your fingers into his thighs while he used you like a fuck toy. You kept your tongue pressed flat against your bottom teeth to avoid choking on it, moaning softly when you tasted the salty tang of his precum hit your tongue. His grip on your hair was growing painful, and you could tell by the way his abs were twitching that he was close.

“Wait, ah shit!” He somehow managed to gather enough self control to pull out of your mouth, groaning at the long string of saliva that kept you connected even as you bit at your swollen lips. “I’m not coming unless it’s in that pretty pussy. How do you want it?”

“Fuck me from behind, Col.”

He growled as he sat up and smashed his lips to yours, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue before flipping your over and burying his face in your hair. You let out a low moan when he slammed into you with no warning, gasping at the punishing pace he was setting and purring when he started mouthing at your neck.

The van was shaking like some sort of cliche while Colin fucked into you with abandon, his hips bouncing off your ass in an obscene display while the two of you whined and panted together. Colin was going to lose his fucking mind, two weeks with barely even talking to you and now he was finally inside you it was all he could do to not go completely feral.

“Oh god, honey.” He was practically whining against your skin when you clenched around him, sucking your ear lobe between his lips while you arched your back and purred for him. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet. Pussy so fucking good. Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you come.”

“So close, Colin, shit!” You gasped when he hit you deep, curling your body backwards around him and reaching over your shoulder to wind your fingers through his hair and press his lips to yours. “Need that dick so bad. Feel so good when you’re inside me.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He wound one hand around your neck and the other arm around your waist, holding you close while he kissed you deeply and swallowed your wanton mewls with a deep groan. “Come for me.”

His hips ground against you and you slapped the floor of the van when you came, sobbing into his mouth and vibrating underneath him while your pussy strangled his cock. Your teeth nipped at his lips once you were finished, humming happily as he continued fucking you through your high.

“Need more, Colin.” You whimpered when he started slowing down, trying to thrust your hips back towards him as you tried to bring yourself to the edge again. “Harder, I need it.”

“Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.” He tugged at your lips with his teeth, squeezing your neck gently and groaning at your soft whimper as you clenched around him. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t respond when he started pounding into you furiously, the way his cock was punching against your soft walls making it a little hard to breathe, never mind thinking. He was hitting every spot you needed him to with each thrust, grunting into your ear each time his hips slammed into you until he felt your breath hitch.

Every time he bottomed out you thought you were going to pass out, the tip of his cock punching against your cervix and making you see stars. It was so good, he was hitting you so deep and smooth you couldn’t believe you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Colin growled when a particularly vicious push had your entire body rising off the floor of the van, your fluttering sigh sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. One more thrust and you lost it, screaming with ecstasy as every muscle in your body vibrated and you squirted all over Colin’s thighs and the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, baby.” Colin was desperate, his rhythm completely gone as he chased his own end while you fluttered around him. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy up until I’m leaking outta you for the next week.”

“Oh god, please.” Your eyes rolled up in your head while you let him use you, his lips tracing your jaw hungrily as you pushed your hips back to meet his. “Give it to me, Colin.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a strangled cry when his hips stuttered, thick, warm ropes of white shooting against your soft walls until he was collapsing on top of you with a sated moan. You tangled your fingers with his above your head as your breathing regulated, his breath hot on your neck while the two of you melted into each other.

“We’re not waiting two weeks again, right?” Colin’s arms wrapped around you as he nuzzled into your hair, his lips spreading in a slow smile when he felt you purr contentedly.

“Nope. I’m definitely gonna need this to happen on the regular.” You turned a little so you could rub your nose against his. “You know, in between our other, normal escapades.”

“Right.” His heart fell a little at that, but maybe just interspersing his trysts with you with his other one night stands would help flush his crush on you out of his system.

Before he had a chance to say anything else there was a sudden pounding at the van door, snapping the two of you out of your haze with a pair of exasperated groans.

“Shea!!!” You untangled yourselves as you started to pull on your clothes. “That had better be Y/N in there! If you sad fucked some bachelorette and we have to listen to you sing stupid breakup songs for the next month I’m going to kill you!”

[dumbdemonslayertexts]

01:55am

Pairing: Park Seonghwa × black!fem reader | ft. Reader's Bestie & Choi San

Genre: humor

Warnings: suggestive language, use of the n-word, not thoroughly proofread sry y'all lol

you were going to have to explain yourself when you saw him, now.

and you were so mortified that you were already compiling excuses to avoid him for the next few weeks.

when you could've been cuffed for the whole weekend if your messy ass bestie hadn't ran her damn gums to your man while you were on the phone.

she already gave you enough, constant shit about dating seonghwa and not setting her up with mingi ( "see, you still haven't hooked us up, this's how i know you ain't shit." "bitch, do you think i'm pimping these niggas out or?") part of you was wondering if that was why she pulled this shit. how had she even remembered!? y'all had been running through their music videos to thirst like 4 days ago when you had your little slip up, but the second she heard you mention seonghwa's name on the phone today, she opened her big ass mouth.

"hwa! ask your girlfriend about her lil inception remix!"

you clutched the pillow tucked under your arm and slung it at her, only making her cackle harder.

"wha?" seonghwa giggled. he was already half amused, you could hear it in his voice crack.

"nothing!"

"what is your remix?" he asked. you hated that you didn't have time to melt over his english. it was always cutest when he was happily asking something. but you had to scramble for an excuse too urgently to coo at him, "did you film it?"

"no, it's nothing, don't listen to her, baby--"

"TELL HER TO SING IT, MINGI AND HONGJOONG'S PART BEFORE YOU HIT YOUR HIGH NOTE--" you slugged the pillow at her several more times, and you could hear your boyfriend's smile growing on the other end of the line.

"what is it, baby? i want to hear it!" he sounded so sweet and eager. normally it would make you fall even deeper for him but right now it made you want to jump through a window.

...double time when you realized there wasn't any getting out of this now.

"it's not a remixxx..!" you whined. apparently, he only found it more amusing with you so embarrassed.

"what is it?"

you fought a sigh and mushed your bestie who was still laughing her ass off, "i got the words wrong... i didn't know that the line after 'coming tonight' was korean, i thought it was english..."

he mumbled through the lyrics swiftly, for his mind to catch up to the part of the song you'd meant. "whereyouatwhereyouat neoneun eodie whereyougowhereyougo namgyeo dun chae neon comin’tonight maeil bam neoreul chaja hemaeneun nan--"

"yeah that part," you confirmed.

"maeil bam?"

"yes!" you whined for the second time, making him giggle again.

"what did you think it said?" he asked, finding this and you more and more humorous.

you rolled your eyes to the ceiling, leaving them there for longer than your eye health would appreciate. but you answered him truthfully.

"comin' tonight, layin' pipe."

he was silent on the other end after that. for way longer than you were comfortable with. and your heart was thumping harder, the more your anxiety built.

"what is that?" he asked. and bestie, hearing his genuine innocence, threw her head back cracking up.

"oh hell." you mumbled when he asked again. but seonghwa figured out quickly that he wasn't going to get an answer from you. that's when you heard him again, and froze in place.

"san-a!" he called in the background, and bestie was on her back rolling while you yelled, begged, PLEADED for him not to ask. "laying pipeeun museun tteus-ingayo?"

"no, don't ask what it means!" you yelled over the breathless laughter beside you.

"laying pipe?" you heard san ask your boyfriend confusedly, followed by hwa's low voice answering 'ne'.

you were relieved when you could make out the phrase 'i dunno' in korean. but it was short-lived when you heard san mention their leader's name, knowing he was the most knowledgeable in the english language of the eight of them. your eyes bugged out when you heard them both.

"HONGJOONG-A!"

"NOOOO!!!!!"

[purecantarella]

All For You

i wanted to write a lisa imagine in honor of her AMAZING solo. kept me pumped up over the weekend HAHAAH i initially wanted to write a smut for her, but i couldn't do it for some reason this time round so yall are getting a short but sweet HHAHA

i'll try to write some more smutty fics but for now, fluff and angst for all of you! enjoy!

disclaimer/s : this is just fluff so i think yall are safe

It wasn't often that you were in a bad mood. After all, you were your group's happy pill and your fandom's ray of sunshine. You had a reputation and you liked sticking to that. But after a week of taking blow after blow from your company, you didn't feel like being the usual ray of sunshine you always were.

It hit harder when your mom got sick and you weren't permitted to see her because of time constraints with your comeback schedule.

You sat quietly in the leather seat of the recording studio, waiting for your turn in the booth. Mindlessly, your fingers tore away at one of the label's of your water bottle. Your members eyed you subtly, a wave of sadness flushing in each of them as you were so deflated.

After a while, you felt their gaze on you. You looked up at them, offering them a soft smile, but they knew better. How you felt could be masked with your small, tired, and forced smile. They knew the one person who could cheer you up, in fact she was in the building, but they knew that you would be livid if any of them told Lisa, your close friend, what was going on.

If you asked anyone, they'd say that you and Lisa were one of the cutest pairing in YG's company but at the same time both of you took your careers above one another. Despite that, there was always that pull that kept you both on each other's toes. You knew that you could rely on her and she could with you, but as she was in the thick of her promotion for her own solo so you never wanted to distract her like that.

Make no mistake though, you would love to have her by your side right now but you couldn't stop the feeling of guilt that began to creep inside you when you thought of disrupting her for your own selfish needs. Your other member walked out of the recording booth when your managers called you for lunch.

You brushed them off and with a half-hearted smile, "I'll just chill out here. Maybe practice the song..." You explained as you threw your cell onto the leather seat. The group's leader eyed you suspiciously. "I don't think I've seen you eat the past few days, N/n..."

The smile on your face tightened uncomfortably. "Just heavy midnight snacks, unnie! No need to worry, but you should all get something for lunch. I'll be here." You said rushing them out of the room despite all their questions and concerns.

When they didn't push further, you sighed a breath of relief and slid towards the mic in the booth. Sadly poking the base of the mic. You did your best to sing the parts you knew they needed for backing vocals but your heart just wasn't in it and you found yourself repeating the same lines over and over again. Leaving a frustrated pit in your stomach.

"As much as I love your voice there could be some variety in words." You tore the headset from your ears, letting it fall onto your neck at the familiar, teasing voice. From the back of the producing board stood a smiling, banged Thai woman who made your heart flutter in your chest, almost masking the disappointment that reigned there.

You stared briefly into her bright brown eyes, a brow quirked up on your face your gaze shooting to the floor. "You aren't supposed to be here, Lisa." You said making your way back to the main room, eyes not meeting hers. The dancer leaned up against the edge of the table, the same charming smile over her plump, pink lips. "Never stopped me before, N/n."

Her smile grew as she pushed herself off the table and made her way over to you. Your skin jumped as you felt her hand on your arm, like she always did when she missed you. You avoided eye contact, a heavy blush taking over your cheeks made Lisa smile even wider. "Y-You could've at least called, Lisa."

"I was going to but when I saw your members all leaving together without you, I thought I'd shoot my shot." She paused, her eyes staring into yours. "And I missed you."

Though you could feel yourself melting at the thought, but again you simply turned around not wanting her to see how broken you were. Lisa was always the first to tell, even as friends. Without sparing her a second look you said, "Your comeback is dropping soon, you shouldn't be here."

Lisa tilted her head to the side curiously, "Is that why you haven't looked at me the entire time, Y/n?" With her words, you stoped fiddling with the items in your bag. You bit the inner layer of your cheek, feeling her draw closer. You felt her hand over yours, the warmth from hers lighting a flame in your skin.

"I can tell your hiding something, you can tell me..." You stood there silent, still not daring to look at her. Her shoulders fell as she saw your defenses beginning to break slowly, your lower lip quivering ever so slightly. Despite her better judgement, Lisa took you hand in hers. "I will always make time for you, solo, comeback, or promotion, I'm here, okay?"

Wordlessly, you finally turned to face her completely, your head falling onto her shoulder. For a moment, you both stand there, magnets just gravitated towards one another. "I don't want to be a burden to you or anyone..." You whispered, voice breaking under all the pressure. Lisa wrapped her arms around your shoulders, wanting protecting you from everything that came your way as a sob cracked from your lips.

You began ranting about everything that had been going downhill lately. Your mom, the company, everything, while Lisa stood there, listening to your stories carefully. Once everything came to a stop, Lisa pulled away. Enough that she could see your swollen eyes and red nose to say, "It's all going to work out, alright?" She began wiping away the tears that stained your face. "In the morning, we're going to YG himself to talk about a break for you to take care of your mom, get all your healths back in tip-top shape, and we're going to get through this."

"'We're'?" You asked, a tiny smile taking over your lips. The most genuine that she'd seen all afternoon. Lisa brushed her lips over your nose delicately before placing her forehead over yours. "Like I'd let you stand up to YG-nim on your own, N/n." You giggled softly, leaning into Lisa's touch, eyes going soft.

"Thank you, Lili." Lisa's grin grew tenfold before pulling away. "I'll pick you up after work? We can watch a movie and order take-out. The L family's really starting to miss you." She asked shyly, a rosy blush coating her cheeks. You leaned up and pecked her cheek gently.

"See you at 6, Lalisa." She rolled her eyes as you giggled softly, your smile slowly returning. Lisa opened the door but took one more look at you, warmth and love running rampant in her stomach and chest.

She'd do everything and anything for you. Whether either of you knew it, it was always all for you.

i did thoroughly enjoy writing that, i hope you all enjoyed reading it! i'm working hard to get back on a steady schedule but also my classes are going to start on October 18th so i'm going to have to do A LOT of adjusting

anyway, remember that requests are open and criticism and comments are completely welcomed 💓stay safe, see you all soon, and i love you all very much

stream lalisa yall❣️

[marginalmadness]

Summer Nights: 2/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Mature (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long…will it?

Warnings/Tags: This chapter involves Jungkook going into heat.

Author’s Note: If I called @johobi​ patient before, I fucked up the tenses to bad in this chapter, it took her HOURS to fix. But she approved of the chapter which I’m happy about because this is the one I was most worried about. Jungkook Goes into heat in this chapter, and I hope nobody wants to kill me when they finish it.  Chapter 3 is only a week away! <3

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Tags: @kookiebunny97​ @mintyrae​ @skswriting​ 

Word Count: 5.6K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

I hope everyone is enjoying BE, and Life Goes On.

Summer Nights: Chapter Two

The next morning is the first day of your new-new normal. You wake to the sound of music coming from the living room. You pull yourself to your feet, shuffling from your bed to find the sourc

The next morning is the first day of your new-new normal. You wake to the sound of music coming from the living room. You pull yourself to your feet, shuffling from your bed to find the source of the enchanting sound. To your shock and delight, you find Jungkook hopping around the kitchen happily, ears and hair bouncing as he sings along to the radio and prepares pancakes. His voice is divine. You stand there enraptured, caught under his spell. He drops the spatula in fright when he turns to find you leaning against the wall, watching him silently.

 “Please continue,” you urge him. But he shakes his head, blushing and hiding behind his ears. “Your voice is so pretty. Please?” you coax, stepping towards him. Jungkook considers you from behind his ears for a second. Then, tentatively, he picks up the spatula and resumes his song while he washes it clean.

 From that day onwards, he wakes you each morning the same way, voice drifting through the bedroom door he leaves slightly ajar. There’s always a stack of warm, fluffy pancakes waiting for you in the kitchen, and beside it a bowl of yogurt-drizzled fruit. As soon as you’re seated, Jungkook extends a freshly brewed cup of breakfast tea to you. You eat together in the early morning light, the radio playing in the background. And while you get ready for work, Jungkook cleaned up the dishes from breakfast. 

 Domestic heaven. 

At the end of your work day, you come home and thank God he’s still there. Sometimes he’s typing away on your laptop. Jungkook signed up as a freelance transcriber as a way to make money while staying with you. It was something to do while you were at work, too, restless soul that he is.  Sometimes, though, you come home to find him flopped on his side in a patch of sun, having a nap as a bunny. 

You cook dinner together now. Well, when you say together, you mean you take his direction, since Jungkook is a much better cook than you. He uses some of his free time to look up recipes he thinks you’ll like. 

It’s ridiculously heartwarming. 

After dinner, as is your routine, you split the washing up and curl up together to watch some Netflix. On the days you do all the washing up, Jungkook doesn’t fight you for control of the TV. 

You still tease him over the first and only time you watched a horror movie. The first jump-scare forced him into rabbit form and he leapt into your lap in fright. Jungkook spent the entire movie there, shivering. And the rest of the night he spent pressed against your side in a tight, furry ball. Of course, the next day he insisted he wasn’t that scared, he just didn’t want to bother you by transforming back and forth.

He did a similar thing when you were watching a sappy romantic movie, but you don’t tease him about that. The second you noticed him sniffling at the lovers’ separation, he turned into a rabbit and hopped off his chair and over to you. You expected him to come cuddle, but he scrambled onto the back of the sofa and situated himself by your head instead. Every time there was a particularly romantic moment, he would nudge you with his nose and tickle you with his whiskers. And when he was feeling particularly bold, he’d grip your shoulder with his front claws and rub his chin over your cheek and neck. It tickled so much it made you squirm. 

After extricating yourself from his clutches, a quick search on the internet told you that rabbits do this to mark their territory. You have trouble looking him in the eye the rest of that day. You know he’s attracted to you; have done since that first night. But he’s been ever so respectful. For some reason, the thought of him marking you as his makes your skin flush and burn.

Shopping for groceries is an experience, too. Jungkook skips around the store, picking multiple things up, asking you if you like them before throwing them in the shopping cart. It doesn’t matter whether you need them or not, just if you like it. That’s good enough for Bun. He’s so happy and energetic, his smile wide and eyes sparkling until you bend over into a freezer to pick up some ice cream. When you turn back, Jungkook is clinging to the cart, his eyes wide and entire body stock-still. All but his foot as it wildly pounds the ground.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask with a tilt of your head. His mouth drops open into a shape as round as his eyes. Mimicking you, Jungkook tilts his head before blinking and shaking it. And then he coughs, practically vibrates, before muttering something about cereal and running off in the opposite direction of the cereal. 

Ever since that peculiar day, Jungkook has insisted on going grocery shopping alone. Something about getting out of the house and becoming more independent. But he blushes and averts his eyes as he says it, foot tapping wildly until he kicks over a plant pot. He cleans up the mess without another word, chewing on one of its stricken leaves and purposefully avoiding your eyes for the rest of the day.

Your weekends become different too. Before Bun arrived, you’d spent them relaxing after your work week, alone and in peace. Now you have a tiny, demanding rabbit that follows you around your apartment, tripping you up. And now you also have a fully grown, demanding man. A roommate - for lack of a better word - with which to do things. Now you have Saturday walks in the park and Sunday brunches. Imagine that.

 Jungkook is incredibly physical. Forever moving, rarely still, bouncing from foot to foot, wiggling when excited. When you praise him, he claps and dances. The day you get a promotion at work, he hugs you so tightly, lifting you up and spinning you in the air because he’s simply that happy. He binkies about in excitement just as much as he did in bunny form, long hair and floppy ears bouncing wildly as his eyes crinkle in happiness, sending things flying in his excitement. You’ve already replaced one particular lamp three times.

But then Jungkook starts marking his territory in human form, too.

You’re chopping something for dinner on some nondescript day when Jungkook approaches you from behind, hands sliding gently over your hips. You could shake him off easily if you wanted to. But you find yourself not wanting to. His chin rests on your shoulder as though he’s just watching you work, but then the subtle rub starts. Across your shoulder and into the crook of your neck, until an involuntary shudder runs down your spine. It snaps Jungkook back to his senses and he pulls away.

—-

The day everything changed was the day from hell. Work had been awful, just one fuck up after another. None of which were even your fault, but all of which you were expected to fix.

You come home to a tidy apartment, subtle scented candles burning and soft music playing. Jungkook is in the kitchen cooking, and you’re sure the ingredients you can smell are ones he’s shopped for today.

“Welcome home.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “Dinner is almost done if you want to get washed up.” He turns back to stir the pan on the stove. When you walked through the front door you were on the verge of tears. Now your eyes are misting up for the complete opposite reason.

You drag your sorry ass over to him and practically collapse against his wide, strong back, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist like he often does you.

“Thank you,” you practically sob into his shirt, screwing your eyes closed in an effort to not actually cry. You try to keep the emotion out of your voice but Jungkook knows you well enough to sense you’re upset by something. He immediately switches off the stove burners and turns to wrap his arms tightly around you, holding you without a second thought.

 “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, voice full of concern. Large, strong hands brush the hair back from your face.

 “I just had a really shit day, and you just—” You turn, arms flailing, motioning to the clean apartment and dinner on the stove. Jungkook nods in understanding. “—you made it all better.” His eyes go round as he blinks at you in shock, before melting into something warm. He tucks your hair behind your ears and tilts your head as he moves in, as though he were going to kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed as his nose brushes yours, but his lips never touch yours. “What’s this?” you ask in a whisper, blinking your eyes open to find him smiling at you softly.

 “A rabbit thing,” he says simply, resting his forehead against yours with a soft grunt of air. It doesn’t quite reach a growl. You know it's a rabbit thing; you researched. But you didn’t expect it in human form.

 “Okay.” You don’t push, don’t demand an explanation for a deeper meaning, just accept the affection from him. You lean in and brush your nose against his in return, causing him to gasp and grunt again, hand moving from your face to your waist. It lingers there for a few seconds before Jungkook gently, physically, pushes you away, his large eyes looking bigger than usual. His pupils are blown out, almost entirely black. Breath comes from his parted lips in short pants and huffs.

 “You should get cleaned up while I finish dinner,” he says softly, stepping backwards. There’s an arm’s length of space between you now. You nod at him, hands finding his, giving him a squeeze as you back out of the kitchen. You don’t let go until the space between you is too far for your fingertips to touch. His eyes don’t leave you until you’re completely out of sight.

 You close the door quietly, leaning your forehead against it and taking slow, deep, grounding breaths, trying to calm the racing of your heart. What was that? Sure, it isn’t the first time he’s done it; he did it on the night he transformed and kissed you. Somehow, though, it felt as intimate as him kissing you again. Is it wrong to feel this way towards Jungkook? He’s your Bun, your charge; you’re his caretaker. Are you taking advantage of him? Is he only acting like this because he’s thankful to you for taking care of him?

 You push off and away from the door, feeling heavy. It’s almost like there’s a rope connecting you to Jungkook and forever pulling you towards him. You change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. If that more comfortable thing happens to be something just a little clingy in certain, flattering places, and it makes you feel pretty, then you tell yourself you need the ego boost after the day you had. It has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to look good for Jungkook. You head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your hair into something more relaxed before returning to the kitchen. And Jungkook.

 “Nope!” Jungkook yells, stopping you before you can even enter the kitchen, two strong hands taking you by the shoulders, turning you around and practically marching you towards the living room. You pout over your shoulder at him, but he’s just grinning and laughing at your pouty face. You slump onto the sofa and he leans over the back of it, hovering over you, his eyes crinkling as he laughs musically. Ever so carefully he takes you by the jaw, rubbing his chin over your head, tilting you to the side so he can whisper in your ear.

 “Sit and relax, I’ll bring you dinner.” His voice is light and full of joy.

 You sit and pout, grabbing the remote to put some music on. At the exact moment you drop it back to the table, a bowl of food is placed in front of you. You blink up at a grinning Jungkook as he retreats eagerly to the kitchen, presumably for drinks. His enthusiasm is infectious. You pick up the bowl of pasta, twirling your fork in the creamy sauce and noodles, and take a big bite. It’s delicious. Delicious enough to have you moaning with pleasure and sliding back against the couch.

 “Kookie, this is amazing!” you groan, licking the sauce from your lips.

 Jungkook stares at you, eyes wide, focused on your tongue as it slides along your lips. You hadn’t even realised he’d come back from the kitchen. He places a glass of wine on the table in front of you, ducking his head and hiding behind his ears as he shuffles to his spot on the sofa, bowl in hand. You watch him slyly out of the corner of your eye. His face is so red, so glowing you can almost feel the heat radiating from it. “I made it,” he says, still staring intently at his food. “I found a recipe online I thought you would like.”

 “From scratch?” you ask, amazed. He nods, biting his lip and refusing to look at you. You reach across the space between you and thread your fingers into his soft, wavy locks, rubbing the spot just behind one of his floppy ears. “Bun this is amazing, it tastes amazing!” His head lifts up, eyes so big they sparkle in the low light. “You’re amazing,” you whisper in a soft voice. Jungkook ducks his head again, hiding once more behind his long ears and curly hair. He eats his food slowly, more picking at it than anything. You, on the other hand, tuck in enthusiastically, all manners and grace gone, letting him see and hear your enjoyment of the food. You know how much it pleases him when you unabashedly enjoy his cooking. When you ask for seconds, handing him your empty bowl, Jungkook binkies across the room to the kitchen, bouncing on his heels as he piles a second serving of noodles and sauce into your bowl.

 He hands it back to you soon after and sits beside you on the sofa, knees curling under himself. Reclining on the back cushions, he observes you as you eat, arms crossed and eyes sparkling. When you’re half way through your second serving and can’t eat a bite more, he whisks away the dishes and returns quickly to your side. 

 Jungkook flops over and places his head in your lap. “Will you…” He bites his lip, turning to bury his face in your sweater, his cheeks burning crimson again.

 “What? What do you want, Kookie?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair and rubbing a thumb over the gentle fur of his ear. It twitches repeatedly.

 “Just this. Will you play with my hair? Stroke my ears?” he asks in a small voice. It’s unusually meek for him in his human form.

 “Of course I will, Bun. Anything you want.” You smile, running your fingers through his hair, nails trailing down his scalp. His leg kicks out, narrowly missing the coffee table. You hand him the remote. “Pick something to watch.”

Jungkook shuffles, turning to face the TV. With his head still in your lap, he curls up into a ball, enjoying your ministrations. You continue to pet him, running your fingers through his hair and stroking his ears, twirling locks of hair around your finger before releasing the resulting curl. You lounge there together, the stress of the day bleeding away from you thanks to a stomach full of good food and your hand tangled in the hair of—Jungkook—whatever he was to you right now.

You don’t know exactly when you fall asleep, but you wake to strong arms holding you, carrying you to your room. Jungkook places you delicately on your bed and you fling yourself backwards, curling up to drift off again. But before long you’re being shaken gently awake and sat back up. Soft, cotton pajamas are pushed into your hands.

“You need to get changed,” a soft, deep voice says firmly in your ear. A warm body presses against your back.

You pout, eyes resolutely closed, but begin taking off your sweater. Large hands help you when you get tangled on your arms. It’s even more of a struggle to unhook your bra. You flail for a while before dropping your arms and slumping back against Jungkook with a tired, pathetic whine. If you were properly awake you might have noticed how his breath hissed through his teeth, or how his nose rubbed your temple. 

With more force than is probably necessary, Jungkook grips you by the shoulder and props you forward. Then, with just one finger, he pulls your bra band away from your back, taking all care not to touch you at all. By some black magic he manages to unhook it, sliding the straps down and off your arms before discarding it on the floor. Not once does he look over your shoulder. He pulls the camisole of your pajama set over your head, guiding your arms through the straps before you wake enough to take over and pull both arms through.

“Now the shorts,” he grunts, low and gruff. It’s unusual enough that you pout at him over your shoulder.

“Bossy bunny,” you mumble, standing and kicking off the comfy leggings you had on. Somewhere in the back of your head you register a soft ‘”shit’” that you’re too tired to acknowledge. You pull on your shorts and sit back down, immediately flopping to your pillow. You feel your body being turned, tucked beneath the sheet pulled over you. Sleep comes easily to you after that.

—-

You wake up while it’s still dark outside. Jungkook’s chest is hot against your back, his knees curled and tucked behind yours. A muscled arm hangs heavily over your waist, keeping you close to him. You lift it as carefully as possible and slide out of bed, tip-toeing stealthily across the soft carpet and out of the room. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass in the dark, in search of a drink for your parched throat.

You drink your fill and shuffle back to bed, bringing a glass with you just in case. Although you slip into your room as stealthily as you’d left it, Jungkook is awake when you return. He sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, bottom lip snagged beneath his prominent front teeth.

“Kookie?” you ask softly in the darkness, making your way back to your side of the bed. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I just—I reached for you and you were gone,” he says, watching you place your glass of water down and climb back into bed. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Silly rabbit,” you coo. Jungkook rolls towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling a powerful, muscular leg with yours. You settle back, stroking his head and mulling over his unusual clinginess as sleep comes to claim you. 

But then you feel a pressure against your thigh, and you’re suddenly very awake. 

Jungkook undulates his hips to a subtle rhythm. “Wha-” you begin, turning to look at him. But he buries his nose beneath your jaw, his breath coming out in soft,  heavy huffs in time with his movements. He grinds against your hip with a desperation. You swallow audibly, forcing yourself to ask as your face burns. “Jungkook, what are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he whines. “I can’t help it, I just—” He throws his thigh over your hips, shifting until he’s hovering over you, weight on his knees and forearms. His hips drop to roll against your stomach, a thick bulge straining the thin material of the pajama bottoms you had bought him. Jungkook ruts against your sweat-covered skin as you stare up at him, eyes wide, frozen in shock. Heat floods through you, stirring your insides until you’re panting. He is, too. His mouth hangs open as he huffs in time with his thrusts, lips grazing your jaw until they reach your mouth. He caresses it softly with his own, barely a whisper of a touch. Once. Twice. Just like that first night he turned. The third time, he kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back. Nothing more than a delicate tilt of your head and a careful brushing of your lips against his. This is wrong, a voice in the back of your head whispers. This man is practically a stranger.

Only he’s not.

He’s shared your bed as a human for the past two weeks, and ten weeks before that as a rabbit.

You’ve spent evenings curled up together, watching shows you both enjoy. You know his moods, as he knows yours. Your hand feels as comfortable tangled in his hair as it does amongst his fur, and you can read his eyes in both forms exactly the same.

He’s your Jungkook. Your Kookie. 

Your Bun.

He exhales heavily, his tongue lapping at your lips for more. Warm breath fans your face and you practically tremble with anticipation. Jungkook tears himself away to run his hands down the curves of your body, and as you look up at him, your mouth dries at the sight of his godly form. The ever-present glow of the city creates a subtle neon halo behind him, heightening his otherworldly, divine presence.

“I-I—“ As suddenly as he came onto you, Jungkook scrambles backwards off the bed, falling ungracefully to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” he yells, eyes watery and wide with terror. He rushes out of the room so quickly he doesn’t even stand up straight. Just heads straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You follow too late, reaching your bedroom doorway just in time to hear the bathroom lock snap into place.

You drop to your knees outside the bathroom door, knocking on it gently. “Jungkookie, what’s wrong? Please, come out,” you call.

“I can’t,” comes a whine from the other side of the door. It almost sounds like a sob. “I have to stay here. Can I have a blanket please?” The voice is strained and tight; unsure. It’s not like the warm, bright voice you’ve come to know at all.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll get that for you. I’ll be right back.” When you return with the requested blanket, you let Kookie know with a small knock on the door. He cracks it open just enough for you to push the bedding through. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re wide and a little teary, his pupils huge. His face and upper chest is worryingly flushed. Jungkook notices you scrutinising his appearance and slams the door shut before you can comment. You hover on the other side of the door, not wanting to leave him. “I’m not upset with you, Bun. I understand if you want some space. Good night.”

You shuffle your way back to bed, curling up under the duvet for the first time in weeks. Because despite the heat and humidity of summer, it feels far, far too cold.

—-

The fullness of your bladder wakes you, demanding you seek relief immediately. You can tell by the noise outside that it’s late morning, and you hope Jungkook is already awake. You roll out of bed and shuffle over to the bathroom, trying the handle and finding it still locked.

With a reluctant sigh, you knock. “Jungkookie? Bun, I need to pee. Can you let me in please?” A few moments later there’s shuffling behind the door and the soft click of a lock opening. A sunken-eyed Jungkook stands on the other side, eyes averted. The duvet you gave him wraps him like a shroud. It hangs over his head, hiding his ears, his hands clutching it tightly at his chest. He stares pointedly at his feet as he shuffles past you, and if it weren’t for your desperate need to pee you’d stop and talk to him. But that’s a conversation that can wait until you’ve made breakfast.

You finish in the bathroom as fast as possible and make your way to the kitchen, noticing how he sits curled up on the chair in the corner of your living room.

You pull out all the things you need to make pancakes and crank up the volume on an upbeat playlist; mostly songs Jungkook likes listening to in the mornings. “Jungkook, could you help me please?” you ask sweetly. “The strawberries and bananas need slicing.”

He perks up at that, ears twitching before his eyes dart over to you. He loves bananas, almost obsessively loves them. I knew that would work, you smile to yourself. Jungkook fiddles with the waistband of his pajamas and you try to forget the outline of his hardness straining against them. Try to forget how your skin flushed when he rocked it against you. You focus back on the batter, giving it an extra hard stir, making sure there’s no lumps in it. That’s the reason for you beating it so vigorously. No other reason.

You sigh, pinching yourself before switching on the burner on the stove.

Jungkook begins chopping fruit. Yes. You smile to yourself, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you work on two stacks of pancakes. The tension in the air between you two eases, and soon you’re both dancing to a song that Jungkook listens to often; its easy choreography something you developed together. The song changes into something new, something you’ve never heard before, but you sway your hips nevertheless as you ladle batter into the hot frying pan. Jungkook bounces from foot-to-foot, endlessly energetic as he works his way through half a bunch of bananas and the entire bowl of strawberries. He’s piling the chopped fruit up on plates when you push between him and the counter with a small, murmured excuse me. The step he takes back to allow you access isn’t quite big enough. Even then you don’t notice; so used to squeezing around one another in the modestly-sized kitchen as you are.

 Jungkook, however, notices.

Your ass slides firmly against him and he grips your hips almost painfully hard, pressing you into the counter.

“Ow! Jungkook, what are you—” Your question becomes a squeal of surprise when he buries his nose behind your ear and grinds his rapidly hardening cock into the cleft of your ass. Only two, flimsy layers of clothing separate you. 

“I need you so bad,” he growls as he rubs his nose through your hair, the underside of his chin skimming the column of your neck. You arch back into him, throwing your head back to expose more of your neck to him. You’re usually a lot more reserved with men—a lot—but something about Jungkook makes you want to be wild. Maybe it’s the way you feel so safe with him. His body is a solid presence against your back, his thrusting desperate and needy. Gone is the sweet, delicate Bun you’ve come to care about. He’s been replaced with someone who grips you, growls at you, and yet you still feel safe in his arms.

It’s Jungkook. He’d never hurt you.

You groan, something between a whine and a whimper being ripped from the back of your throat as he rubs himself against you. Then, suddenly - unwelcomely - cold air hits your back. 

Jungkook has torn himself from you for a second time. 

You turn but he’s not behind you. Spinning in place, you see a fluffy tail vanishing around a cabinet and a pair of light grey pajamas left in its wake. You follow fast enough to watch him hightail it out of the kitchen and across the living room, straight under the chair in the corner. He never sits in it as a human, preferring to sit next to you on the sofa, but it’s his favourite place to hide as a bunny.

You crouch, peeking under the chair, trying to coax him out.

“I’m sorry, Jungkookie. Come out and talk to me, please?” you beg to the huddled mass of fur under the chair. He stays where he is, shifting in a way you know means he’s settling in for the long haul. You stand up, running to turn off the stove before dashing to your bedroom and throwing on some clothes. After grabbing your bag, you check under the chair again. Jungkook is still there. “I’ll be right back, okay?” you tell him, before rushing out the door.

You all but run out of your apartment building, dodging people on the street as you head to the florist a block and a half away to get a custom bouquet made. It’s ugly as hell, but it’s not supposed to be for looking at. All of the flowers are suitable for rabbits to eat, and you get triple the ones you know Jungkook is particularly fond of.

You rush back to your apartment on a sliver of energy, taking extra care to preserve your gift, but the whole journey takes you less than twenty minutes. You discard your shoes and bag by the door and head straight for the chair, placing your peace offering on the floor before it.

“I have a gift for you,” you say, pulling a white hibiscus from the bouquet and presenting it to him. “Please come out and talk to me, Bun.” You watch as Jungkook hops forward, unable to resist the pull of his favourite flower. You untie the haphazard collection of flowers and lay them out on the decorative wrapping paper for him. It does the trick and draws him out from under the chair. You hold your hand out to him carefully, letting him come to you on his own terms. Jungkook devours a rosebud and hops forward, bumping your hand with his nose. You sigh, tension you didn’t know was building melting from your shoulders.

Somewhat placated, you head back to the kitchen. The pancakes are now cold but nothing that can’t be reheated. You store his breakfast in the fridge and slip a couple bits of banana onto the paper with the flowers. Jungkook leaps at them, devouring them with relish before following you into the kitchen and circling your chair as you eat your pancakes. He reaches up, nudging your foot to get your attention. And by attention, he wants more bananas.

Once you’re all done with breakfast, you move to the living room. There are several episodes of a TV show you and Jungkook have been watching together that you need to catch up on, and that’s your usual plan for the weekend. Jungkook, however, has other plans. He jumps into your lap, purposefully knocking the remote out of your hand. You tangle your fingers through his fur and feel him shudder under your touch.

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?” you ask softly, thumb rubbing soothing circles between his eyes. Beneath your hand, Jungkook transforms. He curls in on himself, doing his best to obscure his nudity, and buries his head in your stomach. You run a hand down his back and find his skin is clammy and feverish. “Oh my god, are you sick? Bun, you’re burning up!” you exclaim, panic injected into your tone.

“I’m going into heat. It’s why I keep—why I keep—” His voice is high-pitched and strained again.

“Why you keep rubbing against me?” you finish for him, raking your nails through his long locks. His ears and tail twitch and Jungkook whines. Nodding, he curls in on himself tighter. “You need a partner,” you say matter-of-factly, but he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No. I don’t need a partner...” he says simply, the implication left hanging. You move his ear carefully, brushing his hair from his face and cupping it with one hand. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone until his tightly-clenched eyes open.

 “Then, tell me what you want,” you whisper. His eyes narrow like he’s assessing you. Assessing the full implication of your words and trying to decide how to answer you.

 “Normally I’d mate with someone in a nest—” Jungkook starts before he’s racked by shudders. He buries his face in your stomach again and whines.

 “My bed,” you offer. “You can build a nest there if you need to.”

He shoots upward at your words, watching your face carefully. “But—” His eyes are wide, mouth agape as he draws the logical conclusion but not daring to hope. “--where will you sleep?” He asks as though he is scared of the answer.

 You carefully brush his hair back from his face, thumbing over a floppy ear. “I c-can—“ you stutter, before taking a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out.” You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. Your lips are so close like this, close enough to brush against each other as you speak. It’s not quite a kiss, but your intention is clear. “If you need anything—if you want anything...” You trail off. 

 Jungkook wastes no time. He sits up and crawls into your lap, his bare, muscular thighs straddling yours as he kisses you deeply. His hands, no longer rough, cup your face delicately as though he can’t believe he’s been gifted something so precious. Even as his naked hips roll against your stomach.

 “Iwantyouwantyouwantyou. Need you,” he chants between kisses.

 And in an act of madness - or perhaps sanity - you give yourself to him completely.

Next Chapter

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Truce

Requested by @minaslittleone : Wilhemina + “I know you've got a little life in you left, I know you've got a lot of strength left” from This Woman’s Work.

E., I love this exchange of dark headcanons we don’t want to write 😆😭 I decided to write this one from reader’s pov for protection xx

Word count: 4 000

In retrospect, surely you should have realized right from the start that something was very wrong. But that’s not how you processed bad things. You denied them, refused to acknowledge their existence, until they had no other choice but to slap you right across your face. Sometimes it would take days. Sometimes it was much quicker.

But deep down, you had known something was off the moment you had closed the front door behind you. It was a Friday, 6pm or so, and you had just come back from a week-long work trip across the country. You were exhausted, mentally and physically, and yet the sweet prospect of seeing Wilhemina again made your heart sing and feel like you could very well hike a mountain. But there had been no Wilhemina coming to meet you as she always, always would, fighting a smile, trying to look indifferent but melting into your arms and peppering your face with kisses. No Wilhemina to take off your coat and ask you how your trip had been and to slip a mug of your favorite tea in your hands.

Instead, the house had been awfully quiet. Wilhemina’s shoes lay on the floor in their usual place. You called out her name, trying not to sound too worried. You crossed the living room in a hurry, so you didn’t notice the unwashed dishes in the sink, or the disarranged pillows on the couch. Or maybe you did, but refused to acknowledge them. It was only later, when the sun was setting and you scrubbed the dishes yourself, and fluffed the pillows before rearranging them the way Wilhemina liked them to be, that the implication of them, the reality they told of, hit you in the face. You shoved it where it couldn’t speak.

Wilhemina was lying in bed with her eyes closed, and when you asked her if she was feeling alright, she only answered with a curt “I’m tired.” You sat worriedly by her side, gently stroking her arm. You couldn’t remember the last time she had said those words. You couldn’t remember the last time she had looked so defeated. Dread had tightened your chest. But you had denied it all, as you always did, and let it pass. You had pressed a gentle kiss on Wilhemina’s temple, and asked her if she wanted to eat something – a shake of her head -, then told her you would make something for yourself and take a shower very quickly before you joined her in bed.

And you had been so very tired yourself that it hadn’t taken long at all to fall asleep. You had put your arms around Wilhemina and held her close and decided that in the morning everything would be alright.

Except now, here you were, sitting on your own at the kitchen table, unable to swallow your breakfast as you kept worriedly glancing at the clock whose hands neared 10am. And still Wilhemina wasn’t up.

Even on the weekends, she would rarely linger in bed past 9am, as she hated feeling like she was wasting a day. It would take much coaxing to have her back in your arms when you felt like being lazy on a Sunday morning.  

You sat still, staring at your toasts that were cold now. You didn’t feel like eating. Worry was lodged deep in your stomach and made you feel nauseous. But still you told yourself, that maybe Wilhemina hadn’t slept much during the past week, had stayed up late to work with no one to call her to bed, and was in great need of rest. Surely she would join you soon, grumpy because you had let her sleep in, and you would smile at her and kiss her lips and she would hold you as you told her all about your trip.

The clock ticked so loud in the silence, mocking you. It sounded like it was laughing.

At 10:30am the worry got the best of you. You stood up and hurried to the bedroom. You knocked on the door and waited for two seconds before you opened it.

The room was still dark, shutters still closed against the light. You kept the door open to let some light from the corridor in. It showed Wilhemina’s shape, still in bed, her back to you, the comforter pulled up to her waist.

For a second you considered calling her name to determine whether she was still asleep. But the dread in your stomach tugged you onward before you had time to take a decision.

Carefully you settled on the narrow space between the edge of the bed and Wilhemina’s body. You brushed her hair back from her cheek so you could take a look at her face.

“Hey baby,” you whispered. You forced yourself to smile, knowing she would hear it in your voice.

Wilhemina’s eyes had been half-opened, staring vacantly at the darkness. Upon hearing your voice, they briefly moved in your direction, as if to acknowledge your presence.

You rested your hand on her shoulder, thumb gently stroking her skin.

“Are you feeling sick?” you tried.

Wilhemina remained silent.

“Do you want me to bring you something?” you tried again. “A cup of tea? Are you hungry?”

More silence. Worriedly you bent over her, hand now stroking her hair. It was uncharacteristically greasy, you noticed, and your fingers when you slipped them through it caught in several tight knots.

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow prevent the dread from spreading through you. Part of you was still cowardly trying to turn a blind eye on the situation, trying to pretend you had not already connected all the dots.

You pressed another kiss on Wilhemina’s temple. “I’m bringing you tea,” you announced.

You pretended not to hurry out of the room. You needed out for a moment, away from the darkness that seemed to be clinging to your skin, from the stale air of the bedroom, from Wilhemina’s vacant eyes and hunched frame. Your brain went numb. It was either that, or yielding to panic.

On auto-pilot you made the tea, Wilhemina’s favorite, a whole kettle of it. You put the kettle down on a tray with a cup and some biscuits, knowing perfectly well she wouldn’t touch them. Just to pretend.

When you came back to yourself, you found you were staring down at the kettle, hands on either side of the tray. You closed your eyes for a second and forced yourself to take a few deep breaths.

But Wilhemina was always so strong, you thought. Always pushing on, always fighting her on-going battle against her body and the norms and never showing even the tiniest sign of defeat to the outside world. In all the months of dating her, you had gained the sense that somehow she was holding the world together as a commander holds an army together. If she failed, if she as much as slackened her grip, the whole world would collapse, and you with it. You couldn’t imagine living in a world where Wilhemina wasn’t this strong, indestructible force protecting you and strengthening you.

And yet, you thought, as you made your way back to the bedroom, carefully holding the tray, she was bound to fail one day or the other. She was bound to grow weary. And it would be your job to help her back up onto her feet.

You weren’t sure you knew how. And yet you must, you scolded yourself, as you entered the bedroom. You couldn’t run away when Wilhemina needed you.

You set the tray on the bedside table and sat down on the bed again. “Sweetheart,” you tried, “will you sit up for me?”

Wilhemina had closed her eyes upon hearing the new determination in your voice, to try and block you. She didn’t acknowledge your presence, didn’t answer you.

You stared down at her shadowed frame, mind racing as you tried to think of what to do. Tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of her like this, looking so weak and defeated, looking so wrong – you shook your head to chase the thought.

You thought of what would usually help her when she wasn’t feeling good. Remembered all the hesitant touches, all the scooting closer, fingertips brushing your arm, eyes silently pleading to be held.

You stood up and stripped to your underwear so Wilhemina would feel your skin, then nestled in the narrow space available between her body and the edge of the bed.

You didn’t speak. Merely wrapped your arms around her waist and pressed yourself against her, dropping a kiss on the nape of her neck. She didn’t stiffen, or push you away – in fact, she didn’t react in the slightest, and you wondered if she was aware of your presence at all.

The familiarity of her quieted some of the racing thoughts in your mind. Heat quickly built up between your bodies, wrapping you up in a cocoon, and you found yourself wishing that you could build your own world in it, only exist in it, with Wilhemina pressed against you and you pressed against her and nothing else allowed in. To be the architect of your own world and have a say on even the tiniest speck of dust that wafted through it. You wished it could be that easy.

Gently you planted kisses on Wilhemina’s shoulder and neck, your thumb stroking her wrist to ground her in case she needed it. You closed your eyes and focused on her breathing, slow and deep. One breath in, one breath out.

In, out.

You must have dozed off, for when you opened your eyes again, the light filtering through the gaps in the shutters had the brightness of noon. You were still in the exact same position, spooning Wilhemina, but your arm that was trapped between her waist and the mattress had gone completely numb.

With a groan at the unpleasant sensation you pulled away and withdrew your arm. Wilhemina immediately stiffened. You pressed a kiss on her temple to let her know you weren’t going anywhere, and sat up, rolling your shoulder and arm to improve your blood circulation. Your other hand gently stroked Wilhemina’s hair as a reminder that you were still here, still with her. Not running away.

Slowly you slid your fingers through her hair, working through the knots and grazing your nails over her scalp. You had done this before, hundreds of time, had whispered into her ear how beautiful her hair was and how you would never get enough of stroking it and brushing it and twirling strands of it around your fingers. Wilhemina had rolled her eyes, but a chuckle had escaped her, warm and affectionate. She had buried her face in your neck, as she did every time you were cuddling and she didn’t quite know how to handle your compliments. And certainly you had hummed and smiled knowingly, holding her head to you, fingers still threading through the red.

You looked down at her and gently scratched above her ear.

“Will you drink some tea for me?” you whispered. “It’s probably cold now, but you like it cold too.”

Silence. Your chest tightening.

“When was the last time you had water?” you heard yourself say. “Did you drink yesterday before you went to bed?”

Silence. More silence.

Fear rose in you again, hot and wrapping around your heart to squeeze, making your ears buzz, your vision swim. You shifted on the bed just so you could do something, skimmed your palm down Wilhemina’s cheek.

“Sweetheart please – please say something. Wilhemina you’re scaring me. Please, just –”

You didn’t finish, because your voice was quivering and tears were threatening to spill, and you had promised yourself you would be strong for her. Not this pathetic, helpless little girl. So you closed your eyes, pushed your palm against your forehead as you tried to regain control over the fear that threatened to overthrow you. You didn’t know what to do anymore. Call for help? Pace the room like a madwoman? Shake Wilhemina until she finally came back and snapped at you?

You didn’t know. Panicking seemed like the best option right now.

Instead, you ran your fingers through Wilhemina’s hair and forced your voice back under control. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, as tenderly as you could. “Please talk to me. I love you.”

For a while she kept on being silent, and your heart broke and sunk, and panic roared and jumped, but then - blessedly, blissfully - her voice rose, raspy and shaky from disuse.

“I’m so tired,” was what she said.

You bent over her, sweet relief rushing over you now that she was finally willing to communicate. Your hand moved to her forehead. “Are you feeling sick?”

She shook her head. She opened her eyes and again stared at the darkness in front of her.

“Sweetheart,” you pushed on, “maybe if you tried to eat or drink something –”

“What’s the point?” Wilhemina cut you off – her voice wasn’t angry, but instead completely devoid of emotion, as if she were too exhausted to feel. “If I drink your tea now and go to sleep tonight and get up tomorrow morning there’ll only be more pain. And pain again the day after. I’m so tired.”

You allowed yourself a minute to process her words. To embrace their full implication. It felt like a kick in your stomach, and yet it also made you feel calmer. For now that you had received confirmation of what was wrong, now that you knew the face of the enemy you had to defeat, you could think of an efficient plan and pick the appropriate weapons.

You pressed a tender kiss on Wilhemina’s cheek, but it only seemed to revive her anger.

“People like you have it so easy,” she said, her voice bitter now, and quivering. “All you do is wake up and begin your day and cry over your stupid little problems while being too dumb to realize how insignificant they really are. If you had to face a challenge more arduous than a lunch break that’s too short your whole fucking world would collapse.”

She paused to take a shaky breath. You waited for her to go on, blinking back tears but knowing you had to let her speak, to let her let it out no matter if it hurt.

But Wilhemina didn’t go on. The fight flowed out of her as quickly as it had flowed in. Her body sank back into the mattress, limp and drained, eyes closing as if keeping them open was too much of an effort.

And again, your heart sank. Automatically you wrapped one arm around her shoulders to press her close against you, as if somehow that would rescue her, as if she was drowning and all you had to do to save her was pull her back to the surface.

Images flashed in your mind. Wilhemina, carefully sitting up in bed every morning, ritually assessing the day’s degree of pain. You, trying not to make it too obvious that you would shorten your walks every time you noticed a change in Wilhemina’s gait. Strangers and friends, their eyes falling on her cane, then quickly shifting to the floor.

There were days you weren’t very successful in hiding the worry and sadness in your eyes or voice when Wilhemina’s breathing became labored. There were days she wasn’t very successful in hiding the fact that the most common of things – a stranger’s dress, a stranger swiftly standing up from their chair, sometimes nothing at all – would turn her attention back to the curve of her spine. And how she would hate herself.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how draining her constant fighting must be, how lonely she must feel, carrying a burden most people never even had to think about. There had been times before when the fight had gone out of her, when her eyes had veiled over and her body had slumped and she had refused to speak or move, but those times had always been short. In the morning she had gotten up as usual and made ready to face a new day. And you had found that the best way you could help her in those moments was simply to accept them, to quietly support her and hold her as you waited for her to find her strength again.

But today – today was different. Today you feared she didn’t think it was worth finding it at all.

“Sweetheart,” you whispered, “there are so many things worth you keep fighting for.”

Wilhemina let out a low growl of annoyance. “If you say the sunset I’ll hit you.”

You shook your head, gently rubbing your thumb around a freckle on her arm. “I won’t. But it’s true. My darling, it’s true.”

“I don’t care,” Wilhemina said.

You kept on stroking her arm, encouraged and enlivened when she leaned into your touch rather than pulled away.

“And besides”, you went on, “I want to love you. And I need you,” you added, with a sad laugh. “Is that very selfish of me?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhemina sobbed.

You cooed and pressed another kiss on her temple. Wilhemina curled in on herself, hiding her face in her hands as she cried. You closed your eyes, pushing your forehead against hers, heart breaking for her but also so very relieved that she was finally showing emotion instead of her earlier numbness.

“I don’t want to keep fighting,” Wilhemina choked. “I don’t see the point anymore.”

“Ok,” you breathed, voice a little strangled by fear. You lay down so you could hold her closer, pretending not to notice how your hands were shaking and your heart beating so fast now.

And as you slowly rocked her and shushed her, you stopped trying to find the right words that would lift her up, for you were no longer convinced those existed. Instead, you let her sink.  

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you whispered. “You can take a break. I won’t leave you.”

When Wilhemina had calmed down, you got up and opened the shutters and the window to let the sunlight, fresh air and birdsongs in. Then you hurried back to bed and held Wilhemina in your arms.

She slept through most of the day. In the evening you managed to convince her to take a shower with you. You washed her hair, lathered her skin.

The next day was spent in bed, too. Wilhemina slept. You read a book and read to her when she woke up. You highlighted the passages you found beautiful and asked Wilhemina which were her favorites. You highlighted those, too. She agreed to eat something, for you, and you held her to you when she suddenly broke down halfway through finishing her plate.

On Monday you called your respective bosses to let them know Wilhemina and you were taking the whole week off. Wilhemina still wouldn’t get out of bed, so you read some more to her, one hand holding the book and the other holding her. When you were both bored of reading, you played some of Wilhemina’s favorite records. She lay listening to the music with her eyes closed and her arm draped over your waist. In the evening you ordered food and Wilhemina and you ate it in bed while watching a movie.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, she barely spoke. She lay with a vacant look in her eyes that would only fracture when she sobbed and wailed in your arms. She refused to take her painkillers. At one point you hid in the bathroom and bit your fist to hold back your screams.

On Thursday, Wilhemina got out of bed and together you walked to the nearest park to sit on a bench in the sun and people-watch. On Friday night you woke up panting and with your mind haunted by images of Wilhemina lying lifeless on a tile floor. She gathered you in her arms and rocked you as you clang to her and sobbed and begged her never to leave you.

The week after that was spent mostly in bed, too, but on Wednesday Wilhemina changed and washed the sheets. You hung them outside to dry in the sun.

Your bosses complained. You decided you didn’t care and hung up on them.

One afternoon, for no reasons it seemed, Wilhemina suddenly turned cold and mean to you, and it took you a few hours to realize she was terrified and angry that she had let you see her in such a vulnerable state. You said it was okay. She said she wasn’t sure you were worth it. Her words hurt you more than you would have liked to admit.

You grew silent after that. You did the laundry and vacuumed the house to keep yourself busy and drown out your thoughts. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and slam the door behind you. To leave, to run away if Wilhemina thought so little of you. Just as you were thinking that surely it was the right thing to do, Wilhemina called your name. She made you sit down on the bed next to her, held your hand, and apologized. She explained she was terrified. You nodded, blinking back tears, and gave her hand a squeeze.

The day after that was spent in bed, too, but a new, timid feeling of happiness settled on the sheet. You planted kisses on each other’s skin, exchanged renewed confessions of love and devotion and made love for the first time since you had come back from your trip. You held her tight as she shook against you, and she cooed as you choked on her tongue, clenching around her fingers and forgetting for a moment everything that wasn’t sweet and warm and love. You dozed off, and when you opened your eyes again, Wilhemina’s were smiling.

On Thursday she announced she was going back to work. You grinned at her, kissed her senseless, and managed to convince her to take it slow and wait till the next Monday. She protested at first, said she couldn’t even imagine how Kineros hadn’t yet collapsed without her, but you raised a cheeky eyebrow and said you rather loved having her all to yourself. She rolled her eyes at that, but was betrayed by the faint blush that dusted her cheeks.

That night you found her sitting in the garden gazing at the stars with a sad, overwhelmed look in her eyes. You draped a blanket over her shoulders, snuggled up to her and nudged her shoulder with your nose.

“Are you okay?” you breathed, looking up at her profile.

Still, she gazed at the stars. “I don’t know,” she breathed back.

You hummed and nestled your head in the crook of her neck.

“I never said thank you,” Wilhemina whispered after a few moments.

You hummed again.

“So, thank you,” she said.

“Anytime,” you whispered, reaching for her hand.

“Take it slow on Monday, okay?” you said after a moment.

Wilhemina made a disapproving noise, but nodded.

“And call me,” you went on. “If you feel overwhelmed.”

Another nod. She laced her fingers with yours and lifted your hand to press lingering kisses on your knuckles in an attempt to distract you, as well as herself, from the tears pooling in her eyes.

“One day at a time,” you breathed. “It’s really all we can do.” 

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss  @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode  @ka-s @lntlmate @talulahmae @mrsdeanhoward

[kashimos-hajime]

the girl in purple (1/8) | r.b.

summary: In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. Or, four years ago, Bertholdt asked for a favour and you said yes.

WARNINGS: swearing, ass jokes, flashbacks and flashforwards, mostly fluff and banter, pining and angst at the end, bertholdt is our soft best friend <3 pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.0k

a/n: pt 1 of 8 of a birthday present for the legend, the icon, the bad bitch herself, ISABEL!!@!@!@ @luciilferss​ ALSO, song not mine! it’s the sea shanty called wellerman.

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

You sigh, wiping the back of your hand before grabbing the next hay bale that needed to be lifted to the loft. Your back aching, you grit your teeth as you lug it towards the ladder. It’s the last one and after a sweaty afternoon, you just want to get into bed. Hopefully Annie did end up getting you supper—you had to work through it just so Shadis didn’t get your ass up tomorrow to finish the job.

“Here, let me help.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply, glancing to see your savior and a warmth shoots through your body when you realize it’s Bertholdt. “You know if Shadis catches you helping me, it’s going to be hell to pay, right?” The boy smiles, shrugging, and you can’t help your own grin as he gestures for you to climb up. Skirting up the ladder, you turn around to take the hay bale and pushing it towards the corner before jumping down and dusting off your hands. Stable clean-up is never fun, but with autumn right around the corner, they all want to get a head start before the chill sets in.

“I wanted to ask you a favour.”

“I knew there had to be a reason you were in here,” you tease. “Shoot.”

“Well, we have visiting privileges next weekend,” Bertholdt continues as you walk around the stables, picking up tools as you make your way towards where the broom is leaning against the wall. The tall boy ambles after you and you shoot him an amused look, curiosity pricking at your fingers. 

Half-way through their training in the corps, and Bertholdt still manages to keep you guessing. You don’t know what it is about him, but your friend’s always been the quiet one. It’s part of why you like being around him, but you just wish his friend liked you. Annie seems more than fine with you.

Reiner, on the other hand, can barely even look at you. It’s a real downer.

“I was just wondering…”

“You should ask Annie,” you cut off before he can finish, picking up the broom to begin sweeping the stray hay into a neat pile. Bertholdt’s spine goes ramrod straight and his cheeks redden so intensely you can’t help but laugh. “I’m pretty sure she would say yes. You guys are friends, right?”

“Yes, but we’re—we’re not—why would I ask Annie, specifically?” he stammers. The horses neigh as you walk past, their necks stretching out for treats but you ignore them, heading for the entrance. “She could go with a bunch of other people.”

“Yeah, but she always goes with me.” Glancing at Bertholdt, your eyes narrow when he smacks his forehead, covering his flustered expression miserably. Poking him in the gut with the handle of your broom, you continue, “And she only likes a few people here. You’re one of them, Bertl.” 

“Well, if you think so. I mean, you’re her dorm mate, not me, so… argh!” he groans as you walk past him, sweeping. “You’re not helping!”

“Helping with what?” you ask innocently, not paying him a second look. You hear him let out a sigh as you brush hay to the back of the stables. “You’re the one who wanted a favour.”

“Yeah, and I still need to tell you.”

“Literally no one’s stopping you, Bertholdt.” Another resigned sigh. “Okay. Okay. Ask me. I promise I won’t tease you for the next ten minutes.” Turning around, you rest your broom against the post between two stalls. A horse nudges at your face and you scratch the stallion’s chin as Bertholdt walks closer. His eyes inspect your own expression, searching for trickery, but you only grin.

Then, he drops his crossed arms and says, “Someone wants to ask you out next weekend for our visit to Trost.”

“Er, okay? Why didn’t they just ask me themselves?” Crossing your own arms, you lean against the post, the lantern hanging above your head and casting everything in a warm glow. It softens Bertholdt’s smile as he shrugs mischievously. “Who was it?”

“Reiner.”

“Reiner?” His name is punched out of you, sharp with shock, and your broom slides off the post, clattering to the floor between the two cadets as you stare at Bertholdt. 

“Mhm?”

“Reiner Braun.”

“Yep.”

“We know the same one, don’t we?”

“Blond, makes ass jokes, this tall?” he shoots back, raising a hand that comes just near his ear. You nod. “Yeah.”

“But he hates me.”

“What? No, he doesn’t. Why would you think that?” Bertholdt’s eyebrows knit together and you stare at him incredulously, not sure if he’s joking or not. Shaking your head, you let out a scoff and bend down to pick up your broom to continue your sweeping. Mind a swirl, you try to reconcile the Reiner, who has never said more to you than ‘pass the grease’ during ODM maintenance and ‘you have dirt on your chin’ after forest exercises, with the Reiner who had to ask Bertholdt to ask you out for him.

Sounds fake, but you digress.

“Okay,” you drawl, unable to help the disbelief from creeping into your voice. “This was a good attempt at a joke, but you need to try harder next time.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Why would I ever believe you?”

“Because I would never li—make something up like that,” he says, correcting himself, and you send him a strange look. “Just… when we get to Trost, you know that bakery that sells the stuffed cream buns. The one you mentioned before?”

“Yeah. Annie likes them,” you inform him pointedly, and Bertholdt’s mouth drops open to argue but he seems to think better of it this time.

“Yes, that one.” Fighting a furious blush on his cheeks, he continues, “If you’re there at noon, you’ll see I’m not lying.”

“And if I’m not there?”

“Reiner will be very sad for the rest of his life,” Bertholdt declares and you can’t help your serious expression from sliding off. “Will you please just consider it?”

Staring at your friend, you study his expression. It’s completely genuine, open, eyes wide and you feel a part of you melting at how adorable he is. For such a tall guy, he’s so goddamn gentle it blows your mind he’s a fighter. You can’t see him hurting even so much as a fly.

It’s for that reason you relent. Because Bertholdt’s never gone out of his way to scheme your downfall. He doesn’t have that in him. “Fine,” you say after a moment. “Fine, I’ll consider it.”

.

When Reiner steps back into the port city, he can’t help but think what he always thinks when he gets off a battlefield. Four years, and every thought is the same. Routine, almost. Or maybe, a habit to keep something alive.

And he almost takes comfort in it. That you would’ve loved it here. In Marley—Liberio, or otherwise. There are so many kinds of sweets, pastries, so many sights to see—the water stretches on for miles and miles, and you could’ve tried seafood. Maybe you would’ve liked it.

You never tried seafood. He promised. He promised—

Fucking hell. 

He steps out of the barracks, insides twisting into a tight knot as the sun blinds him. Lifting a hand, he squints and blinks, trying to get used to the brightness as people pass him by. Galliard’s voice trails after him like a ghost, and he scowls to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He feels like he hasn’t slept a wink, and his body aches in places so deep he can’t rub it out.

“I saw you through her memories. You acted like the tough, reliable type. Not at all like yourself. And you were with that girl. Who was she to you, anyway, Reiner? Because my brother would have never cozied up with the enemy.”

Cozied up with the enemy. It’s as much as implying fraternization as anything and Reiner had barely chained back the words that would’ve torn both him and Galliard to shreds.

Don’t you fucking dare reduce her to just some promise I broke ever again. It stopped meaning something to me years ago.

Shaking his head free of Galliard’s voice, an image of you flashes through his mind to replace it and the urge to send a fist into his own face lances down his arm, but he barely restrains himself from doing so. Instead, he tightens his hand until his nails dig into his palm.

You’re always the one thing he can’t shake, nor does he think he wants to. 

Hollow, his feet drag his battered body towards the harbour. 

As he walks along the water, he hear some of the fishermen whistle and sing their shanties. It takes him a moment to recognize they’re all singing the same song, and he’s thrown back to when he came to the port the first time he was to go off to Paradis, how he committed the shanties to memory so he could take something with him to what was supposed to be an Island of Devils.

It makes his entire body ache, the uplifting tune filling his body up until he can’t possibly breathe. The way the sailors all sing together, smiling at each other—the camaraderie.

“Soon may the Wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum, one day when the toungin’ is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He misses that the most.

.

The sun is hanging in the centre of the sky as you glance from your plate to your surroundings. The fountain is full of life, people milling around the edges, tossing coins in and making wishes, and you hide a smile behind your hand when you watch a group of kids trying to flick their coins to the top most basin of the structure. The tiny plink-plink is barely heard, but either way, their groans of disappointment are far more amusing.

It helps pass the time at least, while you waste away your afternoon waiting for someone you’re not even sure will come. Dressed in a white blouse tucked into a long dark purple skirt that covers your pants, you cross one leg over the other as you wait.

You don’t even know why you’re here. Bertholdt had all but avoided your questions for the past week, and Annie didn’t budge, although, it’s harder for the blonde to slip. Being bunkmates helps, but not that much.

You keep people-watching, glancing up at the sky occasionally to see if any birds pass over, your bread untouched. Glancing up and down the street, you rest your chin glumly on the palm of your hand, elbow resting on the table. 

No pretty blond head in sight. 

Groaning, you lift your head when one of the waiters approaches, asking if you wanted anything more. You shake your head, a warmth spreading over your face and watching him go when a shadow falls over your table. 

“Oh, you got something to eat already.” 

Head jerking to the voice, you look up in surprise at whoever’s blocking your sunlight. Standing upright, your chair clatters against cobblestone as you clear your throat.

“You’re actually here,” you blurt out to both of their surprise and Reiner rocks back on his heels, running a hand through his short hair. His eyebrows struggle to meet his hairline and he smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry I’m late. Uh, sit down. I just… got lost.” You sink back into your chair and he takes the seat down across from yours nervously. He’s dressed in a pale green button up and darker slacks, but for once, he’s not scowling at you and you offer a slight smile. “How… how are you?”

“I’m okay. Slow morning.” He nods. You glance at your plate and nudge it towards him awkwardly. “I got it for you. It’s my favourite. I dunno what Bertl told you about me, or… why I’m even here, honestly.”

He picks up the bun tentatively, and you look down at your boots as he takes a bite, too nervous to watch his reaction.

What if he hates sweet things? What if he can’t drink cow milk? Don’t you remember? What if it makes him shit his pants—

“Oh, wow. I need to come to this place more often,” Reiner mumbles, taking another huge bite and your gaze flits to his face as he chews. His eyes are focused solely on the bun in a way that reminds you a lot like Sasha, and the corner of your mouth pulls into a pleased hint of a smile. “This is heaven…”

“You like it?” 

A noise escapes the blond and eyes jerk to meets yours as if he just remembered you were there and you tear your eyes away, clasping your hands together on the table. You close your eyes. Can the embarrassment just swallow you up already?

Reiner clears his throat, taking the cup of water left out for him after a quick point and your nod. He drains it to buy them both time, and your thumbs rub together. If you just walk away now, would it be too bad? You could probably find Annie or Jean pretty easily. Bertholdt’s probably just exploring the city with… if you had to hazard a guess, maybe Armin? They both like the architecture—stuff like that.

Honestly, you have no idea.

Porcelain rests against wood as Reiner nods. “I do. I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth.”

“Er, yeah. Since I was a kid. We didn’t have much, uh, variety, so stuff like this was kinda a delicacy. I grew up at this orphanage where we worked the fields.” You shift in your seat as Reiner continues to eat, and you sigh silently to yourself. Why did you give up an afternoon looking at paint supplies with Jean for an awkward date like this?

Wait, this is a date right? That’s what Bertholdt said. Ask you out. Those were his words, right?

“Where are you from?”

“Just inside Wall Maria, so when Shiganshina was breached, we had more time to move inward,” you explain briefly. “But we mostly ate what we grew for crops. I mean, it’s not like we could buy cream buns every day, you know?” Reiner nodded silently, and you give him an uneasy smile, feeling the need to elaborate. “Ever since we joined the corps, they send me money for birthdays and stuff. I don’t know.” You clear your throat. “Anyway, I just thought you might like the bun.”

“Even though you think I hate you?”

“Wha—“ A strangled noise comes out of your mouth. “Who told you that?”

“Why would you think that, anyway?”

“Because all you do is glare at me,” you say pointedly. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shoot him a narrowed look. “And scowl. And you generally avoid being anywhere near me. I mean, do I stink to you or something, Braun, because I have news for you—“

“I don’t hate you. I actually really like you,” he tells you bluntly, cutting your rant in half, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Reiner looks down at the empty plate, crossing his own arms and leaning forward on them. 

“Y-you like me?” you stammer and his cheeks redden.

“I mean, if Annie likes someone, I’m inclined to believe that they’re worth my time.”

Frowning, your shoulders slump. Gears turning, your expression scrunches up as you think aloud. “But, you asked Bertholdt to ask me out for you. Unless this is a dumb dare—wait.” You sit upright, twisting around to see if any of the other boys are milling around the plaza. Scanning for brown hair, or grey hair, or even blond hair, your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that someone’s watching you embarrass yourself but a hand on your elbow brings your gaze reeling back to Reiner.

A smile curls his lips impishly, but his eyes are resolute, calmer. Even still, he looks like he’s trying to fight a small panic rising up inside him, just like you are as he tells you to relax.

“This isn’t a dare,” he says. “I’m not that cruel.”

“I’ve seen you do worse to Titan dummies.”

“Exactly. I just wanted to get to know you better. Bertholdt offered to help me out since you guys are already friends, and I thought what the hell.”

You turn that explanation over in your head tentatively and a part of you recognizes it makes sense. Despite your hesitation, you know you only said yes because it was Bertholdt who asked you.

Otherwise, how inclined were you to say yes if it had been Reiner stalking up to you and asking you to hang out in Trost? How likely would it have been that you would be sitting here instead of walking along the stalls with Sasha and Connie?

“I’m kinda ashamed I don’t know you that well,” Reiner continues, fighting off tones you can’t decipher laced in his voice. Your brow furrows. “But I want to fix that, if you’d let me.” 

Dazedly, you repeat, “Fix… that?”

He nods and you simply stare at him, trying to get your mouth to work. It’s like he stole all the words from your mouth and time seems to slow as your lips part.

Absently, you realize his hand is still touching your elbow, fingers firm but not tight, and you swallow, studying his expression. Golden light plays on his face, sharpening the shadows of his nose and cheeks and lips, and yet everything about him seems to soften. Normally, you see him as hard rigid lines, like the shape of armour, and there is always an imposing aura around him that has become more muted now that he’s sitting beside you.

And you believe it. That he doesn’t hate you.

Maybe he really, really doesn’t, and you’d be an idiot if you don’t take up the offer.

So you stand up abruptly, and pull your arm out of his grip before slipping your hand into his.

“Fine,” you annouce, pulling him up. His eyes widen and you lead him away from the café with a small grin to yourself. A new plan begins to formulate in your mind as they step into the welcoming sun. Reiner’s long strides catch up to yours and he falls into step beside you. His stare burns into your cheek and you only tighten your grip on his hand as you lift your chin haughtily at him. “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

His eyebrows shoot up, but then a smug smile pulls at his mouth and he squeezes your hand back. “Sounds perfect, creampie. I promise, I’ll be perfectly honest.”

“Creampie?” you repeat dumbly, eyebrows shooting up and a horrible burning licking at your heart. Reiner gives you a vulgar smile and you let go of his hand, shaking your head and smacking his arm before looking down at the ground. Half of you wishes the ground would open up and swallow you whole—the other half thinks you’ll die of embarrassment before that. “How do you even know what that is?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You straighten up, spine straight as an arrow. Flustered, you stutter, “That’s none of your business.”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Guess that was your first question, then, huh? Bold start. Surprised me, too, creampie, so that gets you bonus points.”

“What? Wait—no! That doesn’t count!”

.

Walking past the hospital every day, it feels almost ritual to look past the gates and into the courtyard. Sometimes there are patients milling around, doing their daily physical activity, or nurses and other workers walking through to get a break from all the depressing shit that must be going on in there, and Reiner always, always, wonders if he should be in there with the rest of them.

It’s why he turns his head on reflex now, peering through iron-wrought gates. No one’s inside except for a pair walking through the path and he stops for a moment, watching. 

One of them is most definitely a woman, a hat covering her head and a long coat the shade of plums. A white Eldian armband is stark against the shade of her clothes. Meanwhile the other looks like he’s been dragged through hell. With one leg, he hobbles along with his crutch, black hair streaming past his shoulders, and he’s ragged, white shirt kind of messy from where Reiner stands. The Eldian armband is wrapped tight along his bicep. But he stands straight-back, shoulders set, the gait of a soldier. Pride keeps him up, not strength.

He’s too far away to hear them speak, and they stick to the shadows of the hospital, but after a short moment, the woman wraps an arm around the one not desperately holding onto the crutch, leaning in closer towards the man as if he has the most riveting thing to say.

For a moment, it is not a woman in a purple jacket and a veteran with one leg but two cadets walking the streets of Trost, sunlight shining down on them warmly. The blond boy leans to listen to the girl beside him, smiling until he thought his cheeks would fall off.

“This is your last question, Reiner. Make it count.”

“Hm… alright, if you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you do? No Titans, no soldiers. Let’s say there was no war at all and you had unlimited resources, yadda, yadda, yadda…”

“Oh? Hm… I’d want to live where there’s a lot of water. Like a lake or something. I’d get to try all these foods I’ve never thought of before, and I’d, uh… I don’t know what I’d do for money. I guess I’d figure it out somehow.”

“Chopping down wood sounds fun.”

“Yeah, right! I’d rather chop my fingers off. Hm… Maybe I could raise some kids, like I was raised. Give them a home.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“I dunno. I like being responsible for things. It makes me feel like I’m needed, I guess. I don’t want a kid to grow up lonely like I did.”

“That… that sounds nice.”

“You could visit, you know. As long as you chop the firewood.”

Reiner blinks, and the two are gone. Not a hint of them are in sight, and a soft breath slips out between his lips. He must’ve been seeing things.

Shaking his head to himself, he turns away.

.

The past year and a half has been turbulent since you became friends with Reiner, but for some reason, you don’t think you would change the thing. 

Not even when Connie would come at ghastly hours in the morning because “CAN YOU PLEASE TELL REINER TO STOP SNORING? We would but we’re too afraid of being crushed by the weight of his entire body. Thank you! You’re the best, seriously.”

Or when they’re studying and Reiner makes one too many jokes about how he could fuck a Titan, despite Bertholdt’s resigned sighs and you throwing a book at him, and it only gets you, “Keep acting like that and I’ll take a bite out of your juicy ass next, creampie,” and a heat that kisses at your face.

Not even after reclaiming Trost and losing yourself in his arms.

You feel something inside you shatter as the smell of ash tickles at your nose. Walking past the combat medics base they set up for the parameter of the recovery effort, you don’t even look up at any of your friends still left as you walk past. Your entire body burns from the aftermath of Trost, and you wonder if you’ll be able to even get up in the morning as you limp over to a secluded alleyway and lean against the stone.

You don’t know if you’ve ever fought for that long or hard in your life, and you can’t feel your legs anymore as you sink to the floor.

Too many bodies. There are too many bodies.

“Hey.”

Looking up, you pull your mask down when Reiner stands before you. Tearing the fabric off your neck, you draw your knees up and rest your arms on top of them, the mask hanging off your fingers limply. A strange relieving wave washes over you to know he’s still here, even surrounded by so much death.

“Hi,” you murmur. “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agrees simply, leaning in beside you and sliding down. Their knees knock into one another as he tugs his own mask down. Sweat glistens along his skin and his sleeves are rolled up as he clears his throat. “I’m glad you made it out.”

You smile faintly at him but it flickers out before it can find a place on your face. Looking at your hands, you imagine the rough skin of calluses forming on your palms still and you wish you could rip your gloves off but every part of you is too exhausted to move now. Softly, you tell him, “I’m glad you made it out, too. There are a few of us I haven’t really caught sight of. I know Eren’s squad is dead. I—“ you stop yourself. No way Reiner is interested in the fact that you had taken their deaths in stride because you had to in the moment and now you don’t think you can feel at all— “but… Marco. I haven’t seen him in days. Jean hasn’t seen him either.”

“M-Marco?” Reiner whispers and your eyes lift to look at him. “You haven’t found him yet?” Gaze widening at the colour draining from Reiner’s face, your stomach flips and a dread fills your entire being as you sit upright, your legs sliding down, your arms falling to the ground to prop yourself up. Lungs tightening, your lips part as if to form his name but no sound comes out.

You know what his silence means. His silence is death spelt out in glaring red letters—the same shade as blood. 

But Marco?

Why Marco? A caustic voice screams inside you and your nails dig into the cobblestone as Reiner turns his face away, jaw clenching. Trying to breathe, the air stalls in your throat and your gut clenches as your gaze drifts to the street full of combat medics and doctors, other soldiers who still walk. What—what do you mean Marco isn’t one of them? You want to grab Reiner by the jacket, shake him until he makes sense, but instead you search for freckles behind every mask, stumbling to your feet. Marco never did anything wrong. He was supposed to join the MPs. He was our… our leader. He never did anything wrong.

He never did anything wrong. Never. Never. Not Marco. It can’t be. The thought tumbles through your head as you push yourself to your feet but your knees nearly give in on the first step and you stumble to the other side of the alleyway with a harsh noise. Shoulder crashing into the stone, your eyes squeeze tight and hot tears pour down your face as you clench your teeth, trying to chain back the sob that’s working through your body. Head hanging, your mouth pries open as an ugly moan comes out of you, so deep inside you that you want to crumble.

Days seem to pile onto your shoulders until you think your bones will break and your fingers curl into tight fists as you try to stop the tears from falling, but they keep coming, tracing your nose, pushing everywhere and everything is so hot. Shit, you can’t even breathe—

Hands take your shoulders and you let out a ferocious scream, thrashing yourself out of your grip but fingers only slide to your biceps, pulling you away from the wall as your boots slip against the cobblestone and then hands are on your wrists, pushing away your blind fists.

“Let me go! He’s dead, isn’t he?” you scream as he lets go of you for just a second to wrap his arms around you and you let out a shuddering breath as he crushes you in his embrace. “Reiner! Tell me! Marco’s dead!”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

His words spear through your skull, sending electricity down your spine and your entire body goes limp as he collapses to his knees, you with him. Your arms at your side, your eyes blink open and you feel fresh tears fall down your face as he cups the back of your head, holding you to him and as something wet seeps into your shoulder, it’s as if you are set on fire.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

 On their own accord, your arms come up under his and fingers hook onto his shoulders. Chest to chest, you swear your heart beats in a mournful beat with his, and his entire body collapses against yours. Eyes closing, you press yourself closer, hoping that the heat of his body will chase away the cold that’s rapidly spreading through your body.

Reiner’s arm around your waist tightens. You swallow hard against his shoulder.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers against your neck, wet cheek pressing against your jaw, and your chest stutters as you try to remember how to breathe.

“Reiner…”

You barely breathe his name. It only makes him curl tighter against you.

.

Liberio is colder at night than he remembers. He has to pull the blankets up to his chin, and still, he shivers.

Rolling onto his side, he can nearly imagine you staring back beside him, smiling, hand reaching to touch his face, and his eyes flutter shut when your fingers seem to pass through his cheek.

In his mind, you’re wearing the white blouse and long purple skirt again, long riding boots covering dark pants, innocent smile on your face as you wait for him in the noon sunlight. 

By then, he had known there weren’t any devils on Paradis, but he’d never seen an angel until he saw you cast in gold.

[whispersatdawn]

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 23

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

prev | next || masterlist

word count: ~1.5k

You lovingly gazed back down at the big bouquet on your lap, and your smile automatically grew bigger at the sight of the beautifully arranged flowers sent by Jaehyun. Your fingers brushed against the small note card attached, rereading the cursive print: Thinking of my favorite person again <3

“From, your... boyfriend,” you finished, feeling your cheeks warm, still slightly unaccustomed to the label that reminded you that Jaehyun was yours.

In the past few days, Jaehyun gained confidence to show more affection towards you. Although you noticed he preferred to do so in private, in front of your friend group, he had no problems occasionally holding your hand, or putting his arm around your shoulders, or giving you quick kisses. Jaehyun also enjoyed taking you on romantic dinner dates, and when neither of you felt like going out, he would order takeout and bring it over to your apartment. You were kind of sure it was an excuse for him to stay the night, too, not that you were complaining at all. You adored him for making you feel loved.

Soft knocks appeared on your bedroom door, pulling you away from your thoughts. After you acknowledged the person on the other side, the door opened, and Sujin’s head popped in. “Do you need anything from the store?” your friend asked. “Johnny and I are gonna go right now. I need to buy more shampoo and conditioner.”

“Um... can you please get bread and eggs? We’re about to run out. Also, do we need anything for the beach house?”

“Got it, and I don’t think so? I mean, if you think of anything, you can just text us while we’re there. To be honest, I haven’t even started packing yet,” Sujin sighed.

“Same,” you admitted, matching the other’s sigh. “And where’s Ten? I haven’t seen him since I got home.”

“Taking a nap. Oh, by the way, I just finished my laundry, so you can go ahead and do yours—”

“Sujin!” you heard Johnny call from the living room. “Are you ready? Let’s head out.”

“Coming!” replied Sujin as she turned back to you. She said goodbye in a sing-song voice, but not before her eyes shifted down to the bouquet, grinning. “Gorgeous flowers!”

The rest of the day went by in a tranquil manner. You did laundry, and when Sujin and Johnny returned from the store and Ten woke up, the four of you spent a majority of the time together catching up on your favorite TV show until the evening.

“Geez, it’s almost ten thirty,” Johnny said with a yawn, stretching his arms as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think I’m gonna call it early. Got the morning shift.”

Sujin lifted her head from your shoulder and removed the blanket from the both of you. “Yeah, I’m getting tired, too,” she said. “Guess that’s it for the night.”

You reached for the remote to turn the TV off. “Aw, okay. I should really start packing for the weekend anyway, it’s—”

The ring of the doorbell cut you off, causing you to look at your roommates in confusion, and they returned the same look.

“Were we expecting anyone?” you asked, brows drawn together, and the others shook their heads.

Johnny was the one who walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. “It’s for you, Y/N,” he said, pushing the door open, revealing a sheepish Jaehyun at the entrance. He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and pants.

Your boyfriend gave a single wave. “Hey, guys,” he greeted before turning his attention to you. “Um, I texted you a few times, but you didn’t respond.”

“What? I should’ve heard—” You started, but then immediately remembered that you put your phone on silent, faced down next to you in order to focus on the show. You let out a groan, cursing yourself mentally. “I’m sorry. My phone was on silent, and I haven’t checked it.”

Johnny closed the door and bid goodnight, with the others following after him to the hallway, leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

“Night, guys. Did I come at a bad time?” Jaehyun asked you, wrapping his arm around your waist and leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. You noticed the worried look on his face when you pulled away and could not help but kiss his pouty lips again.

“No, they were headed to bed anyway,” you assured him. “I’m really sorry I didn’t read your texts. What did they say?”

“I wanted to take you out to see you, but I guessed I ended up doing so anyway,” he said with a chuckle.

You giggled. “You literally saw me yesterday when we all hung out with everyone at the bowling alley.”

Jaehyun shrugged. “What can I say? You have me under some kind of spell.”

You let out another laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at the cheesy comment as you reached for his hand, leading him to your room.

“What’d you do all day?” Jaehyun asked.

“Nothing much. Just some chores. I was about to pack right now, but then you showed up.”

“You can still pack. Don’t let me stop you.” He bounced onto your queen-sized bed before sitting back upright, legs hanging off the edge.

“Now, why would I pack,” you started, walking over to Jaehyun, “when I have my handsome boyfriend right in front of me?” You settled yourself over his lap, and he automatically placed both of his hands on your waist.

“I am a pretty interesting person, huh?” Jaehyun replied, licking his lips as he watched you.

“Very.”

You placed both hands on the sides of his face and kissed him. You caught scent of the woodsy cologne he always wore; it had grown to become one of your favorites, too. The kiss was sweet, and a part of you wanted Jaehyun to take it a little further, but Jaehyun pulled away, slightly taking you by surprise. “I... actually came here for another reason,” he told you softly, tucking stray hairs behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

“What is it?”

He started reaching into his pocket, so you moved off of him, sitting yourself next to your boyfriend as he pulled the content out. Jaehyun handed you a small box with a brand name printed on top. “Open it,” he said.

When you opened the box, you gasped, eyes wide at the beautiful rose gold heart necklace displayed inside. The chain was simple and the heart was small, but you knew from the brand that it was expensive. “Jaehyun...”

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling as he watched your reaction. “Can I put it on you?”

You did not know what to say, so you nodded your head, handing the box back to Jaehyun. He removed the necklace from the box. “Turn around.”

Your body turned to the opposite side, facing the wall. You felt Jaehyun’s body warmth as he moved closer behind you. He placed the necklace in front of you, and you gathered your hair, lifting it up so that he could bring the chain around to the back and connect the clasp. You let your hair down and fiddled with the heart between your thumb and index finger, smiling to yourself. Then you felt Jaehyun’s fingers touch your skin as he brushed your hair away and he planted a kiss on the side of your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you sighed at the contact. Turning around, you found Jaehyun watching you as if waiting to see what you would do next. “Thank you,” you said, voice almost in a whisper. “I love it.”

“Good.”

“Are you gonna stay tonight, too?”

“I want to.”

“Good, because I also want you to.”

After you turned off the lights, the moon was the only illumination, peeking through your window. You laid beside Jaehyun under the covers, and he instantly pulled you closer to him so that you were pressing against his chest. You practically melt in his arms, feeling safe around him. “Because of you, I’m starting to not like sleeping alone as much,” you mumbled, trying to fight off sleep.

Jaehyun chuckled. “Then it’s already going according to plan. You’re gonna be the one whipped for me.”

“Says the guy who showed up at my place after I ignored his texts and gifted me an expensive necklace. Who’s whipped for who?”

“Okay now,” Jaehyun said, tickling your side, causing you to burst into giggles before pressing your lips together, remembering your roommates were asleep. “Stop embellishing the story, Y/N. You did not ignore my texts.”

You stuck your tongue out at him jokingly. “Same difference.”

“Mhmm.” The tiredness was apparent in his voice, and your eyes started to drift to a close. Your boyfriend placed a kiss on your forehead, on your nose, and the last one on your lips. You let out a content hum. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was a low whisper from Jaehyun.

“Night, baby.”

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[quillsandtypos]

Ski Trip

Summary: when the reader agrees to go on the annual ski trip up to the mountains with her boyfriend, Luke, and her friends she expected to go looking at mountains. But what she ends up doing doesn't require much hiking

Pairings: alive!Luke Patterson x reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: THIS IS NSFW FOREPLAY SMUT PEOPLE

If any of you have ever had a conversation with me and you read this fic, no you didn't

...........................................

"What are you two doing tomorrow?" Julie asked you.

You rolled into your stomach and propped your head up in your hands. “I’m not sure, but I know what we're doing next weekend, unfortunately.”

That peaked Julie’s interest, you weren’t usually much of a complainer. “Why unfortunately?” she questioned.

“Because I'm going on the Ski trip with him,” you whined. You wanted to spend time with Luke, you just didn't wanna go on the trip.

“Oh my god, you get to go?” she excitedly asked.

“Not helping,” you commented.

Julie smirked. “Sorry not sorry, I’ve been trying to get you to go for the past two years. And the first year, I couldn’t even go,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, so why would I have gone if you and Flynn weren’t even gonna be there?” you asked. As if on cue, Flynn walked down the stairs.

“Heard you guys were talking about me, all good things I hope?” she spoke as she walked down the stairs.

“Always,” you said, somewhat sarcastically.

She motioned for you to scoot over so she could have some space on the couch.

“So, if we’re done talking about me, did I hear someone say something about the ski trip?” Flynn questioned.

Before you could open your mouth Julie was already telling Flynn about how you were coming on the trip.

“You are?” Flynn squealed.

You tried to not get excited from their joy, but it was impossible; they were contagious.

You shyly smiled. “Yes, I’m going.”

“Yayyy!” Flynn yelled. The girl was practically jumping up and down.

“Oh who are you sharing a room with?” Flynn asked.

“Luke and I are,” you answered.

The girls exchanged a look you knew all too well.

“Shut up!” You covered your face with a pillow.

“We didn’t say anything!” they protested in almost complete unison.

You could feel your cheeks burning up. “Yeah, but you thought it,” you argued.

“Well whether we thought it or said it, you’re sharing a room with your boyyyyyyyfriend,” Flynn sang.

“If you guys start sing teasing me, I will leave,” you threatened.

“Don’t you need us to pick out your outfits?” Julie remembered.

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

“So in other words you have no leverage?” Flynn realized.

“I’m your ride home,” you reminded her.

“Outfits it is, but do not think we will be forgetting about this!” Flynn cried as she walked up to your bedroom.

“Whatever Flynn!” you yelled back.

“She’s right you know,” Julie slyly commented.

You just huffed in response.

The two of them did a very good job at helping maximize your california wardrobe for the mountains. Granted you had to go buy a couple things in advance, but overall, you felt confident that you could bear the cold of the mountains.

“Alright, I think you’ll survive,” Flynn proclaimed.

You closed your suitcase, and surprisingly you didn’t even have to sit on it.

“Thank you guys, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, it was our pleasure, especially since you’re actually coming this year,” Julie said.

You dropped them both back off their houses and they were nice enough to spare you from embarrassing you in the car ride.

...........

You heard someone creeping up behind you as you grabbed your stuff to head to your second class, and as you felt arms wrap around your waist you knew it was Luke.

You turned to face him. “So I was thinking if we get one of the window rooms then we can see the snow when it falls,” he proposed.

Your face lit up. “Wait, it’s gonna snow when we’re up there?” you excitedly asked.

He happily watched your beaming face “I mean that’s what the weather said.”

“Oh my god! I haven’t seen snow since-” you paused, “actually I don’t remember, but it’s been awhile.”

“Well there’s a good chance that’s gonna happen,” he said.

“You know you’re actually required to show up to school for them to allow you to come right?” you teased. Though originally it had been a legitimate concern.

He licked his lips. “I’ve been coming everyday so I could come on this trip,” he defended himself.

“Coming to school and staying in school are two very different things Patterson,” you playfully reminded him.

He leaned in closer and his voice got quieter. “And what’s that?”

You resisted the urge to swallow and pulled away from him. “One is what I’m doing right now, because I need to go to class.”

He pulled his lips tightly before sighing. “You got me there,” he admitted.

“I always do,” you said, as you started walking off. You turned around to see him still standing there, you would be lying if you said it didn’t bring you joy.

“Go to class Luke!” you yelled back at him.

“You got it!” he saluted you and walked the other way.

You playfully rolled your eyes. That boy would be the death of you, but you supposed there were worse ways to go.

That Friday you didn’t have any school since the school board figured it was pointless to send a bunch of kids to school the day before they went on a ski trip. There wasn’t going to be any actual learning anyway. You usually would’ve spent some of the day at Julie’s; which you did, but today it wasn’t in the studio for practice. You figured since she had helped you pack, you could at least keep her company as she packed.

“So who are you sharing a room with?” you asked her, as she sorted through her jeans.

“Me and Flynn just figured we’d share one,” Julie said offhandedly.

You chose to not comment on how she was obviously forcing herself to be casual.

“Ah I see, do you know if Alex and Reg are coming?”

“Yeah, and get this Alex and Willie are sharing a room,” she gossiped.

“I’m calling it right now, they're gonna start dating by the end of the weekend,” you hypothesized.

“I 100% agree.”

The two of you spent the next hour or so just discussing what sort of things you wanted to do while you were there over the weekend, and of course how much Flynn was running around her house frantically changing outfits. You actually were excited about going, not necessarily about the actual trip, and about dealing with certain classmates, but you were looking forward to being with Luke and hanging out with your friends.

For some reason when you woke up the next morning you were a little nervous, you supposed it was because you had never been skiing or snowboarding for that matter.

You got ready pretty minimally considering you were soon to be on a five hour bus ride. None of your family was up yet so when Luke pulled into your driveway you slipped out the door.

“You got everything?” Luke asked.

“Everything except my chill,” you responded with a smile.

“You’re gonna be alright, and you don’t have to do anything there you don’t wanna do, so if you don’t wanna risk a broken leg, then don’t.”

Despite your anxieties, you knew he was still right.

“Thanks Luke.”

“Anything for you.”

When the two of you got to the bus everyone else in your group had already gotten there. You, the rest of the band, Flynn, and Willie had made a plan for the bus.

“We have arrived,” you announced to your friends as you and Luke took your spots.

“And just in time too, people kept trying to take your seats,” Willie reported.

“Thanks for saving them,” Luke responded.

The two of you continued chatting with the rest of your friends until the bus driver instructed everyone to take their seats. The majority of everyone slept on the way up there but you were too anxious to get there to sleep. Instead you watched youtube as Luke napped on your shoulder.

“Luke, Luuuuuuuuuuuke, Luooooooooooooooke,” you spoke. You were trying to wake him up quietly but you were starting to realize that wasn’t going to work.

Luckily Reggie was awake. “Oh he’s a heavy sleeper, that’s not gonna work.”

Reggie basically got himself so he was dangling off both sides of his chair before yelling in his ear.

Luke awakened with a jolt, looking fairly startled.

You weren’t entirely sure whether you should laugh, throw Reggie under the bus, or maybe both.

“What happened?” Luke asked.

“I woke you up,” Reggie answered innocently.

“By yelling in my ear?” Luke groggily questioned.

Reggie quickly tried to backpedal himself out of this situation. “I mean I don’t think the method is relevant, the important thing is that you’re up.”

Luke wasn’t awake enough to deal with the situation at hand. He just chose to lay his head back on your shoulder.

By the time you had made it to the hotel you were ready to collapse. Luke laughed when you flung yourself onto one the beds.

“Should I be worried?” he asked, mostly as a joke.

“No,” you smiled and rubbed your face, “I’m just really tired.”

“You couldn’t sleep on the bus?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” you groaned.

“You know what would help?” he asked.

“Do tell,” you inquired, from your face down position.

“This,” he said, before he jumped on the bed beside you. He curled his warm body around you and pulled you in.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” you responded. You attempted to melt further into him. You laid there in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

“Luke we should probably go do things,” you suggested. You attempted to get up but he pulled you back down.

You stayed with him but you turned around so you were facing him. “Luke?”

“Yes, y/n?”

You bit your lip, you had to admit, it was pretty cute. “Are you going to let me get up?” you asked.

He looked into your eyes lovingly. “Well if you’re trying to leave then no.”

“So that would be a no.”

“Well if you look at it that way then yeah,” he admitted with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Luke come o-” the rest of your sentence didn’t quite make it out. Your smart boyfriend decided to use your weak spot on your back against you.

“You wanna go now?” he teased.

“Not necessarily,” you lazily responded.

You could feel your willpower fading as the light stokes up and down your back sent a calm wave of chills through your body. But you knew if you didn’t use your chance now there was a good chance you weren’t getting out of that bed today.

“Luke come on we gotta go,” you whined. It’s not like you weren’t enjoying yourself, you most definitely were, but your friends had to be wondering where the two of you were.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he gave in.

“Can I have a kiss though?” he sweetly pleaded.

You gladly agreed, but you realized his plan of not leaving the room hadn’t quite ended when the kiss started leading down to your jaw.

“Luke you’re not sly,” you laughed.

“Oh is that so?” he asked, as he moved down to your jawline.

You nodded your head.

“Then why aren’t you moving?” he purred.

Okay, so he maybe had a point.

“You can tell me to stop,” he reminded you. He looked into your eyes for any sign of you wanting him to stop and waited.

“Unless of course, you don’t want me to stop?” he asked, with the biggest smirk you had ever seen on his face.

“Not necessarily,” you said, completely avoiding his eye contact.

He crawled over top of you, “What was that princess?” he asked.

You forced yourself to look into those beautiful blue eyes, and that devilish smile. “No, I don’t want you to stop Luke.”

“That’s what I needed to hear.” He bent his head down at your jawline, this time starting on the side of your jaw bone. He sucked at the skin and you bit your cheek down on a moan. He moved down from your neck pressing harder and making it harder for you to control yourself.

“Luke,” you moaned.

“Yes?”

“No marks.”

He smirked. “It’s a little late for that one.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “You suck.”

“I don’t think you're exactly in the position to be saying those sort of things,” he warned.

You raised your eyebrows. As if he thought you would back down that easily. “Really?”

He licked his lips and shrugged.

“Make me,” you insisted.

“Bad choice of words,” he threatened. In a second his shirt was off and one of his arms held your’s down and above you.

This time he noticed when you swallowed. “Nervous?” he asked, his lips quirked up.

He might’ve been starting to get to you, but you weren’t going to admit to it. “You wish Patterson,” you tested.

His head dipped down towards your collarbone. He lightly sucked on it and gradually increased his intensity until your body unwillingly gave you away and you gutturally moaned.

He jutted his chin out, the fire in his eyes on stage was nothing in comparison to this. “What about now?”

“Yes, Luke,” you groaned out.

He somehow managed to pull your shirt off with you laying down, and managed to unhook your bra with minimal difficulties.

His mouth softly sucked on the very top of your nipple.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

As he continued sucking at a rapid rate you felt the knot in your stomach twisting further, just as you thought it was going to release Luke stopped.

“How much do you want it?” he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down.

You were not going to give him the satisfaction of begging.

You felt a finger glide across your clit ever so slightly and back and forth he kept going, ever so slowly.

A whimper escaped your lips.

“Beg for me, that’s all you have to do,” he promised. He was most definitely enjoying himself.

He moved back up to your nipples but instead he moved as slow as he could, he was trying to break you.

“Come on princess, you know you want it,” he taunted.

A sole finger swiped down your pussy and your breath hitched.

“Luke please,” you moaned.

“What please? I think it has something to do with fucking you silly,” he hinted. He once again crawled over top of you to be able to see your face. Like a predator stalking prey.

“Please rail the shit out of me Luke,” you whined.

“That was all you had to say princess.”

[harrieatthemet]

Long Weekend

These are the hardest. 

He’s bad at letting go. Goodbyes are hard, he figures it’s like that for everyone. Being the first to say goodbye at parties is hard. Saying goodbye to his mother is hard. 

Saying goodbye to his daughter is, by far, the absolute hardest departure of them all. 

“Daddy,” she inquires, tone honeyed and so heavenly he could almost swoon, “chocolate or lanella?”

Her eyes are big and round as she ganders up at him, face serious as she presses him to answer the question by locking eye contact. And really, he’s trying not to melt. Not because of the perpetual heat from the midday sun, but because she’s trying to be serious with a mustache compiled of chocolate ice cream after mispronouncing the word vanilla. 

“S’a tough one, lovey.” a faux puzzled expression flickers on his face as he extends a finger towards her forehead, brushing away a few matted baby hairs, “m’gonna say.. vanilla.”

He emphasizes the word not to belittle her, but moreso to example the correct pronunciation. Of course, she hardly acknowledges his attempt. She’s simply too focused on getting rid of the sprinkles on her chin by utilizing the tip of her tongue. 

As she sits there, nearly cross eyed as she focuses her attention on ridding her face of the last remaining purple sprinkle, he’s sat right beside her almost all consumed in adoration. He’s trying his very best to prolong the inevitable, stretch the last few minutes and figure out a way to turn them into hours. 

He was lucky to have had her this long; it’s late afternoon on a Monday so he knows that any other weekend he’d be looking at her through a screen instead of tucking away damp pieces of hair behind her ear. Any other Monday afternoon he’d be alone, without her, wondering what she was up to or if she had thought about him at all during her day. 

“Y’wanna head inside,” he asks, voice soft as he begins to notice her cheeks going flush from being outside, “maybe get cleaned up ‘for mummy comes?”

He knows that there really isn’t enough time for any of that, but he can’t help but ask. However, it only reminds him why long weekends are the hardest. 

It’s almost cruel, honestly. A taste of what a full week with her would be like; bedtime stories, swims in the pool before ice cream breaks, promptly followed by an hour long bath time excursion joined with rubber ducks and an excess of bubbles. Another night of singing her to sleep would be just enough to get him through the week, he thinks. Just one more night of snuggling her until she fell asleep, listening to her sigh in annoyance each time he got up to leave thinking she’d already succumbed to exhaustion. Long weekends are the hardest because they’re almost enough. 

“Ok,” and as she agrees to his suggestion, she finally decides to release her death grip on the ice cream cup glued to her pudgy hand, “ ‘n I sleep in your room this time?”

Honest to God he could cry when she asks. And he wants to tell her yes, so badly. He swears he can feel a little part of his heart start to crack as she stands up, extending her small hand to accompany his big one so that she could lead him inside. He’d let her pick anything, whatever she wanted, and all she’d have to do is ask. She could ask for the moon and he’d give it to her without a forethought. 

“Next time, lovey,” he frowns, fully knowing next time feels like a lifetime away, “promise.”

She doesn’t take too kindly to the word no, and perhaps that’s Harry’s own fault. He’s got a hard time turning down any request that comes from a face so heart-achingly adorable paired with a voice so angelic. On the rare occasion he does have to deny a request, which usually pertains to this particular one, he does his best to do anything other than say the word no. 

Which always works, because she was happy to be perched on Harry’s hip as they navigated there way back inside, her head tucked sweetly into the corner of his neck as she did what she could to ward off the incoming wave of exhaustion. 

But, at Harry’s expense, the request was still brewing in the back of her head. Why couldn’t she sleep in his room? He always lets her, even plugs in the flamingo shaped nightlight right at the foot of the bed. And he lets her bring all three of her stuffed animals in, too, tucking them in right next to her as per request. 

With her brows furrowed, lips pouted matched with a generally displeased expression, she huffs at him “Wanna sleep in your room.” 

He gets a clear display of just how irritable she is once he pulls the clean shirt over her head, stiffling a giggle at the poor braiding job he’s done to her hair. But it entices him to realize just how upset she is with him; any other time, she’d be sure to tell him he pales in comparison to your stellar braiding skills. 

“Y’gonna sleep in your room tonight,” he’s forcing an excited tone, doing his best to redirect, “at mummy’s, ‘n I’ll be sure t’remember the flamingo this time so you can plug it in there.” 

It’s not what she wants to hear, at all, because her pout is only amplified, “m’sleeping here.”

“Well what about mummy,” he frowns, “m’sure she misses you ‘n wants t’see you, yeah?”

“She can sleep here too,” and to her, it’s like the best idea she's ever conjured up, because she practically lights up at the suggestion, “with us!”

And it is a lovely idea, one that he’d jump at if he was given the chance. He can remember, and quite fondly, a time where he was sandwiched between two people in his bed instead of a stuffed elephant and a restless toddler. It’s almost enough for him to encourage the idea, beg you to be as excited about it as much as the 3 year old standing in front of him was. 

He could ask, he thinks to himself. He could beg and plead, it’s not like he hasn't done it several times before. Of course it’s never worked, which is why he was here, getting accustomed to a familiar sense of disappointment as you let yourself in through the front door to pick up his daughter. 

“Daddy ask her,” she’s practically buzzing at this point, wiggling in her spot as she hears you call out her name before Harry’s, “please daddy!”

That’s all that it was; an illusive idea cultivated by a 3 year old. 

ANGEL BABY IS FUCKING BACK!