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deepperplexity · 5 months ago

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Prompt 10: Lingering Touch [C3]

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Darkest Night [C1], Prompt 8. Never-ending Consequences [C2]

A/N: It's Tuesday and I'm here with the next part of Turpin's story for this Rickmas and things are not at all going to plan it seems… 👀 I'm not gonna spoil anything for you darlings but we're definitely doing things different this time around 🙈

Anyway, I hope you'll have a good time reading and that December (or whatever month it is you're reading this) is treating you kindly. we are missing the snow and the cold over here and it doesn't at all feel right when December isn't accompanied by a banket of snow so… 😩 But, still, this month is quite good and fun - having had time to think about what I want to do for the rest of Rickmas and already having written tomorrows fic feels awesome 🤭👏

Tags/TW’s: Secret Pining, Instant Attraction, Harsh Judge Turpin, Gloomy Vibes, Dead Animals Mentioned (no details), Dead Character Mentioned (no details), Helpful Other Male Character, Other Character Flirting (light) With OC, Societal Differences

Word Count: 2.1k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Lingering Touch

There was no end to the gloom it seemed. I had slept well, no complaints could be said about the lush bed and silky bedding. Yet, still, there was a dreadful gloom I simply could not defend myself against fully. “Dreary, so dreary. This place needs a Christmas tree,” I whispered to myself as I meandered around the parlour. “His Lordship does not celebrate Christmas, miss,” came the voice of the ageing maid. Turning rapidly, I found her in the doorway. “Christ, you startled me.” “Not my intention, miss.” She nodded at me in an apology yet her face did not change.

I patted down my dress, smiling brightly at the woman with strict features and a thin turkey neck — you have kind eyes, though. “Breakfast is served, miss. His Lordship will join you promptly at eight.” Her voice was as strict as her face. “Thank you,” I said. “No need to dawdle, I suppose. I shall seat myself so the great judge does not see me as an inconvenience, Mrs— Oh, forgive me, I do not know your name.” “Jenning. Mrs Jenning,” she said in one of those short, clipped voices ringing with a no-nonsense tone. I nodded. “Mrs Jennings, thank you.” Perhaps the gloom has gotten to her, I would be strict and the like if I were forced to be in a house like this day in and day out I suppose. Dreary, gloomy, dark and cold. Perhaps it is the faith's way of teaching me to be grateful for what I have, for my father’s home and how warm it has always been despite me being a burden on him at this age without prospects.

“Miss Brimmer?” Mrs Jenning said in a sort of rapped manner. She waited for me by the door, an air of impatience about her. “Sorry, lost in thought, I tend to do that from time to time. You know, the mind is a funny place to be sometimes. Do you not agree, Mrs Jenning?” I asked in an upbeat manner to alleviate the sense of dread the house cast over me while walking toward her with my pale blue dress swishing.

Mrs Jennings looked at me funnily. “Funny place?” she asked, almost too quietly for me to hear. “Funny place, so much goes on up there at times I—” “Talkative, are we?” came the deep rumble of the judge himself. My breath stuttered and Mrs Jenning stiffened further, however that was possible. “My lord, breakfast is served,” she said as we both turned toward the man coming down the stairs. “Good morning, my lord.” I curtsied. “I hope you slept well, I had the most wonderful rest in such a soft bed as you offered. And in such a grand room, too, sir,” I continued as he stepped down the final step.

Judge Turpin arched a brow at me and even though his eyes were unyielding and harsh as steel just like yesterday the look had me feeling some type of way. I was not certain of the type of tingling travelling all through my body yet it was not one of discomfort. It ought to be, really ought to be, those eyes are not friendly. Striking. But not friendly.

“Yes, talkative, indeed,” he drawled while looking down at me with a flicker of his eyes down my dress and then back to my eyes once more. A small sneer tugged at his lips and I felt heat creep up along my neck and throat. A judge who judges, well, I am under-dressed in such fine company. Grand but gloomy, too bad really. This is a fine house and an even finer man if one but disregards the gloom and the dread, the chill and the lifeless— Well, one must disregard plenty of things, apparently. And despite that thought, I had no issue disregarding all the warnings and negative sensations when his steely eyes held mine and that thunderous voice filled the space, ordering us all to sit down for breakfast a mere second before the clock in the hallway chimed eight.

Mrs Jennings served coffee to the judge and then poured my cup which I added a heap of sugar to as always. The man arched a brow at me by the third spoon of the white goodness so I stopped despite always having four spoons of it in the dark brew. I stirred as he opened the day’s paper.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” I said as I looked out over the table filled with bread, fruits, cheeses and meats of a large variation. “I have never had such a breakfast before. Such variations and abundance. Gosh, what am I to eat out of all this?” I looked all over the table and I could not make a choice. The judge merely sipped his coffee behind the paper.

“Meats? No, well, with bread and cheese perhaps? Are those grapes? In December? Gosh, what do I—” The paper was lowered and cold eyes glared at me. “Are you… ever quiet?” he asked and my stomach knotted under his harsh words, void of all warmth and lacking even a bit of its humanity. I tilted my head, scrunching my brows at the scary man I couldn’t stop feeling this strange fluttering for. I do enjoy a grump… I have always adored those with little apparent joy, those honest and harsh ones who never really are allowed to— Stop, focus, Julianne. No losing yourself in your head now.

“Well?” he drawled, waiting for my reply. “I can be.” When… If sad… then I am quite quiet. “But I want to thank you, and express my gratitude as well as appreciation for the grandeur of your home, and life, sir.” I could not take my eyes off the man with a hooked, regal nose and features I wished to smooth out with my thumb for some reason. His slightly stubbly chin had my fingers tingling. This is all so odd. He’s scary, yet I’m— I’m tingly when having his attention? I truly must have hit my head badly, even if I tend to befriend those grumpy and dreary to brighten their days this is far different, is it not? He huffed. “Consider yourself expressed, Miss Brimmer.”

I lowered my gaze, not speaking another word for the time being. I simply took a slice of fresh bread, added a slice of cheese and placed five grapes on my plate. We ate in silence but I could feel him take not-so-subtle glances of me, just as I stole far more subtle glances of him when he was busy with his own food and drink.

“Now, Miss Brimmer,” he suddenly spoke up and I looked up from the empty cup I held in my stiff fingers. “I am departing for the court, I shall order a constable to arrive here and escort you back to your carriage.” That’s— That’s it? Well, to be left with this utterly strange sensation and wish to know this stoic man deeper is rather unpleasant. Oh, hush, Julianne. You are far beneath such a grand man, he is out of your reach. Remember that. “Thank you, sir.” It was all I could say, my voice far quieter than before.

He stood, nodded harshly at me, and left with long strides which echoed through the room. I slowly rose, looking upon all the leftover food from the large breakfast. I hope he offers it to his staff and then those in need after that. Such a waste, and I could not even manage more than one slice with my stomach in this-, this-, this knotted state.

I moved out of the room, seeing the door close after a mere glimpse of the edge of his thick coat. “Miss Brimmer,” said Mrs Jenning. “I shall pack a bit of food for your journey.” “Oh, why thank you, that’s very kind of you,” I said with a smile as I was jolted back into my usual self. “Shall I help?” “No, Miss Brimmer.” It was another clipped wording but she was not being unpleasant toward me. “I shall wait here, then. In the lack of Christmas decorum and quiet…” The last part was barely audible, it merely slipped out. “Make yourself comfortable, despite the lack of holiday cheer…” she said calmly. “But his Lordship will not allow you to wait long for a constable, I dare say in this instance.”

⁛•⁛

Mrs Jenning had been right. It took but a few minutes before a constable came knocking, with a horse and a nice carriage drawn by a well-dressed coachman. I had been sent off with a packed brunch as well as a new scarf wrapped around my neck of the softest cotton.

Now, the carriage stopped by my toppled one. My stomach turned on itself as the scene was laid bare with a thin layer of snow covering some of it. The horses I had shot to end their misery lay frozen with the gun hidden completely under snow between their large heads. The coachman, crushed between the carriage and the ground, lay face down and stiff. Dead.

My shoulders shook as the constable walked around the site. Yesterday, in the dark, it had not looked so scary and my actions had not felt so final. Now, looking at the horses shot by my hand — no matter what reason — had me clutching my cloak closer to ward off the discomfort.

“Miss, shall I climb inside for you?” I glanced at him, offering a thankful smile. “Would you, Constable Greer?” He smiled in return. “Certainly, miss. A fine woman as yourself should not climb toppled carriages.” Then he pulled himself atop the carriage and opened the door I had managed to climb out of after having been thrown about inside of it.

Constable Greer was a nice gentleman, the thirty minutes we had spent in the carriage had started off quiet and stiff but things never remained in that manner for long once I started talking. It did, most of the time, land me in some form of predicament of the negative kind but Constable Greer turned out to be a rather pleasant man and he had a nice laugh as well. Like myself, he had come from outside of London, but he came for work years ago where I had come due to the need for a husband.

After a few minutes, we had gotten my possessions out of the carriage and loosened the trunk strapped to the back of the carriage as well. Constable Greer had strapped it to the carriage procured by Judge Turpin and asked me to sit down inside while he finished up. Once he was inside I thanked him and we set off toward London once more. We could do nothing about the rest for the moment but would be sending a few men to fetch everything left — including the dead — once a storm was not brewing above the trees around us.

Despite the very pleasant company and shared laughs I could not help but wander back to the stoic and harsh Judge Turpin with his steely eyes and rigid posture. Nor could I stop the slight sadness at knowing I would most likely never see the man again. He had not been particularly kind toward me, but he had offered aid, shelter, and food even though he had not been obligated to do so. I shall be thankful for the little moments I was offered with him. Another trial to add to the ever-growing list of never-ending consequences of that infernal bad luck. Black cat energy, perhaps I was cursed as a child? One never knows, I suppose.

“…are you, Miss Brimmer?” Constable Greer asked just as the carriage stopped outside the Rosemary Inn. My cheeks warmed with embarrassment as I had gotten myself lost in my errant thoughts once more. “I apologize, Constable, I missed your words.” He chuckled. “Will you attend the Christmas Ball, Miss Brimmer?” “Oh, why yes, that is my purpose of this visit.” He glanced down at the hat in his hands. “Well, I-, I shall see you there, then?” I blinked, a small smile tugging my lips. “You shall, Constable Greer,” I replied with a softened voice as the man’s sweet blue eyes glanced at me before he left the carriage and offered his hand.

I reached out and he grasped me, yet my mind flashed with the sturdy grip of Judge Turpin and the steely grey eyes that had held my gaze unwaveringly. The sturdiness of his grip contrasted with the softer of the constable and as I stepped out the younger man did not linger in his hold as the judge had done for a few seconds as I straightened. He is far, far, faaar out of your reach! Let it go. There can be only further hardships laid in my path if I linger at thoughts of such a man as Judge Turpin…

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

NEXT PART » Prompt 14: Deceptive Kindness [C4]

A/N: Well well well, another man enters the equation, let's hope our dear judge steps up his game and actually does something about this whole mess of secret pining and hidden feelings 👀 What do you think? Will she end up at the ball or will something happen along the way to get her back to our stoic judge?

Side Note: I'm behind as all frikk-frakk on reading Rickmas fics - I'm doing my best but today I'm emergency BETA reading for an author friend whose BETA readers mostly flaked on her last minute (😤) so I'll be more behind but she really needs my support and help so I'm sorry lovelies I gotta step up and read her book today (which also happens to be fantastic, mind you) as she's gonna start editing tonight.

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @dontwanttobeanamercanidiot @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @snapesno1thighrider @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @goldenglowwoman @elizabeth-baelish @severuslovebot @thethotthatbreathes @rickmandowneyjr @yellowbadgermole @snapesangel @commodoreseverus @reinekefoxart @lght-n-drk @cathym1102 @ankhmutes @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @thatlittlefangirl @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos @sanji-simp

Want to be tagged? You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you!

#rickmas2024 #rickmas #rickmaniac #alan rickman #christmas fic #christmas event #judge turpin #judge turpin x female oc #judge turpin x oc #judge turpin fic #harsh turpin #stoic turpin #secret pining

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cantwritethetword · 7 months ago

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(2024) TickleTober Day 6: Creak - Falling Asleep

Fic Descript - Sleeping in an old creaky house is a nightmare for Alex. Thankfully Henry knows exactly how to help his partner drift off. Literally just fluffy sleepy tkls lmao.

~A/N - 👏 I 👏 AM 👏 SUPER 👏 BURNT 👏 OUT 👏 SO 👏 HERE'S 👏 A 👏 SHORT 👏 FIC 👏 FOR 👏 TODAY👏

Apologies, it's late af and I am NOT doing well for tickletober but hopefully you guys find this idea as cute as I did

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @fullsongphilosopher

Masterpost Link

TickleTober Masterpost

Alex hadn't slept in days.

Ok that might have been a bit of an overstatement. But laying in bed night after night, on the edge of consciousness, right about to drift off, only to be snapped back to reality by the walls and floors moving around him was enough to drive anyone mad.

No amount of tossing and turning could help. It didn't matter what position, or how many pillows Alex was in, he had no luck with Mr Sandman.

The only silver lining? All his wriggling didn't seem to bother Henry. Alex swore that man could sleep through an air raid siren.

Tonight, though, he was proven wrong.

After one too many groans from the house, it was Alex's turn. He let out a frustrated exhale, which happened to come out a little louder than he intended.

"Alex?" A muffled murmur piped up from the other side of the blankets.

Shit.

"I'm fine baby, go back to sleep." Alex whispered, though evidently it came out more grumbly than he thought, as Henry turned to face him.

"What's the matter love?" Henry said, his voice sounding much more conscious this time.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

Henry sat upright, not taking that for an answer. "Too hot? Too cold? Can't sleep?"

Alex sighed, too tired to continue denying it, and curled up under Henry's now outstretched arm. "This house is old."

Henry gently laughed. "Your intelligence never ceases to impress me."

"It keeps moving, and that keeps me awake." Alex huffed, accidentally blowing his hair upwards for a moment, making it fall over his eyes.

Without missing a beat, henry combed his fingers through the stray strands.

Alex hummed contently at the sensation. "That's nice."

"You always like it when i do this." Henry smiled, repeating the motion.

At a second hum from his boyfriend, Henry continued folding his fingers through Alex's hair, letting them flutter occasionally against his lover's ears just to hear the soft giggle that accompanied it. Henry's fingers cascaded down Alex's neck after a while, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them, before they circled round Alex's shoulder to rest against his sides.

"Still comfortable?" Henry double checked, knowing the last thing Alex needed was for the tickling to be too intense and wake him up.

Alex gave two content noises in affirmation, nestling his face further into his boyfriend.

Henry's fingertips trailed against Alex's ribs as he slowly closed and opened his hand, letting his detailed knowledge of Alex's body guide his movements away from any spots that were too sensitive for the purposes of this moment.

The occasional giggly shiver eventually transitioned to light snoring, as Alex finally drifted off into what would be possibly the best nights sleep he'd ever had.

#crow's tickle fic #ticklecrowber2024 #crowstickletober2024 #tickletober2024 #ticklecrowber #tickletober #super short but pretty cute imo

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sir-fluffbutts · 2 years ago

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Soooo.. fluff, my lover and I love your characters very much.. but more often, the famous "axolotl brothers" in fandom come under discussion, we came to the idea that if Latte could play cards, he would do cool tricks with them during mixing, which he was taught by a Muffin. Do you think that could be the case? Are our discussions similar to their reality?

theres a active axolotl brothers fandom?? :pog:

---------

ANYWAYS, latte probably can play cards as muffin tought him/included him in lot of games, but he don't really do lot of cool card tricks as card/ hand tricks in general didn't really interested him much

he knows them enough to look through lot of card tricks though, like knowing how they work (muffin told him in detail)

muffin however, can absolutly do cool card tricks as he's the MASTER of party tricks (at least, he likes to think so)

so i'd say you arn't far off 👏✨️

#ask #same with “magic”#latte watches as muffin explains how he pulled out a coin behind his gills for the 326th time

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lucas-deziderio · 1 year ago

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Dezi reads Pact: Null 9.6

I truly hate being negative, but it's time for me to complain about Pact's power scaling. You see, most fantasy stories where people use powers to fight one another usually scale upwards. Our protagonist gets more powerful in order to face more dangerous foes and so give the story higher stakes. We all know that. Wildbow even follow that formula in Worm, where Taylor learns new tricks she can pull with her power, gets access to more varied insects and pairs up with more powerful capes to take down increasingly dangerous threats.

Now going back to Pact: a story about wizards and magical beings battling against one another, with a very wide range of possible powers and abilities. And even then, we're halfway through our story and our protagonist has absolutely nothing on him! All of the abilities he painstakingly conquered were taken away from him. If anything, Blake is weaker now than he was in the very first act. Still, the author is throwing him on a fight against a very powerful demon.

My man here just went through the magical equivalent of a 16 hour shift at your local Arby's! His hands are mangled, one of his eyes stopped working, he just relived a very traumatic event in the last couple hours. His only weapon is a broken sword that hurts him while being wielded. There is absolutely no way he's in condition to fight against Ur. Just a couple arcs back he went into that same fight but with actual preparation, a plan and allies and still got his ass kicked. There is nothing in the narrative that can justify him being defeated then but surviving now when the odds are even more against him.

It's not even like Wildbow wrote himself into a corner. In previous chapters we were made aware that Blake has had allies that were eaten by Ur. He could have met them again in the Drains and gotten their help. Or he could have made an actual deal for power with the dead god he found. But nope!

I came to this book waiting for battles were magic and preparation mattered. I love hard magic systems specifically because you can have tactical confrontations where the practitioners can use the rules themselves against one another. But this? This is a mangled man with zero tools in his arsenal going up against a Lovecraftian beast and surviving out of luck.

No. No, no, no! This might be a pyrrhic victory at best, but Ur has absolutely zero reasons to not swallow you up again right now. And I must emphasize:

WINNING 👏 DOESN'T 👏 MATTER 👏 IF 👏 YOU'RE 👏 IN 👏 THE 👏 DRAINS 👏 AGAIN!! 👏

That's it. I'm pissed. This is the second time that a big arc ending battle in this story has left me pissed with its plot armor. Blake should be dead right now.

Anyways, moving on, there is another detail that also pissed me off in this chapter:

Blake, you should definitely be taking a very long bath right now. First because that whole dimension was nasty and I don't want to imagine you looking like a sewage golem for the rest of the story. Second because, as someone who has experienced homelessness, you should be well aware of how people treat you differently when you're dirty or clean. And third because you desperately need power right now and we have been shown in this story that spending time on your home, relaxing and taking care of yourself can help one replenish theirs. NOW GET IN THE FUCKING BATHTUB!

OK, I think my negativity spree is over. Let's see what's next...

OK, this isn't the end of the world. Part of me was hoping he would get to reactivate his connections once he was back to our world, but it looks like that's a no-go. At least it's just a material thing. He can buy another bike or get the same back later. Don't worry, guys.

The important part is that now he's gonna meet the rest of the cast and get reintroduced into the main plot...

OH MY GOD, EVAN WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO RECOGNIZED HIM! EVAN WASN'T AFRAID!! I'M NOT WELL!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!

Previous • Next

#Dezi reads #pact web serial #liveblogging pact #pact spoilers #pactblr #otherverse

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haryuwu · 2 years ago

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🪞 Twisted Wonderland | Le Mirage

Author's Note: Chapter 4 is reached! Pachipachipachiiii 👏 I'm still writing chapter 5 so please do be patient with me. Again thank you for the reblogs, I really appreciate a little help to spread my fic! I'll post something about it soon (´;ω;｀)

The Prefect and Grim, just recently, exited the Hall of Mirrors from checking the dorms of Ignihyde and Diasomnia and notifying its respective housewardens. Although both are occupied on their own activities in which the Prefect and Grim couldn’t disturb them from.

“I can’t really tell if they’re taking the preparation seriously compared to the other dorms we visited first…Was the Saintess not worth preparing for?” Grim stated in a disappointed tone as he described how the housewarden of Ignihyde has been doing.

Ortho Shroud, Idia’s younger brother, explained to them that he was told to tell anyone who asks for him a serious reason about his brother’s whereabouts.

Everyone knew he had never set his foot out of his room for quite a long while after the incident with Styx. So, he came up with an excuse that his current state has not been too good and that he is grinding all day to get his favorite character’s SSR card from a shoujo anime based game that has recently released a new season.

Although, Idia could’ve just said that as not an excuse to not see them as they already understand how much of a shut-in he already is and how important it is for him to be such a simp to his favorite character. He even had the time to send a message to Ortho via voicemail that he doesn’t want to attend the Ball of the Evening as he thought it is like a social gathering and he might faint if he does meet the Saintess.

This is how it went…

[Flashback]

"Hello, Prefect of Ramshackle dorm and Grim! Are you here to see my older brother? I have to stop you here because he can't see anyone right now," Ortho with his usual jolly robotic voice greeted them in the hallway. It seems that he has been expecting their arrival at their dorm and waited there to pass a message as well.

"Hey, Ortho! We came here to notify you guys, but what's up with Idia?" Grim ran towards Ortho who had been floating at the corner and greeted back with a question.

"Ah, I came here prepared for that exact question! Big bro provided me voice recorded mails for you to listen in and get your answers," with a flick of a finger, a hologram showed up in front of them with an icon of a play button. Ortho tapped on that button, playing an audio of a tired male's voice.

"You might've been wondering why I have to record this when I just have to tell you guys upfront-"

"But that's a hard NOPE for that. There’s no way I’m going out just to do that so yeah, anyway…" The two glanced at each other as they continued to listen to the recorded audio file.

"First off…I hate social gatherings, as you all probably already know, so showing my face to the event would straight up be out of the question."

"Maybe showing up to meet the Saintess here at our dorm won't be that bad but I can't guarantee—like a guaranteed pity—it might land on soft pity though, that I'll be physically be there considering that I already know exactly who the Saintess looks like," the Prefect and Grim's eyes widened when Idia had mentioned that he had already seen the Saintess.

But it wasn't clarified if he saw her in person or by stumbling upon an image that was secretly provided through the internet. This is when Ortho tapped the pause button as he caught on both of their surprised faces.

"Big bro and I have seen her before! She's already a well known influencer from the Magicam app."

"She was selected to voice a ghost maiden who was trapped inside a mirror that obeys anyone to answer their inquiries. It's an upcoming anime this month and we can't wait to watch it soon!" Thinking about another bonding time with his older brother, Ortho gleefully described the character in full detail. Yet he has to stop himself from babbling unnecessary information making him digress from the topic.

"Ah, I've spoken too much. Let's skip the voice audio from 5:13 to 1:08:30! It seemed as though my brother spilled a lot of unintentional spoilers between those timestamps…"

"The audio he sent was an hour long?!"

[End of Flashback]

The prefect and Grim couldn't get any other details from the Shroud brothers other than their gushing about the most awaited anime series. This may have taken more than 30 minutes of their time, but they obtained new information about the Saintess being one of the top ranking influencers just like Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche.

"So she's like a famous voice actress or an idol? I don't really get what type of job they do, but that must be cool!" While walking down the hallway, two familiar students from Diasomnia stepped out of the room while carrying boxes with the use of magic. One of them is very insistent on returning back to their dorm as soon as possible.

On the other hand the one tailing them from behind is trying to calm their nerves from creating havoc. Although his complexion is beginning to give the Prefect an idea that he's about to faint from exhaustion.

"Silver and Sebek! What are you guys doing out here?" As usual, Grim loudly greeted them from across the hall, waving his little paw in the air.

The silver haired boy turned their way when he heard Grim's echoing voice from afar. "Ah, it’s you two…We were just about to head back and bring these decorations to the dorm as fa…Lilia instructed."

Looking at the large box Silver is carrying, some pieces of cloth are spilling out of the edge. Sebek caught the top cloth from the box Silver’s carrying from falling off when Silver began losing his strength to balance the box's weight in his arms.

"All I see are a bunch of blankets…”

“I STILL DON'T APPROVE OF THIS IDEA!" Sebek yelled in displeasure, causing the two to wince from the ringing sound of their ears.

"What theme did you guys even come up with? A pajama party?" Considering the amount of blankets and additional fabric, Grim assumed that they’ll topple all of it to form a large fluffy bed.

"Huh! Not quite! And your guess is ridiculous. There's no way that our lordship would hold a lousy human party. Only Silver would enjoy such a thing," Sebek loudly yelled to keep Silver awake beside him while declaring his strong disapproval of their plans for the visiting hour of the Saintess.

"Sebek…Lilia and our housewarden had an agreement about this. There's nothing we can do about it," Silver sluggishly rubbed his eye while mumbling his explanation. "Besides, they knew how terribly bright the Saintess was."

"...What do those blankets have to do with her being bright?" Silver stalled in his words. Even Sebek could not explain it since he knew little about her. "Well…I was told she's similar to a star. Her glow never dies even in broad daylight or any light that reaches her. These blankets will be used to prevent any light showers."

"It may be already dim inside Diasomnia, but even the tiniest flame of a candle can make her reflect light." That was an exaggeration, right? It’s hard to tell from the way Silver looks while explaining a strange description of the Saintess. This specific description probably came from Lilia himself. Grim groaned due to the ridiculousness. Perhaps it was a metaphor that a small cat could not comprehend right away.

Grim could only groan and glare at nothing after being called a cat through this narrative. The writer wishes not to disrespect the characters despite their race and status—but only for the sake of adding more sentences in this paragraph.

"Silver, let's return to the dorm now! You've shared enough insights with them today. Let's go!" As impatient as he is, Sebek grabbed Silver and started taking big strides after bidding them farewell.

“That’s one strange way to describe the Saintess, don’t you think so?” The Prefect could only sigh shortly. They are unsure if this information would be helpful to get to know the Saintess. The Prefect could only hope the said Saintess isn’t as blindingly bright as the largest sun of the solar system. Should they consider getting a pair of sunglasses?

“Let’s just go to the headmage and tell him we’re done passing the message,” Grim agreed before resuming to head towards the headmage’s office.

The office is just a few walks away and yet it feels as though the hallways get longer and longer. Each step they take, the floor gets stretched like rubber. No…the hallway seems to reflect the path behind them and yet the door of the headmage's office remained unreachable from a distance.

Grim begins to sense something fishy in this kind of predicament. Has someone activated a spell? Is this some sort of prank? Unlikely—They have never encountered anyone who can manipulate someone’s vision, let alone hear someone cite a spell to perform such terrifying magic.

“Hey, what’s going on?!” As Grim exclaimed, something bright bursts out of the headmage’s office. The two barely avoided the running bolt of light and could only grab on the nearest pillar of the hall. Waiting for the force of the wind to calm, the strange light escaped and disappeared like a bubble.

“W-What was that…?” Still in a process of recollecting themselves, the two eventually went for a run to consult the headmage regarding what they have recently experienced.

Upon pushing the door open, the headmage whose current state is strangely haggard stood there, unbothered. The papers fluttered down all over his table down to the floor. Perhaps the cause came from the light that surprised them earlier. Yet his unfazed grin is evident behind the beak of his mask as soon as he caught the sight of the two arriving at a perfect time. “Oh joy! I presume that you have finally sent the message to our housewardens?” welcomed by the headmage, he immediately tried to fix his hat and hair.

“Yes, we have—but can we talk about what just happened earlier?!” The two explained that something bizarre occurred at the halls on their way to the headmage’s office. Grim’s point of view might’ve been an exaggeration as the light was twice his size.

"Now, now—I'm sure you have a lot of questions but I'd prefer it if you could tone it down," Casting a spell to reorganize the papers from the floor, the headmage hummed as more questions followed after his statement. He eventually groaned in disbelief before telling the two to come closer.

"The light you just saw…could you guess who it was?" Who? That thing? That ball of light—that was a ‘who’? Who would’ve thought that it’s a person. As if a cat got their tongues, not Grim, Crowley sighed in disappointment as he was anticipating an answer from the two may it be a ridiculous one. Alas, he couldn’t get a single sound out of them in which he decided to give them a hint.

“No? Nothing at all? And here I thought you had been gathering useful information during the errand I have given you,” He shook his head before resuming, “Then how about this, a clue will be generously given to you by yours truly and because I’m so kind, I’ll let Grim join the Ball of the Evening if you guessed right.” Wide grins were slowly forming on their faces because of this condition. Although, the Prefect isn’t so confident to give the answer so they let Grim answer this one.

And so, the headmage began to clear his throat as he stated the promised clue. “This person’s related to mirrors. You may have seen something bizarre outside my office earlier, no?” That’s right…an unsettling magic cast upon the hallway does resemble how a mirror reflects what stands before it. What’s even more peculiar was that their reflection was not apparent—supposed the hallway was only affected by the spell. But who could cast such an overwhelming spell in the first place?

“I haven’t seen that kind of magic around…was it someone’s signature spell?” Grim asked the Prefect, however, they could only give him a shrug. Even if they searched for them, there were no students who could use a spell similar to that nor someone related to mirrors. Well, students of Pomefiore do use mirrors most of the time but it isn’t magic related.

Wait…Could it be…?

There’s only one name that popped up into their minds. There’s no doubt, it must be them! “Maybe…it was one of the Mirages?” As soon as a familiar name was uttered, the headmage began to applaud as he showed them his satisfactory smile. He felt even more proud that his school teaches his students well that it must have paid off. Soon, NRC will take the lead if this continues!

“Was it…the Saintess, headmage Crowley?” An even wider smile, they must’ve gotten the bingo already. But what could be the reason for the Saintess’ sudden visit? And leaving a large mess at that.

“You guessed it right! Well, it is already an obvious answer to begin with. Nonetheless, I had a thought you might have a hard time guessing without a hint since the two of you barely have enough knowledge regarding other powerful mages. But I digress!”

“But what could possibly be the reason she visited your office? It wasn’t even the time for her to arrive at school…” A very good question indeed. It would take days to travel from Shaftlands to NRC, yet it is also possible to arrive here much faster with the use of a certain gadget.

There’s only one family who owns such a thing for traveling purposes. Are they perhaps well acquainted?

A lot of thoughts rushed all at once into the Prefect’s mind. They knew Rook just recently heard of the Saintess and news of her arriving at the Isle of Sages has yet to be announced. “Since you’re that curious, I at least need to share what has been weighing on my mind.”

“Please know that you must not share this to anyone else or else I’ll change my mind for making Grim join us in the Ball of the Evening!” The two agreed as they waited for his explanation. Going back to his seat and putting the documents on his table aside, his tone suddenly turned serious as he spoke out what he had recently heard from the Saintess.

“‘I insist on canceling the event’—was what she said. I do wonder why she was so desperate to ask for something her parents and this school has arranged for her,” The headmage continuously grumbled as he seemed genuinely displeased of what the Saintess had demanded him to do.

“Of course, I refused naturally. This is to celebrate her taking over her ancestor’s role!” It would truly be a shame to step down for an unexplained reason why she must get the event canceled.

However, what comes next has left an even more wavering feeling within the office.

“And to my dismay, she asked for a request as the member of Mirage that I did not expect to hear,” staring at the Prefect and Grim without blinking, the headmage slowly worded, “If I tell you I foresaw something terrifying that might put your college to a grave predicament…as the headmage, would you simply doubt this ability I inherited since birth?”

An ability that is considered powerful for a mage to possess…an ability that is said to be confidential, one that matches god’s power yet may be frowned upon by many—a soothsayer.

“Dire Crowley, headmage of Night Raven College…despite my position to be named as the Saintess, I swear that my eyes are incapable of fabricating the future!”

To Be Continued

Previous Chapter ➵ Next Chapter

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst oc #louise von mirage #twst ortho #ortho shroud #idia shroud #twst silver #twst sebek #sebek zigbolt #twst crowley #dire crowley #fan fic #lulu lore #twst fic series #le mirage

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2af-afterdark · 2 years ago

Note

Aaaaaaand the Mammon brainrot is baaaaaack! 👏👏👏👏 Let’s hear it for brainrot y’all!

As for the prompts, perhaps number 38

“I think you deserve a treat.”

Although I could see this being done with Leviathan as well 🤔

Who you wanna write for, up to you, but a gender neutral MC please

🦩

Please keep in mind that the game is still not out, so when you ask for this you are asking for a bunch of random headcanons sort of put together.

Content: GN!MC x Mammon (whb), Sugar Daddy Mammon, Blow jobs, semi-public sex, MC is gn but they are wearing makeup

Their knees ached, but nowhere near as much as their throat after accepting Mammon's cock deep enough that they were choking on it. His large hand rested atop their head, lovingly stroking them as he watched his length disappear into their mouth over and over again. Streaks of glittering gold smeared off their lips while black globs of makeup dripped under their eyes from their tears, leaving their face a mess.

"Pretty thing," Mammon practically purred, uncaring if anyone could hear him past the cloth curtain separating them from the racks of clothing so fine and detailed that each one looked like it would cost year's income (by human standards, at least).

"I knew gold would look good on you."

And, just like he thought, it looked even better trailing down his chest and smeared across his cock.

"I'm close."

They welcomed him deep down the back of their throat, which still wasn't enough to swallow his full length. What they couldn't take into their mouth, they wrapped their hand around, stroking the base of his shaft until he was throbbing against their tongue.

When he came, it was with a fierce roar that shook them to their core and sent a shockwave straight between their legs. His cum was thick, but they swallowed it down all the same before pulling back and letting him fall out of their mouth.

Splashes of white painted their lips along with messy gold as he rubbed the head of his cock along their sultry smile.

"You look cute down there." He rubbed their head again before gliding his hand down the side of their face and raising their chin. He pulled them up until they were seated in his lap. "But you look better here."

They nuzzled against him in contentment, hiding their face as an unfamiliar voice called to them through the curtains.

"Excuse me? Do you need assistance."

Their voice was tinged with concern, not for whoever may be inside of the fitting room -- they knew who was in there -- but for themselves because they knew who they were interrupting.

Mammon wasn't much concerned though.

He looked down at the adorable human sitting in his lap and ran his thumb along their arousal swollen lips.

"I think you deserve a treat. You liked that red one, right? Or was it the black one?"

He honestly couldn't remember which one they had been looking at because he was too busy watching their ass when they walked to notice what clothes they had glanced at.

They hummed approvingly, giving a kiss to his cheek and a coy, "I'll put on a private show for you later."

#2af writes #what in hell is bad #whb #❖ 🦩 anon #whb mammon #gender neutral fic

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celestialmazer · 11 months ago

Text

Foo Fighters

Hampden Park, Glasgow 17.06.24

Certainly and expectedly the most emotional concert I've ever been to for so many reasons (crying/welling up well into the double digits throughout 😂)

Got spooky for me too the times Josh sounded like Taylor but was blocked by the crowd and my mind's eye was just filling in the blanks with memory 🫠🙃

Important notes:

(woke up with a really sore lower back for no reason the day before which hadn't eased, but tbh - standing for hours on end aside - my subdued movements matched the expected overall vibe of tentatively sombre initially meets let's go fucking mental when the mood takes us! Lots of first timers in the crowd too so a bubbling sense of the unknown pervaded ✨ surrounded by almost entirely good sorts including a wildcard wee lady who appeared out of nowhere when the music started, ready to thrash so hard her hair got my eyeball and mouth at one point 😂 the most polite vibe tall guy I've ever come across at a gig and the most hilariously polite off-their-nuts group excusing themselves to go to and from mosh pit area, one had a comedy large backpack which I reckon he needed as a travelling apothecary)

• Rami aced his intro again by playing Flower of Scotland - it's an easy win that is always going to work 😂 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

• At this performance Josh's t-shirt read

"God gave rock and roll to you Satan wants it back"

• And couldn't quite get a pic that captures it properly but Rami had a lil guy with a hat labelled executive potato I think 🤷😂🥔💗 (Very last image)

ICYMI - didn't notice this detail during the concert, found out after, but for a brief moment during My Hero the headlight of the big red delicious turned to projecting a hawk 🥲 - had one accidental photo of it which I've made more obvious. Proper video link from Foo Fighters live below

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C8frGS0SCIy/?

Treated to a walkway performance of Skin and Bones (written in Scotland during a T in the Park turns out!), Under You (Dave still didn't quite manage through this time but keeps trying! 🥲) and Ballad of the Beaconsfield Miners!! (and he shared he only later discovered the trapped miners requested an iPod of Foo Fighters not cos they were big fans but cos they wanted something to drown out the drilling 🤣) (and we found the German man at the front of the queue got to! 😂🙌 Like a Euros exchange programme)

Violet Grohl came out for her tour debut to sing Show Me How, such a pretty voice 💜

Aurora dedicated to Taylor 🥹😭

Dave swigging some Buckfast - had no concept of what it was when a photo went viral a while back so became an accidental, begrudging spokesmodel - thinks it's actually not that bad 😂

The Teacher visuals were beautiful, emotional, psychedelic and felt like they crossed realms which... was a lot 🙃

Have literally never seen Nate look so buzzing as coming up for this bow 👏 🙌 the chill had set in so Pat got a hoodie on and was milking his exit 💗 thrown sticks and picks landed nearby, quickly snatched up but not by us

Sooo, we realised we practically filmed the whole concert between us - a great distraction attempt from crying 😂 so have put a playlist up for posterity... swithering about going through the digital camera archives and filing in the gaps in my upload history, but that's so far down the current to do list it's unreal (would've been unstoppable if I'd got a smartphone years ago at concerts, lol)

Supported by Honey Blood and Courtney Barnett

Tour: Everything or Nothing at All

Setlist

1. All My Life

2. No Son of Mine

(with snippets of "Paranoid" by Black Sabbath and "Enter Sandman" by Metallica)

3. Rescued

4. The Pretender

5. Walk

6. Times Like These

(Dave and Rami only into full band)

7. White Limo

8. La Dee Da

9. This Is a Call

10. Guitar Solo / Sabotage / Keyboard Solo / Flower of Scotland / Blitzkrieg Bop / Whip It / March of the Pigs

11. My Hero

(acoustic into full band)

12. The Sky Is a Neighborhood

13. Learn to Fly

14. Arlandria

15. These Days

16. Skin and Bones

(tour debut; acoustic with Rami on accordion)

17. Under You

(Dave solo acoustic)

18. Ballad of the Beaconsfield Miners

(acoustic into full band)

19. Nothing at All

(with a snippet of "Blackbird" by The Beatles)

20. Unconditional

21. Monkey Wrench

(with added audience “Here We Fucking Go” and “No Scotland No Party")

22. Show Me How

(with Violet Grohl) (tour debut)

23. Aurora

(dedicated to Taylor Hawkins)

24. Best of You

Encore:

25. The Teacher

26. Everlong

Oh and we got our pic in the paper as we were there and getting merch so early on the photographer asked us (his first fans of the day) and we were like ...😐 Why not 😂 (cue wind and sun)

https://www.glasgowtimes.co.uk/news/scottish-news/24393473.crowds-foo-fighters-fans-arriving-glasgows-hampden/

#foo fighters #dave grohl #taylor hawkins #chris shiflett #nate mendel #pat smear #rami jaffee #josh freese

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plusvanity · 1 year ago

Note

Sorry it's a bit long. 😅

Why Nikolas Tesla Was An Absolute Genius

Nikolas Tesla, a remarkable inventor and electrical engineer, revolutionized the world with his groundbreaking work on alternating current. In this essay, I will take a dive into the reasons why Tesla's ingenuity was truly exceptional.

First off, his parents were very smart folk, and that’s where he inherited his intelligence. His mother possessed an excellent photographic memory and was very industrious, and his fathers mathematical abilities were outstanding.

Secondly, he managed to bring his inventions to life, and express his theories. He had an extraordinary ability to visualize his thoughts and inventions in his head, When he came up with the idea for a new machine, he was able to visualize how it would work and what it would look like in his mind. He would then bring the machine to life and use it for beneficial purposes.

And lastly, he created the world's first electric motor and the idea of alternating current. What is not incredible about that? And along with that, he is the inventor of the tesla coil, an electrical device that enhances voltage by using high-frequency alternating current. The electricity can travel through the air and affect nearby devices. This invention was especially interesting because of the way the electricity looked, almost like lighting. The Tesla coil was used in the first generation of wireless telegraphy transmitters. Nikolai Tesla, used it to research various fields such as X-rays, electric power transmission, and lighting. In Present time, modified Tesla coils are commonly used to light up potent streetlamps that use mercury or sodium. Although it was considered dangerous due to the risk of electric shock and serious injury, it was an incredibly useful and important invention that led to many more.

His inherited smarts, way of mind, and world-changing inventions are great examples of his intelligence. He created amazing inventions, and inspired so many, and come on, air conditioning, amazing machine. Without alternating current/AC things like air conditioners, refrigerators and other useful household electronics would’ve been a dream, not reality, but with AC current, all those helpful electronics were created. Without his geniuses AC Current would have never been made, along with many other thoughts, inventions, and ideas.

Bro, this is remarkably well written. You touched the essentials of his works in so many details, it was an absolute delight to read it all. Bravo 👏👏👏

Tesla was amazing and way ahead of his time. Of course, he was also a bit neurotic with some of his 'cosmic' visionary, but I think his contribution to the modern world is significantly underappreciated. A lot of people stole his ideas, both the Germans and Americans were after his studies and inventions, and a lot of his blueprints had been 'lost' after his death. I'm rambling right now, but I'm really into him, Einstein and a few others lol.

#ask response

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waynes-multiverse · 4 months ago

Text

Eeeeek, I'm bursting with excitement! I wanna know so badly what happens next. I've been hurrying to get the kid to bed to read this 😂😂

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

I love this description btw Really painted a picture in my head 😍👏

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

Ouch. That line probably haunted her afterward 😂🙈 (but I loved their banter! You can totally see they have a close and loving relationship 💕) And her dad's optimism and "fate" was so adorable ☺️

You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Goosebumps... 👀

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

Ah, our boy entered work mode 🤓

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

Oh God 🙈 No, I can't watch him leave alone. At least get Sam!!! Oh God, no, no, no, no... 🫣

I also realized in that moment why my readers are usually "from the same foxhole" because this is exactly what I can't do. Freaks me the fuck out and gives me so much anxiety. Like, I have to be there 😂 I don't know how you do it. Bravo, friend 😅👏

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Nooo, but you shouldn't follow him either... With the broken ankle 👀

“If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

A week?!?!?! *gasps*

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

Ooooh, btw, super interesting what you said about the bear meat! I figured something like this. They did wear bear fur, right? And I know people back then never wasted anything, so makes sense they'd eat the meat, too 😄

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so.

I cackled 😂 Love her feistiness!

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom.

Oh God! I'd die worrying... 🙈🤣

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor.

Aww 😭😭 Poor thing... 😢 (Loved how she explained not taking his room. While invasive, I think if Dean came back to this in his room, he would've melted 🫠🫶)

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

THANK FUCKING GOD!!!!!

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

I knew it was a long shot, especially when her father wasn't with Dean, but still breaks my heart for her 💔😢

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please… He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

The anxiety is long forgotten. All is forgiven... *sighs dreamily* 😍😍

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty. He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process.

Oh no, you come back here, young man!!!

It wouldn't be Dean, though, without the "you can't date me, I'm dangerous and not good enough" freak out 😂

“I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

Legit crying right now 😭😭😭 This is exactly why we always want what's best for him in fanfics. He deserves it so much 🥺

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him.

Love that little detail. Makes such a huge difference ❤️

Oooooh, I so can't wait to read the finale now! This is absolutely amazing, Alex! It's got the right amount of angst and heartbreak, only to haul me back into this sweet cabin romanticism 😍🤍🤍🤍

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases.

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.”

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself.

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father.

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes.

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it.

Wendigo.

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you��re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin.

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside.

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser.

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either.

But you’ll have to try.

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive.

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt.

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says.

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door.

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one.

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place.

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure.

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair.

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer.

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance.

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin.

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands.

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin.

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free.

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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theanoninyourinbox · 5 months ago

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Ask game tiiiiime ummmm shamrock tell me ma? I like that song it’s a silly bouncy jam 👏

one of my oldest ocs THAT REFUSES TO KEEP A NAME

last known as Jase, he's a lyrebird anthro (...feathery? avian? idk what the furry term is) that lives in a community of semi-amnesic birdfolk. Every so often one will emerge from a cave, not knowing their name or past, but knowing basic life details like allergies or gender or whatever. Usually each one comes through with an item that stirs feelings but not memories...but Jase just figured out how to open the locket he came with...and remembered...

aaaaand that's what you get! i have a whole story about the happenings with Jase and the other birdfolk (many of which are NOT from the cave and also baffled) but i might actually write that down one day so NO SPOILERS ;3

thanks for the ask!

#hello from the void #my art #ask answered #oc #bird oc #anthro oc #anthro art #this hoe /positive #CHOOSE A NAME LOSER #avian #lyrebird #lyrebird anthro #anthro #tweet tweet

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loner4-life · 3 years ago

Text

And they were Roomates!

Don't @ me for the shit ass title or I'll come for you toes.

Tags: soft Dom Sero,demisexual reader, chubby reader, fem reader, oral (fem receiving), virgin Reader, lots of asking for consent because consent 👏 is 👏 sexy, mentions of insecurities, I am a firm believer in the Hispanic sero headcannon, sero has nipple piercings (fight me), think I got all the tags 🤷‍♀️

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You sat at your desk shuffling through reports of mishaps that had happened that week.

Having to fill out paperwork for the villains arrest,collateral damage and details of the event and so on.

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head before setting them back down.

Well when you stretched you caught a whiff of your b/o. "Jesus…" you said scrunching your nose.

You had come home from work that day sweaty as hell but also tired. You told yourself, "you would bathe in an hour or so.

Yeah, you had just maybe pushed that a little too far because it was dark out now.

You pushed yourself away from your desk before stripping fully and wrapping yourself in a robe.

You walked over to your dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt.

You didn't care much for tight clothing when it came to comfort. You gathered some things you need with you, deodorant, perfume, lotion, etc.

You walked to the bathroom and set everything neatly on the counter. You went to turn on the shower until you realized you forgot your phone.

You walked out and back to your room you grabbed it off your bed and turned to walk out when you heard the front door slam, your roommate had come back.

Sero had a bit of a later shift than you so obviously he'd get home later.

When you and the class graduated 3 years ago it was expected to live in an apartment for a few years, having a roommate made it easier.

Bakugou and kirishima decided to shack up together and Sero would have lived with kaminari but things changed at the last minute.

Don't get him wrong, he absolutely loves living with you, it's just that certain things are difficult.

Mainly the fact that he has had a crush on you since second year, and we'll so did you.

You were both pretty good at hiding it so neither one of you knew how the other felt. You and Sero agreed that living together was a good idea.

You both got along and were way too comfortable with each other, same aesthetics and values.

So when he walked into your shared home and saw you in a robe it wasn't too weird, except the fact that he focused way too hard on how the robe slit up your thigh tastefully, how it parted just enough to see the sides of your breasts.

He kept his cool however. He gave you a smile as he shut the door, "hey y/n" he said, setting his helmet on the couch.

You smiled back "Hey Hanta, I wasn't expecting you home yet so I was gonna blare music, but even though you're home that's not changing sooo" you teased as you waved before shutting the bathroom door.

Sero chuckled to himself as he sat on the couch to decompress.

You lay against the door behind you,you couldn't get that image out of your head, the way his suit had little tears in it showing off his lean muscles.

The way his hair was tied back,revealing his undercut.

You felt your cheeks warm up as you turned on the shower and took off your robe, hanging it on a hook.

You hopped in the shower and began to cleanse your stench. You began to think to yourself, fantasizing.

You snapped yourself out of it, you should fantasize about your friend, whom you'd known for six years.

The man you live with, but you couldn't help it. And yet you couldn't confess your feelings.

You dismissed yourself a lot, claiming that he wouldn't even want to date you, you felt the way you look wasn't worth his love.

The way your thighs left no space between each other, the way you felt you had to tuck your tummy into every pair of pants you wore in order to feel pretty, especially that you had stretch marks.

However you did have your days where you felt like you were on top of the world, you felt like no man was worth your time.

Those days were rare though, every other day were the same thoughts. But you couldn't be more wrong.

In Hanta's mind you were the most gorgeous women he'd ever laid eyes on. He loved how soft and caring you look.

The way you enjoyed his cooking, the way your hips curved mesmerized him. But alas he had his insecurities as well.

He was afraid to lose you as a friend. What if he did confess and you rejected him, it would make things awkward, what if you didn't want to be around him anymore, he couldn't risk it.

He cared about you too much. You carefully rinsed your body not wanting to get your hair wet.

Not feeling like going through the steps of washing it. You turned the shower off, stepped out and dried off.

You grabbed your lotion and began to apply it when you heard two soft knocks on the door, "hey, you want lazy noodles tonight?" Hanta asked from the other side.

"Yeah that's fine thank you!" You said back as you got dressed.

" No problem" he said, his voice fading as he spoke. You tidied up the bathroom before gathering your things and exiting the bathroom and waking back to your room.

You put your stuff away before asking your way to the kitchen where you saw Sero pouring water from the kettle into two cups of noodles.

"Welcome" he smiled, handing you your cup. He grabbed his before getting ready to go to his room with it.

Figuring he'd do some paperwork work as well. You spoke up though, "hey uhm Hanta, you wanna watch a movie or something?"

You asked as you walked into the living room. He shrugged as he followed you.

" Yeah, that sounds nice, wouldn't mind pushing off my paperwork to hang out with you." He smiled, patting your back as he sat on the couch.

You sat next to him with the remote before you put on some cheesy horror movie so you wouldn't have to pay serious attention to it.

The two of you began to eat your food as you discussed what had happened on each of your patrols.

You truly enjoyed spending time with him. Everything about him made you fall for him. His smile, his laugh, the way he looks at you when you talk to him.

He truly listens and cares. "Your patrol sounded crazy!" He said as he slurped his noodles.

You sighed as you smiled. "It was exhausting, and we got to do it again tomorrow" You said as you stirred your broth.

"Hey Hanta? Can I ask you a question?" You said, tilting your head curiously.

"Of course Y/N" he nodded. "Is being a pro hero everything you expected?"

You asked fiddling with a piece of your hair. He pondered for a moment, "Well… I think we all expected a lavish life at first, so sharing an apartment isn't how I expected my career to be at first.

He spoke. "Oh…" you said, looking away. He realized how what he said must have sounded.

" Of course I mean I love living with you!" He panicked, shaking his hands dismissively.

"Seriously, I'm over the moon I get to live with someone I'm super close to." He smiled.

You smiled back, "I like sharing this space with you too hanta."

You thought about asking him a deeper question but didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He read you like a book though.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, setting his cup on the coffee table. "Oh it's nothing-" you said. He hummed.

"It's obviously something, your leg's shaking" he said gesturing to your bouncing leg.

You sighed, "did you expect a hero career to be so… lonely?" You said looking at him.

"Do you feel lonely?" He asked. "Well not in the way you're thinking, of course I'm not lonely in the people I hang out with area.

I just mean well…. romantically" You said turning red. "Ahhh '' he said understandingly, "well now that you mention it… no I didn't… It is quite lonely."

He said quietly. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have-" he rested his hand on your thigh, "no no its ok" he smiled taking his hand away.

You missed the contact already. Sero looked at you guiltfully if he was being honest with himself.

Here he is head over heels for you but too scared to say it and you're over here feeling lonely.

You felt the atmosphere turn awkward. Should you say how you feel.

You had never felt this way about someone, you had never even been with someone romantically.

You never felt comfortable enough with someone. But Sero, he made you feel warm and bubbly, you felt at ease with him.

"You make me feel less lonely," you said, looking at him in his eyes softly.

He saw how you looked at him, he was looked at like that before he knew what he meant.

"You make me less lonely too~..." He smiled sweetly as he scooted closer to you. "Are we thinking the same thing?"

You said shyly as you leaned forward slowly. "Are you thinking about kissing me?, because I'm thinking about kissing you…" he said breathlessly.

You threw all your fears at the window at that moment. You leaned forward closing the distance between the both of you as you kissed him deeply.

Not in the rough, lustful way, but the sweet, deep,caring way.

You set you cup on the coffee table as well as you placed your hands on his chest, you sat up on your knees gaining heights as your head was above his.

Your hands running up to the back of his head, slipping his hair out of his tie. " y/n…" he moaned quietly.

You pulled away panting slightly as he looked at you with dilated pupils.

"You've made me feel ways no one else ever has hanta" you spoke. " Can't believe I waited that long to do what you teased.

He smiled as his hand found your hips as he leaned back on the arm of the couch, you sitting in his lap.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.Your chest rested against his as you both looked longingly into each other's eyes.

Simply enjoying the energy that surrounds the two of you. "Kiss me again~" you whispered. He smiled as he pulled you closer to him to connect your lips once more.

You were lost in it, you didn't notice you began to roll your hips into him. He gasped quietly, you sat up quickly.

"I-I'm sorry-" you apologized before he cut you off, "no no it's fine, just sudden." He said brushing thumb against your cheek comfortingly.

"Is there something… more you want to do?" He asked in a teasing tone making you blush. " there is but.." You paused.

Yeah you were a virgin, and you never told anyone, not even Mina. Would it be weird if you told him?

"I've never done this before." You said weakly. "Oh? So I'm your first?" He asked lustfully as he sat up slightly to kiss your neck.

You gasped quietly as you gripped his hair, "yes~" You purred in his ear.

You were suddenly picked up and flipped with your back now being pressed into the couch.

Hanta looming over you, "then let me take you.." He said softly kissing you once again. "Ok…" you said.

He nipped at your neck lovingly as he traveled down your side, making their way up under your shirt, making you shiver.

"So perfect~..." He spoke into your neck. The vibration of his voice against your neck made you moan.

"You're so sensitive honey" he praised as his hand traced the edge of your bra. "Can I touch you baby?" He asked.

You nodded as your cheeks heated up. His hand went under the cup of your bra as he pawed at your tit.

You covered your face with your hand as you turned your head to the side embarrassed.

He kissed your cheek as he cooed, "don't hide from me baby, want to see how pretty you look when you feel good."

He pinched your nipple making you cry out. He pulled his hand away before he grabbed the hem of your shirt, you grabbed his wrists nervously, "don't be nervous, you're ok" he whispered.

He took his hands away before pulling off his own shirt. You blushed before taking your shirt off. "Now we're even," he smiled.

You practically drooled at the sight. His pecs, his washboard abs, the shiny jewelry that adorned his nipples.

"Can I touch them?" You asked, raising your hands, brushing them up, his abs making him twitch, "S-sure, they're sensitive though."

He stuttered. Your hands found his nipples as you twisted the barbells in between your fingers.

He tilted his head up as he shut his eyes in pleasure, groaning softly.

You leaned forward as you took the sensitive bud in your mouth,your hit muscle swirling over it. "M-mí amor!"

He whined as he gripped your hair. You almost evaporated from his moans alone.

You pulled away before kissing his neck. "God you're feisty considering you've never done this before."

He teased you. "I've thought about this a lot~" You teased back. He laughed as he laid you back.

"I think I want a snack before i have my meal.'' He gently took off your shorts. He got down on his belly, his long legs dangling off the couch.

"Have you ever been eaten out before, baby?" He smiled. You shook your head no shyly. He smiled before flatly licked the wet spot on yourpanties.

"H-hanta, want your mouth…please" You whined. "Don't have to tell me twice" he peeled your panties off you, your slick sticking to them.

"So wet for me~" He purred as he began to lick up and down between your folds.

You moaned as your back arched slightly. You grabbed his hair like it was a handle bar.

He sucked you clit as his hands dug into your hips, pulling you into his mouth like a starved man.

"Hanta! So good!~" you cried as you bucked your hips into his mouth. You could already feel yourself reaching that high.

"O-oh god.God.. hanta" you moaned. "So sensitive~" He said as he slurped your cunt.

He pulled away shortly after, as much as he wanted to give you what you wanted, he wanted to feel you cum around his cock so back.

"Why'd you stop?" you whined.He rolled his eyes with a smile as he reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet before handing it to you.

"Hold that for me" he told you as he stood and took off his pants, standing before you in just his boxers.

You're sure you're bleeding profusely from your nose. "Like what you see honey?" He said as he kneeled back on the couch.

He grabbed you hips and pulled you closer to him making you yelp as you held onto his wallet for dear life.

He kissed you as he plucked his wallet from your hands. He sat up as he opened his wallet and pulled out a condom.

You swallowed nervously as the reality of the situation began to set in. He tossed his wallet to the side before looking back at you.

"Hey just relax…gonna make you feel so good darling" he reassured as he shimmed off his boxers.

His cock slapped against his stomach as it left the fabric of his underwear.

You reach behind yourself as you unclasp your bra. It fell from your chest as you tossed it among the various articles of clothing on the floor.

His jaw practically dropped as he stared at your chest. "D-don't stare" You blushed. "Sorry you're just… so beautiful and perfect."

He said as he looked at you with sultry eyes as he brought the edge of the condom wrapper to his teeth before tearing it open.

Your face turned impossibly more red as you watched him roll it on his throbbing,dripping cock.

You opened your legs as he scooted closer to you. He brought the tip to your soaked pussy as he rubbed your hole with it.

"Can I?" He asked. You nodded, "just go slow~" you warned. "Of course he whispered as he slowly guided his cock into you.

You gasped as it first entered you, it was unusual to have something that warm inside you,but you weren't complaining.

He bottomed out before looking at you to see if you were ok.

He breathed heavily trying to adjust. "S-so big" You drooled.

You grabbed the back of his head as you kissed him. "Move.. please" he began rolling his hips in and out of you.

It took a moment of discomfort to get past the burn of your cunt stretching to take him all in. The burn soon turned to pleasure though.

"O-oh Hanta yes!" You moaned. You heard him groan in your ear as he gripped the edge of the couch as if he was trying to crush it.

"So tight, fuck" he hissed. "Faster hanta~" He happily obliged, picking up his pace.

You shut your eyes tightly as your nails dug into his back. He gradually picked up speed as you got used to the feeling.

Even began demanding him to go harder. To which he would never disappoint.

You felt as if he punched the air out of your lungs everything he thrusted into you. "U-im gonna..cum.. fuck h-hanta!" you groaned.

" cream on my cock hérmosà~" his hand reached down as he rubbed your clit in frantic circles.

Your legs trembled as the chord in your belly drew tighter, teetering over the edge of climax. "O-Oh God!"

You cried before cumming, you pussy clamping down on hanta's cock.

",¡Oh, Dios mío!, tan apretado, voy a llenar tu dulce coño" he slurred as his pace quickened for a moment as he let out a loud groan.

His hips slowed as you both breathed heavily. He collapsed on your chest making you exhale slightly from the additional weight.

You ran your fingers through his hair. As he kissed your chest, the cold metal of his piercings made you flinch when he moved.

"You did so well mi corazón" he whispered. "Are you ok?" He asked as he traced your body with his fingers.

"Yes, that felt… really amazing" you said shyly as you smiled at him. He smiled back, "I'm glad I got to be your first"

#sero fluff #sero headcanons #sero smut #sero imagine #sero hanta #sero drabble #hanta sero headcanons #bnha hanta

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infinitelibrary · 2 months ago

Text

So I read this last night hoping for a nice little shot of bedtime reading. What I got was a chapter - yes, a SINGLE CHAPTER - that carried me through a whirlwind of emotions. Everything from awe 😮 to spice 🥵 to angst and heartache 😢 to absolute LOVE (*gasp* the L word!!!)❤️ and happy tears 🥹. And again, I repeat: all this in a SINGLE CHAPTER. I think that speaks volumes to your skills as a writer, so let's make that very clear. I read this no less than 3 times last night itself. And then at least twice more this morning, just so I could take notes and digest and be coherent when I came here to reblog and give you my thoughts. (as you can tell, that was pointless bc I'm still rambling.)

Also fair warning - this is LONG, and I don't feel like putting it under a cut but just know there are spoilers galore. Consider yourself warned.

First off...In the Soop Yoongi at the beginning. oh you can bet your ASS I noticed him! I will always notice him! 😍

THANK YOU!! I know it's such a small detail but I am so grateful to you for indulging me and including him in there, down to the loose collared tee and the necklace (all the better to pull him in close for a kiss or two 😉)

The chapter progressed through the makeover montage. Something many of us can only dream of! Makeup, glitz, glam, outfits at our fingertips, getting dolled up and made pretty even if just for a night. A perfect Cinderella moment. And I'm theorizing based on the characterizations you've offered us so far...but I think as magical as it was, I think that was part of what led MC to have those doubts later on. She was dolled up and dressed up and it perhaps as much as it made her feel gorgeous, she also knew this wasn't who she really was...and so that 'imposter' feeling was perhaps brewing under the surface. Not saying it was or has to be...but just what I gleam from it in hindsight.

The car. The CAR. Dear GOD don't even get me started. Do you know how hard it was for me to get through my workday today? Thankfully today was a wfh day and most of my calls were camera off, but the one that was camera on? The whole time - the WHOLE time - the line "Grind. Make me hard before I fuck you right here right now" was running through my head and I had to constantly jolt myself back to reality. When I tell you I am here for slightly jealous possessive Yoongi who feels like he has to remind you who your ass belongs to...I mean I am abso-fucking-lutely HERE 👏FOR 👏IT👏. I swear I read that line last night and my brain glitched. I had to go back and re-read it like 5 times. That entire scene was SO FREAKING HOT. And then ordering her to 'keep it in'?? JFC...🥵

The party took us on another journey - this one with insecurities and angst. I felt my heart clench with Yijeong's "Still?" comment bc I *know* that feeling. You can feel stuck when others around you are moving up and away, meanwhile you're still in the same job. And it can be frustrating bc change is scary, there's security and comfort with staying with what's familiar. For some, it maybe that they love what they do and don't want to move, though I don't think this is the case with MC, as she mentioned she wished she could, but hadn't been able to. Perhaps she does want to move, but there's something holding her back. Or maybe she just hasn't had the opportunity. There could be any number of reasons. But to have someone unintentionally talk down to her for being in the same role especially at a gathering like this when everyone around her is recognized for their extraordinary achievements...of course it would make her feel insecure and inadequate. Yeah, in her everyday office she's just one among many. But here, she's the "everyday"normal" person in a crowd of celebs and again, it's easy for her to think "Yoongi could have his pick of any of these gorgeous women...why me?" And then add Mina to the mix and I just...sigh

The car ride home, the drop off at her apartment. When she turned him down, my heart was literally aching as she went in alone...then the late night (early morning) text. Him showing up at her doorstep with his confession. The simplicity of it, the urgency of it. I literally cried the first time I read it (happy tears for the both of them). Her reaction, and then reciprocation of his words of affection. Oh my GOD it was better than anything I could have imagined.

The way that you took us through each and every one of these stages was truly a work of art. I feel like I keep saying this about every new installment of your work that comes out, but this may just be one of my favorite chapters of any of your works, EVER. Just...WOW. Everything about it was just....

(I know that's not a chef's kiss but it's the closest I could find to a Yoongi chef's kiss gif bc yes he is 'cooking' in this clip)

I'm excited to see what comes next!! They've made it official outside the office. What's going to happen *in* the office? What shenanigans will that conniving Danbi get up to? How are they going to have illicit office quickies now that their hiding spot is no longer hidden from the camera's view? And what will happen when Wonwoo shows up?

(you can bet I am staying tuned to find out 💜)

Terms & Conditions | Chapter Seven

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: YOONGI IN THIS SUIT. Angst - themes of jealousy, insecurity, Mildly angry car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), The L Word <3

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 12, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: We’re back after a longish break! Thank you to @glossdebut for beta reading! Enjoy this chapter, my lovelies~ 💕

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Hi, baby! I’m back…?” Your voice trails off as you enter Yoongi’s apartment that afternoon and suddenly the living room has been transformed into what can only be described as the scene for the makeover montage in movies (or fanfics?).

Clothing racks line one wall, laden with everything from elegant cocktail dresses to sleek jumpsuits. A makeup station with a massive lighted mirror has been set up near the window.

It’s chaos, but it’s also… kind of amazing.

“What the—” you mutter to yourself, stepping further into the room.

Yoongi appears from the kitchen, a cup of iced coffee in hand, looking unfazed by the commotion. He’s dressed casually in black joggers and a white t-shirt, collarbones peaking deliciously from the loose neckline. Around his neck, a brown necklace draws your eyes to the smooth column of his throat. What gave him the right?

Anyway, he spots you immediately, face softening.

“Hi,” he says, strolling over to you, stuffing one hand inside his pocket casually. Not him acting all awkward again in front of other people.

You try not to roll your eyes before dragging him towards the nearest room and closing the door behind you.

His face is blank, causing you to whisper-shout, “What is all that?” gesturing wildly at the door that’s shielding the activity outside.

He sips his coffee, completely unbothered. “Told you I’d take care of everything.”

“Yah! You didn’t have to go this far!” you exclaim, but there’s a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you slap his chest.

Yoongi captures your wrist and pulls you closer. “Let me spoil you when I want to, mm?” Soft lips meet your forehead.

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his words. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he smiles sweetly, pressing a quick kiss on your lips this time.

You pull him back in with a loop of your finger around his necklace.

“Hmm, jagi,” he hums against your mouth, a soft reprimand. “Later, okay? They’re here for you.”

Despite your initial skepticism, it’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement. The team from Bit & Boot is professional but warm, making small talk about your personal color analysis. You’re apparently a soft spring, or was it deep winter?

Someone lays out a few dresses, and your eyes immediately gravitate toward a beige cocktail dress with sleek lines and subtle embellishments along the neckline.

“You have a good eye,” one of the stylists says, removing the hanger. Maybe you did understand the color thingy they were talking about, because they looked pleased. Thank God, because you didn’t want to look like a chump.

Yoongi lingers nearby, keeping an eye on everything. When your makeup artist offers him a chair as if he doesn’t own the place, he smirks and says, “Nah, I’m just here to admire.”

You’re seated in front of the mirror as they work on you, foundation buffed onto your skin, hair teased and styled until it cascades in soft waves over your shoulders. Yoongi stays close, occasionally glancing at his phone but mostly watching you, a small, private smile playing on his lips.

When you finally step out in the dress, Yoongi’s reaction is everything you could have hoped for.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice low.

“Too much?” you ask, smoothing the dress nervously.

“Too much? No.” He steps closer, his hand finding your waist, pulling you just slightly toward him. “You’re perfect.”

His words send warmth blooming in your chest.

The glam team packs up quickly, with small smiles that they try to hide. You bow as they go, leaving the two of you alone in the now-pristine living room.

As the door clicks shut behind them, Yoongi turns to you, his hands sliding down your hips as his lips brush your ear.

“Jagi, we don’t have to go,” he murmurs, voice deep and dangerous. “You’re so sexy. Let’s just stay here. I’ll just take care of you.”

You laugh softly, placing your hands on his chest. “Yoongi, we can’t skip your hyung’s party.”

“Hmm.” His lips curve into a smirk, and his fingers trace lazy patterns on your sides, giving it a light squeeze.

“Yoongi…”

“Just let me kiss your lips for a bit…”

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head. “Lip gloss.”

“Not those lips…”

“Yoongi!” You shout, scandalized at the suggestion. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the flutter of something low in your belly as he dips his head to your shoulder, chuckling to himself. He’s such a shithead.

“Fine. But know that all I’ll be thinking about tonight is how soon I can get you back here.” He bites your shoulder for good measure.

“Well, you’d better behave then. Don’t make me regret saying yes to this party.”

He steals the faintest kiss on your lips. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He lied.

You’re just in the car and already he is not on his best behavior.

Not when he almost tears your panties in half as he hooks it to the side and inserts his cock in your warmth without so much as a prep.

Backtracking—this was not supposed to happen. And yet somehow you also knew it would, if you’d be really honest.. See, you were just making light conversation as you entered his Palisade.

“So who’s coming to the party again?”

He unbuttons his blazer, leaning back on his seat. “Bunch of label people, my members. They know I’m bringing you.”

“What did you say?”

“Told them to not act like idiots. And that they better behave.”

You hum, amused at the hint of green in his irises. Maybe it can be greener…

“And, uh, Yijeong will be there, too?”

Silence. Except for the soft whirr of the partition rolling up.

“Get over here.”

“Mm?”

“You heard me,” he says, voice a touch darker.

You shuffle to sit on his lap, the fabric of your dress gathering on your waist. His large warm hand strokes up your thigh towards the plush of your ass, roughly squeezing.

“Grind,” he instructs. “Make me hard before I fuck you right here right now.”

Before you can protest your body is already acting on instincts, rolling your hips as per his instructions. Your panties are getting more damp as you continue to rub yourself against the growing stiffness under his trousers.

You hear the sound of a metal buckle and a zip. He frees his cock (he is not wearing underwear–this fucker!) and before you can do anything else, he hooks your panties to the side.

A wave of bliss courses through you as he nestles his tip against your sticky folds, prodding your clit ever so slightly.

“Can you take it?”

“Yeah...”

He smirks. “Okay then, take it.”

A moan rips from your throat when he slips inside and pistons up into you. Hard, fast, and furious. There’s no build-up, not enough forewarning. But you love the stretch—the painful, delicious sting as he forces himself to fit inside you like he has many times before.

“Say my name,” he grits.

“Baby…”

“Whose dick are you riding right now, huh?”

“Yours, Yoongi—mmph fuck.”

His grip tightens on your hips, the guitar-calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he fucks up into you deep. The wet, obscene sounds of your slick walls sucking him in fill the Palisade, drowned out only by your soft whimpers and the way Yoongi grunts against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he breathes, lips dragging along the shell of your ear, against your piercing. “You always take me so well.”

You grasp the leather headrest, desperate for something to anchor you. But there’s no finding your balance when he’s feral—when his cock is hitting so goddamn deep it knocks the air from your lungs. Your head falls back, mouth parting with a moan as the pleasure crests higher. Every inch of skin on fire.

Yoongi doesn’t slow. If anything, the sight of you, the feel of you—fucked-out and soooo fuckin’ wet—only makes him wilder. His hands shift lower, gripping the meat of your ass, helping you bounce on his cock.

“You want me jealous, huh?” he growls. “Wan’ test me?”

“No, I—fuck—”

His teeth graze your jaw, a warning. “Liar.”

A particularly sharp thrust has you crying out, your nails clawing at his back. His chuckle is dark, pleased. “Don’t worry, jagi. I’ll fuck the thought of anyone else outta you.”

You’re close. You can feel it—the unbearable heat pooling in your belly, every nerve in your body coiling tight. Yoongi knows it too, the way your pussy starts fluttering around him.

“Shit, ‘m close…”

“Yeah, that’s it. I like it when you lose control…”

“Ahh. Please, Yoongi.”

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he coaxes, voice rough, strained. “Let me feel you cum for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your release crashes over you, sharp and white-hot, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Yoongi groans, feeling you squeeze him tight tight tight, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck, fuck—” His grip bruises as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside, filling you up with every last drop.

For a moment, all you can hear is the ragged sound of your breaths, the faint hum of the engine beneath you, which you just now realize is already parked.

Yoongi’s hands smooth over your thighs, as you both come down. Then, with a tired but no less shit-eating grin, he pulls out and pings your panties back into place, pressing his thumb at the seam, before he says:

“Keep it in for me, jagi.”

You should be scandalized. You can feel his viscous load already dripping from you, but you clench. You hold it in as best as you can. Because you’ll agree to anything when he’s like this.

You shudder, pulse still racing as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. It’s gentle—so at odds with what just happened.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, still floating.

He smirks, lazy and satisfied. “My pretty jagi.”

As you rest your forehead against his, still dazed, still blissed-out, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs, “Now, let’s go to this fucking party before I change my mind.”

The party is already buzzing when you arrive, and Yoongi’s hand finds the small of your back, grounding you as he guides you through the crowd. His friends are scattered across the room, a mix of banter and laughter filling the air.

You’re honestly a little self-conscious after your little car tryst. Is your dress too wrinkled? Is your make-up a wreck? Do you smell like cum?

“Come on,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Let’s go say hi.”

Jimin is the first to turn to you with a playful grin, “So, you’re the one Yoongi-hyung’s been hiding from us, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression equal parts curious and amused.

Jungkook grins, leaning in for a casual hug. “Hello, Y/N.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but a small, almost shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he introduces you to the rest of the members. Everybody seems friendly, acknowledging you for being Yoongi’s plus one. For the most part, it’s Jungkook who keeps close, chatting with you about Chae and how he’s bummed she couldn’t make it tonight. Cute.

At some point in the night, Yoongi gets whisked away into a circle of conversation on the far side of the room. You hang back, still close but giving him enough space to enjoy his time outside of—let’s be real—babysitting you.

You slip toward the bar, ordering a drink, needing something to do with your hands while you surreptitiously take everything in.

Is that Hwasa? Oh my God, that’s Irene of Red Velvet.

The weight of where you are settles all at once. You knew you’d be surrounded by idols tonight, but knowing and experiencing are two very different things. These are people who command stages, who are revered and respected and admired by millions. And then… there’s you. A glorified office worker who stumbled into this world by accident.

You inhale, shake it off, sip your drink.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, your full government name rings out over the music, a curious voice cutting through the din.

“I heard you were gonna be here.”

You turn, and there he is.

“Jang Yijeong. Long time no see.”

He leans against the bar, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. “Indeed.”

The weight of history sits between you. It’s not bad blood, not really, but there’s something about seeing someone from your past in a space that so obviously belongs to your present that feels a little jarring.

Especially because you suddenly meet said present’s eyes from across the room and the motherfucker mouths, keep it in… and you squirm in your seat as a flush of fluid threatens to trickle down your thighs.

“So, Yoongi-yah, huh?” Yijeong tilts his head, studying you and maybe your odd facial expression right now. “Small world.”

“Yeah.” You shift, inhaling sharply. “So how have you been?”

“Really good. Worked on Yoongi’s last album and tour before his service. Now I’m going back and forth between here and the US, trying to do my own thing.”

“Wow.” You blink, forcing a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

His success doesn’t surprise you. He’s always been talented, always had that drive. But hearing it out loud, seeing how effortlessly he fits into this world—it stirs something unpleasant in your chest.

“How about you?” he asks.

You take another sip of your drink, stalling. “Just boring stuff. I work in the Yongsan municipal office.”

“Oh, you’re still there?” His brows lift, his voice light, but something about the phrasing makes your stomach twist.

Still.

Like you should have moved on by now. Like you’ve been standing in place while the rest of the world surged forward.

You force a small laugh, trying not to let it show. “Yeah, still there.”

Yijeong hums, nodding slowly. “Good thing you didn’t leave.” He gestures toward the other side of the room where Yoongi is now laughing at something someone said, looking so effortlessly cool. “Or else you wouldn’t have met Yoongi.”

And honestly, what do you say to that?

Because he’s right. If you had taken any of the other job offers, if you had made even the smallest change to your path, you wouldn’t be here.

But the way he says it makes it sound like Yoongi is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Like meeting him was some stroke of dumb luck, the one extraordinary thing in an otherwise unimpressive life.

Like Yoongi is a prize you won rather than a person who chose you.

You swallow, looking down at your drink. The ice clinks against the glass, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts forming in your head. Is that what people see when they look at you? A nobody who somehow landed Min Yoongi?

Your fingers tighten around the glass. And suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so warm anymore.

As you make your way back toward Yoongi, a voice stops you.

“You must be the famous Y/N.”

You turn, surprised to see a woman smiling at you, her glossy lips curled into something amused but warm. She’s effortlessly chic, her black dress draped elegantly over her frame.

“Oh,” you say, blinking as recognition sets in. His Mina-noona. You’ve heard Yoongi mention her before—a longtime friend, someone he respects.

“I’m Mina,” she says, offering her hand. You shake it, feeling slightly scrutinized under her gaze—but not in a malicious way. More like she’s curious, trying to piece together the puzzle that is you.

“Yoongi talks about you,” she adds, eyes twinkling.

Your brows lift slightly. “He does?”

Mina hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Not much, but enough. He’s… different these days.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she muses. “Softer, maybe. More invested.”

Your stomach does a little flip, but before you can fully process it, Mina gives you a knowing look. “You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

The flip turns into a twist. “What do you mean?”

Mina chuckles, shaking her head. “Nothing bad,” she reassures you, waving a hand. “Just… Yoongi’s always been a certain way. Keeps people at arm’s length. Not the type to—” She pauses, then shrugs. “Well. Not the type to bring someone to a party like this.”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but the words settle uncomfortably in your chest. Is she trying to insinuate that Yoongi tends to go for just casual, a typical fuckboi even?

“You must be special,” she adds, smiling. It’s meant to be kind, but it only stirs something uneasy inside you.

You force a small laugh. “I’d like to think so.”

Mina gives your arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “It was nice to finally meet you,” she says genuinely. “Enjoy tonight.”

She disappears into the crowd before you can respond, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

When you glance back, Yoongi is already making his way toward you, casually grabbing a quiche from a passing waiter and popping it into his mouth.

“You alright, jagi?” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, cutting through the noise of the party like a thread pulling you back to him.

You nod, pasting on a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you’re not. Not really.

Because the moment Yijeong walked away, the thoughts started spiraling. And after that conversation with Mina, it’s like a dull ache has settled into your chest, impossible to shake.

You think back to the office girls months ago, how they teased you when Yoongi first started working in your department. The Blessed One, they had called you. The lucky girl who got to work closely with Min Yoongi. It was all in good fun, lighthearted banter at the time, but now, the words twist in your head.

Do you not deserve someone like him?

Do you not deserve him?

You shouldn’t care what anyone else thinks. You know that. Yoongi is here, with you, choosing you. That should be enough.

And yet, the doubt lingers, wrapping around your confidence like vines, tightening.

A squeeze on your waist brings you back. You blink, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He’s studying you carefully, his gaze flickering over your face like he can see every thought running through your head.

“You sure?” he murmurs.

You force yourself to nod, offering another small smile as you swipe the crumbs on the corner of his mouth with your knuckle. “Yeah… just a little overwhelmed.”

“Let’s get out of here soon, okay?”

You nod again, pressing into his side just slightly, grateful for the comfort he gives so effortlessly. But the thoughts don’t go away.

And you’re starting to wonder if they ever will.

The drive home is quiet, but Yoongi’s hand wraps around yours, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles. The silence feels heavy, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, but you’re still sifting through the evening’s interactions, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Finally, Yoongi speaks, his voice low. “Jagi-ya. I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me,” he says, his tone soft but firm. His hand tightens around yours. “Was it something Yijeong or Mina said?”

You swallow, staring out the window as the streetlights blur past. “It’s not just them, Yoongi,” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s… I don’t know. Tonight, it just hit me how different our worlds are. I mean, maybe I don’t belong here, in all of this. You deserve someone who just… fits better.”

Yoongi stares, confusion etched in his features.

“It’s just, people look at you, and it’s like they’re trying to see if I measure up. I can feel it, you know?”

He lets out a slow breath, his gaze steady and intent. “That’s… don’t even worry about that, jagi. I’m here, because I want to be with you.”

A rush of gratitude warms you, but doubt still clings, threading through your insecurities.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “Maybe I just need some time to rest.”

As the driver pulls up outside your apartment, he studies you, his brow knitting in concern. “Want me to come up?” His question is soft, unassuming, yet full of care. “I can make you the sriracha grilled cheese sandwich you really liked last time.”

You reach over, cupping his cheek. “Not tonight,” you say, brushing your thumb gently over that little freckle below his eye. “I think I just need a little time. Alone.”

He sighs, long and labored as he presses your hand against his face a little longer before letting it drop. “I don't love this.” He says, his face falling slightly, but he nods in understanding. “But alright,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips staying just long enough to make your heart ache.

“Yoongi…”

“Not that. You don’t call me that anymore…”

Realization hits you. “Baby…”

He nods, eyes moist, and the little wobble of his lips almost makes you want to fold. “Good night, jagi.”

With a final, lingering look, you step out of the car, giving him a small wave as you close the door behind you. The weight of your decision is immediate, filling the quiet of your apartment with the complex feelings from the night.

As you exhale, you realize you’re left to sort through this alone, the silence amplifying the doubts Yoongi’s reassurance can’t quite erase.

It's 4:12 a.m.

You can’t sleep. How can you?

You haven’t slept in this bed for days. The scent of jasmine is unfamiliar, when you’ve grown accustomed to sandalwood.

Your memory pillow already forgot the slope of your head.

You flip to your other side, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through your curtains. Just as you’re about to force your eyes shut, your phone vibrates against your nightstand, the screen lighting up the darkened room.

You check the notification and it's him. Of course it is.

Yoongi: you up?

Any other night, you’d laugh at how much it sounds like a booty call. And maybe it would’ve been. But tonight, it’s different.

You: Cant sleep Yoongi: me too

You stare at your screen, thumbs hovering as you figure out what to say next. But another message is already coming through.

Yoongi: im outside Yoongi: your apt

Socked feet shuffle to the front door. Every step feels heavy, like your body is torn between running to him and running away.

You swing it open to find Yoongi, looking like a kicked puppy. Your heart cracks.

The sight of him like this—eyes tired, lips pressed into a tight line, hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all night—has you clutching the edge of the doorframe just to keep yourself upright.

You let him inside.

“What are you doing here?” you finally ask, voice quieter than you intended.

Yoongi exhales sharply, his hands pushing through his hair before settling at his sides.

“I’m here, because…” he starts, then stops, shaking his head like he doesn’t know how to finish the thought. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

You can’t breathe.

And then he says, “I love you.”

The words land like a freefall. No hesitation. No takebacks. Just truth.

“Yoongi…” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“I need you to hear it. Really hear it.” He takes a step closer, trembling hands cupping your cheeks. “I love you,” he repeats, softer this time, like he’s willing you to believe it. “I don’t care how complicated this gets. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I told you before, I’m all-in.”

Your heart is pounding, a chaotic rhythm against your ribs.

Because deep down, you already knew.

You knew in the way he looked at you across the office when he thought no one else was watching. You knew in the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, in the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

But hearing him admit it to it like this—like he was physically incapable of handling a possibility where you didn’t feel the same way, where you would’ve given this up, it’s perhaps the most honest thing you’ve ever heard.

And now, the question isn’t whether he loves you.

It’s whether you’re ready to believe that you deserve to be loved like this. If you deserve to be loved by Min Yoongi…

Yoongi barely has time to register it before your hands are in his hair, yanking him down, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s messy, desperate, everything.

He groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist, fingers digging into the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.

You press into him, chest to chest, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. His mouth moves against yours with urgency, his tongue sweeping past your lips, stealing whatever breath you had left.

You don’t stop kissing him. You can’t. Not even as he walks you backwards toward your bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him, his body pressing you against it, trapping you between the cool wood and the solid heat of him.

His hands roam, slipping under your sleep shirt, fingers skimming over your tits, tracing the curve of your spine. Your head tilts back as he trails kisses down your jaw, your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.

“Jagiya,” he mumbles, voice thick, rasping against your skin.

You don’t have any other words right now—not when he’s sucking a wet bruise into your collarbone, not when his fingers slide lower, dancing along the lace of your panties.

So you just say the only thing that matters. “I love you, too.”

A low curse falls from his lips, and then he’s moving you to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you, eyes dark, hungry.

“Say it again.”

His hands slip beneath your shirt, dragging it up. His lips follow, open-mouthed kisses searing a path up your stomach, taking a nipple between his teeth.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice shaky, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him back up to you.

“I love you, jagi,” Yoongi crashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your whimpers as his hands slide down—hooking into your panties—slowly, teasingly, pulling them down. “Let me show you what I mean...”

A/N: Whew! ARe wE GoOD??? The L bomb has been dropped and I am soooo happy because these two deserve the world.

Let me know what you think in the comments. Or do reblog if you are so inclined. <3

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! xo

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