#unfortunate i have such a soft spot for golds and silvers

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

Thought Noel would look really nice with the gold. Been meaning to make an X drawing for a while!

[the-kr8tor]

Wildflower and Barley

Pairing: Robin Hood! Hobie Brown x princess! Reader

Word count: 10.1k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, medieval au, Robin hood au, royalty au, R has unnamed parents and siblings, cw food mentions, mentions of arranged marriage, cw suggestive, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff. Part 2 of the Robin Hood au.

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Octobie 🎸

Part one <<<

Now dry and out of your sopping wet clothes, and now free of mud caking your skin, you look at the various trinkets and knick knacks littered around the small yet well decorated room. Aunt Janet was kind enough to lend you some clothes and let you stay in the treehouse which surprisingly had a wooden contraption that brings you up and down the tree without you even setting foot on the ladder. Aunt Janet told you that Hobie invented it and calls it a ‘lift’. You thought he was a genius for coming up with it. Just thinking about climbing up with that huge mess of a dress of yours gives you a headache.

The room they've temporarily put you in is cozy, the bed is carved with various woodland creatures on it with vines and swimming fishes etched on the headboard. The wooden bed is covered in soft quilt blankets piled up to make the bed softer. It's pretty, you thought. Janet and the others are nicer than any captors you've ever had. Well, except for your would be suitor, you find him annoying with his pretty eyes, handsome smile, scent that wakes the butterflies in your stomach and calloused hands that are warmer than the blazing sun— you're done for.

A knock wakes you up from your stupor, turning around, you clear your throat and thoughts of Hobie.

“You decent?” His voice almost makes you dizzy, it's either that or you have a looming concussion from your recent fall. You won't know until you see him for yourself.

“Yes, I'm dressed.”

Hobie opens the door, you notice his different outfit this time. He has leather bracers on with tiny spikes protruding on each of his wrists. His blue pants fit him better now than the clothes that you surmise he nicked from an unfortunate courtier. A blue tunic with jade green thread is stitched at the hems, and a thick belt helps cinch his waist as if it needed the help. You swallow down your loud beating heart, but it doesn't help when you spot the silver and gold piercings he now has on his ears and face. His hair is more gorgeous than ever with the silver accents weaved and placed around it like tiny stars dotted on his hair.

He raises a pierced brow, hand reaching up to place it atop the doorway to lean on it while the other hand is on his hip. His waist length cloak unfurls behind him, draping him in brilliant blue, revealing the spider stitched on the cloth. Unbeknownst to you, he's admiring you too. Now without the layers upon layers of fabric hiding you, he sees the real you without all the jewels shining in his eyes and the crown glaring down at him as if he's unworthy of your gaze. He tries to shake…whatever he's feeling but it keeps coming back to him whenever he meets with your pretty eyes.

So he plays it off casually even though he could only see you in front of him and his senses seem to dull within your presence. He just chalks it up to you being attractive in his eyes. Sure, that could only be it, right?

“See somethin' you fancy?”

“No, just staring at the bow and quiver of arrows on you. Have you finally decided to kill me? I know your aim is nothing to be scoffed at.” You don't show an ounce of fear.

Hobie snorts, “nah, just admirin’ you in my room, and coat.”

You scoff, not believing that Janet would place you in his room *and dress you in his clothes. So you turn your head away to avoid looking at him. You suddenly find an unassuming lute more interesting, or rather acting like it is. “You weren't lying about the lute. Do you still play?”

He follows your gaze towards the well loved instrument. “Yeah, d’you?”

“No, but I do know how to play the piano as it was required of me.”

He raises his chin, gesturing towards you as you cross your arms atop your chest. “If you could choose, what instrument would you like to learn?”

“Why?” You chuckle at the uncommon question.

“Just askin’ ‘m a curious lad.” He shrugs with a small smile.

“The flute probably.” You sit on the soft bed. “I always loved how it sounded.”

“I think a flute would suit you, princess.” Hobie crosses the small distance, he then sits on a stool adjacent to the bed. He's quite close to you, knees brushing along your own. But not close enough to feel how your breath hitches in your throat.

“Don't mock me, Hobie.”

He knits his brows together. “‘m not, that was genuine.”

“Alright, why do you think it would suit me?” You lean closer, elbows placed atop your thighs and chin resting on your palms.

He tilts his head with a quiet chuckle. “You have the lips for it.” You're taken aback, a satisfying reaction for him. “But do you have the lungs for it, love?”

Silence stills the air around you two as you try to breathe in and out while he waits for a response with his unreadable gaze towards you.

“...stop fucking with me.” You say with a loud scoff, standing up and hitting his knees when you walk away to face the window on the far end of the room. His chuckles continue as you put your arms on your chest, huffing and puffing away the warmth from your cheeks.

“You're easy to tease, princess.” He wipes a tear from his eye after recovering from his bout of laughter. “I didn't even know you have it in you to curse.”

You abruptly turn around. “I want to get out far away from here.”

“Is my joke that bad?” He says with a raised brow.

Sighing, you put your foot down, steely gaze staring right at him. “You saw how they treated me, I don't want to marry a stranger and become like my siblings.”

“You were ready to marry me.” He pretends to not understand. Or that's what you think, he's riling you up again to get a reaction from you.

“I was pretending so the courting would stop.” A half lie on your end. You're attracted to him, sure, but you thought that marrying him would be the lesser evil than marrying some pompous rich lord who would only treat you like a walking womb. Inhaling, you continue. “I don't want to be stuck.”

Hobie's gaze turns serious. “Is that why you barely fought back?”

You rub your face tiredly. “Yes. I don't want to end up like the rest of my siblings. I want to have a life, a life that doesn't end with me dying during childbirth or being killed because of my husband's mistress hired an assassin!”

“That sounds oddly specific.”

“Because that all happened to them. I'm a sister to ghosts.” You don't realize that a single tear is sliding down your cheek. Quickly wiping it away, you don't notice his eyes filled with empathy. “I'll tell you about the secret passages in the castle that would lead you to the royal jewels.” Hobie blinks and perks up in his seat. “in exchange, you bring me with you to grab my things—”

“As much as I want to see you lock pickin’ your way in your own castle, you'd be a liability, princess.” Hobie stands up with his hands placed on his hips.

“Without me you'll get lost in the passageways. It's a labyrinth in there, I once got lost in there for an entire day before my handmaiden found me.” You explain. “After the whole ordeal, you'll flag down a ship for me heading towards the northern territories.” Walking towards him, you face him fully with your finger jabbing him at his toned chest. “Then and only then, we'll be even.”

Hobie sniffs, nodding along. “That's all then?”

“You're not gonna ask why the north? Or ask me to map the passageways instead of coming with you?”

“Why should I ask when I already know the answer, hm?” He takes a step forward, closing in on you while your accusing finger gets trapped in between him and you; in turn, you put your palm on his chest as he smirks down at you. “I won't ask you to draw a map because I don't trust you, blue blood. As for the first part— Your royal pain in the arses don't have power over in the north ever since the rebellion. And you'll be safe there until you can hitch a ride out of the country. As long as they don't find out that you're the princess.”

You don't back down, challenging him with your head raised high. “That's why you'll forge documents for me.”

“Who says I will?”

“Well, you got into the palace, and the only way you did that was taking on the identity of some poor sap who might've stopped in the middle of the road to help some injured woman or…” you push him away, looking at him up and down without shame. He looks befuddled, but he recovers quickly, expression turning into amusement. Even enjoyment from the banter. “Some man screaming for help. Either way, he has been your mark ever since you planned this whole thing. And it wouldn't have worked without some legitimate looking papers.”

“Or we stole the papers from him when we took his clothes.” He dares you.

“You could've, but you were worried that he won't have it or it might rip during the scuffle.” You click your tongue. “Hence the dried up ink, stolen seal of the registry and hundreds of balled up parchment on top of your desk says otherwise.” a smile slowly spreads across his face, a sign that you're right. “Do you want me to tell you that I was your plan B or do I have to explain to you how I found that one out?”

“I have to train you in case shit gets hairy.” He flicks his eyes downwards and then without shame, he roams his eyes up to your determined eyes. “Whip you into shape and shed all that royal ego off of you.”

“You have to train me?”

“I don't trust anybody else with you. My closest crew could but I'll still be there watchin’” Hobie reaches for your hand, waiting for you to close the deal. “You might charm the trousers off ‘em. Do we have a deal, princess?”

“Do you agree with my terms?”

He shrugs, hand still in place. “As long as you don't leave us high and dry when the time comes.”

“I give you my word, take my tiara as a sign of my cooperation.”

“I already have it.” He flicks his eyes to his hand, fingers stretching out, still waiting. You raise a questioning brow, “fine, I pinky promise, princess.”

“Once more, but without your mocking tone.”

Hobie tamps down his laughter by biting his lip, with a sigh, he relents. It's not a bad deal, you get to leave and not snitch to your parents on where Doverhill is, and he gets the jewels to feed his people and lessen any unwanted encounters with your stealth approach.

“Deal,” taking your hand, he shakes it.

“Good, when do we start?” You say with determination in your eyes.

—

Your face hits the mud covered ground with a resounding smack. Your audience cheers and Mayday’s giggles egg you on to stand up despite your face full of thick mud clinging to your cheeks.

“C’mon now, princess, it was just a shove!” Yuri teases you some more as she stands behind you.

Lifting up your head, you see Hobie leaning on the fences while munching on an apple casually. “Told you to dodge.”

You lift yourself up by your elbows, muddled eyes glaring at him. “I thought you were supposed to train me!”

“I am.” He takes a juicy bite from the fruit. “I didn't want to be responsible for marring your pretty face. And Yuri volunteered.”

“And I'm so glad I did!” She jumps up and down on the mud, invigorated by the so-called fight. “C’mon and get up, I want to show you my upper cut!”

“Oh god.” You thump your head on the mud. “I thought you'd teach me how to lock pick or even archery.”

“Nah, you gotta earn that.” He says while chewing. “We've got a month until they take out the red alert on the castle, you've got plenty of time to train, love. Besides, free entertainment.” He unfurls his long arms, and cheers erupt from the children watching you get your ass beat by Yuri.

Standing up on wobbly feet, you continue to scowl at him. “I hate you.”

Hobie does something you least expect, winking and keeping his eyes glued on your own as if he's imagining that you're the apple that he's currently taking a bite out of.

Flustered, you turn away from him. The second you put your fists in front of you, you get

knocked out by Yuri and her fierce uppercut. Darkness envelops you while you fall down on the soft ground.

You've got a long month ahead of you.

—

“Fuck!” You curse after breaking what must've been your fifteenth lock pick. Throwing it away, you thump your head against the wooden door, feeling the rough material under you. “Can I at least get the better lock pick instead of using your shitty ones?” You address Hobie, who's sitting on the bed while mindlessly strumming his lute. The sound would've been lovely but with your situation, you just find it annoying.

“You know the answer to that, blue blood.” He glances briefly at you, throwing another leather pouch at you that you already know is full of badly made lock picks. “You're stuck with me until you open the door.”

“This is torture.” You narrow your eyes at him, knees aching from how long you've been kneeling down on the floor. Not even the pillow underneath you is helping. “And this one won't even work!” You show him a bent lock pick.

He mocks you by opening and closing his hand like a yammering mouth. Your supposed mouth.

You've had enough, your stomach is growling and the back of your neck is sweating. So with a precise aim, you throw the bent metal at him. It lands straight in the hole in the middle of his lute.

“What the fuck?!” His astonishment makes you guffaw.

“I told you that we should've started off with archery.” You say in a sing-song tone. His mouth opens widely, and with you having twelve siblings, you already know what he's about to do. “Don't you dare—!” Hobie screams at the top of his lungs, prompting you to cover your ears. “You're a child!” He strums his guitar loudly and without a thought. “Stop!”

He stops to catch his breath. “I'll keep screamin’ until you unlock that bloody door.”

“No—!”

He shouts again, and you immediately try to lockpick your way out of your personal hell. The metal breaks again, and you stop yourself from throwing it at him again. At least he seems to be having fun.

—

The stew is warm in your hands and the chatter reminds you of dinners back at home when your siblings still lived there. You look at the long tables placed in the town hall where they serve dinners every night to provide a sense of community within the village. They all eat together, laughing with their families and friends while you're left standing at the far end by your lonesome.

You find that there's no place for you here.

Beginning to turn around, you feel someone tugging on your shirt. Looking down, you see a hair of red and freckles staring up at you with her big blue eyes.

“Hi, Mayday.” You give her a tight-lipped smile. You can still feel how the ground met your nose.

“Aunt Janet asked me to say sorry to you.”

You wait for her to do so.

“But I don't want to.” She says defiantly.

“Alright then.” You try to walk away but she stops you by pulling at your borrowed coat. “What is it?”

“Do you want to eat with us?” She glances behind her. When you look at the table, you see Hobie's entire crew merrily chatting and eating while the man himself meets with your eyes with a glint in those hazel eyes. Pouting, she tugs at you again. “When Aunt Janet asks—”

“I'll tell her that you apologized.”

She puffs her chest out, curly hair cascading down her cheeks. “Good,” leading you towards the table, she continues to pull at you. “You have to meet Miles and Gwen!”

As you get closer to the table, Hobie smirks and tells people to make space for you to sit down. You can't help but smile at him while Mayday excitedly introduces you to Hobie's crew that you already know by name. Of course you wouldn't tell her that, lest you get on her bad side again.

Mayday talks your ears off after getting used to you. Even after dinner and when people start cleaning up, she stays with you and asks you numerous questions about your time being a princess and living in a golden castle; all the while you braid her hair out of her face which she's happy enough to stay still for you.

“Do you bathe in milk?” She asks while you brush her hair. “Do you have a dragon?” She gasps. “A pony?!”

“No, no and yes, I did have a pony.” You chuckle.

“Did? What happened to it?”

You blink, hands pausing on her hair. “I don't know actually.”

Mayday turns around, brows furrowed at your expression. “They sent it to the farm didn't they? Hobie said that Jared is at the farm too.”

“Jared?”

“My squirrel!”

You fully understand what the farm actually is. “...Sure, probably.”

While you continue to tie her hair, you don't notice Hobie's soft gaze towards you as he leans on the doorway with his hands in his pockets and with a smile that never leaves his lips with every topic you and Mayday talk about.

“Careful now, don't fall for her.” Ned suddenly appears by his side, voice whispering, sending goosebumps on the back of his neck. “‘Don’t fall for the mark,’ remember?”

Hobie cranes his neck towards Ned, who teases him with a light smirk. “I bloody know, Neddy, ‘m not daft. She's a princess.”

“And? That doesn't mean you're immune to falling for her. Hell, there's a reason why I've kept James away from her.”

Hobie snorts, arms crossed over his chest. “James fancies her?”

“I smell jealousy, Hobart.” Ned half jokes. Hobie glares at him, jaw tightening before he opens his mouth widely. “No!” Before Hobie could yell (as if he would at night) Ned is already running away with his hands cupping his ears.

With a victorious chuckle, he returns to watch you interact with Mayday only to find a gaggle of children asking you questions and requesting for you to braid their hair too. Your smile brightens up the night while you try to placate each child with patience and a childish grin. He blinks and he meets with your eyes that look at him with a tender gaze.

He's in trouble.

—

The string in your hand is taut and rough against the pads of your fingers, a stark contrast to the smooth wooden bow in your other hand. You close one eye, aiming directly at the painted target that looks awfully like your father.

Hobie stands next to you with his own bow in hand, eyes trained on your posture, making sure you don't hurt yourself by standing close to you. The sun bares down on both of you while birds chirp, and the wind blows gently at the canopies.

“Remember to inhale before lettin’ go.”

“How philosophical.” You raise a brow, and with a sharp inhale, you let go of the arrow. It soars above, curving atop the target and landing on the grass behind it. “Damnit.”

You expect Hobie to laugh at you or tease you, instead, he walks towards you. “‘ere, let me.” With a nod, he corrects your posture. The tip of his fingers push lightly at your shoulders, straightening your back. You then feel his knuckles ghost above your spine, tracing it without touching you. “Keep your shoulders aligned with your hip.” His warmth radiates off him as he gently holds your hips, pushing and twisting you to position your body to the correct position.

You stand like a marble statue in his space, you dare not breathe, afraid that he'd let you go. “What now?” You ask while he nocks an arrow in your bow with his hands briefly brushing along your own.

“Now…” with his fingers holding your chin, he moves your head. Feeling his calloused skin on your warming flesh. “You shoot.” He whispers against the shell of your ear before leaving your side. “I know you could do better than the lockpick.”

Your head is all jumbled up because of him, how could you train in this condition? More or less shoot a sharp projectile?

“C’mon, princess, I don't have all day.” You can practically hear his smirk from his tone.

“Asshole.” You curse under your breath, nocking back the arrow to release. To his surprise but not to you, it flies overhead, much higher and farther from your last shot. The arrow overshoots, soaring over the trees and out of the village. “Ah shit.”

Now he laughs, “what happened, hm?” He nudges you with his shoulder while chortling at your miserable aim.

You glare at him, chin hidden atop your shoulder to mask your flustered self. “It was the wind.”

Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle, “don't think so.” Without looking at the target, he loads an arrow, quickly nocking it back and shooting directly at the sack target. “See?” He proves his point. Smirking, he nocks three arrows at the same time, and again he doesn't look at what he's aiming. Pulling the bow string, you can see his muscles straining from under his tunic, you barely even saw the arrows fly and hit the target simultaneously and effortlessly. Breath stuck in your throat, he smirks triumphantly at you.

“Show off.” You hide your impressed expression with a well timed scoff.

Hobie's satisfied with your reaction based on his lopsided grin. “C’mon, we need to get that arrow.” He says as he places his bow on his back, quiver placed right on his hip like always.

You groan, tired from today's activities. You're more than ready for lunch. You still have a full schedule after this session. “Why? You have plenty of arrows.” Gesturing towards the bucket full of arrows, you complain.

“Because if someone sees that they'll figure out that there's a settlement nearby.” He pats your back, urging you to walk with him. You stand there, groaning at the thought of hiking. “I can't let you go alone, can I? You might run.”

“And here I thought you were concerned for me because of the bears.” You follow him.

“If we see one I'd let it get you.” He smiles, waiting for your reaction.

“No you won't.” You roll your eyes.

You two reach the vines, he orders his people to unfurl it. “Maybe I will, maybe not. You don't know that, love.”

He passes by the ‘gates’ nodding a thank you at the guards on watch. One of them seems to look at you for far too long. Too long for Hobie's liking, he snaps his head at the said guard, prompting him to return to his duties while avoiding Hobie's gaze. You saw the whole interaction unfold, giving you the right teasing ammo.

“I didn't know that you're the jealous type.” You walk with your hands behind your back while you continue to follow him. He knows the forest better than you, and you'd rather not get lost in it.

“I don't know what you mean.” He swipes away at a branch, lifting it up to let you pass through unscathed.

You nudge him, pushing him lightly as leaves crunch underfoot. “Sure you don't.”

“You always know how to rile me up. And not the good kind.” He fights back with his own teasing.

“Likewise, Hobart—!” A protruding tree root catches your foot, making you stumble and trip over it. Before you could fall and meet the ground once again, Hobie catches you in his arms. Cheek pressed on his chest, arms holding him close.

“Should I start callin’ you clumsy?” He rhetorically asks while he's still holding you in place. You don't find it in yourself to let go.

“Anything to keep you from calling me princess.” You huff, and you see goosebumps appear on his skin.

“I'll do it if you stop callin' me Hobart.” You feel his breath fan the top of your head, and his fingers splayed over your back.

Leaning away, hands still on his chest, you look at him with feigned annoyance. “Fine.”

Hobie sees himself reflected in your eyes while leaves dance in the wind. The cacophony of the forest lulls you and him into a bubble of affection, just you and him in the vast greenery of the land you call home.

His hands latch off from you, with one last look, he leads you where the arrow could've landed. You follow him wordlessly, his back facing you while he guides you.

Soon after, the silence fades away as you hear the rushing of water. Hobie pushes a thick bush away, parting it to reveal a waterfall and a clear pool hidden in the deep forest.

It takes your breath away. “Wow.” You gasp, eyes shining at the glimmering water.

Hobie watches your reaction with a fond smile, “Pretty, innit?”

“Beautiful.” You turn towards him, smiling brilliantly.

For a moment, you two share a look, just languishing in each other's presence while listening to the water cascade down the pool.

Clearing his throat, Hobie returns his attention towards the water only to see the arrow embedded at the bottom of the mirror-like pool. He chuckles when he spots the scales underneath the tip of the arrow.

“At least you hit somethin' this time, clumsy.”

You follow his gaze, walking closer until your shoes hit the cool water. “Is that?”

“Lunch.” He grins, “and I've got the perfect place to cook it.” Gesturing with his head at the waterfall, you tilt your head questioningly. “C’mon then.”

—

You're drenched from head to toe, Hobie didn't say that you had to walk into the waterfalls to reach it. And by it, he meant his secret hideout hidden behind the waterfalls. It's a sizable cave with its moist walls and camping gear that he must've left behind for himself.

You warm yourself near the fire while he rubs salt and spices onto the fish that he's preparing. “Do you take all your women here?” A half joke on your end.

“Only the fit ones that provide lunch.” He glances at you with a smirk while you hide your face in your hands, pretending to rub it and warm yourself. “Why leave?”

“Laying it on thick, Hobie?”

“Alright, do you want bread with your fish?”

“Sure—”

“Too bad, we don't have bread.” He places the fish in the hot skillet, it sizzles in place, the smell making your stomach grumble. “So why leave your cushy life? D’you really want to be a jester?” Joking and recalling your words you uttered in the throne room a few weeks ago, you roll your eyes with a small smile.

“Simple, freedom. All my life I've been told what to wear, what to eat and when to speak. For once I want to decide for myself, even if it means leaving my cushy life behind.” You squeeze out water from your sleeve. “I–it's not like I decided on a whim. I've been trying to leave ever since I heard that I'll be the next one to be married off. I know it'll be hard after, but I know it'll be worth it.” You meet with his eyes, “Your turn, why do you have this secret place of yours?”

“For debauchery, of course.”

You chortle, “I don't know if you're lying or not.”

He mirrors your smile. “I like my silence.”

You instantly know what he means. “I have twelve siblings, I like my silence too.”

“Siblings,” he repeats with a soft smile while staring at the crackling fire. “I guess Ned and the others are my siblings.”

“I guess they are.” You say delicately. “My turn to ask the heavy question, why do you do…” you gesture at him. “All of it? The risk is higher than the reward you get for stealing shit from aristocrats, so why don't you keep it for yourself?”

Hobie turns the fish around, cooking it fully until it's golden brown, letting your question simmer in his mind. “‘m content, love, I've got my place, and I've got my people. Why do I need to hoard wealth when I've got everythin' I could ever need?” He chuckles softly, “I steal from the wealthy to give back to the people they stole from. They need it the most, and I don't do it for satisfaction, I do it so that people have a bigger chance of surviving another day when their own lords fail to provide for them. Or in most cases, their king.” The fish sizzles, filling the cave with smoky air. “I failed my people once, I won't let that happen again. You'll never understand it, princess.”

You look at him through the flames, “then let me see. Let me understand. Show me all the failings my blood has done.”

Hobie gazes back with an unreadable expression. Silence replaces the smoky air, you can only hear the cackling of the fire and the rushing of waters behind you. After a while, Hobie speaks again. “What are you plannin’ to do after all this?”

“Asking me out, Hobie?” You manage a jape after the previous heavy conversation. An attempt to lighten the silence.

“Care to find out?” Your teasing backfires. His lopsided smile makes you falter, heart thudding loudly while your skin feels like the poor fish who met the end of your arrow. He always recovers faster than you.

You look at a rock in the corner, trying to play it cool but he can't be fooled by your failed attempt at hiding your sheepish self. “...probably a flower shop.” You mutter.

“What's that, love? I can't hear you.” He riles you up again, hand placed behind the shell of his ear in a mocking fashion.

You sigh, brows furrowed and cheeks aflame. “I said I might start a flower shop.”

“I didn't peg you as a horticulturist.”

“I don't know, it just sounds nice.” You play off your lack of plan casually.

Hobie laughs and shakes his head while he takes the skillet away with a cloth around the handle. The fish still sizzles, and smells mouth wateringly good. He then takes out a knife, cutting your share while smoke wafts out of the meat. Giving you a piece, you take it without a word, embarrassment still lingering in the pit of your stomach.

He reaches for a piece himself, lifting it up like a goblet towards you. “To not havin’ plans.”

You guffaw above the rushing water, “to not having plans.” ‘Clinking’ your lunch with his, you happily eat with Hobie, occasionally laughing at the banter.

—

You make your way towards the city center with your disguise billowing in the wind. Your dark cape and hood makes you blend into the cheering crowd, oblivious to your stealthy movements. You're out of Doverhill and into the city where you were born and raised, but you've never been out in the actual streets in your entire life. You can see the castle, your home looming over the cramped city. The same city you've always looked at with longing through your bedroom window. You once dreamed of stepping foot on the cobblestone, to interact with your subjects and listen to their problems so you could help in any way a princess can. And now that you're in the thick of it, you now see the truth.

The city is filled to the brim with people surviving on measly coin for the entire day. Mothers, who have barely anything to feed their children. The elderly begging for scraps. People, *your subjects, scrounging for leftovers in the streets when up in the palace, your family and the courtiers had everything they could ever eat and more. If not for Hobie giving you one final task, a test to see if you can handle the heist that you've helped plan together with him and the rest of the crew; you wouldn't have seen how bad it is in the land you love and cherish.

You grip onto your hood tighter, wandering the streets all the while avoiding Hobie and his crew. He tasked you to pick a mark within his group to steal a single coin without being noticed or caught. If you do it successfully, you get to join them and do what you need to do before leaving the country, only to never return.

Blending into the gathering crowd, you finally see Hobie and his crew that you've grown to know. Yuri helped you with your hand to hand combat patiently, and as thanks, you made her a simple embroidery of a lily because you once remembered her talking about a flower that she couldn't remember the name of but remembers what it looked like. She was ecstatic, but Ned, who taught you how to disappear in a crowd, was a bit jealous, so you made him his own embroidery of a bumblebee. After that everyone in Doverhill wanted their own exclusive embroidery from the princess herself. It's safe to say that your embroidery classes were put to good use. The only person you haven't given a piece to is Hobie, his embroidery has been hidden in your pocket for days since you've finished it. You're too nervous to give it to him, more or less show it to him.

Hobie speaks in the middle of the crowd with boxes and crates upon crates full of food and supplies to help the people. You watch as his crew hands them out to the waiting crowd. Quickly, the air fills with gratitude, smiles and even some tears. While they're busy, you head towards Hobie and Mayday, who are occupied with a gaggle of children munching on honeyed candy while vying for their attention.

“We have a new person with us!” Mayday's excited chatter makes you pause midstep. “I can't tell you who she is but she's amazing! She taught me how to sew and write poetry.” A chorus of ‘wows’ and ‘woahs’ can be heard. “And look, she even braided my hair like how a princess wears her hair!”

Hobie chuckles by her side, coin pouch almost half empty while he gives most of it out to people. “Tell ‘em the part where you tripped her.” He spots you in his peripheral whilst you stalk on the outskirts of the crowd. It's impossible not to, as if his senses have attuned itself to your presence. He doesn't say anything.

“I did!” She proudly says, and you almost laughed.

“I thought you liked her?” A child asks, nose scrunched up.

“But back then I just didn't like her very much.” Mayday says and you almost falter as you sneakily ease your hand in James' pocket. Mayday continues to tell stories about you and your old pony while Hobie pretends that he doesn't see you.

Yuri suddenly appears by his side, nudging his shoulder. “Should I tell him?” She chuckles, whispering to him. “I gotta hand it to her, she chose the most oblivious one to steal from.”

“Taught her well,” Hobie mutters back, “don't tell him or her. Let it happen.”

“Is this one of your brilliant plans?”

“Maybe.” He sees you scurry off to an alley all without James or people noticing you. Smiling fondly, he returns his attention to the task at hand. “We need to hurry up and distribute these before the guards get ‘ere.”

“Aye, aye.” Yuri turns away with a knowing look that Hobie has a feeling he knows the reason what it pertains to.

—

You watch as the sun gets smaller and smaller on the horizon. The sea is calm while the salty breeze flutters your lashes. The hustle and bustle of the dock has calmed down ever since you made yourself comfortable on a crate. Munching on a loaf of bread, you watch a ship leave the dock, its anchor slowly emerging from the waters.

“You're late, Hobie.” You felt him before you saw him. Looking over your shoulder, you see him in a similar cloak and hood, bow and arrow hidden behind him. “I got the coin from James, but…” you show him the half eaten bread in your hand. “I used it already.”

Hobie admires you in the orange and pink hues, your eyes seem to glow in the light, while your lips curl into a gentle smile. He inhales, making his way towards you, leaning on the dock bannister, and watching the ship sail away into the fading horizon.

“Can I have some?” He asks, head turning towards you.

You grin with a chuckle, breaking the loaf apart to give the biggest side to him. “Here, you look like you need it more than I do.” You poke at his cheek, feeling his tired muscle underneath it.

“Runnin' away from your guards is hard work.” He takes a bite, “do I look that bad?”

Without thinking, you reach for the corner of his lip to wipe away a crumb stuck on it. “Nothing like a good nap couldn't fix.” Realization hits you, flinching away, you play your behaviour off by returning your attention towards the sea. “Sorry.” You clear your throat.

Hobie stands there, frozen and in the middle of chewing. Swallowing down the bread and his sudden nerves, he brushes his knuckle over your cheek where dirt clings onto your skin unbeknownst to you.

“Now we're even.” He says gently, and you gaze at him through glassy eyes and warm cheeks. With a sigh, he moves away, casually finishing off the bread. “D’you need anythin’ else for tomorrow?”

You take a deep breath, eyes glancing over to the castle. “Guts?”

“Don't think we can get that from the shops, love.”

You chortle, fingers playing with the hem of your cloak. “You didn't exactly give me this test to see if I can successfully pickpocket someone right?”

Hobie turns sideways to look at you fully, still leaning on the handrail. “No.”

“You wanted me to see this.” You gesture around the city. “And how bad the situation here is.” He nods, eyes trained on you. “If I had known…” you ball your fists around the fabric of your trousers. “...I could've done something. Anything.”

“Could've, would've, should've. The important thing is that you're ‘ere now.” He tentatively takes your hand, you're cold under his palm as he feels you slowly warm up from his touch alone. He gives you enough space to let go. But you don't. “You're doin' somethin' now. You're better than them.” He points at the palace behind you. “And if all goes well tomorrow, you've helped more than they have ever since they've taken the throne.” Squeezing your hand, he lets you fall atop him, your face hidden on his shoulder. “You’re good, Y/N, I know you are.”

You let go of his hand, arms embracing him fully. “You're good too, Hobie.” While you hold him, you sneak the embroidery of a bow and arrow you made inside his pocket.

With his arms around you, the moon slowly appearing in the sky, and face on the crook of your neck, he lets you cry while his palm rests on your shoulder blades, gently caressing. Your words have sparked something in him, and your touch ignited it within him, warming him up from the inside out. It doesn't engulf him nor burn him, it soothes him at his core, and he sense that you can feel it too through his chest.

—

Your hands are sweaty while gripping the dessert cart. The sweet confections wobble while you make your way towards the kitchens. Dressed in the cook's attire, you blend in with the rest of the busy staff walking briskly on the marble floors.

The plan was to split up, to dress like the staff and infiltrate the castle with only your disguises. You all plan to meet up at the library where the main tunnel leads towards the royal apartments where the crown jewels are located. If everything goes to plan, they'll have the jewels in their satchels without ever being noticed.

Your eyes dart around the halls, trying incredibly hard not to stick out like a sore thumb. *So far so good. You think to yourself, attempting to calm your nerves. Some staff glance at you but they thankfully let you go without questioning you and why you're pushing a cart full of cakes towards the library. The courtiers don't even pay you any heed.

Out of danger for now, you walk faster when you see the double doors leading to the library you've spent most of your days in.

“Halt!” A deep voice calls after you, and you stop in your tracks, hands already shaking.

“Yes?” You fake your voice, eyes downturned to hide your face.

“Where are you heading?” He asks, head gesturing towards the tea and cakes.

“The library, s–sir.”

“I've been patrolling this hallway for hours and not a single person has entered the library.” He narrows at you suspiciously.

You clear your thoughts, determination surpassing over your anxiety. “Lady Caroline has asked me to deliver them in advance. Says she has some sort of meeting with the other court ladies.” It's a long stretch, but the said lady is known for her gossiping circles.

“Hmm,” he straightens up, thankfully not recognising you and believing your bold lie. “Go ahead, just don't make a mess.”

“Understood.” You don't look back as you make your way towards the doors. Shutting it close, you can finally breathe on your own. “We made it.” You shakily walk towards the long table at the center of the large room, chest heaving, and pupils fully dilated. “I— fuck.”

A sudden hand grasps your bicep gently which almost made you yelp in surprise. “Just breathe, it's over.” Hobie has come out from under the cart to soothe you by rubbing his palm up and down your trembling arms. “Y/N, can you look at me?” With his fingertips, he moves your head to face him. “There you are,” he smiles, “breathe with me, yeah?”

You nod, hand upon his clavicle, eyes watching his chest go up and down while you mirror him. “I—I thought I fucked it up.”

“Nah, you did brilliantly. I thought I had to shoot an arrow at his eye.” He pats your cheek, thumb tracing under your eye. “You alright?”

“I think I am now,” you whisper, eyes darting over to his lips, and breathing normalized. “Are you?”

“Nothin' gets the heart pumpin’ than almost gettin' caught.” Hobie says softly as he gazes at your own lips. He says your name as if he's tasting it on his tongue. “Can I—?”

He aches for you.

“Yes.”

And you yearn for him.

The doors open with a squeak, and out comes Yuri in her handmaiden dress with her eyes wide and blinking at the two of you. You and Hobie freeze on the spot.

Her surprise turns into amusement. “Am I interrupting something?”

You're the first one to move away, acting casually as if she didn't catch you in the act. Meanwhile, Hobie finds the rows of books more interesting than Yuri smirking at him.

“No, you're just in time, Yuri.”

She hums with a knowing gaze at the two of you. “Bet you two wished I was late, huh?”

“No.” You and Hobie manage to say simultaneously. Hobie clears his throat while you grab a discarded book to hide your face under. You can practically hear all the future teasing that you'll face after this.

“Where are the others?” Hobie recovers much faster than you could. “They should be ‘ere by now.”

“Don't know, I didn't see them in the halls.”

Their words concern you as minutes tick past. While the three of you wait, you find the hidden passage hidden behind one of the bookshelves. After a quick scan, you see the book you've been looking for. The cover is in a deep shade of blue, the title worn down from the years, but you can briefly read the words ‘between’ and ‘sea’ on the fading paint. You've read it dozens of times, but so far you still don't know the title.

Before you could reach for it, the doors opened once again, much louder this time. Instead of just Ned, James and the rest of Hobie's crew, they're joined by someone. They dragged the guard that was patrolling outside. His body is limp but still clearly breathing while Ned and the crew drags him further inside the library.

“Can we get some help here?” James huffs, hands occupied with the guard's legs.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Hobie rushes towards them, helping get the man inside the room.

“Shit happened.” Ned pants, “we don't have time so we'll explain later. For now we need to tie him down.”

“My specialty.” Yuri reveals a thick rope from under her apron, “help me with his arms.”

Hobie glances towards you, shrugging his shoulders with a ghost of a smile. “Open it, love.”

You nod, giving him a smile. With a yank on the book, the secret passage opens with a wooden groan. It opens a smidge, so Hobie helps you with pushing it further open.

“Love, huh?” James mutters under his breath. Ned snickers by his side.

The tunnel is dark and dank, air stale and moist. The walls are lined with thick cobwebs upon cobblestones. There's not a single light in place as the breeze drifts inside.

“A bit creepy innit?” Hobie glances at you, “can't believe you slept in a castle with jester tunnels behind your bedroom walls.”

“When you put it that way, yes, that's fucking creepy, Hobie.” You chuckle as he chortles back.

“Move over, love birds.” Yuri pushes the two of you away from the door with a flaming torch in hand. “We have to steal some shit remember?” She says over her shoulders, and the rest follows her with a teasing grin on their lips except for James who has a deep frown. “And you have a ship to catch, princess.”

“Oh,” you almost forgot about you leaving for a second. Hobie glances at you, smile faltering. “Y–yes, I remember, of course.” Stepping inside the passageway, you make your way towards the front of the group as Yuri passes you the torch. Hobie stays a few ways behind the group, eyes trained on your back. “Let's go.”

—

Your hand glides along the wall, feeling every indent and curve of the rocks. You know the tunnels well enough to know about the secret markings etched on the walls. Every two feet you walk, there's a subtle ‘x’ carved on the stone. If you pass by a wall that doesn't have that mark after the last two feet, then you could get lost if you don't retrace your steps. So with measured steps, you carefully guide the group through the tunnel, making sure that they're holding onto each other and to you. You've learned this trick after your older brother taught you how to sneak into the library at night without being noticed. You have no idea how he is now.

Hobie's hand upon your shoulder is gentle, you can feel his reassuring squeeze every time you shakily breathe in the dusty air.

You pass by a door on your right, remembering that it's your father's study. You almost ignored it but with your name being uttered by his advisor, you stop your movements while the others follow suit. Moving closer to the door, you look at the crack in the wood, seeing your father at his usual place in his study, and your mother sitting nearby. A testament to their love. They had a lot of love to give each other, but none left for their children.

“My king, I think it's high time we start looking for the princess again. After the first ransom note there was nothing else. I fear for her safety.”

Your father continues to scribble away at his paperwork, while your mother sits near the window with a cup of tea daintily in her hand. They look unbothered. They did stop looking for you.

“Don't worry about her, she has always been independent. I'm sure Robin Hood will grow tired of her and is about to give her up any moment now.” The queen says without missing a beat or a forlorn tone for her missing child. “What news does my son bring? Another grandson?”

“Which prince, my queen?”

“The one with the heavily pregnant wife, Jeeves.” She scoffs out, entirely forgetting about you, and your brother's name.

“Ah, my apologies. I heard that the baby girl was born healthy, but his wife is in dire condition. The prince is beside himself, in fact he requests for your presence—” Your father’s adviser says with a solemn tone.

“Pity.” She could only say.

You couldn't continue hearing her words and his lack of them. “Let's…” your eyes water, lips wobbling. “...we need to go.” Hobie calls your name softly, thumb pressing carefully on your shoulder blade, trying to calm you down. “I'm alright. Let's continue.” You ignore their looks of concern.

A heavy silence follows you and the crew, making your way towards the crown jewels through tear filled eyes, you manage to guide them in the room without getting lost. You shed off your cook uniform, donning the tiara you left with. Even without your gown, you hope that it's enough to convince the guards inside that it's still you.

“Stay here, I'll knock three times when they're gone.” You murmur.

“Are you— will you be alright?” Hobie asks gently, palm cupping your cheek.

You give him a weak smile. “I will be once we get what we came for.” Cracking the door open, you make your way inside before Hobie could express his concern.

—

The group lies in wait behind the closed door within the dark tunnel. The light from the torches are starting to burn out, leaving them with only the sunshine coming from the crack in the door for a shed of light.

The second Hobie's starting to get agitated and worried for you, he grabs the door knob with protests from his crew. But before he could open the door, he's met with you staring back at him.

“They're gone.” You say as you open the door wider for them. Sure enough, the only soul left in the room is you. “I told them that I escaped and for them to get the physician. It took some convincing but they eventually left.”

The others pat you in the back, eyes widening at the glittering jewels and crowns sitting on tables and shelves. But Hobie's eyes were only on you, hands already reaching for your own.

“You should go, I think we only have fifteen minutes before they march back here.” You try to walk away but Hobie holds onto you, fingers laced around your own, warmth helping you at ease. “Hobie, I'll be fine. Help the others.”

He glances at his crew who are efficiently working together by lock picking and grabbing the jewels that they can easily carry and transport. They're not blinded by the shining large crowns and scepters, but only taking whatever they can hold in their satchels. One precious stone could feed the whole village for a year, and one crown could provide for the whole city for six months.

“They can handle it, you said you needed to grab somethin'. Let me help you.”

You stare at his worried eyes. “It's not— are you sure?”

“Yes, you said fifteen minutes and we're already at thirteen. No time to lose, love.” His lips curl into a smile, hand bringing your own to his chest.

“My lucky number.”

—

Without wasting another minute, you arrive at your apartments. Its familiar purple walls take you back, your bed is made and fluffy, closet and desk clean as if you never left.

Hobie's hand is still grasping yours as if he's afraid that someone would snatch you away and drag you into the dark tunnels. His eyes roam around your room with a faint smile, he admires your portrait on the wall above the fireplace.

“D’you think if I nick this one I'll get away with it?”

“You're stealing from the crown and you think stealing my portrait would get you a bigger punishment?” You chuckle, letting go of his hand reluctantly to grab your satchel hidden under your bed.

“Yes, this is the real treasure right ‘ere.”

You poke your head from under the bed, meeting with his eyes and his wide grin. “If you keep saying stuff like that I'd think you're being genuine.” Going under again, you reach for the strap of your bag, and you finally grab it from under the dusty bed.

“When was I not genuine, hm?” You come out only to be met with his smirk. He flicks away a dust bunny clinging on your tiara while you gawk at him.

“You're not joking?”

“No,” he says seriously. “I meant everythin’ I've said and more.” Kneeling down, he fixes the tiara above your head. “Besides, I wanted a reminder of you once you're gone.”

“Do you want me to leave?” You reach for his jaw, thumb grazing along his stubble.

He could only smile, afraid that if he audibly said no, you won't go and do what you've always planned to do. He doesn't want to bar you from leaving or sway you into staying. It's your decision, and whatever you decide to do, he'll be right behind you.

Tears cling to your lashes as you caress his cheek. You want to stay, but not just for Hobie and the people you've grown to love. But also your subjects, your people that you could still help by staying. Something that you could not do if you left. You're conflicted. “You don't have to take the whole painting. I have a smaller one in my drawer.”

“Alright.” Hobie stands up despite his feelings swirling inside him. He helps you up, and follows you towards your desk.

You open a drawer, giving him a circular frame that contains an exact copy of your portrait. “To remind you of me. Or to sell it once you're bored of my face.” You joke.

“I’ll never get tired of your face.”

You have an intense urge to kiss him. Instead, you reign yourself in, “let's get back to the others. Then let's get the fuck out of here.” He nods in agreement. Before you could follow, you leave your letter that you've written days ago for your family. It contains everything you've wanted to say to them, every ire, and sorrow you could translate from ink to paper.

Hobie waits for you in the doorway, arm holding up the tapestry that hides the passageways. You look at him and you see your future, would it be selfish of you if you stayed? Or would it be better if you just left?

With one final look at your old life, you leave it all behind.

—

The clinking of silver and gold rings around the tunnel as you lead the group out of the castle. The smiles on their faces can't be wiped away even when the torch burned out a while ago and your only guide was the marks on the walls. Despite the hiccups, you all made it out into the beach in one piece and with bags full of jewelry enough to take care of everyone.

Ned hoots and hollers on the beach while Yuri lies on the sand with a huge grin on her lips. And James hides his sobs by laying face first on the beach while a crab tugs at his hair. The others are getting the loot on board the fishing boat while they sing a merry tune.

You watch them carry your family jewels with a fond smile. A brooch peeking from one of the bags catches your eye, it's the one piece of jewelry your mother is fond of, except for her crown. You know that it'll be used for a better cause now instead of gathering dust on the shelves.

Smiling, you hear Hobie's footsteps upon the sand. “Havin' second thoughts about your crown jewels?”

You shake your head. “No, none of them holds any sentimental value to me.” Reaching for your tiara, you hand it to him. “Even this one. Let Mayday play with it, I think she'll appreciate that.”

Hobie chuckles and sits down next to you while the others finish off loading the boat. His hand traces the emeralds and diamonds on your tiara before placing it gently on his lap. You see him take something from his pocket, which he immediately shows to you.

“Maybe this one will hold sentimental value.” A simple silver necklace hangs from his hand, you could cry from the sight of it. “It's not from your family. I bought it yesterday while we were in the city.”

“Is that why you were late?” You laugh with tears filling your eyes. Your fingers gently graze the chain, feeling the cold metal against your skin. The smile on your face hasn't faded. Recognition hits you, and your eyes immediately fly towards his neck where a similar silver chain rests upon his skin.

He doesn't only see the crown atop of your head. He sees you. And you truly see him as the one you would love until your dying breath.

Hobie notices your awed expression, “it's identical to mine. I would've gotten you a pendant to go with it—”

“Help put it on me?”

“Sure,” he tells you to turn around, smiling while his hands brush along your neck as he clasps the necklace on you. Once it's secured, his thumb hovers on your nape, eyes warm on your skin. “I— thank you for the help. I've got your papers ready, and if it weren't for you keepin’ your word—!” His words get smothered by your lips upon his own. Your kiss catches him off guard, eyes wide open, not knowing what to do with his hands, and lips not kissing back. You take it all as rejection.

You quickly lean away, “fuck— I'm sorry. I thought—”

He grabs your face, lopsided smile and lovestruck gaze staying on you. “You thought right, love.” His lips meet your own, within a second, you kiss in tandem as if you two were meant to be. He thinks so too.

The crew's claps interrupt you, even with their cheers (except for James) Hobie doesn't let your face go in his warm hands.

“Rule breaker!” Ned shouts with a proud smile.

“Fucking called it.” Yuri claps, “Janet owes me a coin.”

Hobie flips them the bird, all the while sharing your smile. He turns towards you again, eyes soft for you. “C’mon, before they attract the guard's attention.”

“Wait, Hobie.”

“Love—”

“Before this I had no purpose. I was just existing with a crown on my head.” You stand up and you help him up on his feet, with his other hand carrying your tiara. “I want to keep helping my people, I will not abandon them like they have.” You look up at the palace, its shadow encompassing you. “I see that now, thanks to you and them.” You address the crew behind him.

“Is that what you want?” Hobie cups your cheek, not even hiding the fact that he's happy about your decision. He still tries to hide it though. And he's failing miserably. “Just say the word and I'll take you to the docks—”

“I want to stay here with you. That's my plan.” You pull him by his bow strap that's over his shoulders, thumb placed on his clavicle. Eyes crinkling at the corners and incredibly lovestruck by the man before you. “Because I found my purpose right here.”

“As you wish, love.” With a smile, Hobie leans close for another kiss, one of many to come in your future with him, and part of his band of merry men.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

[firewoodwander]

For the mistletoe prompts, Bly/Doom with 13. While dancing? (nooneherebutusghosts)

Mistletoe prompts

@nooneherebutusghosts 🤍

They were never taught anything so frivolous as dancing when they were cadets. Luckily for Bly, Doom has an incredible talent for mimicking the movements and mannerisms of natborns near-perfectly—and Bly has always been rather attuned to following his lead.

He can hear Aayla laughing on the sidelines, a sharp and purely joyful sound. General Billaba comes whirling past a moment later, in the arms of Grey’s favourite captain, just a little more enthusiastic than they are artful in their sweeping spins. Billaba’s cloak swoops and billows around the feet of General Windu who is also leading his embarrassed but devoted teenaged grandpadawan through a smooth waltz in Bly’s peripheral.

He can be grateful, he thinks, that Aayla hasn’t attempted any inevitably less-than-graceful turns about the impromptu dance floor with him.

The Jedi have strung soft glowing lights throughout the greenery and winding paths of the Temple Gardens, which are beautiful enough in the day but something approaching unearthly in the golden night. There’s a substantial orchestra of older initiates who didn’t make it to the battlefield before the end of the war, each set up with delicate instrument in hand, each beaming with pride between every piece they perform for their celebrating audience. Master Yoda perches on a stand in front of their stage and conducts them with a palpable air of satisfaction, even for the Force-inept like Bly.

None of this feels real: not the gardens, nor the gathered mix of clones and Jedi and Navy and down-dressed anti-war politicians. Least of all, Bly thinks, is that he and Doom are both here at the end of it all, alive despite the very many times they scraped themselves back together with sheer force of will.

Doom smiles at him: a small and private thing that never fails to make Bly’s heart turn over and ache. His eyes alight with something horribly soft, almost vulnerable, and reflecting each tiny tree light like he himself is dusted with gold.

Bly looks away. He doesn’t know if he can bear the emotional vortex weighing in his chest quite yet, quite like this. But, over Doom’s shoulder, he spots something familiar in the branches of a nearby fruit tree.

“Oh no,” Doom says, his voice a murmur but his trepidation clear as day. “I know that look.”

Bly grins at him, then steers them gradually between the gathered crowd. “Do you trust me?”

Huffing, Doom tightens his arm around Bly’s waist and leans in close. “Unfortunately.”

“Of course you do. Look up.”

Doom does. His brow furrows for barely a handful of seconds, the scar drawn down the length of his face pulling as his expression changes.

“Mistletoe,” he breathes.

As they watch, a small branch of pale silver berries unfurls and reaches spindly arms down toward them. It’s slow, but not so slow as to be unnoticeable, and Bly hears Doom catch his breath at the unbelievable sight.

“Jedi, huh,” Bly laughs.

Doom looks back down at him. He just stares for a moment, watching Bly’s face. Intent and content to stand under this tree and hold each other close.

“We won the war,” he says eventually. “The Jedi can do whatever the stars they want.”

When he tilts his chin and kisses Bly, Bly moves with him willingly and delighted, imagining the bubbling beginnings of hope taking root around them.

[leeyanyanyaaan]

Stray Kids OC Profiles: Cheon Seoyeon and Min Hyeseong

Cheon Seoyeon

KR: Cheon Seo-Yeon (전서연 / 全 敍姢)

EN: Sophie Cheon

General

23 (2023)

October 30, 2000 - Scorpio

ISTP-T

151cm / 5’

Main Rapper, Sub Vocalist

aka. Yeonnie, Yeonnie-ah, Yeon-ah, SENRYU (千竜 / 센류), Sen

Color: Navy Blue

Animal: Panda, Dragon

A passionate artist and admires 3RACHA, the doted on maknae

Notes

She was born in Gimpo, South Korea.

She has an older brother, who is friends with Lee Know of Stray Kids, Minho.

Her best friends are Park Eunyeong and Min Hyeseong, whom she met during high school.

She shares an apartment with them.

She said that Eunyeong is the one who first approached her, noticing her drawing a character that she recognized, and started a conversation from then on. She felt awkward at first, but Eunyeong felt so genuinely nice that she wanted to be her friend. She was then later introduced to Hyeseong and the rest of their friend group, which coincidentally her brother was in. They have been her best friends since.

Being the maknae in that group of friends, she was always teased and doted on by them. She finds it annoying but says that “it’s them so I don’t mind.”

Seoyeon finds it hard and scary to socialize.

Seoyeon is often described as either a kuudere or a tsundere. 

At first, she would seem cold and closed off, especially because she usually has a poker face, but she is more open to the people she’s close with. 

She is sarcastic and really savage; she usually has the last word, but that's how she jokes around. At the same time she is also childish, a playful and cheeky kid. 

She has a soft spot even though she tries to hide it. If someone asks her to do something, she acts annoyed and whines for them to do it themselves, but later she will do it in the end. 

She also gets flustered very easily when praised. She is shy and is very quiet when she's with unfamiliar people, she'll only talk when spoken to. She doesn't like drawing attention to herself.

Seoyeon is a graphic designer.

She can speak Japanese. She finds English hard to learn, though she tries, with the help of Eunyeong.

When Eunyeong graduated, she took a scholarship in Japan and was supposed to live there for half a year. Unfortunately COVID hit, prolonging her stay in Japan. She returned to Korea as soon as possible once she completed her scholarship.

Her favorite colors are black, navy blue, white and maroon. Also likes metallic colors like gold and silver.

Her favorite season is autumn because summer is too hot and sweaty, she gets sick from the cold in winter and spring gives her hay fever.

She has asthma, so in the past, she was admitted to the hospital very often as a child. Because of this she couldn’t experience playing sports as much and is quite physically weak. Her physical state is also because of the fact that she's a premature baby.

Her father tried teaching her taekwondo once, as he used to be a taekwondo instructor when he was younger, but she never made it past white belt.

Seoyeon's hobbies include: drawing, writing, reading, playing video games, reading manga and watching anime, listening to music, mixing and trackmaking, rapping, sleeping, eating. 

Her brother introduced her to anime.

Her favorite anime is One Piece. Her favorite character is Tony Tony Chopper. 

She has all sorts of anime merchandise in her room, mainly One Piece. She even has a collection of Chopper plushies.

Eunyeong has commented that Seoyeon is well-versed in Japanese media.

She knows basic music theory from taking piano lessons before and can play a little bit.

Her favorite genres of music is rap, lo-fi, R&B, hip hop and EDM. She prefers calmer songs she can vibe to in the background, but also songs with a more dark vibe.

She knows how to edit videos and mix audio. She's held commissions for her services before. Currently, she does this for Eunyeong's YouTube channel.

She also knows how to make her own tracks and has uploaded them to her SoundCloud. 

Seoyeon loves to rap and is very good at it. She likes to sing as well but is not nearly as confident in her singing skills compared to her rap. Eunyeong and Hyeseong say that her singing voice is very cute, it's so soft and lovely that she can sing you to sleep.

She has a YouTube channel where she posts some casual covers. She's never promoted it, but it got a spike in popularity after Eunyeong promoted it on her channel, moreso after their WOLFGANG collaboration.

She is also a digital artist and animator. All of the artwork she uses for her YouTube videos are made by her. She also has an art account on Twitter and Instagram.

Seoyeon has a painfully obvious soft spot for cute things. 

She likes horror and dark things. She especially likes it if it’s psychological, because she also has a minor interest in psychology. She has a rather dark sense of humor as well.

Seoyeon is actually very easy to entertain as long as she's interested. She also has a pretty low sense of humor, laughing at even the lamest of jokes and puns.

She likes riddles and puzzles. She also likes escape rooms.

She falls asleep easily. She can fall asleep anywhere if she wanted to, even if it's very noisy. She's a heavy sleeper.

She gets surprisingly passionate whenever she talks about the things she loves, and can talk for hours in contrast to her usually reserved manner.

Because of her height, she’s often mistaken as a child. She said her parents even used it to their advantage by buying entry passes while listing her as a child.

However, her height also made her look small and vulnerable along with her quiet demeanor, making her a frequent bully victim as a child. Her brother would usually protect her, but when he would move to the upper-level schools because of their age gap, she was the most vulnerable. By middle school she learned to stand up for herself and fought back against her bullies. She scared them so much that no one in her year level would dare to mess with her anymore.

Her role models are Yonezu Kenshi, Seoyeon of G-IDLE, 3RACHA and her friends.

Seoyeon has been a huge fan of 3RACHA ever since she discovered them on SoundCloud, being a fan of rap music. She especially loves SPEARB for his powerful voice and machine gun flow.

She became a fan of Stray Kids after finding out that 3RACHA is a part of that group and is the producing team, her bias obviously being Changbin.

Because of how talkative she is about her passions, she talks about them a lot. 

She's learned all of their raps in their songs.

Her favorite songs from them are District 9 and Matryoshka.

Now imagine if Eunyeong were to one day have Seoyeon meet her idol 🤭🤭

Min Hye-Seong

KR: Min Hye-Seong (민 혜성 / 閔 彗星)

EN: Stella Min

General

25 (2023)

September 28, 1998 - Libra

ENFJ-T

166cm / 5’5”

Lead Vocalist, Lead Dancer

aka. Minmin, Minnie, Seongie

Color: Pink

Animal: Dog (Shiba Inu)

Confident fashionista who won't let anyone put her or her friends down, the hyperactive extravert planner of the group

Notes

She was born in New York, United States, but moved to Korea when she was 10.

Being born in the US, she is fluent in English.

She has a younger brother.

She met Eunyeong during high school, bonding over KPOP, fashion, singing and dancing, while she later met Seoyeon through Eunyeong and Minho. She's the one that absolutely smothers and dotes on Seoyeon in the teasing way while Eunyeong does so in the motherly/older-sisterly way.

Hyeseong is a clothing stylist and make-up artist for other KPOP artists.

Originally, her dream was to become a dancer and KPOP idol, taking both singing and dancing classes for it when she was younger, but later she grew a love for fashion and style and decided that she wanted to take the stylist route instead.

Because of her career, she has befriended many KPOP artists, being naturally friendly and chatty.

She is Eunyeong's voluntary stylist whenever she's performing for a YouTube cover, always eager to make her rendition of the outfit concepts of the artists Eunyeong covers.

If you ever need fashion advice, Hyeseong is always one text away!

In high school, you may assume she'd be the stereotypical popular girl type, but no, Hyeseong has a very strong character and sense of morale. She takes no nonsense and will not let anyone put her or her friends down, dare so hurt them. Do NOT mess with Min Hyeseong.

Was offered leadership roles such as in student council and debate club, but she turned them all down in favor of the fashion technology club.

She's one that stays true to her passions and works hard to accomplish her goals.

May or may not have been the cupid behind Eunyeong and Minho's relationship 🤭

Oh, but Hyeseong has declared to stay her free single pringle life, despite all the confession letters in her locket 🙃 girlboss needs no man ig

Her favorite colors are pink, white and blue.

Her favorite seasons are autumn and winter (for the fashion, of course 😉)

Hyeseong's hobbies include: shopping (especially thrifting), cafe dates, fashion designing, scrolling through Pinterest, photography, crafts, singing, learning dances

She doesn't really have preferences in KPOP groups and music, as long as it's upbeat and happy and something she can sing and dance to! She also tends to lean more to girl groups, such as STAYC and Le Sserafim (sorry idak much groups myself akjsd)

The only anime she's ever gotten into were some shoujo series during high school but she's forgotten them by now

[nickeverdeen]

Hii! Im requesting a matchup for Arcane and TLOU, only women please <3

My pronouns are she/her, I am Caribbean-American and have brown skin, my hair is naturally really really dark brown but I have reddish brown braids rn. When my hair is straightened (I’ve only straightened it once recently, I don’t like doing it cuz of heat), its like past my shoulders a bit in length. My eyes are really really dark brown as well.

I am 5’4 and on the curvier side, my thighs are on the bigger side with some muscle (I played soccer and danced all while I was younger), my stomach is on the flatter side but not completely flat and I’m a size 36D.

Its hard to explain my style but its like a mix of stockholm style, downtown girl, but also pretty simple and minimal. I like lace tops, dark colored jeans, colorful scarfs, linen pants, soft hoodies, low cut tops (I like showing the girls off every now and then :p). I’m a gold jewelry girl but love silver in shoes, clothing, and my bag.

I unfortunately have one of the worst resting faces. Sometimes I look sad (when I’m nott), sometimes I look upset/mad, and sometimes I just have a blank stare. I’ve been told many times from friends and family that they can’t tell what I’m thinking. In reality I have a very silly personality, I like making jokes and being sarcastic here and there but I think this part of me only comes out when I’m comfortable and close with the other person. In general I’m introverted but will usually be the first to start the conversation with another introvert. I’m pretty shy and have never really been approached or approached anyone in a sober setting. I’ve been compared to being most like a bunny or a cat in that sense.

I’m reserved but at the same time love going out with friends. Recently I was working in a group project and when I was in a group project last year, I naturally take on a leader role where I make sure ever is ok but I’m also a bit bossy bc I like getting work done. I admit I can be mean at times but I’m quick to apologize in a group setting. I can get quite annoyed easily but I never let it show unless I want it known I’m annoyed. I’m a big sister. My mbti is INTP.

Interests wise…I loveee the beach. Especially the beaches in California (I don’t live here, visited a few years ago) and the Caribbean for the clearer water. I love cats, my favorite domesticated animal. My favorite animal in general are penguins <3. I like music sm you will almost never find me without my airpods or headphones. I go to concerts as often as I can. I like anime, not into kpop in terms of the industry happenings but love the music. My career interest rn is data analysis and I actually did a data analysis on my Spotify. I listen mostly to dance pop, bedroom pop/indie, kpop, rap, grunge, and a lot more other genres.

I don’t like people with toooo much energy. I love my extroverts but they know when to be chill and serious. I don’t have a preference on whether my partner would be introvert or extrovert. I love someone that can catch my sarcasm and my jokes. I like it when ppl are honest and upfront with me, I don’t like dancing around topics. I am confrontational only when I notice something is seriously wrong in the other person. There are times or days even where I just need to be alone but I still like being checked on. My love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.

Your Arcane match is…

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn would be drawn to your reserved nature and would make it her personal mission to draw out your more playful side, finding every subtle smile or laugh you give absolutely enchanting

With your love of the beach, Caitlyn would plan a surprise trip to a lakeside spot near Piltover

The day would include a private picnic, quiet moments by the water, and, of course, an excuse for her to see you more relaxed and in your element

She’d be fascinated by your music taste, letting you introduce her to K-pop, indie, and grunge while she shares her own favorite classical or jazz pieces

She’d even bring you records from Piltover’s best music shops as little surprises

Caitlyn’s calm and observant demeanor would perfectly balance your preference for chill energy

She’d know when to give you space and would always be there to listen when you’re ready to talk

Caitlyn would be captivated by your mix of Stockholm style and simplicity, admiring your looks every time you dress up

She’d subtly hint at how stunning you look in lace and dark colors

She’d notice your love of gold jewelry and even gift you a bracelet or necklace that complements her own minimalistic style

Caitlyn’s sharp detective skills would help her interpret your resting face, making her one of the few people who can tell if you’re actually upset or just neutral

She’d pride herself on “reading” you correctly

Knowing you appreciate quality time and occasional alone time, Caitlyn would be the type to quietly sit with you while you work or read, respecting your need for space but keeping you company all the same

She’d match your sarcasm and dry humor easily, delivering sly comments right back at you

Together, you’d share a playful, teasing dynamic that brings out both your clever sides

Caitlyn would respect your natural tendency to take the lead, and in group settings, she’d subtly back you up or help you stay organized

Your TLOU match is…

Dina

Dina would understand your introverted side, loving quiet days in where you can both relax

She’d be the type to hang out at your place, listening to music or binging shows, while you both recharge

Dina would check in on you regularly without being too intrusive

She’d be aware of when you need your alone time and would respect that, but she’d leave little notes or send you a quick message, so you know she’s there

Dina’s wit and sense of humor would match yours perfectly

She’d find your sarcasm adorable and would keep the jokes going, bringing out your sillier side in the best way

As someone who’s been through intense situations, Dina would understand your reserved nature and be patient with you

Her empathy would make her both gentle and direct, knowing exactly how to approach tough subjects with honesty

Dina would take on a slightly protective role, understanding that you sometimes feel reserved around others

She’d casually keep an eye out for you in social settings, making sure you feel comfortable

She’d absolutely love your Stockholm/downtown girl aesthetic and would compliment you endlessly

Occasionally, she’d borrow one of your hoodies or scarves, adding a hint of her own rugged, effortless style to your closet

With your shared love for animals, she’d be over the moon to volunteer with you at the shelter or spend lazy days with your cats, adoring every moment of caring for animals together

Dina is straightforward, but she’d appreciate your approach to confrontation

You’d both have deep, honest conversations about anything on your minds, knowing that open communication is your foundation

She’d tease you gently about your “serious” resting face, finding it cute that you can look so intimidating while being such a warm person

You’d both laugh about how people misread you

Dina would pick up on your love language quickly, leaving little notes, cooking a simple meal for you, or organizing small surprises

[markresonates]

PROVE IT

lead vocalist of HEAVY METAL DREAMS the series ⊳

0:00 ⬤─────────── 4:7k words

summary: After years of putting up with Haechan teasing you for being a good girl, you get to prove him wrong at one of his concerts.

pairing: enemy!Haechan x fem!reader (ft 00 liner dreamies voyeurism)

genre: porn w lil plot, tiny fluff bc i’m soft

trope: rock star, spoiled rich bad boy, enemies to lovers

warnings: rough unprotected sex, thigh riding, exhibitionism kink, voyeurism, extremely public, frottage, degradation, humiliation, me pushing the Haechan big d!ck agenda yet again, hard dom!Haechan, bratty sub!reader

Going out on a Saturday night isn’t exactly your cup of tea. You would much rather stay home, cozy up on the couch with a fluffy blanket and re-watch your favorite comfort shows. But, given that you're friends with four members of the rock band Bad Dreams, you make an exception every once and a while. Your fee for tagging along is the promise of free food at the end of the night, and this time they offered you two meal vouchers because it's their largest gig yet.

They were lucky enough to open for a very popular rock band tonight, and once their set was over, four of them merged with the swaying hordes of people swarming around the stage to watch the other famous group up close. Mark gave you the option to go home early with him, but you elected to stay out longer. Stalling before you have to join the rowdy crowd, you lag behind to touch up your makeup in the large, empty dressing room reserved for your friends and the obnoxious lead vocalist of the group. You consider staying within the safe confines of the four, vintage tour poster covered walls for a little longer until...

"Unbelievable! I never thought I’d see you backstage at one of my concerts."

… speak of the devil.

Haechan makes eye contact with you in the dressing room mirror rimmed by dull, yellowed light bulbs. He leans his shoulder against the doorframe with a smirk you wish you could wipe off his face. "Especially in a dress like that. Isn’t a good girl like you breaking the rules by wearing something that slut- oh, wait! I totally forgot I can’t use bad words around you. I mean something that skimpy?"

You scoff at the poster child of silver spooned, self-entitled fuck boys vulgar taunting comment. It doesn’t take 20/20 vision to spot the filthy flicker in his gaze as it sweeps up and down your body.

"I’m not here to see you. I was here to see my friends that are, unfortunately, in the same band as you. And for your information, I’m allowed to wear whatever I want."

"Hm, is that so?"

He makes no effort to hide that his eyes linger where your dress ends on the back of your thighs. It’s a mere two inches below your ass, although that’s only an estimation. If he really wanted to know the exact distance, he would have to stick his hand up the bottom of your dress to measure it with his own fingers – something he wouldn’t mind doing if he was granted the opportunity.

You check him out too. Inwardly, your mouth is watering, but after years of pretending to be an angel way back when in high school, you are positive that your controlled expressions make it so he doesn’t have a single clue what you’re feeling. The wild butterflies in your abdomen flutter faster as you admire his visuals. It feels like you've spent an hour soaking him in, when in reality it’s been a mere 2.5 seconds.

You've always had a soft spot (or should I say hot spot) for the "bad boy" rock star look. Something about the black-on-black attire, dangly jewelry, smokey eye makeup and leather jackets turns you on for whatever inexplicable reason, and Haechan just so happens to be the embodiment of your explicit fantasies.

There is very little variance in his daily wardrobe. He goes from black shirt to band shirt to even darker black shirt; he'll wear a lowkey matching necklace and earrings set one day, and then, out of nowhere, he’ll sport a flashy combination of expensive silver and gold bracelets, necklaces, earrings and rings, worn all at once. At the moment, seeing the silver chains dangling from the braided choker wrapped around Haechan’s neck is nearly hot enough for you to swoon. And last but not least, to top it all off, he completes your fantasy with one of his eight brand name black leather jackets.

Even when it’s blazing hot outside, it’s extremely rare to see him without one of the prized articles of clothing he proudly flaunts. If a person were to compliment the one he’s currently wearing, he would not only thank them, but also provide that the particular Alexander McQueen jacket they complimented carries a price tag of $4.2k. You've heard him boast about them enough to the point where his responses, and the extremely cocky tone he uses, have been involuntarily memorized in your mind. At this very moment though, it’s not the jacket that compels the tightness in your core. The detailing on what you suspect to be his brand new jeans is the thing that corrupts your thoughts to the utmost degree. As much as you love his (and, secretly, your) favorite pair of terribly ripped up, black skinny jeans, the new ones he’s wearing tonight instantly take the crown for first place arousal provoking.

It's borderline pathetic how easy it is to imagine yourself straddling Haechan’s thigh, grinding your slit against the ribbed texture as your wetness seeps into the faded, black material. Random cloth patches with vague, superficial sayings on them are sewn into the tight, black denim hugging his thighs, and the thought of how they would feel on your clit stirs up a bubbling giddiness in your chest.

Haechan doesn’t fail to catch your longing gaze, accidentally peeking through the indifferent shielded facade for a millisecond. A bright, sly smile spreads across his face, noticing your eyes zeroing in on his jeans, solving the mystery of your weakness. Your slip up confirms his suspicions: you have a thing for his thighs. There was a specific reason he wore these jeans tonight. Against your best interest, you took the bait, just as the mastermind had planned when he wiggled the tight jeans up his long legs this evening – hook, line, and sinker.

"Well, I like it. I think you should dress like this more often," he suggests in a provocative voice.

Blinking a handful of times, you get a grip on your full consciousness and return to swiping a tube of shimmery peach lip gloss over your lips. "Well, I think you should keep your opinions to yourself."

You can feel his thirsty eyes undressing you from behind as you go about collecting the remaining cosmetic products laid out on the wide vanity table and storing them in your small makeup bag. Ideally, you would’ve zipped it up quickly and evaded the premises but, of course, at one of the worst times imaginable, its metal zipper gets caught on the matte bag's fabric. You groan and fiddle with it, paying no attention to the pestering nuisance’s movements.

To Haechan, there are very few things in this world that are more entertaining than provoking people to visible irritation, bonus points if he gets swatted or yelled at by whomever it is he decides to target. In terms of his all time favorite individuals to tease, you're one step behind Mark and Renjun, and a hair ahead of Jeno and Jaemin.

There’s a difference between the reaction he’s looking for from them versus the reaction he’s looking for from you. Eventually there will come a day where he’ll do or say something that will push you past the point of no return.

Maybe, just maybe, that day has arrived already. And quite frequently, the word "maybe" gives Haechan the green light to go ahead with whatever, or whomever, "maybe" pertains to. And that’s the color that flashes before his eyes.

GREEN

"Isn’t it past your bedtime, y/n?" he asks, suddenly caging you in against the table from behind. Both of his hands have a secure hold on the edge of the white, wooden vanity so you can’t escape.

You gasp but, to his surprise, don’t hesitate to roll your hips back, raise one of your eyebrows. Indulging his rash advances, you grind your ass into his growing bulge. "I don’t have a bedtime, Haechan. Stop treating me like I'm six."

He snickers with a dark, threatening tone, latching his hands onto your hips. "I’ll treat you however I fucking want to, sweetheart." He tugs your body closer to his before pulling away momentarily to point at the decorative bow sewn into the dress over the small of your back.

"God, why is your dress like this? You know what? I should go get some scissors," he half-jokes.

The sleeveless, strappy black dress your roommate loaned you had a low drooping neckline, a strappy, loose back and was adorned with tiny beads that dotted the material in simple circular patterns. The final touch to the dress was a large, thick bow that protruded out from the dress over an inch. You can understand why it would be annoying to grind up against you if it meant the stiff bow would be poking you. and your roommate loaned it to you to wear as a deterrent if someone tried to grind up against you for more than two seconds.

He removes both of his hands and pulls on the bow, falsely assuming it would unravel, without knowledge of its superficial purpose as decorative addition to the dress only. "First of all, it’s not my dress, I borrowed it from a friend… and secondly, I-" you say before slipping out from where you were pressed against the table. Haechan doesn’t stop you from reaching the door and twisting the knob. "Like the design. And weren’t you the one who said you like my dress before?" you tease before closing the door behind you.

It’s not that you don't want to fuck him, it’s that it didn’t feel like the right time. You don’t know what you’re waiting for exactly, since rationally, you know there isn’t going to be some predestined sign that spells it out for you.

You’ll know it when you get there, you resolve.

Cracking the backstage door open to see the rowdy crowd, you realize that lagging behind in the dressing room was one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made. You originally planned on finding Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin but now that you’ve been exposed to the jam packed condition of the concert hall, you reason that to merge with the rabid crowd would be too big of a hassle. You settle on hanging around the very outskirts of the hall until it’s over in a half hour.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy three muscly men wearing shirts that have "SECURITY" printed in white, block lettering across their chests. You look away for a mere moment before checking their location again, and discover them to be headed in your direction faster than you initially perceived. They're carrying something you can’t identify in the dark until their proximity is too close for comfort. You give them more space, immediately stepping out of their way as they haul three steel guard rails, presumably headed to the front of the concert hall that's getting rowdier by the second. Stepping towards the wall and facing away from the intimidating, macho looking men as they go by seems like an okay idea at the time, but that’s before you feel yourself gravitating in the direction they're carrying off the precautionary measured objects.

It crosses your mind that the dark, booming atmosphere might have blurred at least one of the security guard’s depth perception like yours had been. The man at the tail end of the metal barrier didn’t know how close you were to the rail but it wasn’t solely him blind to their careless mistakes. The entire trio were carrying the rails forearms-length away from their bodies, meaning they could have easily hit someone going by. In your case, the cost of their negligence was your dress. Only your ears hear the awful sound of fabric being ripped, the blame to be placed on one of the outstretched hooks on the guard rails that caught on the large bow protruding from the back of your dress. To your horror, you realize that your modesty will foot the bill quicker than you can escape the crowded concert hall to hide in the private dressing room.

With every step further, the back of your dress is ruined a little bit more. The decorative beads that were dotted along the thin material pop off next, dropping like the humiliated, frustrated tears threatening to mess up your makeup. Any damage dealt by the potential cosmetic mess on your face can’t hold a candle to the horrifying moment your saturday night outfit would be completely ripped down the back. If the booming music wasn’t so loud, you would have heard each and every one of the plastic beads hit the dusty ground and roll out of sight. Even louder than the blasting tune of rock music, you could hear the blood pounding in your ears, faster than the most skilled guitar player could pluck the instrument’s strings.

The garment is barely hanging on your body, less than a dozen seconds away from being tattered ruined rags as the security personnel move closer towards the stage. You envision the back of the dress splitting in two down your spine. Your hands would be gripping what was left of the dress in an attempt to keep the most private parts of your body concealed. You try to tug on the looped material of the bow, wishing it would unhook the unreasonably durable string of the decoration and the metal hook, but the snagged decoration won’t budge. To make matters even worse, your mistake causes the tear to change course. It bends around your frame to the front and, because the universe has something against you, is on track to steer up through the valley of your breasts.

You come to terms with the imminent, ghastly humiliation, the possibility of it slipping off in the front and exposing your breasts to the concert goers because you tried to hold the back of the dress instead and failed to get a good grasp on both sides, or the opposite scenario of holding the front and your backside being revealed for every stranger nearby to gawk at. Holding what you can, you squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the full exposure that never comes.

A warm leather jacket is thrown over your shoulders while a pair of scissors snips the horrifyingly sturdy bow to free you of the gravitational pull towards the stage.

"You’re lucky I found a pair of scissors in the back," Haechan mumbles in your ear from behind you.

The leather jacket he wore today is long enough to stretch almost the same length that your tattered dress does – or did. But being a tiny bit shorter than that one means that when you push back against Haechan, your nearly uncovered ass grinds against his erection again.

You didn’t expect your body to interpret the "right time" as 10 minutes after your previous sexual encounter, but you also didn’t expect something as dreadful as your dress being torn to bits happening tonight either.

Why continue to deny your body of what it's been thirsting over?

Haechan reaches around to your front, and thumbs your panties to the side. He licks his lips, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. "Already so wet, huh?"

"Just fuck me already," you breathe out in one exhale. "...p-please."

"Wooaah, a please?" he teases with mock astonishment. "And without a condom?"

He crouches down to sweep your soaking panties down your legs, stripping you of the only piece of clothing that isn't shredded. He tucks your panties in his back pocket...a wet keepsake, if you will, that you'll never see again.

Unbuckling his belt, and then unbuttoning and unzipping his tight black jeans, he removes his hard cock from the strained, denim confines, stroking his erection with the little precum leaking from his tip.

"I love hearing you use the-" Haechan lines his head up and, without sparing you a second to adjust to his long, tear-provoking size, shoves his entire length inside your pussy, roughly. "-magic word for me."

He's drastically bigger than you imagined he'd be, bigger than anyone and anything that's ever been in you before, spreading your insides and taking your breath away. He generously allows your tight walls a handful of seconds to stretch around him, attempting to accommodate his thick size so quickly. As the stinging pain fades away, you loll your head to the side, providing Haechan with sensitive skin to nibble on. After a few experimental, shallow thrusts, he is on his way to working up to a steady harsh pace.

A good number of the concert goers that stumble by are either too drunk or too high to notice the way you twitch every so often from him vigorously rubbing your clit. It’s the sober attendees that you need to look out for, the ones that might put two and two together, and figure out for themselves that he’s using your pussy rough and dirty, ravaging you like a common cheap whore, and you're just letting him get away with it.

...actually, why not let them look?

They should be so lucky as to get a brief glimpse of the action that’s going down here right now, in the middle of a packed concert hall. What a stunning sight to behold, you imagine. You’re almost jealous that you’ve never had the privilege of watching a couple fuck in public. Although, you know for sure that the thrill of some stranger perhaps watching you fall apart on Haechan’s cock is 1000x more thrilling than seeing somebody else doing the obscene deed in a place they certainly shouldn’t be.

"You like it like this, huh? Like it when I fuck your tight cunt in front of all these people? I bet everyone that walks by can hear you whimpering even with your pretty mouth closed," Haechan pants in your ear with a gruff tone.

"n-no, i-"

"Ha! You’re trying seriously trying to tell me you don’t-"

You elbow his upper shoulder with a surprising amount of force. "Stop cutting me off."

You don’t need to turn around to know he’s sticking his tongue into the inside of his cheek out of irritation, annoyed by how you're still talking back even though he's buried inside you. He didn’t think you'd be so bratty beforehand. It makes him want to punish you to the point where you can't walk tomorrow, feeling compelled to put you in your place.

"Aw, sweetheart, you’re cute when you’re angry," he coos. Something about his voice tells you that you just sealed your fate for something that will most definitely be done to you later.

Haechan is the first to spy three pairs of keen eyes gawking at you two through the crowd. They’re three pairs of eyes that can read you like an open, erotic book. They know your body language and facial expressions well enough to instantly identify why your body is trembling, and why your lips are curled inward in an attempt to suppress screaming their bandmate’s name.

Your body is suddenly rigid, almost paralyzed when you see Jeno, Jaemin and Renjun staring at you and Haechan a minute later. "Aw, what’s wrong, y/n? Don’t want your friends to see me using you like a dirty little slut in front of everyone?"

"I-I think, um…that’s-" You're at a loss for words, momentarily dizzy from the feeling of his cock before snapping out of it.

"You- you- you think that what?" he mocks your stutter. "I think that they're probably wishing it was them fucking the cute smart girl dumb. Not so pure now, are ya?"

"Oh my god, shut the f-fuck up," you snap.

"Hm, someone’s being pretty bold tonight. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

You scoff. "You think you know me so well, huh?" You push your hips back, fucking yourself on his cock without him having to do the work for a moment. He squeezes his eyes closed, a shaky pleasured moan escaping his heart shaped lips. You huff out a short laugh. "Only thing I'm thinking right now is...is that all you got?"

Haechan slows his pace marginally. "Trust me, babe, you can’t handle all of me. I’m trying to be nice here."

"Wow, for once in your life you’re trying to be nice to me."

"Fuck, y/n. If you wanted me to be mean to you, you coulda just said so," Haechan says, irritably.

"Why are you getting mad at me? I thought I was the prude and you were the experienced expert here. Shouldn’t you know what I want, hm?"

"You're right, baby. I do know what you want." Haechan inches his hand around your waist, pulling your dress up in the front until his fingers meet your uncovered clit again. His hand is the only thing protecting your pussy from prowling eyes. "Actually, I know everything about you, y/n. Everything." He aggressively rubs messy circles around the sensitive spot and snickers, tauntingly, when your body twitches in his arms.

"Y-you don’t know shit about me," you protest, weakly.

"Well, all I know right now is that you want me to make you come. And you're in luck. I've decided that I'm going to be very very nice tonight," he says as he accelerates the pace in which he pumps inside you and abuses your clit. "Let's give the band a nice show."

It feels both exciting and embarrassing that Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin are watching Haechan fill you up, as if they're viewing VR third person porn in real life. Haechan alternates between sucking on your neck and biting the impressionable flesh in several different spots simultaneously, burying his cock inside you as people sway to the music, and stumble by alarmingly close. The lead vocalist sticks to his promise, pounding your core mercilessly, until you’re holding on by a thin thread, using all your might to hold back the floodgate of pleasure for just a little while longer. You're practically drooling over the entire scenario, and noticing his band members have all been palming themselves through their jeans is your last straw.

"You sh-should’ve fucked me sooner," you hiss over your shoulder right before one final harsh thrust from Haechan sets you free. Your orgasm roars through your body while he continues to rock in and out of you rapidly, the only sound your mind can register being the blood pounding in your ear and his ragged breaths against your love bite marked neck. The music from the concert ceases to exist.

Flexing every muscle in your body prolongs the pulsating high. Your warm walls spasm and flutter around his large cock, ultimately compelling Haechan to release inside you significantly earlier than he pictured so many nights prior to this glorious one. His hot cum fills you up, painting your walls with white. A melodious, high pitched noise spills from his pretty mouth, and you fear that you might develop an addiction to milking those pretty sounds from him.

"How does that feel, sweetie? Being full of me like this."

"Feels amazing, baby," you sigh dreamily, content with the warm sensation. "Can we stay like this for a bit?"

Haechan replies to your request with a happy hum.

You spend another 2 or 3 minutes stuffed full of his cock, before he wraps his hand around the base and slides out of you with ease, the sticky mess he made inside of you quickly following. Cupping his hand between your legs, he collects a small portion of the cum leaking from your throbbing hole in his palm. If the atmosphere wasn't so shadowy and the dim lights adequately illuminated the venue, a stranger would undoubtedly see the salty white dripping on the floor when he moves his hand.

A part of you wishes that your friends would maneuver their way through the masses, get on their knees and watch the cum seep from your sensitive slit up close. Haechan could stand behind you, holding your dress up for them, whispering things that would make your body surge with searing red hot humiliation.

You make a mental note to yourself to bring that up in the future whenever (or if ever) you can muster up the courage to propose what you might call a "fun band bonding activity" or something along those lines, provided Haechan is willing to share you at least once.

Recovering some conveniently placed, crumpled up tissues Haechan stored in his leather jacket pocket, he wipes off his hand. "I...like when you call me baby," Haechan admits timidly, tone hinting that he's bashful vocalizing his soft spot for the pet name you used.

"Yeah?"

You spin around to face him and feel some of the cum he left inside you start to trickle down your thighs already. You put one hand over his heart while the other hand holds the flaps of his leather jacket together. Obviously, it would be a piece of cake to zip it up and rid your busy hand of the chore but something tells you to leave it open for whatever it is that Haechan intends to do to you next.

"I knew you would like it, Haechan. You know why?...because I know everything about you, baby."

The corners of your mouth curl up, amused by your own joke which, predictably, provokes another annoyed tongue into the cheek expression from him for the umpteeth time tonight. His eyes travel south to your parted lips and you feel the fluttering in your abdomen and in your heart. Never in your life have you ever encountered something more intense than the handful of moments Haechan dedicates to fixating on your mouth, mesmerized by the faint glimmer of the red strobing stage lights reflecting off of the surface of your glossy lips.

"God...fuck it," Haechan curses before sacrificing his ego to feel your lips on his.

Within the blink of an eye, he has you flat against his chest, snaking both of his hands between a sliver of the unzipped leather jacket you left unguarded, tightly looping his arms around your middle to draw you in as close as possible. His arms hold the flaps of the leather jacket open but it doesn't matter when your front side is pressed against his and your bodies are stuck together like glue.

Haechan's lips hover over yours for a millisecond before your mouths collide in a passionate kiss, his tongue penetrating the seam of your lips instantly. For years, neither one of you wanted to be the poor soul to take the leap, too stubborn and prideful to set aside the seething animosity that brewed for what might as well be considered an eternity. But Haechan's impatience betrayed the unspoken promise he made to not divulge the real reason he's been a menace to you since day 1.

You pout when his tongue leaves your mouth after a dozen seconds, still hungry for more. The thought of the other band members promising to buy you food after the concert was completely wiped from your memory drive now. All you wanted was him.

He snickers at your reaction to his withdrawal and lays his head down on your shoulder lethargically. A comfortable silence settles between you and Haechan despite the rock music rumbling through the venue, the structure of the building physically vibrating, and the goth mob, clad in black, multiple piercings and extensive tattoos threatening your newfound serenity. Smack dab in the middle of the chaos, all of it melts away.

Haechan takes a deep breath, stamina restored and sex drive replenished. You gasp as he softly licks up your neck to serenade the sweet spot by your ear with wet, lingering kisses. Unwinding one of his arms that was tightly wrapped around your body, he trails gentle fingertips down your skin excruciatingly slowly, compelling every hair to stand erect along the way.

"I hope you're not too sore yet, sweetheart," he remarks in a lustful voice that demands submission. From your messy, half glossed lips spills an involuntary sob as Haechan shoves his fingers inside you suddenly. "...I wanna see you come on my thigh next."

heyyyy happy 2022, you guys!!

i didn’t plan on it initially but surprise! i'm starting a series out of this! to those disappointed the first thing i'm posting this year isn't 00 liner's watch me or pt 3 of jaemin's white lies series: i’m still chipping away at the two, i haven't forgotten! i hit a wall with both of them but i'm not NOT going to complete and post them. that'd be like a cumulative 25k words down the drain:/

okay, 'tis all i have to say😌 if you can and have the ability to get fully vaccinated, please do so! i hope you + your loved ones are/stay healthy and safe💗

*stream Mark's Child!!*

next: Jaemin (28.7k wc) • ROCK ME ⊳

➾my masterlist

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[james-pottersimp]

Reward • James Potter

Summary : After James wins his quidditch game, you decide to skip the after party to give him little reward

Warnings : mommy kink, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, praise kink, oral (male receiving), maybe some degradation, I hope that’s everything

A/N : hi guys, this is my first time writing smut. A big thank you goes out to @bellatrixscurls for helping me again. I love you <3

Red and Gold on one side, Green and Silver on the other. People cheering for their team. Over all the cheers you could hear the voice of the commentator explaining what happens on the field. The atmosphere is tense as everyone’s eyes followed the players flying on their brooms, the seekers trying to catch the snitch while the chasers tried to get some points by throwing the Quaffel through the opposite goal.

Quidditch. Gryffindor against Slytherin.

You were sitting in the front row, your eyes following your boyfriend : James Potter. He was the Quidditch Captain and a Seeker. He was really close to catch the snitch and then

“JAMES POTTER CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WON” the commentator yelled through his microphone.

Every Gryffindor started to cheer loudly, hugging each other while already taking about the after party. On the other side you could hear sounds of disappointment and sadness. You ignored everything while you were running down the stairs to get to your boyfriend.

“James” you yelled to get his attention. He was sitting on the shoulders of his best friend, Sirius Black, holding the Golden Snitch while grinning. You stared at you boyfriend, admiring him for a little while but quickly snap out of it.

“James” you yelled again finally getting his attention. His blue eyes looked down to where he heard your voice. His grin only grew when he spotted you. He asked Sirius to download it so he could go to you. Sirius nodded and helped James off his shoulders. As soon as his feet were on the grass, he ran to you. You opened your arms to him and he took you in his arms lifted you up and spun you around. You started laughing. Oh how he loved to hear you laugh. After he spun around three times he lowered you down, his hands resting on your hips. Now that you were standing in front of him he noticed your outfit. His eyes widened at the sight: you were wearing a red top with golden stripes that showed your tits. You also had a short black skirt that showed almost your entire legs. James was needy all day, but he couldn't do much because he had to practice before his game. It didn't bother him any more until just now

His thoughts started to get foggy and he slips into a headspace that you knew too well.

Sub space.

You quickly realize that James' mind was wandering and that he started slipping into another headspace. "Jamie what's wrong?" you asked your boyfriend whose eyes went back and forth between your eyes and your breasts.

"Needy," he whispered, sounding shy.

"Oh Jamie. How about we skip the after party and Mommy gives her pretty boy a little reward for winning the game" you whisper back so you don’t draw any attention to the two of you.

James nodded excitedly and tugged on your waist to get you to go. You just chuckled at his gesture and nodded. The dark-haired boy immediately grabbed your hand and pulled you towards his dorm, ignoring the questions of his friends just wanting to feel the pleasure your about to give him.

When you reached his dorm, he quickly opened the door, pulled you inside and closed it again.

As you looked into his blue eyes you realised how needy he was.

“Are you really this needy, pretty boy”.

James started to nod quickly.

“Use your words, please” you reminded him. He knew that he was supposed to always use his words but he tends to forget this rule very often especially when he is this needy.

“Sorry Mommy” he apologised quickly “Yes I’ve been needy all day” the boy answered your question.

“Poor Baby boy. It’s alright now. Mommy’s gonna give you whatever you want” you told James stroking his cheek softly. He immediately leaned into your touch.

“Whatever I want?”. James just wanted to make sure that he understood you. His big blue eyes looked at you expectantly.

“Whatever you want, baby. Why? Do you have anything in mind, my love” you asked also excited for what’s about to come. You loved to make James feel good and today he really deserved it. To be honest you were needy too and you had a wet patch in your panties already but James would find this out soon enough.

“Want to eat you out please. Wanna taste you, mommy and wanna make you feel good please. I wanna be a good boy for you. Mommy’s good boy” he pleaded. Everything he wants is to be your good boy. It’s the only thing he can think about right now. Unfortunately you decline his Request

“But it’s a reward for you, pretty boy. You should be the one feeling good, not mommy. Are you sure you wanna eat me out or would you prefer mommy sucking your cock and making you cum”

James really wanted to make you feel good but he was so needy all day so why would he decline your offer. So he nodded desperately pulling you closer to him by your waist.

“Now now, Jamie what did I tell you?” you asked him, removing his hand from your waist again. James quickly realised his mistake and starts to apologise

“M’ sorry mommy. You told me to use my words” the boy said quickly to answer your question not wanting to upset you.

“That’s right, baby. So tell me do you want to eat mommy out or do you her to suck you off?” you repeated your question. Your hand is still stroking his cheek, loving the way his soft skin feels.

“Want mommy to suck me off if s’ okay” he answers now really desperate to feel your mouth. His eyes are still wandering to your chest sometimes. He couldn’t help but stare at them : they looked so pretty in the top that you’re wearing. James wanting nothing more than to touch them but he knew that he wasn’t allowed to just touch without asking first. You put two of your fingers under his chin to make him look at you again, his blue eyes finding your y/ec ones.

“Of course pretty boy. How about you go and lay down for me while mommy undresses herself quickly” you told him while you already started to grip the hem of your top to pull it over yourself but a pair of hands quickly slapped them away. You looked up at James who was staring at his feet out of embarrassment.

“What was that for, Jamie? Don’t you want to see mommy naked?” you question, still surprised by your boyfriends actions.

“N-no no wanna see you naked, mommy b-but I wanna undress you. Don’t want you to do it yourself. Wanna help m’ mommy and be a good boy” he mumbled, his eyes still glued to his feet. Your hand found his chin again, making him look at you. His blue eyes were already slightly teary from being so needy. As he looked at you a little tear escaped his eye and you quickly wiped it away with the pad of your thumb.

“No need for tears, my love. If you wanna undress mommy you just have to ask nicely”.

“Can I please undress you mommy?”. With a firm nod you gave him permission and he instantly gripped the hem of your top and pulled it over your head. It landed somewhere on the floor, you could care less right now. James stood in front of you, frozen in place, his staring at your exposed chest.

“Jamie”. That seemed to make him snap out of it.

“Sorry mommy. Didn’t mean to stare. You just look so pretty”

“You look pretty too, Jamie. Now do you want to continued should mommy do it her-“

“No” James voice interrupted you, making you raise your eyebrows

“No s-sorry, mommy. Didn’t wanna sound rude but I want to continue please” he corrected himself hoping that you’re not mad at him

“There’s my good boys manners. Well, go on then” you stated, grabbing his hands and leading them to the waistband of your skirt. He started to pull down your skirt and your panties quickly exposing you fully. Now you stood fully naked in front of him but James still had all of his clothes on

“Now I think it’s a bit unfair that you get to see mommy naked and she doesn’t get to see her pretty boy”

Understanding that this is his permission to undress himself, he obliged taking all of his clothes off. You found yourself admiring the boy in front of you

“Good Boy” you praised him. “Now go lay down for me so I can make you feel good”.

James scrambled to the bad, laying down and looking at you expectantly. You slowly walked over to him getting on top of him, giving him a kiss on his lips. Your lips started to go down to his neck and then chest sucking a hickey from time to time. As you were finally there when he wanted you, he started to whine impatiently. You looked up at him, seeing him stare down at you with wide and teary eyes.

“Looking so pretty for me, laying there all splayed out Jamie. Such a good boy for me. Are your ready”.

“Yes yes ‘m ready m-mommy. Please pl-“ his pleading was cut off by a loud whine as you took him into your mouth and started bobbing your head. Strings of “thank yous” and “feels so good” started to leave his mouth besides some whines and moans. You hummed around his length sending vibrations through his body making him clamp his eyes shut. This earned him a light slap against his thigh.

“Keep your eyes open, want you to see mommy while she makes her pretty boy feel good. You understand that” you told him after you took him out of your mouth, stopping every pleasure he was feeling.

“I understand, mommy but please please don’t stop. Mommy please I’ll be a good boy” he begged needing to feel your mouth around him again. You nodded and started to take him down your throat once again. James Cock was big, so didn’t manage to take him in completely. You had to use your hand for everything that didn’t fit in. Pretty noises where leaving James mouth - whimpers. Oh how you loved to hear James whimper when you made him feel good.

“Making m-me f-f-feel so good Mommy”. That’s everything you wanted : to make your pretty boy feel good. You decide to play with his balls to add to his pleasure. This action made James throw his head back, desperately trying to keep his eyes open like you told him.

“Oh- oh mommy....so good”

It didn’t take long for his cock to twitch inside your mouth signalling you that he was close. James deserved his release but he knew that he had to ask you first or he would get punished. A punishment was the last things that James wanted because that would mean he is a bad boy and the only thing he wants is to be your good boy.

“M-mommy” he whimpered above you. You kept a steady and fast pace almost pushing him over the edge. His moans started to get louder with every second

“Close” James whined not being able to form a simple sentence due to the immense pleasure your giving him. You gave him a tight squeeze around his balls forcing him to ask properly.

“C-can I please cum mommy, please been a good b-boy for you. Mommy please, need it please please let me cum”. He really craved his release and why would you deny it. You stopped for second to tell him to cum then going down on him again increasing your pace on his cock.

“Gonna ....gonna cum, oh mommy oh” with those words James came down your throat. You swallowed all of it and took him out of your mouth slowly. His breath was uneven and his toned chest was rising rapidly.

“Thank you for making me cum, mommy”

You slowly got up to straddle his waist. Your fingertips traced his chest calmly, finding their way to his face stroking his cheek. He lazily smiled looking at you through dreamy eyes. Pearls of sweat traced his hairline and forehead. You pushed some of his damp hair strands out of his face, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Mommy?” James said looking at you desperately once again.

“Yes, Jamie?”

“Can you ride me please?” he mumbled so that you could barely understand what he said. Lightly slapping his cheek as a sign not to mumble, you told him to repeat himself.

“Can you ride me please?”

“Oh you want mommy to ride you, baby?”

“Yes please, wanna make you feel good too, mommy. Wanna make you cum and be a good boy. Please ride me please” he begged frantically, his hands grabbing your waist.

“You’re already my good boy, Jamie. But to answer your question yes mommy can ride you” you told him while slowly raising your hips and lining his cock up at your wet entrance. James was a whiny mess beneath you while you started to lower your hips, taking him inch by inch until he was filling you up completely. Then you started to move your hips making James press his head into the pillow in pleasure.

“God, it feels s-so good” he whined.

“You’re making mommy feel really good too, Jamsie” you praised him. James was a sucker for Praise so you did it at every chance you got. His hands were still on your waist, gripping it so hard that you knew it would leave bruises the next day but you didn’t care.

You increased your pace making James moan out your names loudly. His eyes where about to fall shut but he forced himself to keep them open, wanting to see your tits bouncing up and down. One of his hands made its way upwards, reaching your breasts giving it a firm squeeze. Normally he would at least earn a slap on his cheek for this but because it was a reward for him you let it slide. Besides, it just added to your pleasure so there was no reason to stop him.

Your fingertips traced his chest lazily, memorising his abs. Then you started to feel a familiar feeling in your stomach. You were close. Very close. James cock started to twitch inside of you as his whines grew louder, letting you know that he was just as close.

“Close again” he whimpered so quietly that you almost didn’t heard it.

“Mommy’s close too, baby. You wanna cum with mommy?” He nodded vigorously at you offer, gripping your waist even harder.

“Alright, then you have to wait a second. Mommy’s gonna tell you when you’re allowed to cum”

James knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer so he let go your breast and put his thumb on your clit instead. He circled his thumb, pushing you closer to the edge. This action made you throw your head back in pleasure and moan out his name loudly. You were also not able to hold it in so you gave him permission to cum.

“Now”

James came hard filling up with his cum while moaning and whimpering, thanking you for letting him cum. At the same time your vision got blurry and you came all over his cock. Your moans sounded pornographic. You slowly rode out both of your orgasms, coming to a stop. James hand was still gripping your waist preventing you from getting up.

“Jamie, can you let me go now please” you asked him softly. He obliged, his hand leaving your waist so you can get off of him. You did exactly that, feeling empty again.

You lay down next to your boyfriend, leaving light kisses on his cheek. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close again.

“You did so good for me Jamie. Made me feel wonderful” you stated, praising him. Your hand found it’s way onto his abs again, tracing them carefully.

“Am I your good boy, mommy?”

“Yes you are. My best boy. But it’s not mommy anymore, my love. It’s y/n again” you told him beginning to get your boy out of subspace again.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his blue admiring you.

“Yes, my love?” you whispered back, looking up again to meet his beautiful eyes.

“I love you”You smiled lightly at this statement

“I love you too, James. Now come on it’s aftercare time”

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you��ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[streetlight11]

Wolfgang

Summary: After your parents were murdered by werewolf hunters, you had to run away. You had to save yourself from going through the same tragic fate and that leaves you to being a lone wolf. Thankfully, moving to a new town led you to meeting new people and possibly a new family.

Theme: werewolf au, strangers to lovers

Genre: smidge of action, fluff, slightly suggestive

Warnings: mentions of slight nudity and violence, gets a little steamy near the end but nothing too detailed

WC: 6.6k

Pairing: Alpha!Minho x Omega!FemReader

a/n: Hi :) Obviously werewolf skz is just *chef's kiss* so of course I had to write about it. So here's a Minho one ;)

Due to your parent’s unfortunate death, you had to move away to avoid being caught by the same hunters who killed them. By moving cities, it means moving schools too. Before this, you were in your dad’s pack which only consists of your mom, your dad and you. Now that they’re gone, it leaves you to being a lone wolf.

Hence, why you managed to enrol yourself into this new school after finding yourself a cheap rundown apartment.

You were an Omega werewolf which means you weren’t a part of any pack. You were a lone wolf. After your parents died, you had no one to go to. No friends, no family, nothing. You might as well just die.

Except, you knew your parents wouldn’t want that so you had to persevere and try to at least survive for as long as you can on your own. Throughout your whole life, you weren’t really able to detect any werewolves near you despite your amazing supernatural sense of smell.

So you thought you were alone from now on. Little did you know, the previous town you lived in just didn’t have your kind.

The 8 of them were a pack. To be more specific, they were in Chan’s pack. Chan was their leader but also an Alpha along with Minho and Changbin. Meanwhile, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin were Betas. They’ve been together for quite a while now where Chan was initially only with Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin before he took in the other young ones after a few unfortunate circumstances.

Chan has been teaching them how to hunt, enhance their skills and basically provide them food and shelter. They were more like brothers instead of friends or acquaintances. Their bond was stronger than anything else. If one was injured, the other would know even if they were miles apart.

It was a warm Tuesday afternoon, the boys were just having lunch at their usual table when Changbin’s nose began to tickle with a strong scent, only for the others to smell it too right after.

“Hey, do you guys smell that?” Changbin asked quietly, earning a few nods from the rest.

Since Chan, Minho and Changbin were Alphas, they have slightly stronger werewolf senses compared to the others and they could tell that this scent was new. They knew a few other packs that were present on campus and were even friends with some of them but this?

This was a very new scent that they weren’t familiar with.

“Whoever this is, they clearly just transferred here.” Jisung stated nonchalantly.

“No shit sherlock.” Minho said, earning a low snarl from the younger boy.

“But where is it coming from? I would know if they’re in the room with us… Looks like they’re in the grounds just not in this cafeteria…” Chan said as his eyes began to scan the entire radius of the cafeteria hall.

“But can you tell if it’s a male or female?” Jeongin asked curiously only for Chan to turn back to his brothers and nod.

“It’s a female.”

A few minutes later, they were all gathered for the talk session they had with a motivational speaker regarding the academics. The 8 of them were seated in the middle row of the lecture hall. It was already filled with students from all courses, leaving only a few seats empty. One of which was at the very end of the row below them, right by the aisle and just in front of Felix.

Soon enough, the man began talking and introducing himself to the audience. The boys were just seated there, barely focusing. Neither of them were properly listening to the speaker.

However, their attention was soon diverted intensely when the same scent from earlier only grew stronger by the minute. Before they could even ask each other about it, a new face came stumbling in the main doors.

That’s when they realized where that scent was coming from.

It was you.

You were running late for the motivational talk which is why you were now sprinting across the campus to reach the main building which held the auditorium. Upon arriving, you managed to find the right hall after what felt like forever. The minute you pushed the double doors open, you were immediately met with at least 400 pairs of eyes.

The man standing on stage simply smiles at you and asks you to take a seat wherever you could find. He was nice and you could tell. However, your mind was currently spinning from the overwhelming amount of scents you could clearly smell in this hall.

There were at least 5 different werewolf packs in this room right now but there is one pack scent that was so strong and bold to you.

It literally stands out from the rest.

Just as you were about to walk to the steps on the side nearest to you, the strong grip on your forearm made you halt.

It was a lecturer you weren’t familiar with but you felt uneasy with him. The way he was staring at you from head to toe, his tightening grip on your arm made you wince.

“Are you a new student?” He asked lowly.

“Y-Yes.”

“Which class are you with?”

“I-I’m not sure. B-But I’ll just sit anywhere that’s available.” You frowned deeply before you yanked your arm out of his grip with a bit of struggle.

With that being said, you rushed up the steps towards the empty seat right next to the aisle. The moment you sat down, your fiery glare travelled back to the lecturer who was standing at the same spot he previously was in but his eyes were on you.

Damn him.

However, your mind seemed to grow fuzzy with the sudden strong scent that was intoxicating your senses now. It was so strong, as though whoever or whatever they are were extremely close to you.

Just then, the soft touch on your forearm made you flinch as you turned to come face to face with a pretty girl. She didn’t have any particular werewolf scent on her so you knew she was an ordinary human.

“Do you know which class you’re in?” She asked.

“Umm… I… I haven’t checked my timetable.”

She giggled softly before she continued, “Don’t forget to check it later so you know where to go after this. I’m Yeri by the way. You are?”

With that being said, you gave her a small smile before telling her your name.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. If you need help with anything, just ask okay?”

You nodded a little to acknowledge her but then your trail of vision got diverted to the male sitting a few seats diagonally above yours. What made you focus on him was the fact that his eyes were boring into yours. It wasn’t creepy or uncomfortable though. It was more like curiosity. You hold your stares for a bit and that’s when it hits you.

The scent.

It was from him.

A few nights had passed, there was going to be a full moon tonight so you decided to go hunting. Your aim was to practice your survival skills, one that your father taught you when he was still alive. You didn’t bother bringing any change of clothes, telling yourself you would most probably just go to your parent’s secret hideout in the woods.

So here you are, in the middle of the woods alone, finding yourself standing in an empty spot that had the full moon just directly above you. This spot wasn’t new to you.

This is where your parents violently got killed by the werewolf hunters.

During that horrible incident, you were hiding behind one of the huge trees after your parents told you to run. The last thing you saw was your father’s head being decapitated mercilessly before you took off running on all four paws.

Running as fast as you can, praying that the hunters didn’t catch you.

Lucky for you, they didn’t. And yet, you knew they would do everything in their will to continue finding you which is why you moved.

You were taking in the beautiful moon, deciding to change into your furry self so that you could move freely through the woods. After about an hour of just running and strolling through the woods, playing in the lake, chasing bunnies, you figured you wanted to take a quick rest.

It wasn’t until you stepped onto a pile of dead leaves that the sharp click followed by a loud snap echoed through the woods. A shrilling howl left your lips as the pain began to crawl up your broken hind legs where your human ankle would be.

You whimpered in pain, your entire body collapsing to the ground when you realized you were trapped.

Just then, a soft click of a shotgun’s hammer sounded as they locked the bullet in place and were left with pulling the trigger. Your vision was getting blurred from the tears welling up in your eyes.

Your bright gold eyes were flooded with tears, a weak whine leaving your lips as you looked up at the man who killed your parents a month ago.

“Say goodnight. Your parents are dying to see you in the afterlife.” He said while he pointed the gun to your forehead.

However, before he could pull the trigger, a low growl came from somewhere behind you.

The last thing you saw was a larger silver coloured wolf lunging itself onto the hunter and soon began to wrestle with him, only to receive help from another wolf equally the same size but a light brown colour.

And a few seconds later, you passed out cold.

The boys were in their wolf forms, strolling through the woods like they usually do except tonight with the full moon shining down at them. Everyone was having their own fun. Chan and Minho were lingering behind their younger brothers, watching over them and their safety.

Changbin was walking with Jeongin in the centre, once in a while playfully nudging Jeongin’s side with the tip of his snout.

Jisung, Felix and Hyunjin were playing catch but making sure to stick close by while Seungmin was just breaking out into small jogs and twirls excitedly whenever he comes across a field of dandelions on the grass patches.

They were all roaming freely together when all of a sudden, a shrilling scream echoed in their sensitive ears making them all halt to a stop.

“What was that?!” Jisung asked through telepathy, only for Chan to transfer his message to the rest of the boys through his mind.

“I don’t know but it sounds close by.”

“I don’t feel good about this. I think someone’s injured.” Hyunjin said worriedly. However, before anyone could continue, a certain scent intoxicated Minho’s nostrils and he knew exactly what it was or who it was.

“It’s that new girl from school. She’s caught in a metal trap. We have to help her. Now!” Minho said firmly as he began running through the woods, using his sense of smell to try and detect your location. The minute he saw the man standing over your limp body with one of your hind legs horribly clamped between the metal bars, Minho raced over to you.

Right before the man could pull the trigger, Minho leaped out from the shadows, sending the man flying backwards along with himself. Minho tackles the man easily as he growls in the man’s face.

Chan soon joins in to give Minho a hand. Chan bit the shotgun and tosses it far from reach.

Right when the man began to plead for them to spare his life, Minho lets out one last growl followed by a hiss before he bites the man’s head off without a single ounce of mercy.

Normally, Chan does not condone violence to his pack. He only allows it during a life and death situation and if it involves werewolf hunters.

After the hunter’s body was laying there limp, like a headless chicken, Minho licks his canine teeth tasting the disgusting blood coating them. His glowing red eyes bore deep into the limp body, feeling anger taking over him until he heard Seungmin’s soft voice through the telepathy.

“Hyung, she fell unconscious.”

With that, Minho turned around as he and Chan quickly went over to where your body laid.

Your chest was barely moving, your leg was bleeding and probably broken, there was no sign of other injuries except for your leg.

Meanwhile, Changbin, Felix, Hyunjin, Jisung and Jeongin were guarding the perimeter, senses heightened so as to be able to detect any danger coming their way just like how Chan had trained them to perfection.

Chan sniffed the metal trap to try and see if he could break you free from it.

“Minho, bite the other clasp. I’ll bite this side then we’ll try and pull it apart.” Chan said as the younger one walked around Seungmin and soon bit down one side of the clasp like Chan says.

The two of them managed to free your broken leg from the metal trap but now, your leg was bleeding quite a lot.

“What should we do now?” Seungmin asked.

“Take her back to our place. We’ll treat her injuries and wait till she wakes up.” Chan said firmly, earning a nod from the two boys.

Chan called the others over, asking Changbin to help him carry your limp body together.

Chan slides his head under your shoulders while Changbin does the same beside the leader. Once they were both standing on all fours, your body was splayed over their backs horizontally with your head hanging over the side of Changbin’s furry body.

They brought you back to their home, only for Felix to attend to your injury. After they had transformed back to their human self, they wore back their clothes before they went to make sure you were okay.

Felix had just finished cleaning your bloodied wound, washing it with rubbing alcohol to get rid of any bacteria when you slowly began to transform back into your human self.

Of course, you were still unconscious but you were now laying on their couch butt naked with your private parts shielded by your arms and the cross of your thighs.

Nevertheless, the boys quickly diverted their gazes away from you even though you weren’t awake.

They respected you being the only female in the house, which is why Hyunjin ran to the nearest room to get a cosy blanket and soon came back, covering your naked body with it. Felix managed to wrap your leg with the bandage but that was it. They wouldn’t want to help you wear any clothes simply because that would mean they would have to handle your nude self.

Since you were practically strangers, they weren’t gonna do it simply out of respect for you. “Now we wait…” Chan announced as the rest of them nodded.

You didn’t know how long you were out but the sudden warmth and soft material hugging your body made you stir awake. You struggled to focus your vision, finding the bright light a little too overwhelming for you.

Where are you?

Your mind was racing with thoughts. A whole list of possible scenarios were going through your mind, making a guess of which one it was.

Just then, a very familiar scent entered your nose and you recognized it immediately.

That’s when you managed to focus your blurry vision towards the figures that were gathered around the room you were currently in, finally recognizing the faces that were staring back at you in utter concern.

However, it was still a little surprising for you since you were not only in a room filled with guys who were practically strangers to you, you were also butt naked save for the blanket to shield you from their eyes. With that being said, this made you squeak as a soft gasp left your lips.

You hastily sat up, desperately pulling the blanket tighter against your body. The light brown haired male carefully approached you with his hands out in front of them to tell you he was harmless.

“Woah, hey… hey… relax, we’re not gonna hurt you. I promise. Okay?” The leader said with a warm smile as your eyes went to scan him.

You could immediately sense that what he said was true and that they all meant no harm to you. When he noticed your shoulders relax a bit, he smiled before he carefully sat down beside you, making sure to avoid your broken leg.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as you noticed the others were intently staring between you and their leader.

“I… It hurts…” You whispered, eyes finding its own way to the one leaning against the shelves with his arms crossed over his chest. He had ash blue hair, his eye shape was similar to a feline cat and you vividly remember he was the same guy you had a mini staring contest on that first day in the auditorium hall.

“I know it does. So we will try our best to take care of you until it heals… But, only if you agree to stay and let us help. Of course we understand if you want to leave since you don’t know us. It’s up to you. We won’t force you.” The leader said, making you turn to him as your grip on the blanket only loosened slightly.

It didn’t take long for you to decide on staying after you practically could sense sincerity and safety from them. So upon agreeing to their kind offer, the leader went ahead and introduced them to you.

“Since we don’t have any female clothes for you, are you okay if we lend you some of ours for the time being?” Chan asked, to which you nodded gently.

You carefully got up, making sure to wrap the blanket around your body securely. However, the minute you put a small amount of pressure on your injured leg, your knee buckled from the excruciating pain. A soft whimper left your lips as you were about to collapse to the ground. Instead, you never made it to the ground thanks to the strong pair of arms that reached out just in time to catch your waist.

Your free hand flew out to grab onto his shirt, not really seeing who saved you from the fall until you looked up to see who it was.

It’s Minho.

“Woah, be careful. Are you okay?” He asked as you nodded. Except, he didn’t miss the tear that was threatening to roll down your cheeks. You were visibly trying to hold in the pain but he knew it was difficult.

“Let me help.” He offered softly as you could only nod.

With that being said, Minho bends down to carry you bridal style before telling his brothers that he was going to bring you to his room for you to change and rest in. Chan agreed saying it was a good idea since it was already nearing 1 in the morning.

Once Minho made it to his bedroom, he brought you in only to close the door behind him using his foot. He gently placed you down on his king sized bed, making sure to not hurt your leg.

After he laid you down on the bed, he went over to his closet and took out a clean oversized shirt and sweatpants.

“Here, change into this then go and rest. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. The others will be right down the hall in their bedrooms, okay?” His voice was so gentle, you almost forgot you didn't know this guy personally.

When he saw you nod subtly, he flashed you a smile and was about to leave when you grabbed his wrist softly to stop him.

“Thank you… all of you…” You whispered, earning a smile from him before he told you to rest.

The small jolt of electricity running through your veins at the skin contact didn’t go unnoticed between you two but you decided to ignore it until he left. The minute he closed the door, you gently caressed your hand that reached out for his wrist.

Little did you know, he did the same to his hand where you left a tingling sensation to his skin.

What was that feeling?

From the first day they met you at the auditorium, Chan could already sense you were an Omega. That night when they saved you from being killed, Chan already knew he would take you into the pack. It was just a matter of whether or not you want to accept his offer. It has been three months since they saved you that night.

Ever since then, it was pretty obvious that you’ve grown slightly closer to them and they were already treating you like a part of their pack. Despite not giving a firm answer yet on whether you want to officially be in their pack or not, Chan still treated you with respect and like you were a part of their little family.

And for that, you were grateful.

However, during the past three months, you’ve also developed a little crush on Minho.

Not only was he always sweet and caring towards you, he was also the one who offered to lend you his bedroom and his clothes when you stayed over for the few days after you got injured.

Although you tried your best to hide your feelings for him, it looks like the other boys could sense it considering how Jisung and Felix would sometimes tease you whenever Minho was around. You would normally just brush them off or just plainly ignore them. Yet, sometimes Minho would catch you blushing when the boys tease you about him and he couldn’t help but find you adorable.

It was a Thursday afternoon, you had just finished your first class and were just keeping some of your books in your locker when a figure appeared beside you with an arm resting against the lockers. You glanced up to find Minho smiling down at you adorably, his eyes disappearing into two crescent moons.

“Hey, joining us for lunch?” He asked.

“Yeah, just keeping some books I don’t need for later.” You said, only to feel him tuck the stray hairs behind your ear.

This small gesture was enough to make your heart skip a beat in your chest. You tried to ignore the feeling but he was making it so difficult as he soon began to gently play with your hair, telling you it's pretty and soft.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he slid his hand down only to rest on your waist. After you closed your locker, you turned to face him, letting him slide his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. However, before any of you could say anything, Changbin’s teasing voice broke out from behind you.

“Aye, finally the two lovebirds acknowledge each other’s feelings huh?” This made Jisung and Chan, who were with Changbin, to chuckle in amusement.

You pulled away from Minho only for the boy to speak up.

“Seo Changbin, if you don’t keep that stupid mouth of yours shut, I’ll make sure you sleep on the porch tonight.” Minho threatened, earning a silly face from Changbin who clearly gives no shit.

A few more weeks went by, you only grew closer and closer to the boys and yet you still weren’t in their pack. You had been so dependent on your parents that when they left you, it almost rendered you insane. It took you a while to accept that you were a lone wolf but after that incident, it only made you stronger and much more independent.

That’s why until now, you still haven’t accepted Chan’s offer on being in his pack despite knowing they were good people. It wasn’t because you still didn’t trust these boys. It was just in your nature for being an Omega, to feel independent.

It was a Friday evening, you haven’t been to the boys’ place for almost a week now but you still saw them and spent time with them in school.

Just then, you distinctly heard a familiar howl which sounded like they were in pain.

It was far but you knew where it came from and who the howl belonged to. You didn’t bother changing out of your pyjamas, running out of your apartment and straight to the direction of the howl through the woods that were right behind your run down apartment complex.

You ran as fast as your two feet could take you, already memorizing the woods in the back of your head. You followed the scent as it got stronger with every corner you took which means you were getting close.

That’s when you recognized Chan and Changbin’s furry self attacking the three hunters while Minho’s wolf form was laying there on the ground against the tree with his mouth in a nuzzle.

“No, no, no!” You hissed as you ran to him, cupping his large wolf face in your small hands.

“Minho! Minho, can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me! Please…” You whispered desperately as his eyes were closed. You reached behind his head to unclasp the nuzzle, freeing his snout from it.

You looked around to see there was a shotgun laying just a few feet from you so you crawled over to it and locked the bullets in place before you aimed it at the hunter that was struggling under Chan’s grip. One of the 3 hunters was lying dead on the ground headless. So with one deep breath, you pulled the trigger, shooting the hunter straight through the side of his head.

Chan jumped back a little only to turn to the side and locked eyes with you who had the gun pointed to them. You quickly shifted your aim to Changbin and the last hunter, but it was slightly difficult due to them rolling and throwing each other around.

Before you could pull the trigger, Changbin growled and soon tore the hunter’s limbs apart one by one before settling for the head.

You threw the shotgun as far away as possible, turning back to Minho who was going in and out of consciousness. However, feeling as though you needed to make sure he was still alive, you gently stroked his furry chest to try and feel for his heartbeat.

Chan and Changbin came back to you and Minho, only for them to talk to you through telepathy.

“He’s badly wounded. We need to aid him fast.” Chan said.

“Let’s quickly get him home. Are you gonna stay with us tonight?” Changbin asked, making you nod at them.

With that being said, all four of you quickly made it back to their home with Minho on top of the two, just like they did with you on the night they found you trapped.

Once you all arrived at their house, you quickly ran to their door, knocking it frantically and it took them less than 2 seconds to open the door.

“Oh shit, quickly, get in.” Hyunjin said as the 3 wolves entered only for the two to gently place Minho on the couch.

“His leg got shot twice, one more on his left rib and a plunge to his shoulder.” Changbin told Felix as the younger one began to get to work with Seungmin’s assistance. In the meantime, the two boys went upstairs to go change while you stayed behind with the others in the kitchen.

“How come you were with them?” Jisung asked as you leaned against the counter with Hyunjin standing beside you while Jisung and Jeongin stood opposite from you.

“I was at home when I heard a howl. I knew immediately they were in pain and it sounded very familiar. So I went to check.” You explained as the boys exchanged knowing glances to one another.

“Noona? Can I ask you something?” Jisung asked.

“Sure.”

“Did you get any particular feeling when you heard the howl?”

“I just… I felt like it was someone close to me. Someone I cared for… Someone I-”

“-love?” Jeongin finished your sentence for you, making you look up at him with wide eyes.

“We know… We can always tell when one of us is in love… And we’ve known that from the start about Minho towards you. We just… couldn’t tell exactly for you since you’re not part of the pack.” Hyunjin explained, only for you to understand better.

Minho loves you?

You frowned as you stared at your feet for a while before you looked past Jisung’s shoulder to find Seungmin placing a blanket over Minho’s wolf form.

You were worried. You were terrified. The last thing you wanted was to never get to say goodbye to him. Never get to say the three words you hoped to tell him one day. Lucky for you, it wasn’t going to be a worry for you anytime soon.

Felix and Seungmin carefully left Minho there to rest as they approached the four of you in the kitchen.

“How is he?” Jeongin asked.

“He just needs plenty of rest. We managed to take out the bullets so I’m sure he’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Felix explained.

Since Minho was an Alpha, it means that he heals faster than the younger ones did. Same goes for Chan and Changbin if they ever got injured by something that wasn’t deadly to them. So with that being said, you excused yourself to go check on Minho, earning nods from the rest of them.

They watched as you made your way to Minho’s peaceful form on the couch.

“Why can’t they just confess already? They’re practically the perfect soulmates for each other.” Seungmin sighed with a smile.

“I know right?” Felix giggled.

“Come on, let’s give them some space.” Hyunjin said as he began to pull his brothers upstairs to let you and Minho have some privacy.

You sat on the floor in front of Minho’s adorable snout, gently caressing his soft fur on his neck. You gave him a small kiss on the tip of his nose before whispering to him.

“Please be okay… I don’t want to lose you.”

His soft breaths filled your sensitive ears as you stroked his chest like a lullaby for him.

A few minutes of silence accompanied you, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep with the top of your head leaning against his neck and right underneath his chin. You didn’t know how long you were asleep but you woke up to the feeling of someone gently caressing your hair.

Successfully stirring awake, you brought your head up only to find Minho back in his human form and still in all his naked glory but with the blanket covering his waist down.

You immediately got to your knees and wrapped your arms around his neck, earning a soft giggle from him as he snaked his arms around your waist.

“Hi princess.” His sultry voice echoes in your ear, making you blush.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” You whispered, hearing him chuckle softly.

“Of course I have to be okay, I won’t leave you hanging.” His words made you pull back from him, staring into his adorable round eyes. Minho could sense your confusion in which he laughed.

With that, he reached up to cup your cheeks and gently caressed it with his thumbs before he whispered.

“I won’t ever leave you.”

You didn’t know what came over you but you suddenly felt brave. It has been screaming at you to do this for quite a while now, you just chose to ignore it. But this time, you felt like it was the right time to do it.

So with one small breath, you leaned in to kiss him, feeling him instantly smile against your lips. Both of you felt sparks shooting out of the kiss as he pulled you on top of him. His hands flew down to your waist while your small hands cupped his face softly.

Minho’s tongue teased you as he licked your bottom lip before tugging it in between his teeth.

His grip on your waist tightened, making you sit firmly on his thighs. You completely forgot he was butt naked until you felt something poking your inner thigh. It wasn’t until he pulled away from your lips to smile cheekily up at you.

“Should we go to my bedroom?” He asked, making you giggle.

“Are you sure you’re healed? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” You asked.

Minho kissed you again only to pull back and smirk, “Trust me sweetheart, I’m already good to go. I’m an Alpha, remember?” You rolled your eyes at his cockiness but nevertheless found it so attractive.

Minho laughed as he captured you in a kiss yet again before he stood up with you on his waist, your legs wrapped around his hips. A small yelp escaped your lips as he carried you up to his bedroom. Once you made it to his room, he kicked his door close and locked it before gently tossing you onto his bed.

He crawled over to you until he was situated in between your legs, making you nervous.

“You know you can always tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, right baby? I will never force you to do something you’re not okay with.” Minho reassured you as he caressed your cheek lovingly.

You were nervous, yes because it would be your first time mating. However, you didn’t feel uncomfortable because you trusted him. So you weren’t going to stop him.

Not now. Not ever.

“I want you… Minho. Please… I… I love you.” You whispered with your eyes closed, too afraid to look at him. What you missed was how his eyes grew even softer the minute you said those last three words. Minho never felt this way before. Sure he has mated before and none of it works out. But this time, it all felt so foreign to him.

You weren’t just another one of his playmates. You weren’t a random stranger whom he would have sex with and leave. You were someone he cared for, someone he grew fond of, someone he trusts, and most importantly, someone he loves.

With that being said, Minho smiles as he leans down to close the gap before he whispers against your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Right after, he kisses you like his life depends on it. Pouring out his love for you through the kiss, hoping you could feel his sincerity. He felt your hands sliding down his chest, only to trace your fingertips along the outlines of his abs.

He helped you discard your pyjamas, tossing them onto the ground as he then realized you only had your panties and no bra.

“Did you really just leave your apartment like this?” He chuckled, pecking your lips a few times.

“I got worried okay... I wanted to make sure no one’s hurt…” You blushed as he teased you.

“Aww, so you rushed out without thinking to change just because you were worried about me?” Minho smirked down at you.

“Shut up, Min. I didn’t know who it was when I ran out okay…” You pushed his face away with your hands only for him to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious!” You pouted as he pulled away to look at your disappointed face, making him chuckle and kiss you repeatedly, saying you looked too cute.

“Okay okay, I believe you baby.” Minho chuckled, cupping your cheeks to kiss you again, this time letting his lips linger there for a bit. Both of you took your own sweet time with each other. He promised to be gentle with you and that was exactly what he did. Only going rough once in a while so that you could both reach your highs.

Minho marked you as his partner and you were happy he did. But there was only one thing left that you haven’t done.

After he cleaned you, you were both lying in bed under his soft duvet. He was just gently playing with your hair while you laid your head on his chest. His mind was filled with nothing but you. All until you spoke up.

“I want to be in Chan’s pack.”

Minho’s fingers stopped whatever it was doing, only for him to stare down at you.

“What did you say?”

“I’ve thought about it… And I want to be in Chan’s pack.” You repeated again, causing him to smile.

“Wait… are you serious?”

You nodded with a small smile, making him huff. After almost 4 months of spending time with them, getting to know each of them better, you realized that they were nothing but a family to one another. And with your tragic past, maybe being in Chan’s pack wouldn’t be so bad. Not only will you have a family of your own, but you also have someone who you loved dearly.

So why not right?

With that being said, Minho kissed you again and again on your cheeks, your nose, your forehead and your lips. All you did was giggle.

“Let’s go tell Chan!” Minho said excitedly as he leaped out of bed butt naked, going around to collect both your clothes that were scattered on the floor. Once you were both changed, he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours only to run down the hall, accidentally bumping into Jisung and Changbin as you did so.

“Bang Chan!” Minho called out as he burst open the elder’s bedroom door, only to find Chan just reading something from his book shelves.

“Oh, hey guys. What’s up?” Chan smiled as he placed his book down on the desk but Minho was quick to tell him the news.

“Y/N wants to be part of the pack.”

With that, Chan’s eyes grew wide as he stared at you with a happy glint in his eyes.

“Really?”

You gave him a firm nod in which Chan couldn’t help but grin.

“Well then, welcome to the family Y/N.” Chan announced, only for the rest of them to rush in.

“Noona’s finally part of us?!” Felix and Jisung asked in unison, earning a solid yes from Chan. The younger ones immediately ran to you to give you a hug. You couldn’t help but giggle as they welcomed you warmly. After you were done exchanging hugs, Chan spoke up to get everyone’s attention.

“Also, I think it’s pretty clear that Y/N is now out of bound to the rest of us except Minho.” Chan smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at the male who had his fingers laced with yours.

“Yeah so don’t even think about it.” Minho warned, pretending to threaten his brothers but of course he didn’t actually plan to hurt them if they got close to you since they already loved you like a sister.

“Don’t worry brother, she’s all yours.” Changbin smiled cheekily, only for you to blush.

You were glad that you found them. You were glad they saved you that night and not any other pack. You were glad they came into your life. Because they taught you how to be strong again. They taught you how to survive. And most importantly, Minho taught you how to love again.

~~~

[live-the-fangirl-life]

By the Light of the Moon

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Ghostly Stroll

Walking through a graveyard on Halloween, what a cliché. Happy Spooktober

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warning: Potential Crying, Mentions of Death

1358 words

*******

The moonlight shown through the cloudy sky, reflecting in the small puddles left on the paved, damp road.

Aelin liked stepping in those puddles.

She would huff a laugh every time her boot fell in the shallow water, creating rippling distortions to the light before it calmed and mirrored the moon once more. She liked the feeling of the stray droplets of water splashing against her foot.

Rowan didn’t comment, simply shook his head fondly and rolled his eyes with each passing puddle.

There was a chill in the air as a soft, crisp breeze blew through the trees. Aelin listened to the rustling of leaves—the ones that were left anyway, seeing as most had already turned shades of crimson, ochre, and toffee, before blanketing the ground.

As a particularly strong gust of wind lifted strands of Aelin’s blonde hair, now shimmering in the moonlight, Rowan reached across with the arm not entwined with hers and gently tucked it behind her ear.

She smiled at the gesture and leaned closer to her husband, savoring the feeling of her shoulder pressing into his and smiling again as he turned his head to kiss the top of her head.

“This is nice.” She said quietly, “don’t you think?”

“Which part?” he asked, facing her and meeting her blue and gold gaze.

Aelin didn’t answer him right away, instead enjoying their peaceful stroll along the empty road. She pushed a stray silver lock back from his face. “The breeze.” She smiled as sounds filtered from houses out towards the road. “The echoes of strangers telling stories. The smell of a fire and roasting marshmallows.” Aelin caught and held Rowan’s gaze. “Walking this beautiful night with you.”

They kept walking, not in a hurry to get anywhere but just enjoying each other’s company. “It is nice, Fireheart. It’s the best time of year.”

Aelin smiled again as she caught the faint sounds of children giggling as the last, straggling trick-or-treaters collected their candy before returning home. She squeezed Rowan’s arm, keeping pace with him as they strolled farther down the road, enjoying the fresh October air.

“My favorite.” She agreed.

They walked along the familiar road for a while more before the houses disappeared and gave way to a large plot of land housing graves, tombstones, and mausoleums.

Aelin turned to grin at Rowan, and he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“It’s Halloween.” She said as if that was question and answer enough. He supposed it was, but Rowan raised a brow, and she rolled her eyes before amending, “Halloween, All Hallows Eve, Samhain—the sentiment’s the same. But we’re here,” she looked toward the graveyard for a long moment before insisting, “we can’t not go in.”

“Walking through a graveyard on Halloween,” he muttered dryly, but followed her lead as they passed through the creaky metal gate. Its not like he would say no to this, or to her. “What a cliché.”

Aelin snorted and met his amused stare with her own. “You say that like we don’t do this every year.”

The front of the graveyard mostly held newer burials, all polished headstones and fresh flowers. The farther back they walked, the older the dates on the stone became. The organization also became more haphazard the further back they roamed. Near the gate the plaques and stones had been lined up in neat rows, but as asphalt turned into cobblestone turned into grass-covered paths, the headstones were placed at odd angles and spaced at random.

“Hmm” Aelin contemplated, halting in front of a new-looking stone and glancing at the dates.

“No, not again, Fireheart.” Rowan groaned, knowing his wife too well.

“I’m going to say that this woman died at the ripe old age of eighty-seven while posing for a tastefully nude portrait.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a little vulgar to make up outrageous stories about the dead?” Then he snorted. “And how would that even kill her?”

Aelin raised a brow at him even as his lips quirked up. She steered them down another aisle. “Are you saying that because you actually think that?” Her tone made it obvious she didn’t believe it. “Or are you upset because you know you couldn’t come up with anything more interesting?”

He scoffed as they landed in front of a stone with slightly older dates. He glanced down at Aelin who was watching him expectantly as if to say show me what you’ve got. He glanced around, making sure one no one else was within earshot.

Occasionally, Aelin and Rowan would spot another person or sometimes a small group of people walking through the graves or staring solemnly at a particular headstone. They would nod in acknowledgment and share a brief, understanding look.

Not seeing anyone, he begrudgingly focused on the plaque and said, “Let’s say that this fellow lived his life in the circus and had an unfortunate fire-breathing accident.”

Aelin laughed, her eyes sparkling as they continued to make up stories.

They kept walking. Every now and then they would hear a bird flying across the grounds or the wind whistling through the trees.

“Ooh here’s an older one.” Aelin glanced at Rowan before nodding, “this one accidentally shot himself with a cannon.”

Rowan snorted, “how does one shoot themselves with a canon?”

“I don’t know,” she rolled her eyes, “maybe it failed to fire, and he went to check on it and suddenly boom.”

They meandered through the aisles and slowly watched as the stones became rougher and covered in moss, the words etched into them barely legible.

The clouds had cleared and now the sky was filled with the light of the fading moon.

This far back into the graveyard, neither Aelin nor Rowan could make out the entrance from which they came.

But that didn’t matter. Not as Aelin kept her arm hooked through her husband’s while they turned down another row of ancient, long-forgotten tombstones.

Rowan stopped walking and felt Aelin press herself closer towards him.

“What do you think about these?” he whispered; voice barely audible above the low wind.

Aelin squeezed his arm. “I think,” she whispered just as quietly, “they lived a long, happy life and forever thanked the stars that they found each other.”

The stones were old. Rounded corners from age and layers of moss were identical on the pair of faded headstones. And even though the letters had long since faded, the inscription was something neither of them would forget.

Go Rattle The Stars. Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius & Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. To Whatever End.

They stood quietly for a long moment. Their humor replaced with a calm serenity.

“How long has it been, Buzzard?” She whispered. “I lost count ages ago.”

A lie. Aelin knew exactly how many years had passed—how many anniversaries, how many holidays, how many celebrations; how many children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren; how many Halloween nights she and Rowan had made this same trek through the graveyard.

“Too long, Fireheart.” he murmured.

She held his hand even tighter. They didn’t speak again, relishing in their companionable silence and the comfort of simply being with one another, until the moon had almost fully dipped beneath the horizon.

Aelin faced him, a fond smile growing as she placed a hand on his cheek. He still looked as handsome and young as the day she’d met him, despite them having grown old together long, long, ago.

“Until next All Hallows Eve,” She promised.

It wasn’t a thing to feel sad about, nor angry or frustrated. It simply was.

She wasn’t sure how it happened or why, but she and Rowan found each other every year on this night, and she would thank the universe for letting it be so.

“Until next year.” He held her waist as she wound her arms around his neck. Rowan leaned down to press his forehead against hers. “To whatever end, Aelin.”

“To whatever end, Rowan” she raised herself on her toes to kiss him.

As the last glimmers of moonlight disappeared, Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn faded away once more in a ghostly whisper.

*****

Taglist:

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[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

[cityofdreams-writing]

Forever With You

Rating: E

Pairing: Pran x Pat

Word Count: 1.4K

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Smut, swearing, established PatPran, married PatPran, Pran has a big dick, size kink, dom/sub dynamics, slight dom/sub play, voice kink, Pat has a voice kink, Pat loves Pran's voice, bulge kink, pet names, Pran growls a lot, and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything.

Author: @cityofdreams-writing

Description: Pat wakes Pran up at 4 AM and finds out that he loves his voice when he wakes up. A little too much, actually.

Notes: I wrote this at 1 AM, help- but this is a gift for my girlfriend, happy birthday baby! My sweet baby girl, I wish I was there to celebrate with you, but unfortunately I can't, so have this little story. I hope you like it! @maybe-a-lee

Soundtrack: None

"Pran."

Pat's voice is soft, barely a whisper as he turns in his husband's embrace. The silver rings, one on his finger and the matching one on his lover's that signify their eternal life together, glint in the dim light of their shared bedroom.

His fingers run down smooth muscles, carving the lines that he's touched so many times. Pran shivers and slowly flutters his eyes open with a sleepy groan.

"Pat? Baby, what are you doing awake at this hour…? Did you not sleep well? It's 4 am…" Sleepy mumbles of his husband's voice reach Pat's ears, rough as sandpaper, yet smooth as honey.

"I'm hard." Pat's eyes slowly drag down to his cock, where sure enough, there's a outline prominent against his shorts.

Pran's eyes snap open fully, widening comically, and his jaw drops open. A goggle-eyed boy stares at him.

Pat chuckles shyly. "What?"

"No way. You can't be. What were you dreaming about that got you so hard?" Pran's voice is incredulous as he rolls over to switch on the light by his bedside.

His voice is still husky from sleep and doesn't help Pat's situation. It just goes straight to his dick.

The light switches on and now he can see him more clearly. Toned abs peek out from underneath the duvet cover, leading up to plains of honey gold skin.

God, he's so turned on.

"You. And your stupid voice that does things to me…" Pat mumbles, embarrassed as he feels himself clench around nothing and his dick twitch at the admission.

Pran smirks, finally realizing what's got his husband all hot and bothered.

"My voice~? You like when I talk like this, don't you~?"

Oh. Oh god. The teasing's started.

Pat doesn't like when he teases like that, because he cums so much faster like that.

"Y-yeah…" He squeaks out when Pran kisses his jawline all the way down to his neck, nosing his sweet spot and licking it.

"Mm…" Pat's breath hitches as he whimpers softly when Pran sucks gently on that one spot that makes him go crazy.

Pran starts to move down, down, down…until he traces a finger against the outline of his cock, earning a whine and a slight buck of his hips into his hand.

He pulls down his shorts and briefs, admiring the swell of his ass. The other boy whimpers, little sounds that go straight to Pran's cock as he gives it a light slap.

"You're so naughty, my prince." He chuckles deeply as Pat moans, begging him silently to touch.

"Ah, fuck. W-wanna feel you, please Pran…do something!" The boy in question can feel himself grow achingly hard. He can't tease any longer, simply because he's Pat and the boy is fucking whipped for him.

"Shh, I will." Pran quickly lubes his cock, spitting on his hand and stroking it to full hardness. He enters smoothly, no prep needed.

"Touched yourself without my permission, puppy~?" He growls in Pat's ear, biting it softly.

"I-I, shit, I did, 'm sorry, baby…" Pat's voice is more breathy moans than anything coherent at this point, because Pran has started to move slowly and boy is he big. And also, his voice. The growls. And oh my fucking god, the pet names…he certainly can't handle that. Puppy?! He loves that name, and by god does Pran know it. He's fucking milking it for all he's got.

He falls apart under Pran, body rocking slightly against the bed and it's just so filthy, the creaks the bed makes, the squelching noises and the rubbing of his cock against the bed is all too much for Pat. So many sensations and all of them feel so good and so, so overwhelming.

The little ah noises that Pat makes turn Pran on more. Breathless little sounds that go straight to his dick. He's barely thinking logically anymore, which is terrifying to think about because this is Pran we're talking about, he always thinks logically. All his thoughts are to fuck Pat so hard that he doesn't even know his own name.

Pat Napat Jindapat, what have you done?

He starts to move faster, practically destroying Pat in the process, reducing him to an incoherent puddle of loud, lewd, almost pornographic whines.

And fuck, does that make him want to go faster, to hear more noises like that fall from his red, kiss-swollen mouth.

He looks down, to where there is a little bulge in his belly and touches it with his hand tenderly like it's a baby bump. He can almost cum from this sight alone, seeing how big Pran actually is.

"F-fuck…you're so big…and s-so deep…" Pat hisses softly before letting out a pornographic moan loud enough to wake the neighborhood. Hopefully they wouldn't be having to attend to noise complaints later. (Spoiler alert: they would. Lots of grumpy neighbors were awakened.)

"Can I move, love? Let me know if it's too much." He shakes his head before whining exasperatedly. "Fucking—just move, Parakul! Hard and fast, make me forget my own name!" He squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back, clenching around Pran's cock.

Damn you, Pat. 

That's all he needs to start pounding into Pat with no mercy, growling loudly and feeling him clench heavenly around him. Pran's eyes flutter shut, long black lashes caressing honey golden skin flushed a pretty pink with exertion. His prostate sends waves of pleasure down his spine as he arches his back. Pran is deadly in his aim, both in and out of the bedroom.

"You're such a little whore, aren’t you~? Touching yourself like the slut you are and then waking me up just to fuck you~? Hm~? Tell me, Pat, is this what you wanted~? For me to rail you so hard that you forget your own name~?" He pulls his hair, growling absolutely filthy thoughts in his ear as Pat turns into a moaning, screaming, shaking mess. His hips smack his ass, creating lewd sounds that even PornHub would be willing to die for.

The coil builds fast, so fast that Pat barely knows it, heat pooling in his gut. 

"P-Pran, g-gonna c-c-cum-!"

And then it snaps, making Pat cum with a loud cry, all over the bed and his body. Fat tears roll down his cheeks as he sees stars explode across his vision and his mind goes blank. 

Oh, but Pran isn't done. Pat may be, but Pran certainly isn't. He keeps going, thrusting into Pat's spent body and overstimulating the crying boy. 

"Ah, ah, Pran! It's too much!"

"Too much, hm? What happened to forgetting your own name? Surely you can last a few more rounds." Pran's voice is a low growl due to exertion and Pat can feel his cock twitch back to life just because of that.

Pran keeps pounding into him, relentless in the way he thrusts. The sight in front of him is mouthwatering to say the least. Pat shakes under him, his eyes glazed over with tears and red, swollen lips slick with saliva. His hole clenches around his cock, pre-cum dribbling out of it. His hair is a mess to say the least, sweat coating his entire body and incoherent babbles and moans of Pran's name falling from his lips.

The sweet sounds that fall from his lips urge Pran to angle his hips upwards to drill into his prostate with every hit, making him grip the sheets harder and cry out Pran's name over and over.

"A-ah, Pran! Fuck! I-I, cum!"

He barely gets out a coherent sentence before he shoots a second load onto the bed. Pran empties his cum into him, growling softly and kissing his neck, stroking the tense muscles of his back and feeling them relax under his touch. 

"Ah, ahh…" He collapses onto the bed, falling in his own mess and burying his face in the pillow. Pran turns him over, cleaning his face with a wet washcloth to get rid of the sweat. Next he turns to his body, riddled with purple bruises and red hickeys where he was bitten. Wiping it down and also ridding him of the cum in the process, Pat opens his eyes slightly, enough to see that the feverish haze of lust is gone from his dark orbs. Instead, it's replaced by a clear fondness in his eyes. It's love. 

"Don't leave me, please…" Pat mumbles, looking up at his husband, who's finishing up gently cleaning him. His eyes swim with unshed tears.

Pran smiles softly, holding up the hand with his ring on it and touching it to Pat's. "I can't, my love,"

"Because I'm forever with you."

[hpalways]

Chef’s Kiss || Xiao

[Disclaimer !! I wrote this oneshot before Xiao’s voicelines were available, so he may appear ooc]

LIFE in the kitchen was anything but peaceful. Not only were you an assistant to the hard-headed chef at the Wangshu Inn, but the cooking fumes continuously made you hungry, causing your stomach to growl -- much to your embarrassment. Running around for errands that the grumpy man would order you to do, it was exhausting. You were beginning to wonder if this was worth it, for a measly experience that may not even be of benefit to your future. 

The only person that kept you from from going insane was a man named Xiao. At first, you were wary of him, because he was reserved and quite mean, spewing unnecessary insults at you... but overtime, the two of you became friends. Well, he was still pretty mean, but you didn't expect different, considering he was an Adeptus. You knew that he must've went through a lot in his own life, so it was understandable.

He had a soft spot for food, especially for his favorite dish: almond tofu. He ordered this often and because you were a cook, you were forced to make it over and over. By now, you were sure you were a professional at it. So on this dandy, fine day, you whipped up a bowl of almond tofu and climbed up a few stairs up the inn. Reaching the little nook where the Adeptus liked to spend his time at, you smiled when you indeed saw him there. His back was turned on you, while he watched the large view of Liyue.

Black-teal hair waving along the winds, he whirled around and sharp, amber eyes met you. Green tattoos lined the side of his arm, making him look all the more intimidating. He donned his usual outfit of a white sleeveless shirt, dark purple pants, and boots. He wore jewelry too, but in your opinion, they never shined as bright as his gaze. His face was blank at the sight of you, but you knew him well enough to see that he was... slightly happy to see you. It was mainly for the food, but surely he enjoyed your company too. He had to. 

"You're finally here," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You're late."

You rolled your eyes and handed him the dish anyway, to which he took begrudgingly. "You know I have other things to tend to, right? I'm not the one lazing around here all the time," you teased. 

Blush colored his pale skin and he looked away in embarrassment. He dug into the food and began to scarf it down. Satisfied with his reaction to your creation, you stayed there with him, leaning your elbows on the edge of the wooden balcony. The glowing sun was high in the sky and the weather was lovely today. Blue and denounced of any clouds, the horizons seemed infinite. The lands were the same way, textured of roads and grasslands, even tall mountains in the distance. And from way up here, the people down below were smidges of moving dots. They were so small -- sometimes it would lead you to think that only you and Xiao existed. 

No wonder he loved this little hideout so much. 

"So, how did you like the food?" you asked him, seeing as he was done with it.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was decent," he said, despite how otherwise it seemed. 

"I put my blood, sweat, and tears and all you say is it was decent?" you gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. Knowing exactly what you were doing, he sent daggers toward your way. If looks could kill, it would be this -- it would honestly scare the shit out of anyone else, but unfortunately, you weren't just anyone else. Teasing him was your favorite hobby here... and thus, the reason why you were staying sane living at the Wangshu Inn. 

"Shut up," he snapped at you. "It's a compliment."

Chuckling, you grabbed the empty plate from him. "I'll take your word for it then. Hm, I should get back to work now. Boss will have my head if he sees me lingering around any longer."

You spun around and began walking into the inn. However, before you could fully step inside, a warm hand grasped the wrist of your arm. Heart fluttering inside you, you quickly chided mentally to yourself. It would do you no good to fall for the Conqueror of Demons. Being pulled to face him again, you raise your brows in confusion, masking the perplexing emotions inside of you. 

Once he had your attention, he immediately let go of your arm. Scratching his head, his lips twitched as he carefully chose his next words. Surprise filled your features; was he... nervous? This was new to see with your own pair of eyes. "Before you head back to work... I have something for you."

Quickly unclipping a necklace around his neck, it was one you had never seen until now. It was hidden beneath his black collar, silver and thin, yet was captivating to the eye. He held it with his gloved fingers, having it dangle in the air for a few moments. "I saw this while I was away on business..." he explained, still unable to look at you. "I was reminded of you and decided to get it."

A lump grew in your throat and your lips parted in disbelief. Dammit, his actions... they made it so hard for you to resist him. Why would he do this? This was unlike him. He neared you, silently draping the delicate necklace around yourself. His usual stiff face was soft and the stare he gave you was enough to give you a heart attack. Attentive on the clasp at the ends, he hooked it around and fixed it, having the beautiful pendent hanging on your chest. 

"I can't believe..." you murmured, glancing down at the gold details. "Thank you so much. You shouldn't have though. I don't deserve to wear something so expensive."

"You do," he argued, his gaze growing hard. 

"Okay then," you relented, despite still doubtful. "I seriously do love it though!"

Fuck it, you couldn't restrain the desire to do this anymore. You had been wanting to do this since the day you saw his hues glinted at the taste of your food. He had opened up to you more than he did to anyone else -- you were always happy to be there for him. You only hoped to continue to be there for him. 

Tilting your face closer to his, your lips brushed against smooth, soft skin. It was as soft as a baby's and so did the dark teal strand of hair that tickled your forehead. Leaning away again, you were out of breath and in shock. His face was flamed up crimson, making him look adorable. Your face was just as warm and you were slightly embarrassed for doing something so drastic. 

"You... you..." he trailed off, at a lost for words for once in his life. Under his breath, he murmured, "Stupid chef."

"I can hear that, you know," you pointed out with a scowl. His words were quite harsh, but the way he was acting meant that he did not mind the kiss. For that, you were satisfied enough. "I'll cherish this, I promise! See you soon, Xiao."

You weren't getting your heart broken just yet.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Secret Santa

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When you pick Loki’s name for Secret Santa, you are at a loss for what to get him. Some quality time with the God of Mischief sheds some light on the situation. Warnings: pure, unadulterated fluff; very long A/N: It’s almost Christmas now; less than a week to go! And a big thank you to my best friend @lokistan​ for writing the beautiful poetry for this story. I love you my bean! Happy reading all :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @gaitwae

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Oh my gosh, thank you Nat!” you said, throwing your arms around her shoulders in a hug. She had been your Secret Santa and gotten you the expensive jacket you’d been wanting for months. “It’s perfect.”

Christmas Eve in the Avengers Tower was full of laughter and drinks as the team exchanged Secret Santa gifts. Tomorrow morning you’d be opening regular presents, so it was tradition to set this aside for the night before. It was more fun that way, maybe because you could focus solely on the excitement of learning who had picked your name.  

“You’re welcome. I know you were nervous about being able to pull it off, but it’ll look great on you,” she reassured, hugging you back. “Ok, now it’s your turn.”

You shot a nervous glance at Peter, who flashed a thumbs up. Thor, who was sitting next to you, pat your back. You stood and picked up the carefully wrapped package, all decorated in gold and green. You were nervous about what you had picked, but whether the recipient liked it or not, you were happy that this anxiety of if it was good enough or not would be over. You’d rather know. After all, you’d been feeling this way ever since you’d picked the name a week earlier...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright everyone,” Tony said, holding a stocking filled with little pieces of paper. “It’s time for Secret Santa. And remember, if you get me, cash is accepted.”

You gathered around with the rest of the team as they started to pick names. You said a little prayer that you would get Peter, your best friend, seeing as you already had about thirty different gift ideas for him. Wanda would be pretty easy, too, as you were also really close with her. In fact, looking around, you were able to come up with at least some scrap of an idea for almost everyone. Almost being the operative word.  By the time Tony got to you, there was only one slip left. As you stuck your hand in the stocking, you made a silent wish that it wouldn’t be the one person you had no clue what to get for.

Please, you thought. Please be someone I know. Please don’t be...

Loki.

“And that concludes the name picking process,” Tony announced as you cast a dismayed look at the four-letter name on the paper. “You have a week to figure it out, so good luck.

“Remember, no swapping!” Steve added as the group began to disperse.

You looked around for the trickster, wondering why he was even participating. It’s not that you didn’t want him to, just that it didn’t seem like his kind of thing. From the way he was clenching his fists and scowling, you still guessed it wasn’t. Not like you really knew him all that well, unfortunately. When he’d come to the Tower, Loki seemed like he preferred the solitude. You often wondered if you should have made more of an effort to be his friend, wished that you had. There was this one time you were both reading Macbeth in a common area and had gotten into a very animated discussion about it. Nothing more ever really came of that, though, as he left for a mission the next day and didn’t return until two weeks later. By then, you’d both moved onto different books.

Later, you made a trip to the library, hoping to solve the enigma that is the God of Mischief. You were the only two people who went in their regularly and more than half the conversations you’d had with him had been held in that room. Granted they were all short, but you figured it was a start. In fact, you found yourself rather wanting to have a conversation with him right now. Yes, because of the Secret Santa thing, but also because they’d been getting more frequent recently. With every one, you realized how much you enjoyed talking to him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in his usual spot by the crackling fire. You considered just leaving, but decided you should at least make some use of this trip. You’d seen him reading some works by James Joyce most recently, and you went to go look for the one he’d had last. Maybe seeing what he likes to read could give you some gift ideas. Your eyes scanned the shelves, but you couldn’t find it. It was possible you were just remembering the cover wrong. Just as you were about to give up, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Pardon me,” Loki said as you whipped around. “I think you may be looking for this.”

He held out the copy of the book you’d been looking for and raised an eyebrow when you just stared at him blankly for a second. Who could blame you, though? He was standing rather close, and he was... Well, quite frankly, he was hot. With his raven black hair framing his smooth, pale skin, and with striking blue-green eyes that stare into your soul, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met. Then again, he wasn’t really a man, was he?

“Oh, uh, yes. Yes I am,” you said, coming to your senses. “Thank you. Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so. I have read it five times now. I apologize for that, if you were looking for it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have nothing to apologize for.” He looked rather surprised that you would say such a thing, and you briefly wondered how many times people had made him apologize unnecessarily. “You could even just keep it if you want.”

“No, that is alright. At least, not until you have gotten to read it, too. Perhaps we could discuss it?” he said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping.

You looked at the title in your hands. Dubliners. You’d read a few of the short stories in high school and hadn’t enjoyed them much. But you were older now, so maybe your tastes had changed. Either way, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have another conversation with Loki. That slight smile and those intelligent eyes were just too captivating.

“That’s a wonderful idea. May I ask what your favorite is?”

“A good question. I think I will have to say Eveline. The way she ends up trapped, the mere emotion in the implication... It’s exquisitely done.”

“Wow, Loki, you have such a way with words. You’re beautiful,” you told him without thinking. As his eyes widened, you realized what you’d said and tried to cover it up. “I, um, I meant that that’s beautiful. The, ah, way you weave words. Sorry, I obviously don’t have the same ability.”

“It is quite alright. They do not call me silver-tongue for nothing, you know,” he said, though he was blushing now. “Still, I look forward to hearing your thoughts. But for now, my dear mortal, I must bid you goodbye. I have a sparring session with my brother to get to.”

He swept into a small, princely bow that made your heart stutter. Hugging the book to your chest, you waved goodbye, feeling much more awkward than he had been. You were also about a hundred times more determined to get Loki a perfect gift. You looked at the book again. It was a special first edition, unfortunately, and you couldn’t really do better than that. Besides, you got the impression he appreciated books more when they were well-loved. So, you could scratch that idea off the list.

You sighed and headed to your room for the night. Maybe an inspiration board could help you figure things out. Unfortunately, that led to you having a poster board with pictures solely of Loki. You’d meant to add other things, but you’d gotten so caught up in how beautiful he looked with his soft pink lips and carefully styled hair and... Ok, maybe you had the slightest, tiniest crush on the trickster god, but it was silly. You’d hardly even been friends for half a year. And yet, he was very hard to resist. You ended up destroying your project, cringing at the idea of anyone finding it and taking it the wrong way.

The next morning you woke up just as idealess as you had been the night before. You had been hoping that you could figure something out if you slept on it, but to no avail. Frustrated, you kicked your blankets off and got ready to attack the day. You absolutely hated the fact that you couldn’t come up with a gift idea on your own, and the last thing you wanted to have to do was ask someone else.

Splashing some water on your face, you had another idea that you quickly shut down. You’d thought for a second that maybe you could buy him some cologne, but then you realized you had no idea what scent or brand he used. In fact, you weren’t sure he used and fragrance at all. The smell of leather, pine, and old books that he had just suited him so well you couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a natural thing. Either way, he always smelled so safe, so wonderful. You cursed yourself for letting your thoughts take that turn again. It was a lot easier to ignore this crush when you didn’t have to be thinking about him 24/7.

Traipsing into the kitchen, you found Peter and Thor having an animated conversation about what was better, pecan or pumpkin pie. You wondered if you could bake something for Loki as a gift, then you realized that still required knowing what he likes. You would get him tea, but you already knew for a fact that was what Thor had gotten him as a regular present. Plus it was a special Asgardian blend, so there was no way you could top that.

“Good morning, guys,” you greeted as you tried to decide what to eat for breakfast.

“Morning,” they chorused back.

You bit your lip, coming to a split second decision. “Can I ask you two a question. It’s about Secret Santa.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Peter said while you took a seat across from them.

“Ok, this is top secret, right? So don’t tell anybody.” They both eagerly nodded their heads. “I know you’re both friends with Loki, and well, I picked his name. I have no clue what to get him, though. Any ideas?”

“I have the perfect idea!” Thor declared as you motioned for him to keep his voice down. “Get him some causal Midgardian clothes. You have excellent taste, I am sure he will love whatever you pick out.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Are you sure that’s not just what you want for him? I mean, he seems plenty happy to wear his Asgardian clothes around the Tower. And there’s nothing wrong with dressing up when you go out.” You sighed when Thor just seemed confused by your words, not understanding that his brother had embraced the Midgardian style as much as he wanted to. “I’ll just consider that a back-up plan for now. What about you, Peter? Any thoughts?”

“What if we just went shopping together?” he excitedly suggested. “Then if we see something we think is good, we can just point it out.”

You hurriedly agreed, anxious to get the gift-buying out of the way. The plan was to head out right after your training session with Nat and Steve. Unfortunately, that meant you were distracted nearly the whole time, leaving you with a few more bruises than normal. You loved your teammates to death, but boy did they ever need to learn how to ease up a little in practice. You stayed a few minutes extra to do some cool down stretches, and in waltzed the trickster god who had been occupying so much of your brain space recently. The way he was flipping and catching his daggers as he walked was slightly mesmerizing.

“My apologies,” he said, noticing you. “I did not think there was anyone else in here. I can come back later if you still need the space.”

“No!” you shouted as he began to turn away. It was a bit louder than you had meant to say it, and you mentally kicked yourself. “I mean, I was just on my way out, so please, stay.”

He smiled and set his things down on the bench next to yours. You eyed the daggers that had just been wielded by his expertly trained hands moments ago.

“May I?” you asked, gesturing to them.

He picked one up and handed it to you. Turning it over in your hands, you noticed that handles were slightly worn, but it was still excellently crafted. The blade had obviously been sharpened a great number of times before and was looking like it might need to be again. You’d never personally used a dagger in battle, but the way Loki was so graceful with them made a part of you want to.

“To be very precise with such a weapon,” Loki began as if reading your thoughts, “requires great focus and skill. There is no room for error when used to block another’s attack, and to deliver a powerful blow, you must strike in just the right spot.” A shiver of excitement shot down your spine as he picked up his other blade and began adeptly demonstrating, moving like a flowing river as he sliced the air. “It is much smaller than most weapons, sure. However, it is just as deadly. And if the sword is an extension of your body, the same can be said for the dagger tenfold.”

You blinked a couple times, beyond impressed by his majestic, fluid movements. It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking. Now you just had to find a way to say that without sounding obsessed.

“Wow, Loki,” you finally gasped, unable to hide your amazement. “I don’t know how you do it, but you even make weapons sound beautiful. And you’re very talented, too. I could never,” you nervously laughed.

“You are too kind to me, my dear mortal,” he said, and you felt a spark of pride in your chest that you were making him blush yet again. “You are not kind enough to yourself, though. I am certain you would be excellent. Perhaps you just need to find a teacher.”

“Would you teach me?” you asked, oddly worried to do so. You tried to calm your swelling nerves.

“Well, I did not mean to imply that I should be your instructor, for I fear that I would not be very good at it.” He watched your smile falter just the tiniest bit and found himself rushing to bring it back to full strength. “However, if you so desire, I can certainly try. I must warn you, it will not be easy.”

“Loki, you’d really do that for me?” Your heart beat a little faster in your chest as he shyly nodded his head yes. “I would love to. And don’t worry about going easy; I want to be as good as you.”

“Excellent! We shall have out first lesson, say, at the start of the New Year?”

After the plans were set, you excused yourself so you could meet your friends for shopping. You were late as it was, and you still had to go freshen up. The whole reason for the trip was you, and you’d feel bad to keep them waiting much longer. Still, you stole one last glance at Loki before exiting.

Hours later, you still had no gift for Loki. You barely even had an idea, much to your dismay. Peter and Thor kept pointing out little trinkets, a couple of which you did pick up as a regular gift for him, but your Secret Santa gift had to be a showstopper. Something about him drew you in, and you wanted to give him the most amazing present you could. If only it weren’t so difficult.

You were walking down a street when you happened to notice the trickster god himself in one of the store windows. You waved your companions on with the excuse you wanted to check something out for one of them and entered the shop Loki was at. For a second you considered just watching him to try to get some ideas, but that was quickly dashed when he let out a sigh of frustration. He just looked so perplexed and adorably aggravated.

“Hey, Loki,” you greeted after clearing your throat. “Funny running into you here. Are you alright?”

“Hello, my dear mortal. Thank you for asking,” he said. “I am alright. It is just this blasted Secret Santa.”

“I know what you mean,” you replied before you could help yourself. “But I’m, uh, not going to say who it is. I mean, you can tell me if you want to, but I’ve already told so many people it’ll hardly be a secret if anyone else knows,” you covered your tracks.

“Ah, I see. It is supposed to be a secret, and I do so ever hate to crack under the pressure, but I find myself in dire need of assistance. Do you suppose you could help?”

You beamed at him as you realized you’d talked with him more in the past few days than you had in the last three weeks. If there was one thing you knew, it was you had better be careful, or you’d get addicted to the sound of his voice. You were on thin ice with this crush as it was, you really shouldn’t let it blossom into more.

“Sure! I’d love to. Who do you have?” you finally said, looking around the store. “Wait, let me guess. Steve?”

“Stark.”

“Oh. Well, he did say cash was fine,” you giggled.

“Believe me, I was tempted,” Loki chuckled along with you. “But I promised Thor I would make more of an effort this time around. I do not know what he is talking about, though. Bruce loved his socks last year!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth as your loud laughter garnered a few stares from other shoppers. Loki’s eyes held only soft admiration, though, and your hands got a little sweaty from how nervous that made you. You subtly wiped them on your pants as you calmed down.

“Well, it you want to get something more personal, I might have an idea.”

“By all means, do tell,” he urged.

“You know that tool set he was talking about the other day?” you questioned, but were met with a blank stare. “I’ll take that as a no, but he was saying he didn’t want to get them because he doesn’t actually need them.”

“When has that ever stopped him before?” Loki scoffed.

“I guess he’s trying something new,” you shrugged. “But anyway, if you got them it would show you were thinking about what he actually liked and stuff. Or maybe that’s dumb, sorry.”

“No, no, it is a splendid idea!” he was quick to reassure you. For a second it seemed as if he was going to reach out and touch your shoulder, but then he thought better of it. “You do not happen to know where they are sold, do you?”

You nodded and led him out of the store you were in, towards the place where he could buy them. You were waiting at a corner for a light to change, amicably chatting. Nothing groundbreaking, just small talk. Regardless, it made your heart beat just a little faster. Still engrossed in the conversation, you took a step out into the crosswalk when the light said it was safe to go. You didn’t notice the car speeding towards you until Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You gasped as he glared after the driver, who gave no acknowledgement or apology to you. The god’s arms were wrapped around you in a protective manner, and you looked up at his face, appreciating his beauty at this close angle. Given what had just happened, probably not the thing you should be focusing on.

“My dear mortal,” he fretted, looking down at you, not yet letting go. “Are you alright? You are not injured at all, are you? Shall I take you to the hospital wing to make sure?”

“I’m ok,” you reassured him, though a part of you didn’t want to. He seemed about ready to scoop you up and use his godly strength to carry you home. Alas, your moral compass decided that wouldn’t be very fair to him. “Just a little shaken, but you saved me. Thank you, Loki. That doesn’t really cut it, but thank you so much.”

“Do not mention it. I am just glad you are alright,” he replied, though his voice did still have a tint of worry to it. Maybe you were imaging it, but he seemed almost reluctant to let you go from his tight embrace. “Now, you may carefully lead the way. Carefully,” he emphasized.

With a giggle, you brought him to the store where the tools were. After browsing the aisles for a few minutes, the two of you found the shelf they were on. With a frown, you examined the price tag.

“Sorry, Loki,” you said. “I didn’t realize how expensive it was.”

“It is fine,” he replied, looking at the cost himself. “This is actually plenty within my price range.”

You waited outside of the busy store while he made his purchase and checked your phone. You felt a pang of guilt as you noticed a number of missed texts from Peter and Thor.

Sorry guys, you texted the group chat. Ran into someone I know and got carried away. Carry on without me.

Don’t worry, came Peter’s reply. See you back home :)

You pocketed your phone as Loki walked back out, giving you a smile. You looked at the ground to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“I hope I am not keeping you from anything,” he said as you started walking back towards the Tower. “Is there any shopping I can assist you with?”

You lamented the irony of the situation. Despite the entire point of this venture being to buy a gift for Loki, you were still empty handed. It was tempting to try to ask him what he wanted, but you were sure he was far more clever than you were subtle.

“No, I’m good, thanks. But if you don’t mind my asking, how do you have so much money?” you asked to satisfy your curiosity. “I mean, Tony’s always complaining about how you use his credit card.”

“That, my dear mortal, is simply because I can,” he replied as you both laughed. “I have been around for much longer than you might imagine. I have amassed a certain amount of wealth in my many years.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool, actually. You’re making me wish I was an immortal being,” you joked.

“And tell me, my dear mortal, if you were to treat yourself to something nice, what would it be?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Maybe I’d go to a nice restaurant,” you finally said. “It doesn’t have to be anything too far from home. Oh! Like, Nobu has really good sushi.”

“Well then, perhaps I will have to pay for us to have a meal there sometime.”

“Yeah! I bet the team would really like that.”

“Actually,” he sheepishly said, bringing you to a stop on the sidewalk, “I meant for just the two of us to go. That is, if you would like to. Maybe one day after we start our training. You are not obligated to say yes, though. The offer for me to pay is still open if you would like to take another friend instead of me.”

“Loki, no. That’s so generous, of course I’d love to go with you,” you reassured him, settling a hand on his arm. Though, admittedly, you were beyond flustered, especially when you realized how that last sentence sounded. “I mean as friends, of course. It sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Well then, I look forward to it.” He brought his hand to rest on yours, and goosebumps erupted on your skin, not only from his cold touch, but the wave of excitement you felt. “And speaking of our lessons, I was thinking you may want some daggers of your own. We do not have to get them now but-”

“That’s it!” you suddenly shouted, then apologized for cutting him off. “Can I borrow your daggers, Loki? To go get myself a pair?”

He offered to come with you, but you waved him off, saying you’d be fine on your own. It was a little suspicious, he thought, but decided to drop it. Handing you the weapons, he bid you goodbye. As soon as he was out of eyesight, you examined the daggers, trying to get a clear picture in your mind of what you wanted.

A few quick stops later, and after gaining permission from Tony, you were in the lab, carefully crafting Loki’s gift. It took a few days, and you were by no means used to doing this kind of thing, but you were finally satisfied with the finished product. You wrapped it and then hid it with the rest of your presents, just waiting to be given to their recipients. With only a few days left until Christmas Eve, you were filled with an anxious excitement to give Loki his gift. There was nothing left to do but hope that he likes it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...You looked everywhere but at Loki as you approached him, nerves bubbling in your stomach. By the time you reached him, his mouth had curled into a soft smile. It occurred to you that you’d never seen him look that way at anyone but you. Building on the confidence that thought brought, you held out the gift.

“Here, Loki,” you told him, averting your gaze again. “This is for you.”

You perched on the edge of the coffee table across from him as he accepted the package with a thank you. There was some light chatter coming from the rest of your teammates, but it felt like the only people in the world at this moment were you and Loki, his fingers skillfully unwrapping the present. You sat on your hands to keep from fidgeting with them. It took all your focus to keep your eyes on Loki and not wandering the room in anticipation. As he opened the lid of the box and revealed what was inside, his mouth formed into a surprised “o”.

He picked up the gift, a pair of new daggers, each with a gold hilt. His name was engraved on it, and there was a band of emeralds at the top and bottom. You’d made them the same dimensions as his old ones.

“My dear mortal,” he breathed in awe, his eyes full of sincerity, coming up to met yours. “This is so thoughtful, so beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Loki. I’m really glad you like it.”

“I do. I love it,” he replied, taking your hand in his for the briefest of moments. He pulled away before anyone could really think anything of it. Neither of you said anything else, instead just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Ok, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, interrupting the moment you were sharing with Loki. “Now it’s your turn. So, who’d you get?”

“Well, actually, I picked your name, Stark. Here,” he said, nonchalantly handing over the gift. Though he seemed completely uninterested, you could tell he was a little nervous. “For you.”

“Alright, let’s see what it is. I swear, this better not be socks or-” Tony cut off, seeing the very thing he wanted. “Wow, Rock of Ages. This is really thoughtful. Thanks. I had no idea you actually listened,” he finished with a laugh.

“You are quite welcome,” Loki said, but he was more looking at you than Tony.

Later that evening, after all the gifts were given out, you were sitting by the fireplace, waiting for the flames to completely die out. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, your feet pulled up next to you, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and a book open on your lap.

“My dear mortal,” Loki’s voice suddenly said as he appeared in the doorway, pulling you from the words on the page. “I thought you were supposed to be in bed, lest Santa skip this house and move onto the next.”

“Yes, but I have to make sure the fire goes out so he can get in,” you laughed, playing along. “As long as I’m up, I wouldn’t mind some company. Care to join me?”

Wordlessly, he sat down, and you closed your book. The both of you just stared at the dying flames in a peaceful silence for a while. Your mind seemed to be content to be filled with thoughts of Loki; the way he was sitting so close, the way his hands kept brushing his hair away from his face every few moments, the way he’d looked at you earlier when he’d received your gift. After you weren’t sure exactly how long, he gently said your name, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” you replied.

“I truly do your love your gift. It is beyond lovely, your generosity and thoughtfulness a true reflection of what is in your brilliant soul.”

“Loki, I can’t even express how happy I am to hear that. And thank you for your beautiful words.”

“Speaking of,” he nervously said, “the gift that I have for you, it is, well, my words. A poem. I am sorry to say, I would be a little self-conscious to give it to you in front of everyone else. Would I... Would I be able to recite it to you now?”

“Of course, Loki. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m just grateful that you’re willing to share it with me.”

“Alright then, my dear mortal. Here goes nothing.”

You shifted to a more position as he took a deep breath and opened up a journal. You waited with bated breath as he began to speak.

“From your eyes that shine as the brightest stars, to your smile that's a reflection of your radiant heart. From your gentle hands that fit as though they belong in mine, to your laugh that stops my perception of time. You've shown me kindness when I didn't feel I deserved it, you welcomed me into your world with a caring embrace and showed me I am not my mistakes. My heart beats stronger for you, the love that I feel couldn't be more true. If you will have me, I will show you the world, for you have shown me the universe, the place also known as your touch, as your mind, as your heart, as your soul. You, you are my universe.”

He looked at you expectantly, but with a hesitation understandable given what he’d just confessed. You wanted to tell him how you felt just as eloquently, but were dumbstruck that the feelings were even reciprocated.

“Loki,” you said, holding his cold hands in your warm ones. “That’s so beautiful and I-I love you, too.”

He seemed just as shocked as you that the feeling could be mutual. He squeezed your hands, at a loss for words for the first time since you’d known him. With no one to interrupt you this time, you remained lost in each other’s emotion-filled eyes. It was Loki who broke the silence.

“My dear mortal, I... May I kiss you?”

You answered by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. His hands came to cup your cheeks, and yours found his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks. He tasted like heaven, and you sighed against his mouth. You could have stayed that way forever, and yet it could never be enough. Sadly, you had to pull away, but Loki was quick to pull you against him, holding you to his chest as if he didn’t believe you’d stay, didn’t believe he could have something so wonderful.

You stayed like that for a while, conveying things even words couldn’t say in the silence, just holding each other. Eventually, you began talking, enjoying the way a light conversation was flowing between you. Your eyes were drooping shut as you snuggled against his chest, the final embers of the fire going out. You glanced at the clock and saw that it read midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” you whispered. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, my dear mortal. I could write you a thousand poems, and still I would never properly express how much I feel the same.”

As sleep slowly claimed you, it occurred to you that you may have never even admitted how you feel without the whole Secret Santa ordeal. It seemed that it had revealed more secrets than you’d ever expected, and for that, you’d be forever grateful.

[99liners]

love of your life — m. atsushi;

pairings: murasakibara atsushi x ex!female reader x gojou satoru

genre: angst, bittersweet ending (no happy ending in my halal household hahahah i refuse it. i deny it.)

words: 2.726

warnings: depressive periods of time, mentions of makeup sex, breakup.

request: Anonymous said: first at all, i love your blog and your writing. Well, my request is angst, Murasakibara (or all you want) been invited to the wedding of his ex s/o. They have a bitter ending in their relationship. They loved each other but the stress, and really bad arguing make her leave. What happen? try opposing the wedding? S/O cancel the wedding for her own decision? Or make the wedding to the end and marry? I hope you have a great day.

atsushi kept staring at the invitation card in his hands. the material of the fine art paper only catching the moisture from his now sweaty palms and turning a bit soggy at the spots where his fingertips touched the card. the quality of the paper is really good but atsushi is also going through a weird rush of nervousness.

the embellished ink, the brusher font, the gold and silver fragments adorning the text; all indicate that it is a lavish event and it is one.

you are getting married after all and atsushi would not have expected otherwise. your aesthetic is unmatched and he cannot help but smile softly to himself (even through the nervousness) at the minimal yet eye-catching invitation card.

albeit, he keeps pondering on one question: why the hell are you inviting him, your ex, to your wedding?

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

being in a relationship with atsushi is a huge undertaking. it is not just an emotional investment but a bigger mental one where one always has to be okay with their boyfriend being gone for days and weeks on end. on top of that, even when he is with you, it does not necessarily feel like he is with you, owing to his daydreaming nature. he is often lost in his own thoughts, more often than not replies in weird analogies to even a simple ‘do you want to watch a movie tonight?’ question. one might think that his obsession with food would pose a threat in any kind of romantic relationship that he will be involved in but rather, it is his personality which often metes out cold and unwelcoming responses to which, even a warm person grows desensitized.

it was painful to watch how the relationship turned so sour. life would have been better if he just had a simple tsundere personality but he does not. it is a more ‘i cannot be bothered’ personality which, unfortunately, rubs off the wrong way in most situations, even when you try your best to not let it affect you much. 

he loved you, still does today. the only issue being: he is so bad at emotions that he makes a tsundere look like the most romantic person on earth. he has no hobbies or any kind of general goal in his life. atsushi only ever gets excited when he is facing a particularly strong opponent during a match; basketball being the only thing which burns any kind of flame of passion inside him. even in that field he is usually faced with disappointment because not a lot of people can overcome his level. even if they overpower him with techniques, they usually fail in front of his physical stature. which brings us to a six feet ten inches creature with little to nothing to live for.

one might wonder that he has love in his life so that is a reason to live for, it is one but not a very strong one to keep you going in life. atsushi does not crave for death or any such pessimistic things but he is also not equipped with a lot of optimism every morning that he wakes up.

you are usually by his side, your naked form sprawled next to him, the white sheet on top of your body slipping with every movement your soft actions make and he cannot help but stare. he adores you deeply, is truly in love with you but boy is he lost. he is lost in life, he has no path to go on, has no goal to fulfill, no aspirations to look up to. it is all just a huge question mark and no matter how much he tries to fill the voids in his life with things to do, they always fall short.

basketball has stopped being a sport to him, it is more like a daily workout that his body has grown used to. he does not care about what the coach says or what his teammates expect from him, do they even talk to him? he is not sure anymore, and it certainly does not help much that himuro is gone back to the states.

you on the other side, feel the same way. being with a person who has no inspiration in his life feels counterproductive because it robs you off the energy to work too. you wake up in the morning in an empty bed, the soft rhythmic flow of the washroom shower filling up the ambience. when you first started dating, you two used to stay up all night in each others’ arms talking. talking about everything and nothing, from NASA’s new mars expedition to the new flavour of boba tea unveiling at the local store downstairs, the two of you just had something to talk about but with time everything just faded away into thin lines and soon they disappeared to the point where when you remember the memories of your conversations with him, they feel like fever dreams and not the past reality. the atsushi then and now are two different people but i guess that is what happens when people lose their will to move on in life.

being naturally talented, atsushi has always tasted nothing but victory from the very beginning and that has robbed him of a lot of opportunities for growth; leaving him as an unproductive mess.

most instances, you are supportive of him. you always support him in whatever he decides to do or not do, irrespective of what it is about which kept the relationship alive, really.

the worst part was the arguments which became inevitable day by day. arguments with him were dumb, down right stupid because he never knows what you are upset or angry or frustrated about. it is times like this when his cold behavior really makes an appearance because if he does not care about you or your feelings, why exactly are you in this relationship? why are you constantly trying so hard to accommodate him in any way so he can also find a resolution someday? why are you trying so hard to inspire him, lending him your energy and then coming up as void yourself?

well, every argument ends with him picking you up and throwing you on the bed as you both tear each others’ clothes off. that is the only solace left in the relationship; crazy monkey sex. if it were not for the condoms, one would think you two breed like rabbits. but sex has an expiry date, the physical urges die down and sometimes need the emotional push to go back to the old sexual equation.

which was never present in your relationship in the first place so when you both got tired of makeup sex, the relationship fell apart like a house of cards built on a sandcastle. it was noiseless, weightless. a glance of his eyes told you, he has lost the energy to even fuck you. physically he can, but he cannot look you in the eyes with love and adoration in his eyes like he has always.

so you left; no words, no pleasantries, no painful goodbyes. you woke up one day and just left after moving out your stuff from your shared apartment.

at first you thought life would be hard without atsushi around. your giant of a boyfriend had really grown on you but it was ironically, very easy. you soon fell into a schedule: working, going out with friends, partying in the weekends, going on vacation trips to exotic countries — life kept throwing different experiences at you and you grabbed at them like a man in a dead desert. you were hungry for experiences, for newer things to try and hence never wasted any time to try everything out which effectively kept you quite busy in life, even happy with the buzz. atsushi soon became a past, a past which had kept you chained but now you were free like a bird.

that is how you met your now fiancé, gojou satoru. he was your seatmate on an airplane to the maldives. by the time the plane landed on foreign soil, gojou had you on a laughing train owing to his never ending goofiness. his striking personality amused you to no end. after deboarding the plane, you kept looking at the back of his slender figure waiting for his cab. your hands clutched on the handle of your bag tighter as you fought between the urge to approach him again or quietly walk away.

you have not even been on a date after your break up with atsushi although a lot of people did approach you but you turned them all down claiming that you needed time to replenish your energy that you lost. it was not a lie but it was not the entire truth either. a part of you was also afraid that you would never come to love another man as much as you loved atsushi. but at the moment, standing there at the terminal on either side of the roadway, clearly destined to opposite directions, you could not help but let your feet carry you towards the charming magnet that was gojou satoru.

a slight tap on his shoulder and gentle pleasantries later, you found yourself in his hotel room at night. yes things were moving too fast but nothing in life has ever felt more right than being in the same room as satoru. the actions that followed till the wee hours of the night became a routine during the rest of your trip which went from a solo trip to a couple trip soon, filling up your camera roll faster than any beautiful scenery ever has. he was a ball of joy and you could not help but keep him to yourself, hell with the world if one chooses to call you selfish. you were selfish when it came to satoru.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

atsushi walked in the wedding venue with kuroko. he convinced kuroko to accompany him to the wedding because he had no courage to show up alone, simultaneously he did not want to miss your wedding either. how can he miss it, you are the love of his life, after all.

on a side note, he partly wishes to win you back right before when you and your fiancé exchange vows and then run away with you. where? he does not know but he owes it to you to at least try once, to repay you for all the times that you have tried for him.

he was dressed in a dapper suit that he had to get tailored because of his unusual body specifications. it cost a fortune because of the short time of notice but he looked like the life of a party, contrary to how he last looked like to you: lifeless.

atsushi had tied his long locks back in a low ponytail, the shorter strands in the front falling gracefully near his eyes, lending him a darker yet powerful aura.

he guessed you would in one of the green rooms, still getting ready for the big day ahead. so he excused himself from his blue haired companion who diligently reminded him to not end up doing anything regrettable. the cautious words fell on deaf ears as atsushi walked towards the back of the building with conviction in his eyes, to win you back. yes, he has a goal finally. this is what he needs to do and he will not rest till he achieves it. atsushi felt a rush of adrenaline, a smile on his lips to commemorate the high flow of epinephrine through his veins.

however, instead in one of the changing rooms, he found you sitting in front of the bar. his eyes fell on your figure sat on the bar stool, a glass of what he assumes is gin and tonic in your hand. 

a face full of makeup and yet your natural beauty outshining every product that was sitting atop your skin right now. you were dressed in complete white from head to toe. the dress hugged your figure perfectly, the cleavage though subtle but owing to your sitting position, it let on a deeper delve and he was not complaining. all he could think at the moment was how you would feel now. how would your soft skin feel against his, underneath him again. he is too impatient to find out as he rushed his feet nearer to the bar.

you were laughing, your hand one hand on the bar counter supporting your titled head which was directed at another figure sitting in front of you. atsushi was unable to see who it was because of a huge pillar right in front of his field of vision but he assumes it is probably one of your friends.

he cannot help but feel the same butterflies that he had felt when he first saw you back on the first day of university. you had crashed into him and while he helped you up, all you did was gawk at him because of his height. he was quick to apologize and you were quick to smile back, and the way your eyes crinkled, his heart clenched tighter and it is clenching tightly even at the moment when he noticed the same crinkles forming near the crescents of your smiling eyes, your lips never losing the soft smile.

atsushi feels like he is complete again but as he nears closer to you, instead of one of your girlfriends sitting in front of you, he finds a man there. sitting on a barstool, his figure directed towards you and his knees touching yours. he was dressed in a black suit, the bow tie still undone and just lying around his neck. his silver hair was pushed back, his blue eyes shone like sapphire as they only maintained their gaze at you.

atsushi felt a sudden wave of disheartenment but kept walking till he was in earshot range and heard your laughter. it filled him with absolute joy but what followed the laughter brought him back to the reality.

“satoru that’s enough!” you exclaimed at your fiancé who kept listing the sex position he wants to try with you after marriage. satoru was legit counting on his fingers as he kept thinking of different positions. you kept laughing, embarrassed, hitting his chest when he spews out something dirty.

that is when it hit atsushi who the guy was. he did not miss the name of your fiancé on the wedding card, rather it was etched on the back of his mind. as he was brought back to reality, he started wondering why you were sitting in the bar before your wedding ceremony, talking with your fiancé. you two did not even look like you were getting married in less than a few hours, rather two lovebirds who merely came to attend another’s wedding and that is when atsushi realized, that you are not meant for him.

he suddenly cannot even remember the last time he made you laugh like that or when he had a proper conversation with you.

sitting in front of him, you looked like everything he wanted and needed in life but alas, he does not deserve you. you deserve happiness, you deserve wearing the smile that satoru was giving you, not the hopelessness atsushi ever brought you.

he watched you for a few more moments, your hand slapping satoru’s arm as you blushed uncontrollably at something the man must have said. atsushi inserted his hands in his trouser pockets and turned on his heels, joining kuroko.

“what happened?” kuroko asked, seeing his friend.

“nothing. i am glad i came,” atsushi flashed him a smile, a warm one as his slender fingers undid the hair tie keeping his hair together. with a short shake of his head, he let his hair fall back near his shoulders, running a hand through them to make sure they were untangled.

he has a new goal now: to clap the loudest with a huge smile on his face when you tie the knot with the love of your life because that is what he owes you for all the love that you have bestowed on him. he is blessed to call you the love of his life. 

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

feedback is deeply appreciated.✨

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- jaimie

© 𝟫𝟫𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝟐𝟎𝟤𝟣. 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃.

[thisisthehardestthing]

18+

DEDICATED TO @undermattsun​​

Skate Rat! Kyoutani x Reader

So, if you’ve been following me these past two (?) months, you’ll know that I have become obsessed with Miki’s blog. Not only is she a talented writer with a big brain, but she’s funny and cool and a wonderful person to talk to that has not yelled at me for my dumb thoughts and sliding into her dm’s. Yet.

Thank you, Miki, for giving us Skate Rat content and being you.

Warnings: uh, weed, spit, toxic behavior: possessive, jealous? i dunno. Aged up. They’re in college.

:)

Kyoutani sits across the room, the red flame of the lighter flickering in his wild eyes as he lights the bong, chest expanding as the milky smoke vanishes into his body. His eyes close as he holds his breath; you inadvertently hold yours. When they open and the smoke floats up, he doesn’t look any more relaxed, the frown deepening as he passes the contraption to his left. His bleached hair, with coils tight against his scalp, blends into the eggshell-shaded wallpaper of the basement.

You dated Kentaro for a year when you decided to end things with him. Well, dated is a strong term. You banged for a week straight, he would ghost you, then hit you up again three weeks later saying he was “busy” with “stuff”, before seeing you nightly again for a couple more weeks, this pattern on repeat. And fuck it, he looks good. His loose shirt is unbuttoned save for the third, showing off the tattoo saying ‘MAD DOG’ across his sternum in small block letters, underneath multiple slim silver and gold chains.

He knows you’re watching, making it a point to guide the bong to the girl’s lips next to him. You can see his mouth move as he whispers something sickenly encouraging to her– he always liked ‘em green and fresh– but he laughs when she coughs, dainty, tiny hands clutching at the chest of her too-cute dress. You watch her let out a breathy giggle, but she’s scared, her hands trembling from his overpowering pressure (and probably smell, axe body spray mixed with hash). Your eyes roll as you take another sip from the vodka-red bull in a cheap, scratched, yellow Mickey Mouse cup–you found it in a cupboard in the kitchen.

But the cup bounces, missing your lips and splashing onto your white t-shirt when someone falls down next to you.

“Fuck, Oikawa!” you shout, leaning forward so that the drink runs directly to the already stained carpet. You spot a drop of blood from the night Mattsukawa smashed his nose while crushing a can against his forehead. The man in question chuckles, slinging his long legs over yours as he settles into the couch.

“Reparations?” he holds out a half-smoked blunt, and you glance at his strangely slender fingers, before sighing and taking a deep breath. It burns, you cough, and Oikawa grabs it back from you, checking to make sure it didn’t extinguish.

“What is that mixed with?”

He just raises his eyebrows, taking a leisurely drag. As the smoke filters out of his lips, he says, “Iwa rolled it.”

You wrinkle your nose, but then fall back as your heart drops into your stomach and the entire room spins. Groaning, you clutch at your temple, throat raw from just that puff.

“It’s mixed with dokha,” Oikawa whispers into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. 

You mumble a weak ‘get off’, bumping him back with your shoulder. He’s too close. You feel sick, as though stuck in a vacuum and your feet got sucked in before your head, stomach lurching up– 

“Move,” you curse, shoving Oikawa’s legs from yours as you bend over, head between your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut. Oikawa’s teasing laugh echoes in your ears as you dry heave, forcing yourself to ride the high like a bronco. You’ve had worse, you tell yourself over and over, whispering it as you begin to level out, mellow out, the buzz starting a static that tingles from your toes to your brain.

When you look up again, the room spins, pleasantly. You’re in a galaxy, tumbling through time and space, and you fall back to watch the stars pass by behind your eyelids. Oikawa’s legs find their way back over your knees, but you’re floating too far away to care.

“How does it feel?” he whispers. You can feel the stardust tickling your nose.

“Fantastic.”

You force your eyes open, with more effort than necessary, and your gaze instantly locks with Kyoutani’s. His thick lashes that rim his eyes are a magnet that you find yourself struggling to look away from. That cutesy girl is straddling him, his tattooed hands on the globes of her ass as he guides her grind against his groin. You’d almost feel jealous if it wasn’t for his intense stare licking over your body, swallowing you whole. The girl’s head travels slowly as she sucks on his neck, her fingers poking out from the tops of his hair where she clutches at it. You’re calm, confident even, when your arm lifts and your middle finger extends. It almost feels like you can touch him from across the room. His frown deepens as he rips his stare from you and instead focuses on pulling the girls lips against his.

“Hey, Oikawa,” you chirp, interrupting whatever the fuck he was prattling on about, “wanna fuck?”

Glancing sidelong at his shocked face, you see his lips turn up in a small smile with a shrug, “sure, why not.”

Oikawa lurches to his feet, gentleman-like as he helps you up from the couch, lanky body bending over yours as you find your footing on the constantly osmoting floor. You can feel Kyoutani’s eyes on you as you take Oikawa’s hand to lead him to the stairs of the basement. Hell, even Iwaizumi’s eyes burn into your back as you disappear into the main area of the house.

The lights are brighter here, the smell almost strange as you emerge from the fog and into where Iwaizumi’s mother keeps a clean house. It’s slightly sobering, unfortunately, and you look back at the man dragged by your hands into the bathroom just off the hallway. His eyes shine with excitement, and you sigh as the door closes, locks and his hands find your face.

His fingers have the slightest scent of tobacco to them as his lips press against yours. They’re hard, almost forceful, and you find your nose crunching before you try and relax into the kiss. You haven’t had any action in a while, so you might as well see it through and then dip for the night. The room tilts when your eyes close, letting Oikawa lean over you as you bend back and into him. His palms slide down your neck, squeezing and pawing at your breasts while your mouths slip open and tongues collide.

You think about the eyes that stared at you as you walked from the room, probably knowing exactly where you are, what you’re about to do. It makes your heart pound in your ears, heat flooding to your core, in a steady rhythm. It gets faster, faster and you pull away from oikawa’s mouth with a gasp.

“I swear to God, Toru, you better open this fucking door right fucking now.”

The door rattles in it’s frame as you hear Kyoutani call out in his rough growl from the other side. Oikawa looks down at you, then over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, eyebrows contorting on his pretty face as he pulls himself back from his high-driven lust.

“Are you and Kyo…?” he asks, hands dropping from where they had slipped under your shirt. You shake your head, and Kyoutani bangs on the wood again.

“Toru! I know yo–”

Oikawa whirls around and opens the door fluidly, leaning casually against the frame, “Dude, calm down.”

You peek around Oikawa’s chest, crossing your arms as you stare at the seething man, steam practically billowing from his nose– or it might be the last bong rip remnants. He catches your amused stare, his frown deepening as he pushes past Oikawa, into the bathroom, and between the both of you.

“You can’t sleep with him,” he says over his shoulder to you, keeping a guarded gaze at the man in front of him. Oikawa whistles lowly, whining a ‘dude’, eyes scanning over the situation while your cheeks begin to burn. Did he just–

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t fuck.” You shove Kyoutani on his shoulder, the deep maroon shirt a soft cotton. It takes you by surprise; he always chooses the best fabric. You blink, bringing yourself back to the moment. Back to focus. You’re too high to start an argument.

“Of course I can.”

At Kyoutani’s words, Oikawa quickly raises his hands, saluting a bye to you as he turns on his heel and strides back to the basement, removing himself from the inevitable combustion. Your fists ball tightly, and you quickly shut the door before Kyoutani walks out. It slams closed.

“Why would you think that?” your voice is dangerously low, and Kyo looks over his shoulder at you, eyes slowly tracing up the line of your arm that presses against the wood by his head.

It feels like minutes pass for him to turn around, his body twisting so slowly–head first, then shoulders and chest, then his hips–before he’s finally facing you. The multitude of chains on his neck glints in the ugly fluorescent lighting, and his eggshell hair is stark against the green tiled wall in your peripheral, but his presence swallows you completely. That tattoo is a beacon to your gaze. ‘MAD DOG’, beware, stay back, screams out and you swallow as you lift your stare into his eyes.

The thought of how unfair it is that boys always have such thick lashes crosses your mind, but then Kyoutani licks his lips, and you smell the weed, axe body spray–his scent, just wafting through the air as it fills the bathroom. He shrugs, then chews a hangnail from his left ring finger, not intimidated in the least by your anger.

“You’re mine.”

Suddenly, you’re looking through a crystal glass, his face swirling in a kaleidoscope as memories of his possessiveness rush back into you. A bulldog. He looks at you like a toy, his honey eyes glazing your body until it’s slow and sticky.

“I’m not ‘yours’,” you quote, feeling the heat roll off his body in waves. You take a step back. His hand darts out to hold your neck, strong palms gripping your nape.

“Yes. You are.”

And he crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your protests down his gruff throat and pulling you tightly into his chest. It takes you by surprise, your gasp letting him burst into your mouth with tongue and teeth, and you claw to push him away. The hand on your neck controls you, turns you until you hit the sink with your lower back.

“Kyo,” you mumble, turning your head. His lips moving against your jaw with fire, possessiveness leaching into your skin. “Kyo, stop.”

He’s harder than you remember, your hands gliding down his chest as you push weakly at his sternum. Each touch of his pillowy lips has your knees buckling. His free hand thumbs the hem of your shirt, and you remember something,

“Isn’t that girl looking for you?”

Kyoutani falters, pulling back to stare at you with apparent confusion.

“What girl?”

You beat at his chest, finally able to shove him away. He truly has a one track mind; when he has his sights on something, nothing else matters.

“The one downstairs, that was all over you, that you were all over.”

You press two fingers into the side of his neck where she left a faint mark.

Realisation flickers in his eyes before a lopsided smirk takes over. He grabs the edge of the sink with his tattooed knuckles, pinning his hips against yours. The clouds that are his lips come tantalisingly close to yours again. You scowl.

“You jealous?”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, “you’re the one that ran after me.”

He frowns, mouth turning down, erection crushing painfully into the bone of your groin.

“She’s dumb, can’t handle her weed, and I’m not going to take care of that right now.”

The snort that comes out of your nose surprises you. The feeling of anger towards Kyoutani reluctantly begins to melt away, although you’re slightly worried about leaving that girl alone with the boys downstairs.

“I don’t think I was actually going to fuck Oikawa,” you admit, stretching your arms past his head and resting them in a dangle on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes, stuck like a fly in their syrup.

He slams his lips into yours, the force bending you backwards so that your forearms lock behind his neck to keep yourself close. You’re more prepared for the onslaught of his kiss, tongues dancing to the memory of how it used to be. Fuck, no ones a better kisser than Kyoutani. And you’re breathless when he pulls away to peel the shirt over your head, fingers heading straight for the clasp of your bra. The one track mind flooding back. 

Then again, on weed, you always feel like you’d die if you weren’t fucked right away, desperation seeping into your bones.

Your fingers undo the single button keeping his shirt closed, pushing it off his body and to the floor while he sucks and nibbles on your earlobe. His mouth is hot against your cold skin. You vaguely register that the door is unlocked, but when he grinds against the seam of your jeans, your thoughts are replaced with just how much you missed being touched by him.

Your bare chests press together, disrupting your thoughts of why you stopped sleeping with him. Your nipples harden against the cool metal and small raised ink of his multiple tattoos. The intricate lines of the moth on his breast has you fluttering, and you moan into his mouth.

“Off.” Kyoutani pulls at the loops of your pants, commanding you, making you unbutton your jeans in between sloppy kisses.

You kick the heel of your left shoe off, and your mouth is suddenly lonely when he drops to his knees and drags the pants down your legs hastily. You tug your leg out of the jeans so that you can widen your knees, and hop onto the edge of the sink. Kyo’s rough palms push your chest back until your head hits the mirror and the faucet presses into your spine, but your discontent is cut off when he forces his head between your knees to bite at the tender meat of your inner thighs.

He takes a deep sniff, nose nuzzling into your panties, and you feel your chest flare up, holding your breath.

“You stink,” Kyoutani says with a grin, staring up at you with glazed eyes. Embarrassment burns in your face, you feel yourself crashing down and you kick his shoulder.

“Shut up, it’s not supposed to smell like roses,” you huff, almost closing your legs around his head. He chuckles, deep and throaty, and stops you, a hand keeping one knee open wide. His other comes to your mound, and you feel his thumb pawing just off-centre to your clit.

“A bit to the right, asshole.”

He grumbles, but his finger shifts and you moan, your voice echoing against the tiles, bouncing into your body as you grip the edge of the sink, abdomen tightening. You know it drives him wild to hear you, and your eyes close to revel in the pleasure that’s beginning to build.

“Nah, keep your eyes on me.” Kyotani stops his movements, thumb dropping lower as he feels the slick that’s seeping through the cotton, tucking the fabric between your folds. You glare down at him, eyes shooting open, and shift your ass on the cold ceramic that’s starting to bruise your bones. You feel the static starting in your toes, and you scrunch them at that same time that his tongue presses, flat and wide.

You flinch at how wet his mouth is, (does he even get cotton mouth?) how he knows exactly how to press against your skin to have you grinding your clit against his nose as he laps you up and leaves you thoroughly soaked, tingling. His lips move to suck on your sensitive nerves and you feel those first waves travel through you. Struggling to keep your balance on the sink edge, you arch your back from the faucet, gripping his hair as you pant and groan into your orgasm.

“Oh God,” you moan as he pulls away, licking his lips as he watches your rolling eyes and twitching thighs.

“No, just me,” he smirks, grabbing your jaw with rough fingers and bringing you forward. You wince as the skin beneath your ass rubs over the bone, peeling from the ceramic. You focus on his eyes, the golden glint in them, and at his contorting lips. 

He spits into your mouth.

He lets it fall onto your soft tongue, watching it as it slides down and you swallow it. Your tart taste zings your nerves, and your eyes roll up at how dirty that just was. He chuckles, fingers sliding down to grasp at your hips and pull you off the sink.

Your knees are weak, but you stand, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Your right foot is asleep in your shoe, and you lean onto your left.

“That was gross,” you moan, but you still feel your core clenching in need for more. You grab the back of his head and bring his mouth to yours, licking a long stripe up his jaw. The slight stubble of a fresh shave pricks at your tongue, and you bite his ear. He shudders, pulling his body tighter against yours. The buckle of his belt presses into your stomach, a cold metal, an off-white knock off.

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper, letting your breath tickle his cartilage, feeling the goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. You run his chains through your fingers as he turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“No, we don’t need one.”

Suddenly your chest combusts, and you burst out laughing, forehead falling to his shoulder.

“I do not know where your dick’s been these past few months, Kyo.”

He shrugs, his right hand moving to rub teasing circles into your hip, his other hand lifting your head with your hair.

“You don’t know where my tongue’s been either, and you just came all over it.”

Your mouth shuts, you huff, and push a single finger into his chest, “no rubber, no lovin’, baby.”

He groans, rolling his head, his neck cracking lightly.

“I’m clean.”

“Kyo, no.”

“Just a thigh fuck?”

You give him a pointed stare–you want him in you–and untuck the wedgie of your panties from your folds, beginning to pull your foot back into your jeans. His hand flies to your shoulders, his other digging deep into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, wait, fine, I’ve got one here.”

You smile. You knew it. You did date him for a year.

While he fiddles with his velcro billfold, you tug on his belt, loosening it until it falls open and his pants sag. Your hands stroke languidly up his hard length, while he angrily rips into the golden foil packet with his teeth. He smacks your hand away, and you pout, but watch as he unfurls his thick cock from his underwear. The thought of being stretched out by him again has your toes tingling and fingers twitching. His pants are pulled down to just below his ass–he has the kind that juts out and perks up.

Kyo’s lips find yours again, warm and quick. You feel him fiddling between your bodies, unrolling the condom down his shaft. Once it’s on, his hand grabs your hair, fist tight until you whine at the tug, your neck stretching out for him.

“I really hate condoms,” he grunts, then pulls your skin between his teeth as he sucks a blooming blue mark onto the column of your throat. 

His free hand wanders to your pussy, fingers sliding over the drenched cotton, peeling it to one side so that a thick finger slides inside. You find your fingers in his hair, tugging it as he pumps inside you, his lips never leaving your neck. Your skin bruises, glistens with his spit as he breathes behind your ear, nipping at the lobe. You pull him back against your lips.

As your mouths collide, his cockhead taps at your folds, his fingers circling around your waist to grab at your hips.

“Turn around.”

You glance down to double check, before turning around and come face-to-face with your bloodshot eyes, puffy lips and bitten skin. You watch as Kyoutani spits into his palm, the sound echoing along with your heaving breathing.

“How romantic,” you deadpan while he smooths it over his covered cock. 

He glares up at you, but smirks when he glances back down at your back, the curve of your ass. You make a show of peeling your underwear down until just below your rear, showcasing your cunny for him. Kyoutani grunts, fingers instantly reaching to spread your skin apart.

“Shit, I’ve missed this pussy,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, but you shiver, arching your back. You missed his dick, but you’d never tell him that.

“Fuck me, Kyo” you moan, catching his eyes in the reflection, the malicious smile that spreads on his lips.

“If you insist.”

Then the cold tip of the condom presses against your folds, your slick ample enough that he starts to slip inside. Your fingers grip the ceramic, your eyes rolling back as you feel that stretch that only he can give you. 

Kyoutani enters you slowly, savoring the way you pulse and unfurl around him as he disappears inch by inch inside your beautiful body. A body that was made for his cock, for him. That thought raises goosebumps on his arm, his lower lip pulling between his teeth. Not enough of you is marked as his.

You wriggle against him, whining to feel completely full. His warm palm presses against your middle-back, deepening the arch, his other hand grabbing a handful of ass that sends a dull throb of pain that makes you clench around him. You briefly see his eyes flutter, but when he sees you smiling triumphantly, he slams in, fully sheathed.

You yelp, jerking forward, palm slamming to the mirror before your head hits it.

“Careful,” you pant, breathing deeply, moaning as he leans over you and places a gentle kiss to the top of your shoulder.

That’s the last thing he does you remember coherently. His hips pull out, and he begins his relentless pace, pistoning so that you shake against the sink. He has you bumping into the edge of the ceramic until you’re sure you have bruises against the bone. Curses tumble out of your lips, his name floating around you as endless pleasure pours through your pores.

You don’t know if it’s the high, but you can see stars. Each rut into you pulling your core tighter, clenching around him as his cock kisses your cervix. You vaguely register that warm palm pushing you down even lower, your cheek grazing against the cool metal of the faucet. A particularly rough thrust has your hand flailing, the water turning on and running cold against your heated flesh. Is it misting? You gasp up when it pours into your mouth, water dripping down your chest and between your breasts as he laughs. You brace yourself against the mirror.

In your shock, your body tightens, the slick between your legs spreading messily as he continues to pound into you. You’re just so wet and he’s so warm. A little too warm.

“Fuck, tell me you’re mine,” Kyoutani growls, staring at the way he disappears into your willing body, your aching body. You grit your teeth in defiance. His fingers reach around to rub tantalising circles into your clit, his teeth graze the smooth skin of your back as his moans sink into your skin. Your head drops back in ecstasy.

“Say it!” he barks, thrusts getting sloppier, but his fingers drift away from your clit.

“I’m yours!” you plea, your mouth to keep that coil from unravelling. You feel that pressure, the electricity as it courses up your spine. “I’m yours.”

It’s all you repeat, begging him not to stop until you see nothing but green and yellow and white and, fuck. Your orgasm has you collapsing, your knees buckling in so that you’re held up only by the edge of the sink and Kyo’s hands around your waist, still circling your clit as you draw him into your cunt.

He moans your name, shuddering to a halt inside you, cheek resting sweatily against your skin. You catch your breath, the ascension of your orgasm has you floating and every single hair on your body prickles with hypersensitivity. It almost hurts. The water from the faucet drips off your chest, your hands sliding on the rim of the sink, your thighs slipping together–

Wait.

No.

“Mother fucker!” you groan, shaking him off you as you turn around to stare at his bare dick, the condom discarded and forlorn on the floor. “How fucking dare you.”

 “You told me you’re mine,” he shrugs, wiping the left over cum leaking from the head and licking it with a satisfied grin. Tucking himself back into his pants and picking up his shirt, he continues, “you’ve still got an IUD, right?” 

You just stare incredulously at his cockiness. He pulls the burgundy hand towel from a rung and places it in your limp hand. Your skin crawls, feeling violated, but you’d be lying if you weren’t still turned on by his blatant disregard of your feelings.

“Asshole.”

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, before he leaves you messy, naked and bruised. Exactly how you like it. 

------

<3 I hope you liked it Miki.

I wanted to make Oikawa cry, but didn’t know how.

This is extra, I thought about writing it in but didn’t know how to end it so:

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, “thanks, I’ll call you.”

You know he won’t. You grab his chains, ensnaring his swollen lips with yours, your hands snake between your thighs.

Smack! You slap some of his dripping cum against his cheek, laughing as he angrily wipes at it with the back of his hand.