#was writing in motion and had to write these down

[em1i2a3]

Telescope

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: On a whim, Bob decides to give himself a haircut and immediately regrets it, so you step in to help.

Warnings: No warnings, just pure fluff basically. Maybe a bit of panicked tears because Bob thinks the haircut is bad and he hates the way it looks. A bit of self-deprecation. Reader and Bob are fairly close.

Author’s Note: I was thinking of writing this little blurb for a bit, and I was really in the mood today to go at it! I hope y’all enjoy this little fluff piece! I loved writing it :) <3

Word Count: 3,838

“He’s been in there for an hour!” You heard John say through the lull in your classical music. It was a quiet night at the compound for once, and you were taking full advantage of it–your legs were stretched across the couch in the common room, and your laptop was overheating against your thighs. You had a bunch of mission reports open in a clutter of neglected tabs as you typed in a document your notes and responses. You didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights, relying instead on the amber glow of the floor lamp behind you and the brightness of your laptop screen.

You pulled off your headphones, letting them hang loosely around your neck as the soft swell of cello faded into the ambient hush of the living space. The sound of shuffling feet, low voices, and a few muffled knocks echoed from the hallway that led toward the bedrooms and shared washrooms.

“Bob. Come on. Open up the door.” Bucky chimed in, laced with a kind of concern that immediately made your chest tighten a bit. He knocked again, three short raps that echoed louder than they should have in the calm of the night. Bob had replied but it was muffled. Faint. You couldn’t make out what he said, but you could tell it was definitely strained and unconvincing. You closed your laptop slowly, the fan still whirring like it was on the verge of liftoff, and you swung your legs down off the couch.

John’s voice came again, muttering low and irritable as you padded barefoot across the floor, the cool tile biting pleasantly at your soles.

”There were these stupid clanking noises and he’s literally had the sink running for the entire time he’s been in there. It’s getting on my nerves.” He explained to Bucky as you stepped into the hallway. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his weight shifted to one hip, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a training t-shirt. You approached the two men with a quiet sigh, pushing your hair away from your face, and brushing by Bucky.

“Move over, boys. Let me give it a try.” John rolled his eyes and stepped aside. You could feel their eyes on you as you gently knocked on the door–just a few light taps, barely louder than a whisper. Then, your voice followed, soft and lifting, wrapped in something warmer than concern–affection.

“Bob…Hun? It’s Y/N. Can you open up the door and let me in?” You could hear shuffling, the almost imperceptible sound of something being hastily hidden–maybe a towel, maybe whatever John heard clinking over the water. You saw the two super soldiers exchange a glance, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“…Is it on–only you out there?” Came Bob’s voice, hushed and hesitant. You turned and flicked your hand at the guys–a silent, practiced motion that told them to ‘Go. Shoo.’ Without saying it. Bucky got it immediately, tilting his head to John for the both of them to leave. You didn’t turn to watch them go, but you waited until they were at a safe distance before responding.

”Yes, it’s only me.” A beat passed, then you heard a click. The door cracked open just enough for you to see a sliver of his face–but even in that narrow space, his eyes found yours. Blue, wide, and full of dread. You offered him a small smile.

”Mind if I come in?” Bob hesitated at the question. You could see it in the slight way his thick fingers tightened around the edge of the door. His eyes flicked down, then back up, apologetic and sheepish.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You let out a breath, exasperated but fond.

”Now, when have I ever laughed at you?” There was a beat of silence, then a little huff.

”…Yesterday. When I caught all those chip bags that fell from the to–top of the pantry shelf.” You smiled despite yourself, head tilting to the side.

“That was a laugh of disbelief because it was impressive. I still don’t know how you managed to catch all six of them without a single chip falling.” Bob didn’t respond right away–he just lingered there in the sliver of light between the bathroom and the hallway, visibly weighing his pride against his need for comfort, “Can you let me in now, please?” You added. There was another long pause, then a quiet sigh, heavy with reluctant surrender. He eased the door open just enough for you to slip through, his broad frame shifting back to make space. You stepped in and gently closed it behind you, locking the world out. The bathroom was dark. Warm, humid, and pitch black. You reached out, palm searching the wall beside you, and tapped the light switch with the tip of your finger with a small click.

And your breath caught.

“Oh.” You didn’t mean for it to slip out–but the sight before you caught you off guard. The floor was littered with soft light brown locks of hair. Bob stood in front of the sink, his tall frame awkward in the cramped space, shoulders hunched slightly as if bracing for impact. He was in a plain white t-shirt that was riddled with little tufts of his hair, and a pair of sweatpants that were baggy on his legs. He looked over at you with that nervous, slow-burning panic in his eyes–blue, round, and pleading. His cheeks were flushed, and his mouth parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t.

Your gaze traveled upward, and your heart cracked open.

His hair–once long, soft, and light brown, always tied back in a loose, low bun or left to brush against the collar of his hoodies–was now butchered. Cut in rushed, uneven sections. Mid-neck length in places, higher in others. A dramatic slant to the right, like gravity had won halfway through the attempt. You weren’t sure if he’d gone in trying to layer it or simply panicked mid-process, but the result was brutal.

The counter was a battlefield. Hair everywhere. Clumps in the sink, damp strands on the floor, a wet towel bunched up on the edge of the tub. A pair of dull kitchen scissors–your kitchen scissors–lay next a near-empty bottle of conditioner.

Bob didn’t speak. He just stood there with his hands clasped in front of him like he was waiting for a verdict. His posture was so tense, it almost looked like he was trying to disappear into himself, and he winced under your eyes.

”…It’s ba-bad isn’t it?” You didn’t deny his statement. You took another step towards him, eyes still gently scanning the damage.

“Did you at least wet it before you started?” The blush in his cheeks deepened as he squeezed his hands together.

“I think I made it worse by do–doing that.” You let out a soft sigh, and closed the space between you and Bob so you were practically chest to chest with one another. He didn’t dare move during this. Slowly, you reached up, brushing your fingers along the uneven locks that framed his forehead, pushing it back away from his eyes. It was damp to touch, and a few stray strands clung slightly to his forehead.

“Why did you do this, hmm?” You asked softly. There was no accusation in your tone, no teasing, no heat. Just a quiet question–one you asked with the tenderness of someone who knew the answer might hurt to give. Bob exhaled, long and low. His eyes dropped to the floor. You watched the line of his throat shift as he swallowed hard. You reached up again, letting your hand settle on the side of his face. Your thumb traced a slow arc along the ridge of his cheekbone, and your fingers curled against the warm, faintly stubbled edge of his jaw. You knew how touch worked with Bob–how the right kind of physical grounding calmed him better than words. How he leaned into any softness that was given to him because it made him focus on something other than the noise that plagued his brain.

His lashes fluttered slightly at your touch, and then barely above a whisper:

”I…Wanted to clean up before those stupid pr–press photos tomorrow…I just…Didn’t want to look like shit next to everyone else.” Your heart clenched. You almost smiled–but it was a sad, aching thing. Because it was so him to say that. To stand there, big and brave and heartbreakingly gentle, and still think he didn’t measure up. You let out a small, warm breath–half sigh, half laugh.

“Bob,” You started softly, your thumb stroking along the delicate skin under his eye, “We were going to have hair stylists. They would’ve fixed you up just fine.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head, like that hadn’t occurred to him at all. His posture slumped, shoulders rising with a tense inhale.

”Oh…” You let your hand slide a little lower to cup his jaw gently. His temperature had risen beneath your fingers–probably from the growing embarrassment that he tried not to show, even though his body betrayed him.

You tipped his face toward you again.

”Hey,” You murmured, voice low and steady, “Let me help you fix this, alright?” For a second, he didn’t speak, he just blinked at you. Then something in his expression softened–like the worst of the shame was beginning to slip away. He gave you the barest nod.

“Okay…” He breathed, and it was so small, so worn down, it barely reached your ears. You brushed your thumb across his cheekbone one last time, then reached behind him to grab the comb.

“We’ll go a bit shorter,” You started, combing his hair gently to untangle the worst of the frayed, uneven sections along his head, “And we’ll do a bit of a side part to cover up some spots so it looks even, and clean it up around your ears…” You trailed off for a second then looked up at him, “Does that sound good to you?” He nodded quickly.

”Anything is good…As lo–long as you can fix it.” You gave him a small smile–genuine, warm, meant to soothe the frayed edges of his pride.

“Alright then. Just sit down on the toilet lid and I’ll go grab actual hair cutting scissors from my room.” He obeyed without protest, cheeks still a little flushed, eyes following you like he was afraid you might not come back. But he sat down, shoulders hunched a little, towel still around him like some kind of shield.

You slipped out of the bathroom and padded down the hallway, the tile cool beneath your feet. You passed John and Bucky’s voices in the distance, muffled, like the low buzz of a conversation you weren’t quite meant to hear.

You pushed into your room, went straight to your nightstand, and opened the top drawer. There they were–your good scissors. The ones you kept for quick trims, for fixing up your own hair when it got unmanageable or snipping tags off new clothes. The ones you actually sharpened and cleaned. The ones Bob should have waited for.

You picked them up with care, then turned on your heel and padded back down the hall.

When you returned to the bathroom, the door still cracked just slightly from where you’d left it, he was right where you’d left him–perched on the toilet lid, hunched over with his hands between his knees, towel draped across his shoulders. Waiting. His reflection caught yours in the mirror as you pushed the door open again, stepping into the room quickly and closing the rest of the compound off again. He sat up a little straighter, almost like he’d been holding his breath the entire time you were gone.

You placed the scissors gently down on the sink beside the comb, then turned to stand in front of him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, his voice–quiet, tentative.

“You…Do this a lot?”

You tilted your head a bit, amused.

”When I was at my training camp I used to cut my teammates hair all the time, but apart from that I sometimes give myself a quick trim or something, just to fix the annoying parts. Here’s my portfolio.” You said, motioning to your own head for him, almost as a joke. His lips perked up a little, not quite a full smile, but the edges softened with the beginnings of one.

”Alright…I’m trusting that you won’t give me a bowl cut.” You gave a soft snort, grabbing the comb off the counter and stepping in close again, standing between his knees. His legs were spread just enough for you to work comfortably, but the space between you felt close–intentional. He didn’t pull away as you raised your hand and began gently brushing back the damp strands, following with the comb.

“I won’t give you a bowl cut,” You said with mock solemnity. “Or a bob. Though… it would be kind of poetic to put Bob…In a bob.” He groaned immediately, a fond sort of sound that signalled to you that he was too tired to fight off your terrible jokes even though it secretly comforted him.

”You’re lucky I need you right no–now…Or else I would’ve left the room.” His tone was flat, but his eyes glinted.

”That joke was gold and you know it.” He rolled his eyes again and leaned his head forward slightly as you worked, letting you angle the strands as you needed. The movement was almost shy–like he didn’t want you to see how much he was enjoying the gentle way your fingers moved through his hair.

You ran the comb along the crown of his head, slow and careful. The teeth of it dragged softly over his scalp, smoothing the tangle of butchered layers and calming the chaos one section at a time.

You felt it before you saw it: the tiny shiver that ran up his spine.

It was subtle. Barely there. But his posture shifted, just a little. His breath hitched for half a second. And the back of his neck flushed the faintest shade of pink.

You paused for a heartbeat, just enough for him to notice.

Then said, gently teasing:

“You okay there?” Bob let out a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh, or a sigh. Maybe both.

“Feels nice.” The words left him in a breath, like he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. You gave a soft smile, parting his hair gently with the comb again as you leaned in.

“Alright, I’m going to start… Ready?” He gave you a short nod, eyes still closed, his breathing steady.

The first few snips were small. Deliberate. You combed the trimmed pieces out, letting the soft fluffs of hair fall down onto the towel around his shoulders like snow. You continued, moving around him as needed, tilting his chin with two fingers when the angle required it, brushing the longer strands aside so you could clean the neckline.

Bob didn’t move unless you moved him.

Didn’t speak unless you spoke first.

His eyes stayed closed, brows relaxed, body slack in a way that almost made it seem like he was asleep. You paused mid-trim and tilted your head.

“Feeling okay?” You asked softly, your breath hitting just above his ear.

A pause. Then a low, barely-there hum.

“Mhm…Trying to not sw–switch.” You blinked. That made you straighten up slightly.

“Switch?” You echoed. “What…Sentry likes getting his haircut?” You teased, which earned you a breathy laugh–quiet, and muffled, but unmistakable.

“It feels good,” He murmured. “The comb dragging across my scalp is comforting, and it makes me all…Fuzzy. So don’t tease.” You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“Who knew the Sun God liked being pampered.” You said it under your breath, half-laughing to yourself as you trimmed another section near his jaw, making sure the new angle framed his cheekbones just right. Suddenly, one of the shampoo bottles in the shower behind you thudded loudly to the ground, ricocheting against the porcelain with a sharp clatter. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even turn around.

You just reached across Bob’s shoulder, brushed another lock of hair back, and muttered:

“And he also likes trying to scare people.”

Another laugh. This one a little stronger, a little more him.

“It’s not my fa–fault. He likes making his presence known in odd ways.” You let the comb still in your hand, pausing mid-motion as you tilted his chin up gently with your fingers. His skin was warm beneath your touch, flushed pink at the jaw and neck. You studied his face–soft under the bathroom light, half in shadow, half shimmering.

“Well,” You started quietly, your voice dropping into something close to a murmur, “He’s a coward if he won’t show himself, hm?”

There was a pause.

And then, through the lowered veil of his lashes, a flicker of something not entirely Bob brewed beneath the surface. A gleam. His irises shimmered–gold blooming in threads over blue like sunrise bleeding through ocean water. He peeked up at you with a sleepy, amused look that didn’t quite belong to the man slouched on the toilet seat just moments ago.

“Now coward is just below the belt,” He murmured, voice smoother, deeper, teasing. “And it’s not fair when I’m being suppressed.”

You gave him a slow, playful smirk, shifting your weight just enough that your thighs bumped his knees gently. “Hello to you too, Sentry.” He let out a sound that was part huff, part chuckle. His hand drifted toward the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged at a clump of soft hair clinging to the fabric, flicking it off to the side as he continued to pluck at you.

”What has Bob done to himself now that has earned this type of care?” You returned to trimming, letting the rhythm of it settle between you both–the soft snick of scissors, the drag of the comb, the quiet hush of his breath. It was a strange kind of intimacy. Domestic. Ordinary. And yet…Not. Not when it was Bob Reynolds–or Sentry now, technically–relaxed and pliant beneath your touch, glowing eyes half-lidded with something halfway between mischief and calm.

“He tried to give himself a bit of a haircut,” You said, delicately snipping away at a choppy section just behind his ear, “And well… Now it’s like this.” You swept the trimmed ends off his shoulder with a quick brush of your fingers. “Did you not want a makeover?” He hummed, the sound deep and velvety in his chest. His hands, meanwhile, kept drifting toward your thighs. Gently, rhythmically. Flicking off the tiny tufts of hair that had clung stubbornly to your sweatpants like static dust. You paused to glance down at him–at the quiet way he seemed almost preoccupied with grooming you now, chasing strands off your legs as if they offended his sensibilities.

“I liked my long hair,” he said quietly, not looking up. “Can’t make the decisions though… God forbid.”

You softened at that–at the small swell of bitter resignation behind the words. You didn’t tease him this time. You didn’t joke. Just let out a soft, knowing sound through your nose and said, “Oh to be your own person, right?” That made him glance up at you–eyes aglow, amusement flickering around the edges of something older. Deeper. His expression was half-shadowed by the angle of the bathroom light, but the glow in his gaze was unmistakable.

“You’re being extremely sarcastic and sassy today.” You shrugged, ruffling his freshly trimmed light brown hair with a gentle pass of your fingers.

“You don’t come around often enough to know my personality…Because I’m always like this.” He didn’t argue. He just looked up at you through the gold-threaded glow of his lashes, then dropped his gaze again to your thighs. His warm hands ran slowly down the sides, brushing away another few stray hairs with careful precision–more deliberate than necessary.

“Sounds like you want me around more often,” He murmured, almost offhanded.

You froze for a beat, scissors poised mid-air.

Then, softly: “I wouldn’t mind. We’ve got a good dynamic.” You tilted your head, eyes meeting his. “Though I prefer Bob’s calmness…And the fact he doesn’t make me sweat when I’m standing in his vicinity.”

That earned a sly smile–lazy and infuriatingly smug. “I make you hot?” You rolled your eyes and combed your fingers through his hair again, making sure it was even.

“Temperature-wise, Sentry. Don’t twist my words.” He chuckled, but it was quiet, rich. Almost pleased. You stepped back a little to get a better look at your work, eyes skimming over the new shape you’d carved out of the disaster he’d given you to work with. It was definitely shorter. The jagged lengths were gone. The uneven patches now smoothed into softer layers, framing his jaw and cheekbones just enough to make the cut feel deliberate. Styled.

You tipped your head and nodded once. “I think it’s good.”

Sentry let out a deep sigh, dropping his head back with dramatic flair.

“Great. So I lost all my hair,” He grumbled, “And only got a few minutes of you basically giving me a scalp massage. This sucks.” You barked a laugh, tossing the comb onto the counter beside the scissors.

“Well next time you should just ask for one if you’re so desperate.”

He scoffed faintly, brushing another stubborn strand off your thigh with the tip of his fingers. “I’m not desperate. I just like it.” You smirked, watching him pretend not to enjoy the way your eyes lingered on his face a little longer than necessary. He ran his hand down your leg again, slow and deliberate, flicking away a final tuft gently. His eyes followed it as it floated to the floor, then dragged lazily back up to yours.

“Now I’m annoyed,” He muttered. “Not only by these stupid pants being filled with hair, but the fact that I missed out.”

Your brow lifted. “Missed out on what?”

“On you doing this earlier. On the part where you touch my hair like that and call me pretty in your head.”

You laughed–warm and bright–letting the weight of the night finally settle into something softer.

“Maybe next time, Sun God.”

He tilted his head at that, eyes glowing faintly again. “Promise?”

”Promise.”

[kdh-tally]

Heyooo! I just wanted to say thank you so much for doing my Miromabby headcanon request. I absolutely loved it! 🥹💖

Sooo I have another idea I’d love to share. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever thought of this before, but… what if there were sasaengs but they’re demons, who are dangerously obsessed with the Huntrix? Like, full-on stalking and even attempting to kidnap them because of their twisted fan infatuation. It starts to genuinely scare or annoy the girls.

How would the Saja boys react to this? What would they do if they witnessed a Huntrix being targeted or kidnapped right in front of them?

Huntr/x Struggling with Demon Sasaengs

Prompt : A few demons seemed to have grown too fond of Huntr/x

Author's Note : I feel like i've been writing so much angsty stuff lmao but I love it ;P I enjoyed writing this one though and have more ideas for a possible part 2!! And you are so welcome for the Miromabby request <333 I love them so much.

The Fan Isn’t Human

It started with flowers.

Zoey thought they were from a fan who worked at the florist near their company, but the same exact bouquet, red lilies wrapped in black silk, showed up five days in a row. Then at night. Then directly at the door of their penthouse.

She didn’t say anything at first. Told herself it was just a persistent fan with no sense of boundaries. But then one of her old training photos, one she had never posted, was pinned between the petals.

There was no return address. No obvious form of identification. Just a disturbing aura around each gift.

Rumi tore hers in half the second she saw it and dumped it in the trash. She didn’t let sasaengs get to her, not anymore. They had dealt with this before. She made Bobby tighten security around both the penthouse and company dorms.

Mira had laughed at hers, brushing it off. She wasn’t the type to get scared, and she hated seeing the other girls so shaken. The girls were trained and powerful hunters. Who would dare come against them?

That changed the night a package appeared inside their living room. It was wrapped in black thread. Filled with photos taken without their knowledge. Images of them sleeping, training, eating. Some from inside the dorm.

Their penthouse was supposed to be locked down.

They started locking the windows.

–

Baby was the first to piece things together.

He saw Rumi getting quieter. Zoey’s excitement felt more like forced energy. Mira had started glancing behind her even when no one was there.

At first, he thought it was just comeback pressure. But that changed the night he came back from a snack run and saw it in the elevator. A sigil etched faintly into the steel panel.

It was traced in so lightly that he almost didn’t notice it. It was old demon magic, and carved into the center were all three of their names.

He took a photo and showed it to the boys the next morning.

“They’re demons,” Baby said. “Pureblood and obsessive. They’re feeding off the girl’s energy.”

Mystery leaned over his shoulder. “Do the girls know?”

“They’ll think it’s sasaeng fans,” Jinu muttered, pacing. “They’d never expect actual demons.”

Romance zoomed in on the image, jaw tight. “They’re targeting all three. And they’re getting bolder.”

–

It happened two days later.

Mira had wrapped up her solo recording early. She told staff she’d walk back alone—it was only ten minutes. She wore her hood up, Takedown blasting through her headphones, eyes trained on the ground.

The first one stepped out of an alley halfway home. He wore a Huntrix hoodie and smiled in a way she didn’t like. He had a familiar face. Maybe someone from a fan call.

She hesitantly raised her hand in greeting.

Then two more appeared behind her.

Then the chanting started.

Her gut dropped. She moved fast, dropping her bag and summoning her guandao in one motion. The magic of the Honmoon burst around her in a burst, but it didn’t push them back.

Why weren’t they weakening?

“You belong to us,” one of them said. “We’ve been watching. Waiting. You shine so beautifully.”

“Try me,” Mira sneered.

They lunged.

She fought them off fast and defensive. They didn’t try to kill her. They kept reaching for her, grabbing. One of them nearly clipped her arm. Her blade sliced clean through another’s sleeve, but he didn’t seem hurt. 

Her breathing hitched. Her footing slipped.

And then heat slammed into the alley.

Abby landed hard beside her, flames curling around his fists. The air shifted, warped by magic. His voice was sharp.

“You seriously thought you could touch her and walk away?”

The demons hissed, retreating into the shadows. But before they vanished completely, one of them locked eyes with Abby.

“We’ll try again.”

–

They relocated to Bobby’s beach house. No one outside the two groups knew they were there. The girls sat at the kitchen table in silence. Mira’s arm was bandaged. Zoey hadn’t spoken much all night. Rumi kept glancing at the door, her knee bouncing anxiously as though waiting for someone to burst in.

“You’re being watched,” Jinu said.

“We’re fine,” Mira answered, but her voice wavered.

Jinu didn’t move. “You don’t have to lie.”

Baby leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “There was a sigil in your penthouse. An enchanted one. It’s ancient. They’re not just stalking you. They’re trying to bond themselves to you.”

“Fans who turned into demons?” Rumi asked.

“Worse,” Abby said. “They’re demons who became fans.”

Zoey curled tighter on the counter. “I thought we were done with demons.”

“We’ve dealt with enemies before,” Mira said. “Gwi-ma, cursed letters, blackmail—”

“But this?” Rumi asked. “This feels different.”

“The Honmoon doesn’t even affect them. It’s like they’re resistant to our weapons” Mira mumbled, remembering how none of the demons dispersed even after she attacked them.

“They’re not trying to hurt you,” Romance said, entering the room. “They’re trying to own you. All of you.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Rumi asked.

Jinu answered before anyone else could.

“You don’t do anything,” he said. “We do.”

The waves outside were loud enough to fill the silence.

Everyone had filtered out of the kitchen, Mystery the last, quiet and unreadable. Only two of the girls remained. Zoey hadn’t moved from the counter. Rumi was sitting on the floor, her back against the cabinets, arms resting on her knees.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

Zoey exhaled slowly, her head tipped against the cupboard behind her. “I can’t stop thinking about that picture,” she said.

Rumi looked up.

“The one in the flowers,” Zoey explained. “The photo of me from trainee days. That was taken through the dorm window. My blinds were half shut. I remember that night.”

She shook her head. “I was lying on the floor, doing stretches and watching a c-drama. I wasn’t doing anything special. But they were there. Watching.”

Zoey pulled her sleeves over her hands. “I know sasaengs are always intense, but this is different. They’re not after our time or attention. They don’t want photos. They want us. Like, actually take us.”

Rumi’s fingers tapped against her leg. She let the girl ramble. They both needed this.

Zoey went on, more quietly now. “I don’t know what’s worse. That they’re demons, or that they act exactly like the humans we’ve been trying to ignore.”

There was another pause. Rumi finally leaned her head back against the cabinet.

“I always thought I could handle this stuff,” she said. “Sasaengs. Obsession. Jealousy. Whatever came with the job. I’ve always thought I could handle myself.”

Zoey nodded. She knew that about Rumi. They all did.

“But this?” Rumi’s voice lowered. “They got into our home. They left that box on our couch. We were just sitting there hours before. Laughing. Eating.”

Zoey didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.

“I hate that I felt scared,” Rumi said. “I hate that they’re going to keep trying, even with the boys watching.” She wasn’t angry, just tired.

Zoey looked at her.

“They won’t get us though,” Rumi said, finally meeting her eyes. “No matter how many flowers they send or how many spells they chant. They don’t get to have us.”

Zoey nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

They didn’t say anything else for a while. They just stayed in the kitchen, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

[formulafanfics13]

can you write oscar x model!reader, in which she is the complete opposite of him, life of the party and very out going, and at a club he sees lando flirting with her and gets very possessive.

Mine When It Matters - OP81 🔥

masterlist

Summary: Oscar reluctantly joins a night out at a loud club, only to watch you flirt with Lando right in front of him. Jealousy turns into possessiveness. After a sharp confrontation, he drags you into the bathroom and reminds you who you belong to — with his mouth, his hands, and every brutal thrust. The night ends with his hand in yours, grip unshakable, tension simmering. You adore him like this: quiet, controlled, just a little bit feral.

Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, public flirtation, aggressive dirty talk, club bathroom sex, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, slight dom/sub vibes, praise/degradation mix, mildly feral Oscar Piastri, territorial energy, Lando being a little shit. Ends soft(ish) but still hot.

Oscar had no business being in this club. The music was too loud, the lights too harsh, the drinks watered down and overpriced. But he’d said yes because everyone was going. Because Lando had dragged him out. Because you had texted him with a “come out, be fun, I promise not to leave your side.”

You, who practically thrived in places like this. You, who walked into any room like the main character and didn’t wait for permission to be adored.

You, who were currently pressed up against the bar, laughing in Lando’s face like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world, head thrown back, fingers brushing his arm, hips swaying to the beat of whatever bass-heavy track was shaking the floor.

Oscar watched from across the room, drink untouched in his hand. And he burned. Not because you were doing anything wrong. Not because he didn’t trust you. But because Lando fucking knew.

He knew you were Oscar’s. He knew you were dating. He knew how long Oscar had quietly worshipped you before working up the nerve to ask you out. He knew. And still.

There he was. Grinning like a smug little shit. Leaning in closer. Whispering something in your ear. You giggled. Oscar saw red.

You noticed the moment he started walking over. He moved like someone at war. Calm. Controlled. But with a heat in his eyes that made your thighs clench before he’d even touched you.

Lando stepped back slightly, registering the shift. “Hey, mate-”

“She’s with me.” Oscar didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. It was low. Firm. Enough to make your pulse jump.

Lando blinked. “I know that-”

“Then maybe back the fuck off.”

Your mouth dropped open. You didn’t know whether to laugh or drag him into the nearest dark corner and wreck him.

Lando raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Jesus.”

Oscar didn’t even look at him again. He looked at you. “You think this is funny?” he murmured.

You bit your lip. “A little.”

“You like teasing me like this?”

You shrugged. “You like when I get attention.”

“No.” He stepped in closer. Voice a little rougher now. “I like when you get attention from me.”

Your breath caught. “Oscar-”

“Bathroom. Now.”

You barely made it inside before he slammed the door behind you. The music thumped faintly through the walls. The light was a flickering mess. The air smelled like vodka and sex and regret. And none of it mattered.

Because Oscar was already lifting you onto the counter, mouth crashing into yours, hands sliding under your dress like he didn’t care who heard.

“Flirting with him right in front of me,” he muttered between kisses. “You wanted to see me like this.”

You gasped. “Maybe.”

He growled, actually fucking growled, and yanked your panties down in one sharp motion.

“You’re mine,” he said, sinking to his knees like it was a promise.

You choked on a moan as his tongue met your cunt. Messy. Rough. Desperate.

He ate you out like it was personal. Like every swipe of his tongue was a claim, a brand, a fucking signature. You came fast. Clutching his curls, legs trembling, crying out his name like it was the only word left in your vocabulary. He stood up. Kissed you. Let you taste yourself on his lips.

“You’re not walking out there until you remember who you belong to.”

And then he fucked you. Hard. Deep. Possessive. Bent over the sink, hand in your hair, hips snapping into yours like the whole club could burn down and he wouldn’t stop. “You think anyone else can make you feel like this?”

You shook your head, eyes rolling.

“Say it.”

“No one,” you moaned. “No one but you.”

He kissed your neck. Slowed down. Let the filth melt into something softer.

You whined. He chuckled. “I’ve got you, party girl.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night. Even when Lando raised an eyebrow across the dance floor. Even when you winked at Max, made Charles laugh, air-kissed some fashion exec who looked like he wanted to eat you alive.

Oscar just held you close. The quiet boy with the loudest grip. You liked him like this. Jealous. Controlled. Just a little feral. And the second you leaned in and whispered, “You know I’m only yours, right?”

He just smirked. “I know. But I don’t mind reminding you.”

[dirtyl0ver]

Is it alright to request something with the creeps and a corruption kink/virginity taking? I really like you're writing so I would love to see your take on it :3 you can use any creep

anon omg YES you can request that!! thank you for being so sweet about it 🥺 corruption kink + virginity taking is chef’s kiss

Also, when I think of corruption kink I immediately think of Ben lol. This man lives to ruin someone sweet and wide-eyed - he's smug, teasing, full of filthy confidence.

Also, had to include Toby, Jeff and Tim/Masky 😌 Enjoy!!

CW: Sexual content, corruption kink, manipulation, virginity taking, bleeding, power imbalance

Summary: The guys popping your cherry (Includes BEN Drowned, Ticci Toby, Jeff the Killer, Tim Wright/Masky)

Wordcount: 3.5k

BEN Drowned

He finds out you're a virgin during some lazy late-night conversation, half sprawled in his lap, surrounded by the blue glow of a screen and half-finished snacks. He pauses, controller still in hand, then slowly turns to look at you - and the grin that spreads across his face is fucking dangerous.

“Wait. Wait-wait-wait. You’ve never? Like… at all?”

You shake your head. A little shy, maybe. But his grin doesn’t fade - it shifts. Turns sharp around the edges, a little hungrier. Like you just handed him the most delicious, forbidden secret and now he doesn’t want to do anything but play with it.

“Holy shit. That’s… hot.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late,” he smirks. “Now I have to be your first. You can’t just drop that on me and expect me to be normal about it.”

The teasing continues for days - he’s relentless, but in that silly, friendly way that somehow makes you laugh even while your face heats up. He texts things like “you ever even seen a dick irl?” and then follows it up with “kidding (unless)”. Every kiss from then on gets deeper, slower, his hands wandering just a little further each time.

He doesn’t pressure you. Well... maybe a little.

And when you finally whisper, “Okay. I want to,” he gets quiet for a beat. Blinks a few times. Then that grin comes back - smaller, softer this time, but no less intense.

“Yeah? You want your first time to be with me? That’s kind of fucked. But alright, I like it.” Like he wasn't the one who suggested it in the first place.

That night, he’s calmer than you’ve ever seen him. Still high, probably, but focused - too focused. The room is dim, still humming with faint monitor light. He takes his time stripping you down, but not in some cheesy, slow-motion romance way, more like he’s watching your reactions with almost scientific curiosity. Fingertips skimming your thighs, lips brushing your collarbone. He chuckles when you shiver.

“So sensitive already,” he murmurs. “God, you’re killin’ me.”

When he finally gets you beneath him, he lets his weight rest over you. He kisses you messy, wet, open-mouthed, with just a hint of tongue and teeth. His hands stay busy, stroking your thighs, pushing your legs apart slowly as he presses against you.

“You sure about this?” he asks, voice hoarse, hair falling in his face.

When you nod, he groans softly - more to himself than anything else - and grins, that cocky little thing that never leaves his face.

“Fuck. You have no idea what you’re letting yourself in for.”

He’s careful, but not overly so. He’s not trying to make it romantic, this isn’t a fairy tale. But he makes sure you’re very wet, makes sure you’re relaxed. And when he finally starts to push in, he goes slow, but keeps talking.

Not to soothe you. But to tease you through every single second.

“Shit– tight. No one’s stretched you before, huh? You feel like you’re gonna suck me in and never let go.” “This is so fucked. You're gonna remember this every time you try to fuck anyone else. They’re never gonna feel like this.” “You like that? You like being split open by your first?”

Every movement is measured - shallow thrusts, slow rocking of his hips, building rhythm while you adjust to him. He watches your face like it’s his favorite game. Not just checking for discomfort, but drinking in every blink, every gasp, every startled moan like it’s his reward.

And once he feels your body start to relax, start to want, that teasing turns darker. His voice drops. He leans close.

“Told you I’d ruin you. You’re already hooked, huh?” “Bet you thought your first time would be sweet. Instead, you’re grinding up into me, begging me to go harder.” “Fuck. Look at you. You’re so pretty like this.”

He doesn't pound you into the mattress. He doesn’t need to. He works you open inch by inch, letting your body crave him. The pleasure builds gradually - and when you finally cum, he watches with something that almost looks like awe.

Then he fucks you through it, not stopping. He has to feel it. The way your body changes. The way your voice breaks when it’s too much but you want more.

He doesn’t last long. He’s too turned on. You’ve been gripping him like a vice the whole time. When he cums, he buries his face in your neck, breathing hard, laughing, just a little.

“You were so not ready for that. Holy shit.”

Afterward, he doesn’t get sappy. He pulls you into his chest, wraps an arm around you, passes you the blunt. All the while, he’s planning how he’ll have you next.

Now that he’s felt you, now that he knows how easily you open up for him, how sweetly you break? He's thinking about pushing you further. Making you beg. Tearing away what’s left of your innocence, piece by piece, until you’re gasping for him, ruined just the way he wants you.

Because once Ben has his hooks in you, there’s no going back.

Ticci Toby

It comes out after a kiss that lingers too long.

You’re straddling his lap in your bed, hoodie strings wrapped around your fingers, and his hands twitching at your waist like he can’t decide whether to squeeze you or bolt. You’re flushed, lips swollen, and when he murmurs something about how hot you sound when you moan like that, you let it slip - soft, almost shy:

“I’ve… never done this before.”

The change in him is immediate.

His whole body goes still under you. No stuttering, no tics. Just wide, stunned eyes staring up at you. “You serious?”

You nod, suddenly nervous.

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Not at first. He just licks his lips, breath catching a little, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough around the edges. “You t-telling me I get to be the first guy to– fuck you? Woah.”

He leans his forehead against yours for a moment, and you feel how hard he’s breathing. How tight he’s holding you. “You sure you want that? With m-me?”

You nod. And he groans. Long and low, like the sound is being dragged from his throat. “Alright,” he mutters. “You asked f-for it.”

Toby’s hesitant at first. His hands tremble when he pushes your shirt up. His lips are soft, shaky, brushing your skin in quick little kisses - almost like he’s saying sorry in advance. But as your body relaxes under his touch, his grip starts to tighten. His voice drops. And that boyish smirk - the one he flashes when he knows he’s getting under your skin - starts creeping in.

“God, you’re so– so warm already. You want this. Bet you’ve b-been thinking about me between your l-l-legs, huh? Jerking off to the– t-the thought of me fucking you stupid…”

You roll your hips into him and he twitches, nearly choking on his own groan.

When you finally get undressed, he hesitates - just for a second - then pulls his hoodie off with a nervous laugh. “Heads up baby, I’m n-not exactly small.”

You glance down the moment he pulls down his pants and boxers, and yeah - he’s not lying.

It’s thick, heavy, flushed at the tip. Your stomach clenches with a mix of heat and nerves. He notices. Grins again - lopsided and twitchy - but his hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll go... slow. Just b-breathe, yeah?”

He lines himself up, hand on your hip, eyes flicking between your face and where he’s pressing against you. The first push in is hard. The stretch burns - more than you expected - and your breath hitches.

“Fuck–fuck, wait,” you whisper.

He freezes, glances up at you.

“Too much?” he asks, voice cracking. “Shit–I knew I was gonna hhhh-hurt you…”

You shake your head, gripping his arms, nails digging into his shoulders. “No, just... give me a second.”

He nods quickly, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, muttering into your skin. “I’m sorry, baby. You’re just s-so tight. I swear I– I'm trying…”

You feel it when he pulls back slightly, then presses in again, slower this time. It still hurts. Not unbearable, but raw - the kind of pain that’s sharp and deep, laced with heat and pressure. He stretches you wide, forcing your body to open around him inch by inch.

“Fffffuck, your pussy's gripping me” he groans.

Once he bottoms out - fully seated inside, both of you shaking - he stays there. Kisses your collarbone. Nuzzles your jaw. His voice is low, shaky, almost pleading. “You okay?"

You nod again - barely able to speak - and rock your hips the slightest bit.

That’s all it takes.

His hands clench your thighs. His hips jerk, and suddenly, he’s moving - not rough, not yet, but deep. Slow thrusts that grind against something inside you that has your whole body tensing.

And it hurts. He's huge, and you’re sore, and too full, and you can feel that sting - the kind that tells you you’ll probably bleed a little. But it’s not bad. It’s real. Raw. Messy.

Toby looks wrecked. Jaw clenched. Eyes glazed. Hair falling into his face as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, l-look at you. Tuh-taking me so good, even though it hurts. You like that, h-huh? Like m-m-me ruining you?”

There’s a smugness in his voice now. And it only gets worse when he feels you tighten around him, moaning through the burn.

“Knew you’d be l-like this. Knew you’d be p-perfect inside.”

He gets carried away fast.

The pace picks up. His grip tightens. The bed creaks. He mutters praise, filth, and ragged gasps into your ear, every movement more frantic than the last.

When you feel that first sharp ache - that slight sting, wetness between your thighs that’s not just slick, but blood - you know it’s from him. From how big he is. From the way your body wasn't quite ready.

You whisper, “I think I’m bleeding,” and Toby freezes.

“What? Shit. Are you o-okay? Is it b-bad?”

You’re breathless. Shaking. But you nod, even as your body clenches around him. “It’s okay. I want it.”

He stares at you for a second - something dark and hungry flashing in his eyes - and then he growls, actually growls, and fucks into you again, harder.

“God, you’re insane,” he mutters. “You w-want me to ruin you, huh? Fffffine. You asked for it.”

He cums with a gasp and a full-body shudder, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear mid-orgasm. It’s messy. Hot. Loud. His hips jerk against yours as he fills you, twitching, breath gone.

Afterward, he slumps over you, face pressed to your neck. “Tell m-me I didn’t fuck that up.” he says, almost timidly.

You only have the energy to let out a content little sigh, and he laughs - soft, warm, stunned.

“Fuck. M-may I go duh-down on you now?”

Jeff the Killer

The moment you tell him, he grins.

It’s that sharp, crooked, wolfish thing he does when something’s clicked behind his eyes - something dark.

“Wait... you’ve never been fucked before?”

His voice drops with it. That low, rough edge he only gets when he’s getting off on someone else’s weakness. Your face gives you away, and he laughs - short, breathy, and absolutely feral.

“You serious? Fuck. You’ve been walking around me all this time with a tight little untouched pussy and didn’t think to mention it?”

He’s already crowding you, hands at your thighs, spreading them wider like he’s claiming space. His voice is in your ear now, his breath warm and heavy. “You think I’m gonna be gentle? That I’m gonna take it slow and whisper how good you’re doing?”

His tongue clicks. His hand wraps around your throat.

“Nah. You picked me, sweetheart. That was your first mistake.”

There’s no patience in the way he takes off your clothes - just need. He drags your underwear down with rough fingers, throws them across the room, and immediately stares at what’s between your legs like it’s something rare.

“Pure,” he mutters. “We’ll fix that.”

He strips like he’s done this a thousand times. Stretches his neck, cracks his knuckles. When he pulls out his cock - thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip - he watches your expression with this arrogant little glint.

“You’re gonna cry.”

You blink. He smirks.

“That’s a promise.”

When he presses into you, it’s not cautious - it’s possessive.

The stretch burns. It stings. He’s too big and you’re too tight, and he doesn't wait for you to adjust. He just pushes deeper and watches your face twist up in pain.

“Yeah, it hurts. That’s what it feels like when a real dick splits a virgin open.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the satisfaction in his voice. Your breath catches, legs twitching to close, and he growls, grabbing your thighs and pinning them open.

“Don’t fuckin’ squirm. You wanted this.”

He rolls his hips deeper - meanly, slowly, letting every inch drag against your walls - and chuckles when you gasp, when your fingers clutch at the sheets.

“You feel that? That’s your first time. That’s my dick wrecking your little virgin hole.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t ease up. Each thrust gets deeper, heavier, dragging a wet, slick sound from between your legs that only eggs him on. Your nails claw at his back and he just hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding.” “Look at that. Not even a full five minutes in and I’ve already marked you.”

You turn your face away, and he grabs your chin - forces you to look at him. “Don’t hide now. I want you to remember exactly how this looked. How it felt.”

You’re tight. You ache. The pain is a slow burn, pressure building behind it - and somehow, through the humiliation, the stretch, the shock of it all, there’s heat.

And Jeff sees it.

“Oh. Ohh, you like this.” he presses your cheeks togethers with his hand, forcing you to keep looking at him. “That’s fucked up, baby. Bleeding on my dick and clenching like you want more.”

He doesn’t let up. One hand stays on your face. The other claws into your hip, grounding you, controlling you. His rhythm gets brutal - not fast, but hard. Every thrust hits deep. Deliberate. Like he wants to rearrange your guts and fuck the idea of “gentle” right out of your brain.

And when you finally moan - loud, cracked, desperate - he groans, shudders, grins again. “There it is. Took you long enough.”

He slams into you once, twice, then grinds deep - and stays there. “Say it,” he demands. “Say I’m your first.”

You choke it out - barely able to breathe.

“Say no one else will ever fuck you like this. No one else is gonna split you open and leave you dripping like a broken thing.”

And when you do - when you whimper it, voice cracking with pain and need and surrender - he cums, hard, deep, inside.

You feel it. Hot. Unrelenting. He doesn't pull out.

He collapses over you, breath ragged, nose brushing your cheek.

“You’re mine now. There’s no going back. You’ll never feel anything else and not think of this.”

He pulls out slow, watches the blood and cum drip down your thigh.

“Look at that mess. That’s how you know I fucked you right.”

Then he kisses your cheek.

Mocking.

Affectionate.

Like he meant every filthy word.

Tim Wright/Masky

It takes you a long time to admit it. And an even longer time to say it out loud.

You and Tim have danced around the tension for weeks - long glances across the table, late-night missions with too much silence, his hand pressed to your back for just a second too long. He's not a talker, but his presence always says more than his words.

So when you're sitting next to him on the front porch, his jacket too big on your frame, curled up beside him during a sleepless night - and you say, quietly:

“I’ve never had sex before.”

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t sigh. Doesn’t smirk.

Just flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, jaw tightening as smoke curls up in front of his eyes. He stares ahead, the ember glowing at the end of his lip, the cigarette hanging low - like he’s considering whether to burn the world down for even hearing you say that.

“I know.”

And he says it like he’s known for a while. Like he’s been holding back.

He drops the cigarette. Crushes it under his boot.

Leans forward with elbows on his knees. His voice is rough, slightly hoarse - like he spent the last few hours barking orders or screaming into the woods.

“You want it to be me.”

It’s not a question.

You nod. And he turns slowly, eyes landing on you.

“Jesus Christ.”

He takes you to his room like he’s already committed a crime. Paces in the doorway with a cigarette burning in his hand, the smoke curling around his tense shoulders. You’re sitting on his bed, legs bare, jacket sleeves pulled over your fists like you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing - and he watches you for a second too long.

“You realize I’m not some soft-touch, right?” he mutters, voice low but sharp. “This isn’t gonna be sweet.”

You whisper: “I don’t want sweet.”

He flicks the cigarette into the ashtray.

And crosses the room.

Tim’s body is solid. Not built like a bodybuilder - not flashy - but like a man who’s had to carry shit, fight hard, and move fast for survival. Broad shoulders. Thick arms. Big hands. A scar under his collarbone that you can’t stop staring at.

When he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt rides up - and you catch sight of the sharp line of his hips, the faint trail of hair below his navel. He sees your eyes move, and smirks - just a little.

“You’re gonna regret looking at me like that when I’m inside you.”

He strips you slow, but there’s nothing gentle about it. His hands grip your thighs like they’re handles. His lips drag across your skin like he’s trying to memorize the taste, not just enjoy it.

And when he finally settles between your legs, fingers trailing down your stomach?

He doesn’t tease.

He gets straight to it - fingers between your folds, slow and firm, working you open without asking for permission. He feels how wet you already are and groans - loud, frustrated.

“Fuckin’ perfect and untouched.”

He doesn’t stop touching you until your back arches and your breath catches. Then he climbs over you - knees pushing your legs wide - and rests the weight of his cock between your thighs, watching your face as he drags it through your slick.

“You ready?”

Pause. “No? Too bad.”

The stretch hurts. Of course it does. He’s thick, and your body’s never done this before.

But Tim doesn’t ask if you’re okay. Doesn’t slow down.

He grabs your hips, leans over you, and pushes in. Not all at once, he’s not cruel, but enough that your thighs tense and your fingers curl against his arms, gasping at the pressure.

“Yeah. It’s supposed to hurt.”

Your breath shudders. Your eyes flutter. And when your body clamps down from the shock of it, he laughs under his breath - not mocking, but dark. Excited.

“Tight little virgin pussy. Look at that. Taking me like it was fuckin’ made for me.”

Every inch is slow, but unrelenting. No coaxing. No apologies. Just Tim breathing harder, growling into your neck as your body gives way to his.

When he’s all the way in, he stays there. Buried deep, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight - like he’s holding back from something worse.

“Fuck. You feel that?” “That’s what you gave me. Every inch of you, tight and trembling and mine.” “Don’t cry about the pain. You wanted this.”

His rhythm is rough. Deep. Not fast, but deliberate - each thrust grinding against that spot inside you that makes you whine without meaning to. He watches your face like he’s daring you to fall apart.

When you clench too hard, or cry out when it stings, he just leans over you, breath heavy in your ear.

You take it. Every thrust. Every filthy word. Every punishing thrust of his hips that has you gasping and clinging to his back.

He cums without warning - hips pressed deep, cock twitching, the heat of it filling you in long, slow pulses. His whole body shudders.

Then he drops his head to your shoulder.

Breathes.

Silent.

Not gentle, just present.

After a while, he pulls out. Sees the blood. Watches his cum leaking from your sore, open hole - and his hand runs through his hair like he’s trying not to lose his shit again.

“You’re not fuckin’ anyone else now,” he mutters. “You know that, right?”

Because Tim doesn’t just fuck. He takes. He claims. He leaves scars where no one can see them - and the worst part?

You don’t want him to stop.

[queersyourgender]

Can you do a multi character blurb of the pitt characters reacting to their baby's first words/first steps??? I saw the one you just did about Mateo x reader and he had baby fever and it was so goood!!! Keep up the good work, your doing so great and some day you'll get noticed how you should <3 (I was so surprised when I saw you only have 50 followers!)

Mini-Multi — Baby's First: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Jack Abbot, Frank Langdon, John Shen, Heather Collins, and Mateo Diaz

Notes: Since you didn't specify which characters, I went ahead and picked at random!! I hope you like them and their babies :3c

———

Michael “Robby” Robinavitch: Your baby's first words is Bobby. It would be Robby, if that tricky r sound would cooperate, but Bobby works just fine regardless. They say it on a day that you're visiting your husband at work, standing around the nurse's station and talking with Dana, when your baby spots their father and exclaims a loud “Bobby!” while reaching their arms in his direction. Everyone promptly freaks out, and yes, Michael cries again. Can you blame him? He's his baby's first word.

Jack Abbot: Jack's just coming home when he sees the two of you nodded off on the couch, taking a nap together despite probably only having just woken up. He doesn't mean to wake either of you, but you both sense his presence. Your baby, who had been asleep on top of your chest, slides off of you and to the ground, then shocks the both of you by sleepily waddling over to their father with their own two tiny feet. It wakes you up immediately, and Jack picks the kiddo up when they reach him, all of you sharing a bone-crushing family hug at the milestone.

Frank Langdon: You're all seated in the living room together, Frank splayed out on the couch with the kids all surrounding him on different spots while you lounge on the armchair. You're used to him being the favorite, so you're not bothered by the attention he's getting. In fact, it makes you very happy, that he's so loved by people who are unafraid to show it. Neither is he, apparently, because he spends his entire time with your third baby trying to teach them to call out to you. Their first word ends up being just that, thanks to your husband's efforts, and that's something you'll never forget.

John Shen: It catches the two of you completely off guard when it happens, shocking you speechless with sheer joy. You'd been standing in the kitchen in your lover's arms, gently swaying from side to side to the sound of music that's not actually there, when you both turn your head at the same time find your baby standing on their feet and mimicking your motions. Excitedly, you gesture for them to come forward towards you, and celebrate with many, many kisses when they do exactly that, practically sprinting their way at the two of you with wobbly legs.

Heather Collins: You spend the majority of your time with your baby, and you use nearly 90% of that time trying to convince your baby to call Heather mama. You point to pictures of her while saying, say it when you hand them to her, write it above the abstract stick figurine they draw that's supposed to be her. It pays off when they do eventually say it one morning, while you're in bed watching her getting ready for work, and she freezes in her tracks upon hearing it. She looks from you to your baby, connecting the dots, and wraps the both of you in her arms, peppering you both a sea of teary-eyed kisses.

Mateo Diaz: Mateo's hellbent on making your baby walk the second they reach the age range where they're supposed to. He practices with them at home, helping them by holding their hand and leading them places around the baby proof house. The first time your kid walks around unassisted, you and Mateo clutch at each other and start jumping up and down hard enough to shake the earth as you shake each other with so much excitement it seems to be contagious, making your baby laugh at your silly antics.

[steddieas-shegoes]

kaboom

for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event prompt 'fireworks'

rated t | 896 words | cw: injury | tags: fireworks, established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve has ptsd

also on ao3

🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆

Steve doesn’t like fireworks, but at least he’s over the sheer panic he used to feel every time they went off. He usually stays inside when they happen, has music playing as a distraction. Last year, he managed to sit outside while Dustin and Mike set off a few small ones in his backyard.

This year, Eddie’s insisting on putting on a whole show. There’s not enough people in town to care about their illegal fireworks, and even if there were, Hopper would write it off. He made them swear they’d be careful and Eddie grinned as he held out his pinky and said he’d only explode things in an open space.

He’s timed everything to music. Steve is in charge of pressing play at the right time and switching tapes at Eddie’s cue. They practice with Eddie making loud explosion sounds and Steve manages to get it mostly right.

The kids are all sitting on towels in the yard, waiting for the show. All the adults are standing by the house, just in case they need to call 911 to put out a fire. Steve is watching Eddie walk through his set up one more time to make sure he has everything in the right place.

When it starts, everything is perfect. The kids clap and cheer. Even Hopper smiles and pulls Joyce close to him as they admire the first set of shimmering explosions.

Even the first song transition goes well, and Eddie gives him a wink and blows him a kiss. Steve rolls his eyes but pretends to catch it and holds it to his chest, just like he always does.

And then Eddie lights the second set.

It’s fine for the first second. Everything seems normal.

And then a loud pop echoes around them and Eddie yells out.

“Fuck!”

Steve stops the music immediately. No one else seems to think anything bad’s happened, but Steve knows that voice, that tone.

He hears it in nightmares: the pained yelp that comes just before too much blood and no help and-

“Eddie!” Max’s voice startles Steve from his panic. She’s standing, but El pulls her back down as Hopper rushes over to Eddie.

He’s watching Hopper check him over, frozen to his spot on the ground. He wants to move, wants to help. Whatever is happening can’t be good for Eddie to risk his show.

“He’s okay,” Joyce is saying quietly in his ear, her hand rubbing his back. “Burned his hand. The firework was faulty. He’s gonna be fine.”

He nods, but he still feels paralyzed.

At some point in the last year, he’s gotten comfortable. He hasn’t had to rush to defend his loved ones since El saved them all. The nail bat is so far back in his closet, he doesn’t even know if he can get to it.

But a nail bat won’t protect Eddie from a faulty firework. He knows that, but he’s still wracked with guilt.

“Steve. Baby.” Steve looks up to see Eddie holding a cold beer can to his hand. “I should probably get some ointment on the blisters and get a real ice pack. Can you help?”

“Yeah,” Steve chokes out. “Sorry. I can help.”

Hopper is standing just behind Eddie, giving him a sad smile. As Steve stands to accompany Eddie inside, he hears him telling the kids the show is over, but there’s plenty more popsicles and sodas to indulge in.

Once they’re in the bathroom, alone, Eddie kisses him softly.

“I’m okay,” he reassures. “Gonna leave a nasty scar on my thumb, but I don’t think another scar is gonna make much of a difference.”

Steve nods as he pulls out his first aid kit. He’s used to cleaning up blood, or icing a bruise, or pulling a stinger out of a hand or arm. This is different and he’s going in a little blind.

Eddie takes the ointment from the kit and holds it out to Steve. “This first. Use more than you think you should.”

“You seem to know a lot about how to handle burns,” Steve says as he does what Eddie told him to do. He still feels a little like he’s just going through the motions, but at least he can help. “Do this often?”

“Used to play with matches and lighters a lot as a kid. Nothing serious ever happened, but Wayne was usually at work so I had to figure it out.” Eddie hisses when Steve rubs along the edges of the blister. “This may be the worst one. Now gauze and wrap it tight.”

Eddie winces as Steve finishes up.

He kisses his hand gently, then shakes his head.

“Maybe we leave the fireworks to the professionals next year?” Steve asks him.

“But my show was gonna be so good!” Eddie stomps his foot. “I just have to check them all better first. This was a freak accident. Won’t happen again.”

Steve raises his brow and lets out a breath. “I don’t think I want you to risk it. You wanna go have a popsicle?”

Eddie smirks. “You just wanna see me licking something.”

Steve shrugs. “I’d love a distraction from what just happened and nothing gets me more distracted than your tongue.”

“Fine, but only if I get to use my tongue on you later,” Eddie winks and shuffles out of the bathroom.

[sebystann]

Shadowed Hearts

Summary: In a city where darkness never sleeps, an unlikely bond forms between a sassy civilian who refuses to back down and the Red Hood—a vigilante with a haunted past.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Notes: pulled this one straight out of the drafts not proofread and it was written so long ago! Enjoy my trashy writing. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

The night air in Gotham was heavy with rain and sirens. You were darting through an alley, clutching your tote bag like it held your life—which, technically, it did. Your phone, keys, and the last granola bar you’d bothered to buy this week. But your shortcut home had turned into a nightmare when a mugger with a knife decided you looked like easy prey.

You’d barely stammered a threat of pepper spray when a red-helmeted figure dropped from the fire escape like a demon out of the storm. Gun raised, leather jacket swirling—he was terrifying and magnetic all at once.

“Drop it,” Red Hood’s voice boomed, low and menacing. The mugger didn’t need to be told twice; he bolted into the shadows, leaving you standing there, chest heaving.

You looked up, rain dripping down your face as he loomed over you. “You’re welcome,” he said, voice dripping with arrogance.

You blinked. “Oh, am I supposed to throw you a parade right now?” you shot back, sarcasm cutting through your fear.

He cocked his head, clearly surprised. “Most people are a little more grateful when someone saves their ass.”

You rolled your eyes, adrenaline still pumping. “Yeah, and most people don’t jump out of the sky scaring them half to death.”

He stepped closer, his helmet inches from your face. Even without seeing his eyes, you felt his glare. “It’s Gotham. Stay out of dark alleys. You might not be this lucky next time.”

You planted your hands on your hips. “And what? You’ll drop in to scold me again?”

A low, disbelieving chuckle echoed from his helmet. “Jesus. You’re mouthy.”

“And you’re bossy,” you shot back, lip curling into a smirk despite the situation.

A beat passed. His shoulders relaxed just a hair. “You know, you’re kind of funny when you’re pissed off.”

You scoffed. “You’re kind of a dick when you’re…alive.”

He actually laughed—a raspy, genuine sound. The rain was letting up, misting around the two of you. You noticed the way water rolled off his helmet and glistened on the red bat symbol on his chest.

“Tell you what, smartass,” he said, pulling a battered card from his pocket and pressing it into your hand. “Call this number if you get yourself into trouble again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So you can swoop in and insult me some more?”

He started backing away, voice teasing as he melted into the shadows: “Exactly.”

You watched him go, heart hammering with equal parts irritation and…something else. Maybe you were in shock. Maybe you were an idiot. But you looked down at the card in your hand, a grin tugging at your lips.

You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. But Gotham had other plans.

Two weeks after your mugging, you were walking home from your late shift at the café when the screech of tires made you jump back onto the sidewalk. A black SUV roared past.

Before you could process what you were doing, you ducked into an alley and looked up. There he was: standing on a rooftop, framed by the neon of a flickering sign, gun in one hand, leather jacket billowing in the night breeze.

You cleared your throat—loudly. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore people who are trying to get your attention?”

His helmeted head snapped toward you, his voice crackling through the modulator: “What the hell are you doing here?” His tone was sharp with anger—and something else.

“I live here?” you shot back, planting your hands on your hips. “Sorry my existence is inconveniencing your rooftop brooding.”

A low groan came from his helmet, almost a growl of frustration. He leapt down in one fluid motion, landing in front of you with a heavy thud. “I told you to stay out of trouble.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m walking home. That’s not exactly trouble.”

His voice lowered dangerously as he stepped closer. “This city doesn’t care about your definitions. And neither do I.”

You tilted your head defiantly, refusing to move back. “Oh, I think you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have given me your number.”

He was silent. Even with the helmet on, you could feel the air shift—something hot and electric sparking between you.

Then he sighed, barely audible over the rain beginning to fall. “You’re impossible.”

You smirked. “You like it.”

He stepped forward until your back pressed against the damp brick wall, the rain misting around you both. “Do I?” he murmured, his voice rough with something you couldn’t place.

Your pulse jumped. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

A moment of silence stretched between you—charged, tense, neither of you willing to look away. Finally, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, sleek object.

A black tracker.

He pressed it into your palm, his gloved fingers brushing yours. “Keep this on you,” he said, voice softer but edged with steel. “I’ll know if you’re in danger.”

You arched a brow. “So you do care.”

He huffed a quiet, reluctant laugh, stepping back into the rain. “Go home. And don’t make me save your mouthy ass again.”

You watched him fade into the shadows of the alley, heart hammering—and for the first time in a long while, you felt safer knowing someone was out there…even if he was an infuriating, armored vigilante with a smart mouth of his own.

A week later, you found yourself at Wayne Manor, of all places.

It turned out the café you worked at had an event catering gig for one of Bruce Wayne’s charity galas. You’d been in the kitchen when you got a text from a number you hadn’t saved—but knew all too well:

> “Meet me in the garden. Now.”

You almost ignored it, but curiosity—and something deeper—won out.

The gardens behind the manor were a labyrinth of hedges and rose bushes glowing in the soft pool lights. And there he was: Jason, mask off, leaning against a stone bench, eyes shadowed and tired. His dark hair was damp with sweat or rain—you couldn’t tell which.

“Wow,” you said quietly, stepping closer. “You actually have a face.”

He cracked a tiny smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

You hesitated before sitting beside him on the bench. Up close, you could see the lines of exhaustion, the small cuts along his cheekbone, the haunted look in his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he shot back, voice defensive—but his tone lacked heat.

You tilted your head. “Because you look like you haven’t slept in days. Because you texted me to meet you in the middle of a gala. Because you look like you’re carrying the whole damn city on your shoulders.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “That obvious, huh?”

You shrugged. “I’m a people person.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling shakily. “Some nights, I wonder what the point is. Save one person, and ten more get hurt. And when I close my eyes, it’s just…noise. Screaming. Gunshots.”

Your heart squeezed. Without thinking, you reached out, brushing your fingers lightly over the back of his hand. He flinched at the contact—but didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know,” you whispered. “You don’t have to carry all of it by yourself.”

He looked at you then, really looked—his blue eyes raw and vulnerable in the moonlight. “Why do you care?” he asked, voice cracking around the words.

You hesitated, your own breath catching. “Because you care, even when you pretend you don’t. Because you saved me. Because…you deserve someone who sees you as more than a weapon.”

For a moment, the world went still. His hand turned under yours, fingers intertwining with yours, warm and trembling. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. The night was quiet except for the distant music from the gala and your shallow breathing.

“Stay,” he whispered hoarsely. “Just…for a little while.”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you held his hand, the two of you sitting in the shadows of Wayne Manor’s garden—two stubborn souls who’d finally found a fragile piece of peace.

A month passed quietly—or as quiet as Gotham ever got. You hadn’t seen Jason since that night in the manor garden, though he’d texted you every few days. Short, gruff messages like “Don’t get yourself killed” or “Still alive?” that always made you smile.

But tonight, trouble found you again.

A gang of low-level thugs cornered you outside your apartment, knives drawn, their breath reeking of alcohol. You barely got a word out before a red blur crashed into the scene, a roar of gunfire scattering your attackers like leaves in the wind.

Red Hood emerged from the shadows, smoke rising from his pistols, eyes blazing behind his helmet. “I swear,” he growled, voice thick with fury as he grabbed you by the shoulders, “you attract psychos like a damn magnet.”

You blinked up at him, heart pounding. “Nice to see you too.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “This isn’t funny.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, a breathless laugh escaping as adrenaline coursed through you. “You, me, some guys trying to kill me—it’s practically our thing.”

His helmeted head tilted, as if he couldn’t believe you were making jokes right now. “You are infuriating.”

“And you’re overdramatic,” you shot back, even as your hands fisted in his jacket to keep from trembling.

A tense silence settled as he stared down at you. Then, in one swift motion, he tore off his helmet, revealing stormy blue eyes and a jaw clenched with worry.

“I can’t keep watching you almost die,” he rasped, voice raw. “It’s driving me insane.”

Before you could reply, he pulled you into him, his mouth crashing down on yours. The kiss was desperate and fierce, all teeth and heat and pent-up longing. You melted into him, your fingers curling into his hair as the world fell away.

When you finally parted, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m serious this time,” he murmured. “Stay with me. Let me keep you safe.”

You smiled, thumb brushing his cheek. “Only if you promise to stop being such a grumpy asshole.”

His eyes cracked open, a reluctant laugh escaping. “No promises.”

“Figures,” you whispered, pulling him into another, softer kiss under Gotham’s pale moonlight.

Three months later, Gotham was still Gotham—dark, broken, and dangerous. But some nights were quiet enough to pretend the world wasn’t always on fire.

Tonight was one of those rare nights.

You were curled up on an old, worn couch in Jason’s safehouse—some half-finished apartment above an abandoned laundromat. Rain pattered against the cracked windows, a soothing backdrop to his soft breathing.

Jason sat beside you, freshly showered, hair damp and messy. He wore a faded black t-shirt and gray sweatpants—so human and real it made your chest ache. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his other hand absently tracing circles on your thigh.

You broke the comfortable silence. “So, do you ever, you know, take a vacation? Like, go to the beach and not terrify criminals?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You think Red Hood does well in the sun? I’d probably spontaneously combust.”

You poked him in the ribs. “Maybe if you actually smiled more, you’d reflect some light.”

“Watch it,” he warned lightly, but his grin was real this time, bright and boyish and almost unrecognizable on him. It made your heart skip.

You sighed happily, leaning your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “I like this,” you murmured. “You. Here. Not bleeding.”

His arm tightened around you. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

The rain kept falling, soft and rhythmic. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you both let yourselves believe this—being together, laughing in the dark—could last. That maybe, just maybe, you’d found home in each other, no matter how broken the city outside might be.

[yerimacoustic]

𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚 ♡ jeonghan x reader

❝ i eagerly await your permission to taste you, as long as that may take ❞ 🥀 ﹒⊹

plot summary : you can’t decide if it’s the worst or perfect time for a vampire to whisk you away from the life you’re all too familiar with.

content warnings : jeonghan x reader, vampire au, regency/dark fantasy au, vampire!jeonghan x princess!reader, featuring wonwoo and joshua, love at first sight, might be kinda rushed (sorry), suggestive scenes/making out but no smut, mentions of blood because duh, wonwoo is a bit of an ass but only for drama/entertaining purposes, angst, yearning, cursing, betrayal, cheating, 14.2k wc!

author note : i’m running for the hills after posting, this is my first time writing a vampire fic i’m so sorry if it’s cringey 😭 not proofread

it was like waking up from an unfathomable nightmare and immediately searching for a single flicker of light to bring you even a semblance of comfort. of reality. but when he woke up that day, his chest felt empty, his entire body felt cold.. it was nauseating, nerve-wracking, to say the least. for a moment, he wondered if he was stuck in some sort of cruel purgatory.

his home was much darker than he remembered. not a single sliver of sunlight was permitted to peek through the windows, the curtains now bolted to every corner of the large windows. he knew it was daytime, somehow, but he felt a strange sense of exhaustion. 

then his friend walked through the door.. but he wasn’t as happy to see him as he had expected. somehow, at a single glance, his friend looked different, his usual friendly countenance diminished. his friend parted his lips but remained silence, as if the two of them shared an unspoken sense of dread. it confused him, made him wonder just how much had changed when he was asleep.. 

in a brief passing, just as he was pushing the quilts forward, he saw it. a flash of painful memories nearly sent him falling back against the pillows again- and suddenly it all became too clear. he stared again at the marks on his wrist in a fit of rage and came to realize this new life ahead of him was anything but a cruel purgatory. 

for at least, for some, purgatory would eventually come to an end. 

–

the chandelier shone bright above the crowd, the polished marbled floor beneath your feet somehow glistening even more so than usual. even with hundreds of guests dancing gleefully through the room, there wasn’t so much of a scratch on the tile. though you were hardly interested to find out what went into cleaning your fiance’s ballroom floor.

you stared down at your pasteled tulle skirts in a daze, wondering how you’d come to let a perfectly good outfit go to waste. across the room, wonwoo discussed business, finance, strategy.. anything he figured you couldn’t be bothered to hear. especially on the night your engagement was to be formally announced.

you should have been happier. it was a momentous occasion, an important milestone for many, not just royalty. strangers from both yours and wonwoo’s kingdoms joined together to celebrate your future union. you weren’t just promised to him but a life of stability, comfort.. yet you should have been happier.   

one thing that would have made you happier, for example, was if your fiance shared even one dance with you. it seemed that the two of you went through the motions of your speedy engagement in different ways, with him evidently viewing it only as a transaction. which, in all fairness, it was exactly that.

you soon came to find out there was only so much you could take. you managed to sneak out of the ballroom without anyone noticing, furthering away from the crowd until all you could hear was the echoed tapping of your heels against the floor. 

there was nothing like a breath of fresh, night air, especially after hours of suffocation. the crisp autumn air was refreshing, rejuvenating, almost- even if you had left your shawl inside. you chased the wonderful feeling of freedom the further you stepped into the unfamiliar gardens, the full moon high above your head mistifying, to say the least.

“it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

a cool, low voice not two feet behind you startled you out of your daze. you turned around, only to find the culprit was just as handsome as he sounded. fluffy blonde hair, elegant and striking features, dark eyes that shone beautifully in the moonlight.. he wore elegant black robes, covering every inch of his skin. incredible- you had barely shared any words, yet he seemed to be the most elusive figure you had and ever would lay your eyes on. 

“yes,” you suddenly coughed out, a short chuckle leaving your lips soon after. “yes. it is..”

the man, noticing your flustered state, chuckled knowingly and took a single step closer. “my apologies. i didn’t mean to startle the queen-to-be.”

you tilted your head, finally noticing the crimson in his eyes. his irises were the deepest shade of red imaginable, just like rubies.. it was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. “how do you know who i am?” 

he chuckled again, sending a chill down your spine. “i saw your tiara and took a leap of faith. besides.. everyone in the kingdom knows who you are.” 

“maybe you’re right. even so.. it’s unfair,” you started, struggling to speak as eloquently as he did. “that you know who i am, yet i don’t even know your name.”

“jeonghan.” he spoke without hesitation, seemingly carrying enough confidence for the two of you. especially considering the skillful way he took your hand in his and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. his fingers were cold as they wrapped around yours, as if you’d plunged your hand in ice cold water, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. “it’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name. such a gorgeous face, i might add.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, puzzled. “didn’t you-”

“gossiping remarks in the town square hardly do your beauty justice.” he smirked, as if he knew the flattering remark was more than a satisfactory explanation. after all, you were doing a terrible job masking just how flustered you felt.. 

“thank you,” you finally whispered, avoiding his gaze. a never ending sea of tall oak trees marked a plunge into darkness, one you had since been contemplating diving head first into. 

his gaze followed yours into the forest several feet ahead and he raised an eyebrow. “forgive me for sounding invasive, but shouldn’t you be inside? with your fiance?”   

“i suppose i should be,” you sighed, making no attempt to hide your apprehension. “but.. it’s a little suffocating in there at the moment. i just needed a moment to decompress, collect my thoughts.”

he smiled to himself, as if to be taking pride in the fact you had placed confidence in him. “that’s understandable,” he started, releasing a long breath. “you’re starting a new chapter in your life. that doesn’t always come easy.”

“i don’t mind change, not really,” you shrugged. “and i know how lucky i am. i just..wish i had more of a say in these types of arrangements.”

jeonghan nodded, briefly humming in contemplation. “so now, you’re just.. inattentively going through the motions of a life you didn’t sign up for. i know a little about what that’s like.”

“you do?” disbelief filled your tone as you raised an eyebrow.

he chuckled at your phrasing, stepping closer to you until one breath could have pressed your shoulder against his own. “yes. i may not be of noble blood.. but that does not mean i cannot try to understand those who are.”

his words were so vague, his tone so alluring, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to elaborate. especially once you were met with his beautiful crimson eyes again and ultimately left speechless- this stranger puzzled you in many more ways than one. his eloquent way of speaking was a perfect match for his beauty, positively alluring…

“i suppose.. i better go back inside. before the prince starts to suspect something,” you chuckled sheepishly, still struggling to hide your bashfulness. 

he watched you take a few steps towards the staircase before calling out to you, “so soon?”

you turn to him with a gentle smile, “well.. yes. it’s rather rude to keep my intended waiting, whether we’re in good spirits or not. wouldn’t you agree?”

he smirked broadly, twisting his lips in a way that made your heart race. “i do. but he doesn’t seem to pay you any mind, does he?” 

something rather dark clouded your mind and there was an unmistakable pang in your heart, whether it was brought on by confusion or something else entirely, you didn’t know. was the mysterious jeonghan a mind reader, or was he simply more intuitive than most? 

he continued, “otherwise he wouldn’t have left you out here, all alone. especially near a dangerous forest.. whether you’re in good spirits or not.” 

you couldn’t stop the smirk pulling at your lips as he repeated your words. “will you join me inside, then? i can’t, in good conscience, leave you out by this ‘dangerous forest.’”

his eyes briefly widened as he stared past your shoulder for a moment, the light from the lanterns illuminating his dark irises. it was a terrifyingly alluring sight, disappearing in a flash of lightning. he spoke coyly, “very well, if you insist.”

maybe you were imagining things, but the flames in the tiny candles throughout the hall seemed to expand from the moment he stepped past the doorway. there was a shift in the air, one that you couldn’t conjure the words to explain. and yet, you made a conscious effort to take his hand in yours the moment the two of you were in the ballroom. he seemed puzzled at first, as if you had caught him in a flustered state.

“share a dance with me?” you offered, admiring the depth of his fluffy white hair. 

he tilted his head briefly, giving rise to another devilish smirk. “i would be honored.”

it was an undoubtedly puzzling sight, the princess sharing a dance with a dazzling stranger on the night of her engagement party. you did your best to shrug off the judgemental glances and inquisitive stares, focusing only on the beautiful man leading you in circles around the dance floor. like everything he did, he led the waltz with skillful precision..and charm. for the knowing smile never left his lips. 

it felt strange trying to avoid his gaze when his chest lay nearly a breath away from yours. you quickly caught on to the cunning nature in his smile, chuckling to yourself. “you smile like you know something no one else in the room does,” you noted quietly. 

he laughed softly at your words and you could have sworn you saw the lanterns flicker one more time. “maybe i do,” he replied coyly.

you scoffed, “very well.. do you mind enlightening me?” 

he merely shook his head, the loose curls near his eyes shaking with the impact. he laughed again and it seemed to overshadow any other sound in the room. “no.. no i don’t think i will,” he finally answered with a snicker.

“you’re no fun,” you teased just before he twirled you under his arm. 

“on the contrary,” he whispered, just before his grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. it seemed as though he spoke not to argue with you, but to make a promise..

the song eventually reached its end with the orchestra drawing on the last few notes. applause scattered throughout the room, prompting you to take two steps back from jeonghan and draw in a deep breath to collect yourself. something about the look of intrigue in his dark eyes pulled you in like a moth to the flame. 

you watched him part his lips and mentally asked yourself what he was about to say. run away with me? in a heartbeat.. 

“get away from her,” a deep voice not two feet behind your shoulder demanded. 

you, recognizing it immediately, whipped your head back. “wonwoo.. we were just-”

wonwoo ignored you, quickly reiterating his words in a much louder tone. “get away from her. i won’t ask again.”

jeonghan’s smile never faltered, giving rise to a new level of darkness in his eyes. “and why would i do that? i was under the impression we were to share another dance.”

wonwoo’s hand fell to his side to circle around the silver detailed hilt of his sword. unmistakable anger filled his narrowed eyes as he stared at jeonghan with nothing less than the deepest form of hatred. but why…? “you have no business being here. how did you even manage to get in here? you weren-”

“weren’t invited?” jeonghan offered with a snicker. “your lovely fiance was gracious enough to invite me in, actually.”

jeonghan’s words were filled with venom, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. you looked back and forth between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows. “i don’t understand..” you started dryly. “wonwoo, will you just tell me wh-”

“there’s no need for that,” wonwoo cut you off once again and gripped tighter to his sword, threatening to release it from its sheath at any moment. “jeonghan, leave. there’s no need to cause a scene.”

he took a single step backwards and hummed, as if in contemplation. although he could easily overpower anyone stupid enough to get in his way, there was no use in dealing with collateral damage. as boring as his night was turning out to be.. “very well. just remember.. you can’t get rid of me that easily now.”

he disappeared in the blink of an eye, a blur.. not even a cloud of mysterious smoke signalled his departure. a collective gasp filled the room and you, at a loss for words, released a heavy sigh as a pit formed in your stomach. your suspicions from the beginning had been confirmed: there was more to the beautiful stranger than met the eye.

not only were you frightened, confused about your encounter with the strange man, but you felt like a fundamental piece of information was missing. you turned to wonwoo, demanding, “how did you know his name? what is he?”

he appeared dejected, his frame slightly shrinking under your gaze. there was no excuse for him to ignore you now. “that, my darling,” he started in a weary tone, just as a light pattern of rainfall began to tap against the windows. “was a vampire.”

–

“you do realize how foolish your actions were tonight?”

your fiance, always the monotonous one, stood near your doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. you chuckled bitterly at the reflection in your vanity mirror; how fitting, it seemed, that the first time he bothered to visit your quarters was in order to scold you. nonchalantly, you brushed through your hair without bothering to focus on his eyes, even in the mirror. 

you argued, your tone slightly harsher than anticipated, “how was i supposed to know what he is?” 

“that’s besides the point; it’s the principle. you can’t just invite people into my-” he paused, clearing his throat. “-our castle without even discussing it with me first.”

you finally turned around to face him, your eyebrows furrowed. “maybe i would have taken better care to heed your request if i knew your kingdom was overrun with.. with vampires. i don’t remember you mentioning that at all in the arrangement, by the way.”

his shoulders noticeably stiffened at your words, the horrible notion of the monsters bringing a shiver down his spine. it was true; his kingdom, like many, had been crawling with vampires for centuries. but as far as you were concerned, none of your subjects had reported so much as a sighting of the terrifying creatures. you felt barely equipped to handle what would undoubtedly be a catastrophic attack, now that you had invited one in..

wonwoo stood in silence with his jaw clenched for a moment, pondering his next choice of words carefully. defending oneself against a vampire was bad enough, but an entire castle? how could someone be so foolish… “and if i remember correctly, the only concern your family had was the promise of more land and soil.” 

you clenched your jaw in an effort to hold your tongue. his words, however poisonous, had a hint of truth to them; your marriage was an arranged transaction. and it was becoming increasingly clear that wonwoo wanted desperately to remind you of it every day..

“so what happens now?” you finally asked, your voice slightly strained.

“there are two guards sanctioned outside your door. just.. stay in here for the night and you should be safe. and don’t leave this room unless permitted,” he instructed you without an ounce of sympathy in his tone. 

“good night,” was your acknowledgement as you turned back around to stare in the mirror. the moment you heard the door click shut several feet behind, a heavy, weary sight left your lips. knowing there was no chance of you getting any sleep that night, you took to studying the details of your reflection and wondering how you’d been paired with the most apathetic man in the realm. 

outside, the wind was getting harsher and harsher, blowing through the large trees planted near your balcony and seemingly knocking at the french doors and windows. the full moon shone brightly directly above the castle, casting shadows into your bedroom. not for the first time, you wished you weren’t a night owl. 

 it felt like you were waiting. waiting for something, or more accurately, for someone. although the windows were closed, you felt a chill run down your spine, giving rise to goosebumps that would form along your arms. your bright blue dressing gown was only a few steps away, draped over the dressing screen. yet.. you felt glued to your chair. 

hours must have passed before the wind all but ripped the balcony doors off their hinges, sending a harsh wave of frosty air through your bedroom. although you felt the effects of the cold, goosefleshed skin and slightly shaky hands.. it didn’t feel unwelcomed. actually it felt oddly comfortable. 

and then lightning struck, a flash of blinding light piercing through the space of your bedroom. yet, you might as well have welcomed the storm with open arms; the rain had always brought you comfort, after all. especially during sleepless nights.

“i do apologize for the interruption,” a clear voice behind you spoke smoothly, prompting your shoulders to stiffen. you could hear jeonghan, feel his presence directly behind the small vanity chair, yet he did not appear in the mirror in front of you. even so, you stared straight ahead, as if to make eye contact with his reflection.

“is it true, then?” you asked him while tugging at a loose thread on your sleeve.

he let out another chuckle, the sound going straight to your racing heart. “it seems like you already know.”

you drew in a breath as he rested his hands on your shoulders, his thumb brushing lightly against your collarbone. “i should have seen the signs,” you thought out loud. maybe you were as foolish as wonwoo claimed, for you made no effort to push jeonghan away..

he hummed, “are you sure you weren’t just ignoring the obvious?” 

you furrowed your eyebrows gently in contemplation, reflecting on the first time you saw his deep red eyes, felt his cold hand against yours.. suddenly, you let out a halfhearted chuckle, “maybe you’re right.”  

although you couldn’t see his reflection, you could feel his gaze piercing into yours. you swore you could hear him smirk as he spoke lowly, “don’t beat yourself up, princess. based on what i now know about you, it seems as if you’re craving a little more of.. an adventure.”

“adventure?” you quickly shook your head, snickering. “i wouldn’t say that.”

“i would,” he countered gently. “you’re bored, princess. and who could blame you, with the man you’re expected to marry?”

you paused, watching your hair fall behind your shoulder in the mirror. although it appeared to move on its own, jeonghan’s fingers brushing gently through your achingly soft locks pulled you back into reassurance. “you think you can give me what i really want?” you asked him lowly, the faintest hint of amusement in your voice. 

he paused, leaning down just a little bit. you felt his breath brush gently against the shell of your ear, effectively sending yet another shiver down your spine. “i know i can.”

a soft breath barely left your lips before his own were on your neck, leaving a trail of feathery kisses in their wake. you tilted your head back, your eyelids falling shut with ease as you bore your throat to him. for a moment, he was cool, calm and collected, releasing a gentle sigh against your skin. he was determined to savor the moment for as long as possible, even if your pulse racing beneath his lips was louder to him than the thunder outside. his eyes were screwed shut as he fought with everything inside him to ignore his instincts, to let his sharp teeth only lightly graze the surface..   

the gentle prick prompted your eyes to open and you sat upright again, finally turning to face him. his pupils were dilated, his gaze intense.. but he seemed to immediately understand the place of unease you were coming from. 

“don’t worry,” he assured you with a gentle smile. “i’ll only take a bite if you really want me to.”

a gentle sigh left your lips after he spoke, loving nothing more than the thought of allowing him a taste. the collected way in which he spoke, the flushed look in his eyes, all of it almost tempted you to tilt your head back for him all over again. “while i like the sound of that,” you started breathlessly. “i’m not sure how wonwoo would feel about seeing the marks in the morning.”

he nodded while doing his best not to showcase his disappointment at the mention of your fiance. here you were, desperate to appease a man who paid such little attention to you.. “as you wish,” he whispered.

you shifted in your seat to face him better as he knelt upon the floor. he was now eye level with you, yet not nearly close enough, in his mind. you finally asked him quietly, “what are you really doing here?” 

“can i not pay a visit to a new friend of mine?” he asked, his eyes locked intently on yours. 

you scoffed lightly, tilting your head. “considering your teeth were almost in my neck, i’d be willing to guess your visits come with ulterior motives.”

he shook his head, his tone nowhere near as defensive as you expected. “as i told you; i eagerly await your permission to taste you, as long as that may take.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to let the promising notion go to your head; whether he intended the double entendre or not, you weren’t entirely sure. “you have a lot of restraint for a vampire.”

he laughed at your words, his eyes filling with amusement. “not all vampires are as vicious as they are in the fairytales, princess. some of them are just-”

“going through the motions of a life they didn’t sign up for?” you offered with a smirk. 

he paused, his expression filled with surprise. maybe it was all in his head, but the two of you seemed to understand each other much faster than anticipated. “yes,” he finally chuckled. “yes, you could say that.”

“be that as it may, wonwoo, the guards, they’re all preparing to take extra security members. it's dangerous for you here.”

he sighed, almost in defeat, before nodding his head. “i thought of that. that’s why i’m offering to take you somewhere with me.”

you chuckled, taken off guard by his words. “where?”

“for a drink, perhaps?” 

“i thought you only drank blood.”

he snickered again, shaking his head. “again, so quick to judge. i happen to enjoy red and white wines just as much as blood.”

as a quiet apology, you chuckled and sheepishly looked at your lap. “very well, where are we going for this drink?” 

he paused, lifting his hand to cup your chin between his thumb and index finger. his eyes immediately searched for yours as if he couldn’t stand a second being denied the sight. “my home, of course.”

—

soaring through the sky in the arms of a vampire was something that you’d never even dreamed about. he could have easily teleported back to the mansion while holding you tightly to his figure, but holding patience as a virtue, he opted instead for an extended flight above the forest. the rain seemed to disappear magically and for a moment, you wondered if he had something to do with it. 

the kingdom from several feet above was beautiful, tall trees scattered around open plains and tiny houses keeping their distances from each other- all the while, the cold wind blowing against your face remained gladly welcomed. suddenly, flying didn’t seem so unnatural. 

you weren’t expecting the vampire’s home to be a large, magnificent mansion. although its several towers were dark, looming, and slightly offputting to any onlooker and it appeared more worn down than wonwoo’s castle, you found it quite alluring. soft candlelight poured out of a handful of windows, signalling a comforting safe haven inside. 

he still cradled you close to his chest, one arm around your waist while the other relaxed under your knees, when his feet finally landed on the ground. although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he suddenly felt unconfident about the outward appearance of his home. “it’s not much,” he started quietly. “but it’s home.”

“it looks lovely,” you assured him, smoothing your hand over his covered shoulder.

“well, then i’m glad it holds up to your standards.”

when he carried you gracefully to the large front door, it dawned on you that the sight of the two of you must be hilariously misleading to any potential onlooker. after all, you were still in your white nightgown with only a small dressing robe to shield you from the cold. and with the way he held you so close, you looked almost like his bride. for a brief moment, you wondered if he wrestled with the same thought process.

just as you suspected, the interior of his mansion was much more welcoming than the exterior. plush scarlet furniture at every corner, dimly lit candles and lanterns upon the walls and tables, pitch black curtains hanging from the windows, a bearskin rug in the center of the drawing room.. it was oddly..cozy.

you tightened your arms around his shoulders while taking in all of your surroundings. you’d never seen that much red in your entire life. a cold breeze coursed through the hall, prompting you to shiver in his grasp. he only chuckled, bringing you closer to his chest. “it gets a bit drafty in here sometimes.. but i’ll keep you warm.”

he set you down in favor of holding onto your hand and leading you near the fireplace. as he briefly left you to place a drink order with one of his servants, it dawned on you: although you were in enemy territory, you couldn’t remember a time in which you’d felt safer. 

he seemed to rejoin you as quickly as he left, sitting down next to you on the bear skin rug. you watched the flames flicker in his eyes, accentuating their redness.. “have you lived here for a long time?” you asked.

“my whole life,” he replied lowly. “this mansion has been passed down among my family from generation to generation.”

you took another look around, taking note of just how high the vaulted ceilings were.. yes, it appeared old, very lived in.. but you sensed that if those walls could have talked, there were many secrets yet to be shared. “it’s beautiful,” you reiterated, unsure of what else to say.

“thank you,” he chuckled, endearment in his tone.

only a few minutes passed before the drinks were finally delivered in exquisite black chalices. you grasped the goblet delicately, taking a look inside and staring deeply at its deep red contents..

“i promise its nothing more than ordinary red wine,” jeonghan assured you, taking the smallest sip from his own cup.

you chuckled, keeping your eyes locked with his own while taking a gentle sip, aiming to savor the taste. it was the richest red wine you had ever tasted, a sweet undertone proving to be more addicting than you could have imagined.. how fitting, it seemed, that the vampire knew were to find the perfect brands of red wine. 

“this is far from ordinary,” you noted, setting your goblet a few inches away on the floor. “where did you find it?”

he licked his bottom lip, the sight doing more to your heartbeat than it should have. “aren’t i allowed to at least have a few secrets?”

“very well.”

he set his chalice down near yours, using it as a less than discreet excuse to inch his way closer to you. for a moment, he said nothing, the gentle crackling of the fire before you filling the silence. his eyes remained fixed upon your figure, most notably your neck and jawline. he yearned for even the smallest taste, knowing you were most likely just as sweet on the inside as you were on the outside.. 

you, of course, feeling his intense gaze on you, turned to him with a small smirk. the fact that a real, living vampire was so clearly fixated on you was more flattering and ego-feeding than it should have been. “you have a history with wonwoo, don’t you?” you asked, effectively catching him off guard.

“yes,” he answered without hesitation. 

so your suspicions were correct. there was something concerning about the way wonwoo addressed him without even a flicker of fear in his eye. and of course, the fact that your fiance couldn’t have been bothered to tell you how he had come to know and despise the vampire. “will you tell me about it?” 

“no,” he replied, his tone just as sharp and quick as before.

you tilted your head, eyebrows knitting together as you tried not to showcase your annoyance outright. “and why is that?”

“because i’d much rather focus on you tonight, darling princess.”

just like that, your brief shift of annoyance melted away. how could it be possible that a man you’d met only hours ago proved to be more attentive than your own intended? were you really this starved for attention that you would allow yourself to venture inside a vampire’s home, territory that you were frighteningly unfamiliar with? 

you did your best to push those silly questions to the back of your mind, mirroring his actions and inching closer to him. but once his shoulder was pressed against yours, the breath seemed to be snatched from your lungs.. “why.. do i feel so drawn to you?”

he paused, lifting his hand once more to let his fingers graze against your jaw. the longer you stared in his deep red eyes, it only became more apparent that the vampire was insistent on devoting every ounce of his attention to you and only you. he soon whispered, “i could easily ask you the same thing.”

once his hand cupped your cheek, effectively reeling you in closer to him, you abandoned any sense of guilt preventing you from kissing the beautiful vampire in front of you. the last thing you thought about in depth before his lips met yours was the fact that your engagement was purely a transaction, it was anything but love. after that, your mind felt hazy, foggy, focusing only on the feeling of his lips against yours.

he kissed you slowly, deeply, as if determined to memorize you on every intimate level. your gentle sighs, the patterns in which your addicting lips, the feeling of your skin against his.. your nose briefly brushed against his as you tilted your head to kiss him at a better angle and he nearly saw stars. 

his hand glided down to your neck and he, too, felt as if the air had been snatched from his lungs. for he felt your blood rushing underneath his fingertips, he heard your heartbeat echo in his ears again, the effect of a mere kiss proving to excite you and intimidate you all at the same time. it was too tempting, too alluring.. yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. in fact, he only cupped your neck tighter with the one hand.   

the two of you were quickly snapped out of your collective daze when a tiny prick on your bottom lip prompted you to break the kiss. you were breathless, feeling a shockwave run down your arms as a result of the tiny little nibble he’d allowed himself, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to break away from him completely. 

“was that-” you whispered, taking a mental note of the way his pupils dilated once again. 

he only smirked faintly, allowing you the tiniest glimpse of his sharp, gleaming fangs. the hand on your neck slid into your hair, tangling themselves in the strands. “do you want me to stop?” 

you couldn’t deny how strangely alluring the sight of his fangs were. in an instant, he could change his mind and show his true colors, prove himself to be exactly what you were always warned about.. and yet, they weren’t so terrifying now that you were seeing them for yourself. and he made no attempt to catch you in a bad moment and drain your blood..

as soon as you saw him gently swipe his tongue across his bottom lip and inadvertently bare his fangs once again, your decision was made.

“no.” 

you moved your own hand to the back of his neck, pulling his lips right back onto yours. you quickly got lost in the kiss again, this one more passionate, more desperate than the last.

jeonghan smirked against your lips, doing his best to keep his hunger and desire at bay. it was too soon, too fast to steal from you just yet. for he had you exactly where he wanted you and he was going to take his time, enjoy every second of his attempt at retaliation. even if his patience was wearing incredibly thin..

–

you were back in your private room before the sun rose. although there was some falsehood to the legends and rumors about vampires, they did, apparently, avoid sunlight at any cost. you slept peacefully for about.. two hours before being abruptly awoken by your new handmaidens. they were nothing if not punctual, you’d soon come to realize. 

immediately upon waking up in your new home, you were filled with a sense of dread and longing.. jeonghan’s home was a perfect escape from your responsibilities. everything about the vampire himself was fantastical in every good sense of the word; every second with him felt like a dream. naturally, it was much preferred to waking up to your cold-hearted fiance.

even sharing a meal together felt like a formality. the two of you kept great distance as you ate in silence and avoided eye contact at any available opportunity. it was torture. 

“i trust you slept well?” wonwoo finally spoke up, though his voice suggested disinterest.

you paused before slowly nodding your head. you couldn’t tell if the lack of sleep or the memory of your shared night with jeonghan was the bigger issue playing in your distraction. “yes, partially. and you?”

“partially,” he replied dryly.

you nodded again, making no attempt to hide your own disinterest. your gaze fell to the large grandfather clock in the corner of the room- nightfall had never seemed so far away..

“i need you to do some studying today,” wonwoo abruptly spoke, once again pulling you out of your daze for better or for worse. “if you are to live here, you must learn to defend yourself against those.. monsters. especially now that we are forced to potentially coexist with one in this castle, no thanks to you.”

while pushing his scolding remarks to the back of your mind, you glared softly at him. “why can’t we just find someone to bless the castle? or move to a safe house, for that matter.”

“it’s not that simple,” he sighed in annoyance. “once you invite a vampire into your home, the only way to uninvite them is to transfer ownership of the property. which i do not intend to do. or.. to kill them.”

“which you.. do intend to do?” you asked hesitantly.

he paused, clenching his jaw as his gaze briefly fell to his plate. “i will do whatever’s necessary.” his narrowed eyes met yours. “if he comes after what’s mine, i’m afraid i’ll have no other choice. let’s hope, for everyone’s sake, that he makes the right decision and keeps to himself.”

‘what’s mine..’ for whatever reason, you hated the way those two words sounded. you realized quickly that he could have been talking about anything; his home, his jewels, his throne.. maybe even you. suddenly, you bit back a chuckle- there you were, thinking that he couldn’t have cared less what became of you. could he have proved you wrong? 

yet, you felt no ounce of regret or shame. in fact, you were wrestling with the temptation to tell him he was wrong about jeonghan more than the temptation to confess your secret affair. if that was even the correct word to use..

“will you ever tell me what happened between the two of you?” you asked, though deep down, you already knew the answer. especially as he rose to his feet and took a step back in avoidance.

“all you need to know is that he’s a monster. and you would do well to keep your distance from him.”

seeing nothing better to do after your shared meal, you took to the study to comply with wonwoo’s request. he had a surprising volume of books on vampire folklore and legends, making you wonder if any of them were filled with facts. you settled comfortably against the sofa near the lit fireplace; you had a feeling you would be in there for a while..

meanwhile, as sunlight poured through one study’s window in abundance, another room was filled with darkness. the curtains completely shielded the glass in jeonghan’s study, preventing even a tiny sliver of sunlight from sneaking into the room. he, too, felt simultaneously exhausted and restless somehow. 

as he paced back and forth, tossing a ripe green apple from one hand to the other, he sighed heavily. he should have known that exacting revenge on the would-be king would be no easy feat. he expected complications, maybe some curveballs.. but he never expected to fall for someone so quickly. and so intensely, at that.

his nervous state of mind was not lost on joshua, a man whom he’d always called his brother. joshua’s understandable fear of the sun prevented him from getting any sleep during the day, provoking him to keep a cautious, watchful eye around the castle. that particular day, his pattern seemed to come in handy.

“what’s troubling you? you are usually hard to find during daylight,” joshua noted, sitting comfortably on the dark red loveseat in front of jeonghan.  

“it’s all going according to plan,” jeonghan started, pausing his steps in favor of standing directly before his closest friend. “some parts are proving to be.. a little too easy. i can go inside the castle as i please. thanks to his bride-to-be.”

joshua furrowed his eyebrows, evidently confused. “i don’t understand-”

jeonghan sighed, his avoidant gaze drifting to the apple in his hand. the words felt heavy on his tongue, embarrassment flooding his veins and preventing him from replying straight away. “i can’t deny that i.. find her incredibly charming. alluring. in all honesty, i can’t even put it into words. a small part of me even feels guilty for using her blind trust in me to my advantage.”

“you’re.. in love with her?” joshua stiffened slightly on the couch, the confusion evident within his features. “that’s impossible. you haven’t even known her for an entire day.”

jeonghan lifted his chin with a tiny smirk, “really, joshua. after all we’ve seen, after all we’ve done.. you’re skeptical of a tiny thing like love at first sight?”

“you sound incredibly delusional.”

jeonghan turned his back on the other man with a heavy sigh, hunching his shoulders ever so slightly. “i knew you wouldn’t get it. i don’t know why i bother to tell you these things anymore.”

joshua laughed in disbelief, much to his friend’s annoyance. “i’m trying to be the sensible one here. you’ve waited for years, plotting every last detail.. you want to throw it all away for.. for what? a princess you have no chance with?” 

“i’m not saying i want to throw all my plans away,” jeonghan countered. “i..can have it both ways. i know i can.”

“you can’t,” joshua replied with another chuckle, rising to his feet. just as he reached the doorway, he sighed, turning back with his hand still on the cold doorknob. “for your own sake..i urge you to get your priorities in order. or you’ll spend the rest of eternity regretting it.” 

jeonghan chose to stay silent, allowing the door clicking shut to fill in the silence. he didn’t plan for this. he didn’t plan to fall so quickly, to let the hopeless romantic deep inside him take over.. he didn’t plan for you to be so beautiful and charming, and he definitely didn’t expect to feel guilty on your behalf. of course wonwoo never knew to appreciate a wonderful thing when he had it.

then of course, he wondered if he was telling joshua the truth. if he really could have it both ways.

–

within a few days, security measures around the castle had somehow heightened. the two guards never left your bedroom door, standing stoically in the hallway day after day. while you were weary of the two of them staying just outside your bedroom twenty four hours a day, you knew it was futile to request them to leave you alone. 

for wonwoo was growing more and more anxious by the day. the only time he didn’t have someone watching closely over you was at night time, when you were presumably asleep. you had a feeling it would only get worse after the wedding, which was only a few weeks away. naturally, it felt best to enjoy what little nights you had left with jeonghan, even if it did drastically ruin your sleep schedule.  

one night, you sat crosslegged on the vampire’s large, four poster bed with him only a few inches away from you. he let his gaze slowly drift all the way from your eyes to the bright pink dress you wore. what a light you were in his darkened home, a light that he suddenly didn’t want to dim. 

he wore a white, fluffy shirt that almost appeared as velvety as his blonde hair. his collarbones peeked from under the fabric, revealing more of his skin than you’d seen. you weren’t sure exactly why, but it begged the question, “is it..strange? not having any heartbeat.” 

“you’ve been studying.” he chuckled before shaking his head. “no. not entirely. just..feels a little empty.”

naturally, there were so many questions you wanted to ask him every time you came face to face with him. he could easily prove all of the books you’d been forced to read wrong. but there seemed to be no delicate way to approach any of them. 

“can i..” you started, your eyes falling to the ruffles in his shirt near his chest.

he didn’t waste a single breath before replying in a cool tone, “please.”

with his permission, you tentatively reached out to place your palm flat against his covered chest. sure enough, there was nothing there.. nothing but cold. you wondered how he could stand it. “you’re right,” you whispered. “how can you stand the cold?”

“you get used to it after a while,” he replied, and you soon realized how foolish it was to ask him such a question. you forgot all about the brief embarrassment, however, when he moved a hand to rest on your shoulder, just above your collarbone. you watched his lips part as he seemed hyperfocused on that area of skin, all of the blood beneath seeming to gather under his fingertips like a magnet. 

“you can hear it, can’t you?” you finally asked him, feeling your own heart race as his eyes seemed to cloud over with hunger. that action, alone, may have been enough of an answer for you.. but you simply loved to hear him speak. 

he nodded stiffly, “you’re so reactive. your heartbeat.. it’s like a thousand drums.”

you bit back the smirk tugging at your lips, his words shamelessly feeding your ego. “that’s just what you do to me.”

he sighed in return at your words, crimson eyes flicking back up to yours. “honestly..?”

“honestly,” you nodded with sincerity, tugging him closer by the ruffles on his shirt and chasing his lips with your own. the kiss lasted ten, maybe twelve seconds before he pulled away slowly, leaving you feeling strangely empty as the cold left you.

you never would have known he was wrestling with several dilemmas in his own mind. he remained focused entirely on you, as if to be wondering if you were truly sitting before him.. “you’re so.. enchanting.”

the breathless way in which he spoke, the way his gaze absentmindedly fell to your lips.. it could easily have made you faint. you instead moved your hand slowly up to his cheek, pulling a gasp from his lips as the warmth of your palm met his skin. “i’m not the one with powers.” 

he chuckled even though your words brought him back into reality all too quickly, and he lowered his chin ever so slightly. “i’ve enjoyed these nights with you very much. i just.. want to ensure that you are, too.”

you chuckled, his words sounding almost absurd to you. “of course i am. don’t you think i would have turned you away by now if i didn’t enjoy your company?” 

“fair point,” he nodded. “however.. with the matter of your engagement-”

“wonwoo and i are not in love, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you gently cut him off. really, the last thing you wanted was to talk about your fiance with him, but you complied, knowing it must have at least brought him a little comfort. “our engagement is purely out of obligation to our kingdoms. though i assumed you, the intuitive vampire, already knew that.”

of course.. he should have known the stoic prince carried no romantic feelings towards you. his only question was, would it complicate his own plans? would wonwoo really be so unbothered by the loss of a most precious princess?  

“well, i knew he was inattentive,” he started.

“but you didn’t know the details?”

“i can’t read people’s minds, princess, not fully. it’s more like i can read emotions. i know wonwoo to be cold, dismissive, and.. in turn i knew you to be deeply upset and lonely.” as the words left jeonghan’s lips, he felt a strange pang of guilt in his chest for the first time. it was unfamiliar to him, who had no heartbeat- clearly, he hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“and bored,” a half hearted chuckle left your lips just before your eyes searched for his again. suddenly, you wanted to push any notion of your life just outside his window to the back of your mind. “you say you can’t read people’s minds.. but could you read other vampire’s minds?”

he tilted his head to the side for a moment, biting back a beautifully knowing smile. “well.. it’s different for everyone. but i could, potentially, read the mind of a vampire that i’ve turned.”

his words stuck with you for a moment, his tone almost promising. although it felt, sometimes, that he understood you on many levels you hadn’t expected him too, there was a possibility he could come to learn even more about you. but would it feel invasive? or would it feel especially intimate? 

“at least, at that point, we’d be fully transparent with each other,” you hinted with a smirk. 

he immediately flashed a smile, finding delight in your words. it was almost too easy.. “i like your way of thinking.”

“there’s plenty more where that came from.”

with an arm around your waist, he pulled you closer, your words igniting a fire within him. the knowledge that you were so willing to even consider becoming like him was too much to bare, the thought of sharing eternity with you too tantalizing to ignore. even if it wasn’t originally his plan.. 

a sigh left his pouty lips before they were back on yours. he had no words in that moment, all of his thoughts fighting to the death in his own mind as he kissed you with every ounce of strength he had left. only a knock at the door pulled him out of his confusing trance and prompted him to break the kiss, his hand remaining on your cheek. 

“yes?” he sighed out in annoyance, pulling a chuckle from your lips.

joshua pushed the door open, his eyes filled with disapproval as he saw the two of you in such a tight embrace. yet, jeonghan couldn’t bring himself to pull away and even mask his dignity. “it’s nearly dawn. the princess should be on her way home soon.”

“yes, joshua, i’ll take care of it,” he replied dismissively, nearly making you laugh again.

joshua, however, was not amused. the distasteful look never left his eyes, his otherwise neutral gaze speaking louder than words. you felt slightly judged, realizing how compromising your position appeared to be.. although, the fact that  jeonghan didn’t seem to care less provided a small amount of comfort. 

“well, take care quickly,” joshua finally spoke, his tone low. as your eyes flicked back and forth between the two vampires, you wondered if they’d shared some sort of secret conversation you had no part of in the brief, passing silence. “we don’t need her fiance knowing who she really spends her nights with.”

he left the room before jeonghan could bite back with a rebuttal. instead, he turned to you with a remorseful, slightly reluctant gaze. you swore his grip on your waist grew tighter as he whispered, “i’d spend all my days and nights with you in a heartbeat.” 

you felt foolish for falling in love with someone so quickly, abandoning any sense of logic in favor of connecting with a phantom. speaking with him about the promise of a shared eternity felt almost childish.. yet incredibly tempting. “it sounds..truly wonderful.”

he must have sensed your hesitance for he slowly pulled back, studying your thoughtful gaze. “i know it’s fast..” he started, his hand soon finding your own. “why don’t you consider it carefully?”

“i will,” you promised, quickly bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles. it was, truthfully, an empty promise- you knew you would have an answer by the end of the week. in all honesty, you had your answer as soon as he left you by your bedroom window. you knew you were hopelessly in love with him as you began to miss him from the second he left your side.

before the sun began to rise and you were within the security of your own chambers, jeonghan came to realize he would be remiss if he didn’t take a few extra peeks inside the castle. the castle that was technically his, in a round about way. soon, he was hidden near the large window in wonwoo’s office, where the crown prince worked tirelessly. 

jeonghan watched him in bitterness, realizing that he hated sharing with this man. he hated sharing the castle, the princess; it was never his plan. suddenly he remembered his vow, that he would rip everything away from wonwoo in a satisfying movement. and he rationalized that no matter how his own plans would change, the ending would be the same. 

for he was purely giving the prince the same treatment he, himself, had been given. 

–

“you’ve been acting strange lately.” 

you weren’t expecting a confrontation from wonwoo, of all people. you were certain that he was the last person in the castle that paid enough attention to you, therefore he would be the last to realize a shift in your behavior. yet there were some things even wonwoo couldn’t help but notice; you were notably sleepy during the day, skipping meals, mostly unable and unwilling to participate in simple conversation..

he couldn’t help but wonder if the upcoming wedding was a contributing factor. he was no stranger to experiencing cold feet, the feeling of unease only heightening now that it was more than a few days away. yet in his mind, you could have done a better job of hiding your apprehension.

you were quick to brush off his words, sighing, “i’m just tired. i haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”

this was odd; as far as wonwoo was aware, you barely participated in any of the wedding planning. granted, neither did he- “is the guest room not to your satisfaction?” he asked, his voice slightly strained.

“no, it’s perfectly fine,” you did your best to assure him, your tone slightly dry.

he paused, distracting himself with the scattered papers on his desk for a moment. he couldn’t let his confusion or his intrigue get the best of him, or worse, become blatantly obvious to you. the last thing he wanted was to give you the impression he cared a great deal about your feelings towards him, or your courtship in general- maybe it was a horrible tactic, but it stopped the lines from becoming too blurred.

yet, there was one question burning a hole in the back of his mind. he cleared his throat after a moment, crossing his arms over his desk. “have you.. by chance witnessed anything odd in the castle lately?”

you knew what (or better yet, who) he spoke of even with the lack of details. you leaned your head back against the arm chair, feigning contemplation. “not that i recall.. in all honesty, i’ve never felt safer in my life than i have during these last few weeks.”

“good,” he muttered in that all too familiar dismissive tone. though he was still unconvinced..

“have you?” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

“nothing worth noting,” he replied without taking his eyes away from the paperwork.

you chuckled, “if we are to be married, though, i think most things would be worth noting. if there’s something you wish to tell me, please say so at once.”

“it’s nothing, i swear it,” he replied a little too quickly. as always, though, he was quick to compose himself and momentarily hide his disdain. “i’m sure that if there’s anything amiss within these walls, it will present itself in its own way.”

you weren’t a fool; you knew that was his own way of hinting at you to tell him whatever secrets you may have buried within. but you remained silent; there was no definite way of telling your fiance that you were planning on leaving him for a vampire you barely knew. 

to leave wonwoo was to leave an agreement, a transaction, at the risk of bringing corruption to your kingdom. to leave the world you knew behind in favor of an eternity of unfamiliarity.. yet you couldn’t get the promise of eternity with someone as attentive and enchanting as jeonghan out of your mind. especially with every moment you sat silently in the library with said fiance..

you wished you could read wonwoo’s mind as you watched him slump over his desk, devote his entire attention to his work. did he truly suspect you of something? or did he have a confession of his own that he was harboring?

–

it was particularly cold that night, even with jeonghan’s large black cloak draped over your figure. he walked slowly by your side, clearly unbothered by the icy breeze even as it blew against his thin white blouse. for a moment you envied him; even if a part of you had always enjoyed the fall and winter time, you wished there was an easier way of walking through it completely unbothered.

“why did you take me out here, again?” you asked, tugging the heavy material of the coat closer to your chest. 

he chuckled a little bit, draping his arm around your shoulders after hearing the slight warble in your tone. it was a wonderful distraction, however brief it was. “i wanted to show you something. it’ll only take a minute.”

true to his word, it wasn’t long before he led you to the back of the small gardens. much to your surprise, they were kept very well.. almost too well, considering the state of the weather. yet near the back corner lay a large bush of vibrant red roses, the scarlet petals appearing to be made from the finest silk, itself. 

“how..how are they-” you stumbled over your words, enchanted by the deep red flowers. something about the specific shade of red was strangely alluring, pulling you closer and closer to the bushes.

“alive?” he finished, noticing your fixation on the flowers and snickering. “there’s a lot more about this house that you don’t know about. strange magic courses through the entire property, magic that even i can’t wrap my head around at times.”

he stepped forward, extending his hand slowly to pluck a single red rose from the bush. he turned to you with a smile ghosting over his lips, his eyes practically piercing into yours. slowly, you reached your own hand out to take the rose from him, unsure if the whisper of gratitude actually left your lips. 

“it’s beautiful,” you sighed gently, treating the stem with delicacy and care.

“isn’t it?” he chuckled, watching you carefully in admiration.

you rotated the rose between your fingers, wanting to study it from every angle. it truly was magical, especially with the knowledge it had suffered through harsh winters.. there was something so beautiful about its resilience. suddenly, a sharp pain coursed through your finger, brought upon by a prick of a thorn. the rose fell into your other hand as you examined the small wound, the tiniest drop of blood falling down your index finger..

you chuckled, caught off guard by the prick of the large thorn. while you were opting to forget about it, though, jeonghan seemed fixated on it, his eyes glued to your finger. he watched the soft pool of blood trail down your hand while you searched your pockets for a handkerchief. he drew in a deep breath, one that called to you. 

briefly, you were alarmed by the intense daze he fell into. you’d never seen such intensity in his eyes. you wiped your hand off on your skirts, making a mental note to wash it off later, before tapping his shoulder. “jeonghan-” 

he blinked repeatedly once the gentle trail had been washed away, any evidence of the incident wiped clean. though the smell of iron still filled the air between the two of you, tempting him, taunting him.. he cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “my apologies, princess.” 

“it’s not your fault,” you started, offering a gentle smile of reassurance. “i should have been more careful.”

“no-” he paused, distracted by the tiny dried marks of blood on your skirt. although his fixation was slowly melting away, the sight puzzled him, raising too many questions and prompting him once again to battle with his impatience. he lifted his chin to meet your gaze, “no. i should have known-”

you held your hand behind your back; although the wound was small, there was no shame in being cautious. “it’s.. killing you, isn’t it?” 

he held eye contact, his intense gaze softening as your words echoed in his mind. he still couldn’t wrap his head around how his mood had shifted within only a few weeks of knowing you; yes, he yearned and hungered for you.. but he had grown concerned for your wellbeing. your readiness. 

“it is..” he slowly admitted.

you sighed deeply; at least the two of you shared a certain hunger. you moved a hand to his cheek, the other now gripping a little more timidly onto the rose. “then just..” you paused, unsure how to state your plea. “i swear i can handle it.”

he sighed in frustration, taking a step back and letting you withdraw your hand from his face.  “you know i can’t do that. not yet.”

“but why?” 

he paused, turning his back on you. he didn’t want you to witness his expression change as he contemplated his piling dilemmas.. “because..” he started, his tone vague and unsure. “you have to be sure that you’re absolutely ready. and i mean.. absolutely ready, without question.”

“i’ll be fine, i swear- i know that you must be suffering-”

he shook his head quickly, gripping gently onto your upper arm. he spoke lowly, as if to share a secret with you alone, “you know how patient i can be, princess; i can wait for just a little while longer. we have to find the perfect moment.” 

you tilted your head back to get a better look at the moon directly above the two of you, shining like a spotlight and providing the perfect ambience. in your mind, there couldn’t have been a better opportunity; the garden was perfectly secluded, cold, the two of you in your own little world.. meanwhile, as jeonghan was allowed a better view of your neck, the intense hunger pooled in his stomach again, his mind going fuzzy.. 

you, of course, did nothing to help him out of his daze as you spoke, “this seems like as good an opportunity as any.”

“no, no-” he started, shaking his head before his gaze fell to the grass. maybe he was being selfish, but he was aiming for a perfectly satisfying moment to taste you, to take you into his world. a time when it would torture wonwoo the most.. “trust me. the wait will be worth it, i promise you.”

you let out a heavy sigh of defeat, knowing there was no use trying to convince him. maybe there was a small truth to what jeonghan said, maybe there was something special about waiting.. ultimately, you complied with his request and agreed to wait. although, you hoped the right opportunity would present itself sooner rather than later. 

–

when you arrived home, however, you wished you’d spent at least a few more minutes trying to convince him. 

“i was wondering where you’d been running off to.”

you recognized wonwoo’s voice from across the room immediately. he leaned back against your bedroom door with his arms folded across his chest and much to your surprise, there was no anger in his expression. more like.. intrigue. a knowing smirk twisted at his lips, hitting you like a slap in the face.

“so you have kept in contact with that.. new friend of ours.”

you hopelessly feigned innocence, your eyebrows knitting together in such a vain attempt. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

he scoffed, the sound of mockery sending a pang through your heart. “don’t lie. tell me, where else would someone go during the night time?” 

you felt your throat run dry as he spoke, knowing that he had effectively backed you into a corner. knowing that your act of innocence had come to a close, you let your shoulders slump as you asked him, “why do you care, anyways? it’s not like you were planning on putting any effort in this marriage outside of the trading agreements.”

he shrugged his shoulders, pushing off of the wall to take a step closer. “maybe you’re right. but i simply won’t allow that horrid monster anywhere near what’s mine. not anymore.”

“but don’t you see? he couldn’t care less about your castle. he has a home of his own, he lives comfortably. he doesn’t need to steal anything from you. you.. you judge him too harshly.”

“then why would he try to worm his way into gaining partial ownership of the castle?”

“you tell me,” you countered after a bitter scoff left your lips. “for god’s sake, just tell me what really happened between the two of you! why are you so convinced he’s hyperfixated on ruining your life?” 

his shoulders stiffened, his eyes quickly leaving yours. for a moment, he seemed to be vaguely tempted to tell you the truth, with you standing before him, on the edge of your seat.. “from this moment on, you are not to see him any longer.”

you felt your face grow hot with rage as he quickly turned his back on you. you yelled, “you don’t get to decide that for me!” 

“i’m doing this for your own good,” he bit back, whipping around to face you with a harsh stare. “i thought your studies would have brought you some much needed clarity but apparently not. you either can’t see jeonghan for what he truly is or you simply refuse to. he’s a demon. he’ll feed on you and drain you for all you’re worth as soon as he gets the opportunity.”

“you don’t know that! you don’t know anything about him, he’s gentle and.. beautiful and kind.. whatever version of him you thought you knew, it’s not him!” 

“that’s exactly my point!” he snapped. “how can you not see that he’s putting on a facade for you?”

you hated how blunt and cold his words sounded, how they drove into your heart like a stake. most of all, you hated how even for a brief second, you wondered if there was any truth to his statement. was the vampire truly so magnetic and alluring to a fault? did he truly have a certain power over you that you couldn’t begin to comprehend?

“you’re wrong about him,” you finally muttered, your voice silent yet filled with anger. if only the sunlight wasn’t peeking through your curtains; you would have relied on the vampire of the hour to conveniently whisk you away.

wonwoo huffed, opening the door for two more guards to step inside your quarters. “they’re to watch over your balcony every evening,” he explained, only fueling the raging fire of anger inside you. “it’s not up for debate; it’s unsafe for you at night, otherwise.”

you were quick to follow him as he stepped into the hallway, hurriedly making his way to the spiral staircase. it was as if his words meant nothing, as if they had no consequence.. “so i’m a prisoner? my privacy is to be thrown out the window?”

“it’s for your protection,” he bit back, the monotony in his tone doing little to reassure you. “i won’t argue with you on this matter for a second longer. not when there’s endless amounts of work to be done.”

you stopped in place, your hand clutching tightly onto the railing.. how did you keep managing to forget about your own wedding? 

–

as the days passed, you considered again and again what may have become of you if you’d begged and pleaded with jeonghan to let you stay with him. at least for a little while longer. after hours and hours of meticulous wedding planning and rehearsals, you were heartbroken to find that the vampire made no attempt to approach your balcony. the two guards, unassuming as they may have been to a being like himself, were still a nuisance he wasn’t willing to deal with.

it was the evening before your wedding. even when you were surrounded by family members, servants, and several members of the court alike, you had never felt so isolated. final preparations were being made but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything except for the dancing flames in the wall’s tiny opening before you. 

although jeonghan had remained absent for a few days, you could still feel his presence somehow. a brief gust of cold wind, for example, resembling a whisper in your ear.. it prompted you to wonder if beyond the stacking differences between the two of you as individuals, he had found a way to communicate with you.

soon wonwoo stood before the rest of the crowd, gathering their attention. as he spoke, it was the happiest he had ever sounded for as long as you knew him, which, truthfully was not saying much. “today marks a momentous occasion- the eve before two kingdoms with many differences on paper, put them aside and unite as one.”

modest applause rang through the hall and brought a discomforting tingling to your ears. they seemed to be celebrating your hopelessness and wonwoo seemed to catch on, for his eyes immediately landed on you before he spoke again. “my dear princess-” the words unfamiliar and unwelcome, “let us celebrate the beginning of a new chapter together.”

together.

one thing was for certain; you two were to stay at arm’s length as you navigated the new chapter he spoke of. neither of you had any intention to embrace a possible connection.

the two of you would, however, do whatever necessary to keep up appearances. hence why you slowly approached him with the fakest, loveliest smile you could plaster upon your lips.. and as you faced the crowd with him, hand in hand, either of your parents’ proud smiles forcing your stomach to twist in knots, it all felt too alarmingly real.

it was clear your audience was expecting something, maybe a little kiss.. which neither of you would give them the pleasure of witnessing. both of you were determined to save that agony for the wedding..

as suspense seemed to fill the room, however, thunder began to rumble on an otherwise clear night sky and rattle the windows. while no one else in the room seemed to think much of it, you were puzzled- could it be-

“now don’t stop on my account.”  

a collective gasp filled the room as jeonghan stood merely a few feet away from the reluctant couple with a shit eating grin. his gray suit made his fluffy blonde hair that you had missed so dearly pop, not to mention his deep red eyes. you had to laugh; it truly felt like centuries since you had been forced to commit the vampire’s beautiful features to memory.

“jeonghan,” wonwoo sighed through gritted teeth. “i’m getting a strange sense of deja vu.”

“as am i,” he chuckled, taking a single step closer to you. he barely had time to blink in your direction before wonwoo unsheathed his sword, the sharp tip nearly inches away from the vampire’s jaw. his smirk merely deepened as his eyes flicked to the blade. “c’mon. you know that won’t do a thing.”

“true,” wonwoo nodded. “but it could distract you.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in questioning merely seconds before jeonghan quickly reached behind and plucked the pointed wooden stake from the guard’s hand. he laughed and you hated how beautiful the sound was leaving his pouty, addicting lips.. “i don’t get distracted, old friend. not anymore.”

wonwoo huffed, making no further attempt to mask his anger. “get out of my castle at once.”

“with pleasure.” his voice was sharp and cool as he reached towards you, dodging the sword and grabbing your forearm. his grip was firm but gentle, his cold fingers locked around your arm as he brought you into his cold embrace. the last thing you saw before he draped his dark cloak over your figure was wonwoo waving the sword in jeonghan’s direction to no avail. for in the blink of an eye, you were in the center of the vampire’s drawing room. 

you were breathless. your chest heaved against his as you gripped tightly onto his shoulders, not wanting to part from him for even a moment. “thank you..” you whispered. “how did you..”

“i had a feeling,” he replied, his hands slowly inching closer to your lower back. 

“why didn’t you come back?” you asked him with desperation, your grip on his shoulders subconsciously growing tighter.

he stayed silent for a moment, his expression turning somber. “there were a few complications. and i.. well, truthfully i needed some time to myself. please forgive me, princess, i should have told you-”

“no,” you interrupted, moving your hands to cup his cheek and prompt him to look in your eyes again. “what matters is that we’re together now.” it took everything within you to hold back from adding a tiny ‘forever’ to the end of your sentence. you could only hope that the look in your eyes spoke for itself.

he let out a gentle sigh, which was laced with nothing but affection, before bringing you closer to his large window. now that he was allowed a proper view of you in the moonlight, a peaceful resolve within his features. his hands remained glued to your waist as he brought you impossibly close to him, barely allowing either of you room to breathe. though, it was the way you preferred it.

“i’m sorry princess,” he spoke again, guilt filling his crimson irises to the brim. “i failed you.”

you shook your head immediately, seeing no need for another apology. “no. not yet. you came just in the nick of time.”

he leaned down, letting his forehead rest against yours. thanks to the close, breathless proximity, he could perfectly hear your heart racing in your chest. the sound, as always, was like music to his ears, prompting a familiar ache in the emptiness in his chest- “as did you.”

you pondered the gravity of his words as a warmth spread throughout your body. it washed away all of the dread, hopelessness you had felt not even an hour earlier. and for that- you were eternally grateful to him. you pulled away just enough to meet his gaze again, your voice filled with sentimentality that finally made him smile, “we both found each other at the perfect time.”

he had no words. he hoped his actions would speak louder as he brought a cold hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a deep and slow kiss. he poured everything into it: love, adoration, and most notably, hunger. that familiar sharp, chilling wave of surprise washed throughout your body the moment his fangs grazed your bottom lip. 

your lips were only a single breath away from his when you paused, whispering to him emotionally, “i’m ready.”

he paused, pulling his head back just enough to meet your gaze. but you could tell his patience was wearing extremely thin, judging by the way his fingers had tangled themselves into your hair. “are you absolutely sure?” 

he barely asked the question before you nodded your head, your fingers wrapped around the lapel of his jacket. “positive. please-”

he flashed a smile of relief, the moonlight giving rise to a glint of his pure white fangs merely a millisecond before he leaned in. hoping to help you relax, he left a trail of hungry yet soothing kisses from your jawline to the area where your neck and shoulder met, right above your jugular. 

this was it. this was the moment. all the horrible, tortuous waiting on his end was drawing to a close. he felt you stiffen in his arms as you drew in a deep breath and released it, unable to completely eradicate your subtle fears. your sigh was like a mystical breeze, filling his ears like the sweetest music.. 

he parted his lips, barely letting the sharp edge of his fangs graze the surface of your skin. you quickly responded by gasping and gripping on tighter to his biceps, whispering to him and pleading, “don’t let me go.”

upon hearing your words, he stopped, guilt coursing through his cold body upon impact. you couldn’t fool him; as much as you tried to hide it, you were scared. understandably so. and he couldn’t bare to see it. especially when you had no idea what lay in store..

he stumbled out of your grip, taking two clumsy steps backward. “i.. i can’t-”

you opened your eyes to see him with his chest heaving, his fangs disappearing from view. then you gently pressed, “why?”

“i can’t do this-” he repeated, his voice worn and shaky as he avoided your gaze. “i can’t do this to you.”

“no-” you gasped, raising your voice without fully realizing. “no, jeonghan, i want this. i want you. for eternity, just like you promised-”

“no, you don’t-” he reiterated firmly, turning his back on you. you watched as he practically shrunk under your gaze, picturing the sunken look in his beautiful eyes.. a horrible air of confusion and uncertainty filled the tense air before he finally spoke, “you know.. i wasn’t always like this.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “what do you mean?” 

he chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual light, airy laugh. no it was filled with an unmistakable sadness that nearly snapped your heart in two. 

“i worked in the palace once. a few years ago. i grew up with the prince, we were good friends- hence why i was able to join the ranks of his knights so quickly. the army, being sworn to secrecy, were tasked with hunting and killing vampires. wonwoo, of course, led all of us fearlessly, determined to put an end to the generational battle.

“but i made the mistake of trusting in him too much. i misjudged him.. so i told him the truth. that i had befriended one. that he was reclusive, that he meant no harm- that perhaps, these were deeply misunderstood creatures. obviously, he didn’t take too kindly to my confession and when i refused to tell him who and where this vampire was, he took an unexpected approach. he promoted me to the general leader of his army.”

he noticed your confused expression but continued to stare out the window, eyes falling to the gardens below. “the next excursion the army took was to a notoriously violent family of vampires’ home. he and i took the lead.. but we were dangerously outnumbered and underprepared. but you see.. he had made sure of that.”

you froze, asking him quietly, “what do you mean by that?”

he drew in a deep breath before releasing it, his cold breath casting a cloud upon the window in front of him. “after commanding the rest of his men to escape, he left me inside. for dead. but i suffered a much, much worse fate than death.” 

suddenly he pulled back the sleeve of his silky shirt and you gasped, finally being allowed a glimpse of a tiny scar from none other than “fangs..”

he nodded, dropping his arm to his side. “joshua rescued me and brought me back here, to his home. the only thing worse than the nightmare of being bitten was waking up from it. waking up without a heart, without a running pulse, with a terrible, terrible hunger-” he paused, his eyes finally finding yours. “and to think.. i thought about subjecting you, darling princess, to the same horror.”

it was too much to handle, all at once. you actually stumbled backwards, your hand barely clutching onto the curtain to stop you from falling.. 

“it.. it can’t be true-”

“but it is.”

you felt your heart shatter in your chest and brought a hand to soothe the aching area. “so you were going to use me.. for revenge?” 

once again, he was unable to look in your eyes. he bit on his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, before shamefully nodding his head. “i was.” 

“was any of it true?” you asked, raising your voice again. you couldn’t help it, you were hurt, angry- angry with both of them, somehow. 

he stepped closer immediately upon hearing the tiny warble in your voice. his hand fell to yours and he pressed a kiss to your knuckles before explaining, “listen to me.. falling for you was never part of the plan. i wanted to take his life from him, everything he knew and loved, just as he’d done to me. but… i never stopped to think about what could become of you. the one who cast their own little spell on me, princess.”

tears fell from your eyes like a dam breaking and you bowed your head down, allowing a small cry to leave your lips. all your hopes, all your ambitions were suddenly dashed with the confession. you brought your hand to your lips in a vain attempt to muffle the heart wrenching cries that left your lips. 

for a moment, you struggled to speak, struggled to voice to jeonghan how.. confused you were. how hurt you were on his behalf. how even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop caring so deeply for him. that beyond your initial hurt and anger, you believed him. 

“you don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along your jawline. “i know.”

although there was a small comfort to those two simple words, it couldn’t silence your cries. not completely. you looked up to him, and much to his (and truthfully, your own) surprise, you sobbed, “i want to stay with you.”

“no you don’t,” he shook his head, letting his hand fall into your hair. 

“i do,” you sobbed, anger and desperation in your tone. 

“no. you-”

“i do!” you cried out, the edge in your voice breaking his own spirit. “i don’t want to go back now, i.. jeonghan, i can’t go back now-”

he sighed gently, sorrow filling his eyes once more. “princess, pl-”

“i can’t! i can’t, i won’t!” you buried your face in his chest, despite how angry you felt with him in that moment. “you can’t make me!” “listen,” he spoke gently, yet with confidence that brought you to briefly silence your tears. he cradled your head in his hands, fingers weaving through your hair. “even after the pain begins to dull.. you will be hunted. you will never stop living in fear. he will never stop searching for his princess.”

you knew he was right. but you refused to acknowledge it. you cried desperately into his jacket, where he continued to hold you tightly.

“you’ll lose everything. everything you know and love,” he started, his voice finally beginning to shake. “you’ll even lose the sunlight.”

you would have cried out your protest again, had he not seemingly captured your words from you. instead, you felt dumbfounded, speechless.. and for the first time in forever, you felt like giving up. 

“i can’t do that to you. i won’t do that to you.” he captured your chin between his thumb and index finger, prompting you to look into his eyes again. you couldn’t resist, even if the devastation in his eyes was as clear as day. “please.. don’t ask me anymore.”

it pained you to speak, your voice lowering, “does that mean..” you sighed, gently closing your eyes to avoid the look of despair in his eyes. “is it over now?” 

he paused, hating to answer you straight away and potentially add salt to the wound. he seemed to carefully, mindfully craft his words before he spoke, “not completely, princess. i’ll be with you. you could hear me during our time apart, couldn’t you?”

his words brought you a sliver of hope, even if you weren’t fully satisfied. even if you were still preferring to abandon your life in favor of sharing blissful eternal moonlight with him.. “yes. i could.”

“then don’t stop listening for me,” he pleaded before pressing one last feathery kiss against your forehead. “alright? swear it.”

“i swear it,” you murmured, your voice threatening to give way once again. his lips found yours before he could hear the promise in its entirety and he kissed you passionately. the two of you poured your most heartbreaking (but not your last) goodbye into the kiss rather than using anymore hurtful words.

–

it was as if wonwoo was expecting you to come back home. as if he expected you to immediately regret your decision and come back to him.. and you would let him think that way, for now. there was no use in arguing with him and adding to the tense environment. at least he seemed to share the same sentiment, for he didn’t ask any questions or gloat- for jeonghan, in his eyes, had found defeat and that was more than enough for him. 

the morning of the wedding, you felt nauseous, as expected. you were less concerned about parading yourself in a ceremony with a man you couldn’t care less about and more concerned about what it meant for your future. a life filled with safety, security.. and as jeonghan put it, boredom. 

but it was better this way. as you sat at your vanity table, you felt as if you were reliving the memory of that first night in real time. your eyes flicked to the rose he had given you, laying across the table. it was still in full bloom, vibrant waves of red petals still as full of life as when you had first laid eyes on it. suddenly a cool breeze filled your room, even with the windows closed.. maybe a little bit of his magic would stay with you for the rest of your life, after all.

[kabr0ztrousers]

A top heavy fem reader finds out her family is in deep trouble with a loan shark (a literal sharkman). He makes her strip to see what she's got. As he's groping her he tells her the options to pay him back like becoming a stripper, p0rn actress, escort, etc. Then he says he can clear the debt if she will be his.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 158: Loan Shark

Also entitled: How much dialogue? 🥲

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: dubcon, moving to enthusiastic consent; biting; oral sex; financial coercion; intimidation;

A/N: I'm trying to do more dialogue-heavy stories recently because I've done loads without much. So you'll get plenty of stories where all the characters have basically the same voice 🤣

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You hadn't meant to borrow that much, but you know how it is; one bad month leaves you with not quite enough to make ends meet, so you borrow a little. The next month, you've paid that back, but now you're a little further, then a little further. It's not long before the repayments outstripped what you could pay, and you turned to... Less than scrupulous help. Bruce was fine, to begin with. He didn't ask for more than you could afford for the first few months, you almost started letting yourself feel like you were on the way to getting things back to normal.

Until, of course, your phone rang.

“Hey, come to my office. We need to talk” Bruce sounded annoyed.

Cold dread gripped you. You checked your phone on the bus into the city. You hadn’t missed a payment, every month on the first, chipping away at your debt little by little. You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, cold sweat running down your back.

The office, such as it was, was a garage on the rougher part of town. A large lupine in a biker jacket leaned smoking on the door, before moving to one side and waving you in.

“Bruce is waiting. Looks pretty pissed. Don’t try nothin’”

You looked him in the eye as you passed. He returned your gaze, impassive, watching you enter before stepping back in front of the door behind you. The metal door creaked slightly on its hinges under his weight. No getting out that way.

Bruce’s desk looked tiny in front of him. A tiny piece of faux wood supporting a laptop and cheap printer, all positioned before a veritable mountain of hulking shark-man.

“Good. You're here.” He grinned, revealing row upon row of serrated triangular teeth “Time to pay up.”

“I- I paid this month, see?” You held out your phone to him “On the first, same as always”

“Interest's gone up. You’re gonna pay the whole lot. Today. Now. Or you're not leaving this office.”

Your face paled. Cold water flowed down your spine “I can't afford it… I’ll never be able to do that”

Bruce's grin widened “There's more than one way to skin a cat.” He motioned with his hands “Take off your clothes. Let's see what we're dealing with”

You blushed, turning to leave. The huge lupine was standing on this side of the door now, staring you down

“What’d I say? Don't try nothin'”

You wanted to take your chances, get him away from the door and run for the police. Your legs had other ideas. His stare transfixed you, pinning you in place.

“Good choice. Now, turn around and face the boss when he's talking to ya”

Bruce had stepped around his desk and was now sat on it, the cheap surface bowing under his bulk “Now. Take off your clothes, and turn around. Let's see what we're dealing with”

You stripped obediently, blushing as more and more skin was exposed to the two men. The lupine didn't seem interested, as stoic and unflappable as ever. Bruce, however, was positively drooling.

“Now that's what I'm talking about!” He laughed “Look at you!”

He grabbed one of the folds of your belly “Damn, ever thought about doing porn? I know a guy, we could make that happen…” Next he cupped one of your tits “Or perhaps just sell your body directly… Classy, like, no street corners for you”

He was drooling now, lost in his fantasies as he prodded and poked at you.

“Is there not another way?” You weren't keen on selling yourself, despite his enthusiasm. “I don't want to be a prostitute”

Bruce stopped for a moment. Still holding one of your breasts, your protestation bouncing around in his head. “Well, there is… one thing” he was suddenly bashful “Maybe if you’d give me a try? We could see where it goes, and I'll forgive your debt”

You stared at him. His expressionless black eyes wide. Suddenly the intimidating loanshark was just a terrified schoolboy, terrified at owning up to his crush. “Ok, we’ll give it a shot. One date, no obligations, and no more loan” was this really working? You, stark naked, with an apex predator wrapped around your finger, his legbreaker flicking a lighter in the corner of the room

Bruce let go of your tit and grabbed your hand, whisking you off to a back room you hadn't noticed. Up a flight of stairs into a loft, roughly converted into a studio flat

“My gaff, it's not much, but it's home” was he blushing?

You let him guide you to the bed, a rickety spring mattress on a steel frame. He laid you down, the springs protesting at your generous frame.

“One second, just gotta-” and just like that the shark was as naked as you, clothes abandoned on the floor

When you said a date, this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but when he stood there, wearing not a stitch, you couldn't help but get into the rhythm of things. You sat up for him, the muscular humanoid in front of you barely daring to touch you now. Forcing his hands to your hair did the trick, especially when you started planting kisses on his cock.

Fingers weaved through your hair, not quite holding you, but it was good enough for now. You'll train him better for next time. The head of his cock was enough to make you have to open wide. You kissed the tip and licked the underside, flicking his frenulum with the tip of your tongue, hearing him groan and sigh as he started to leak onto your tongue.

It tasted too good, you could've kept going like this and got your reward, but the heat in your crotch made you pull away, rolling backwards on the squealing mattress, presenting yourself to him

“Well? Don't you want me?”

He did. The bedsprings protested at his settling on top of you, pressing his cock against your hole and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Come on, give it to me”

You gasped as the head slipped inside. Bruce's hips set a brisk rhythm, his hips slapping against yours, balls swinging into your ass with every thrust. He was wrapped around you, arms holding your body tight to his as his legs worked you into the squeaking springs under you.

Slopping wet sounds mingled with the squeaking bedframe and springs as you drew close, every thrust sending butterflies through your stomach. You still needed more

“Bite me”

“Mmph?” His face was still stuck in the plush flesh of your shoulder

“Just a little, bite me”

You felt Bruce open his mouth, nibbling at your collarbone. The hundreds of razor-sharp teeth leaving marks on your body as you groaned

“Just like that, right there, right there, right-”

Your words turned into a long, sustained whine. He kept going, the ribbed head of his cock sliding through you. Every inch filled you with wriggling ecstasy, your hips bucking into his as he panted into you.

You wrapped your legs around the shark-man’s hips “Don't you dare pull out. Don't you fucking dare”

He couldn't, even without your legs. You felt him throb, heard him whimper, then his hips slammed into yours. Again and again, he shakily thrust, rolling you slightly to reach as deep as he could as he filled you.

You both lay, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing breath as you panted, forehead to forehead.

“Next time we do this” you kissed him “you're buying me dinner first.”

[pupslimes]

Naked cuddling with the chuckle boys but make it not end in fucking just like handsy and silly @quesabo-corner

pupslimes can write sfw? huge if true. i wrote this in under an hour. bow down to me. no warnings, gn reader in all three.

Ted

You come home from an extra stressful day at work just wanting to relax and calm down. You stroll into your bedroom, and Ted is already there in nothing but his boxer shorts, Switch controller in hand and brow furrowed in concentration as he fights off virtual enemies. Gratefully sighing, you strip off your shirt and pants until you're just in your underwear, and crawl into bed with him. Ted looks down at your chest and grunts appreciatively before turning back to his game. You start to trace lines and shapes down his pecs, taking care to pull away when he flinches too hard or inhales too sharply. Eventually, you hear the fanfare of mission success, and the sound of Ted setting aside the controller on the beside table, before turning to you. "Hi gorgeous," His voice is deep and low in his chest, raspy from disuse all day. You groan, laying your head in between his pecs, listening to his strong heartbeat kick up just the littlest bit. "Long day?" You nod, and he pulls you in until you're chest to chest. Your leg loops around his waist, his slot around your free one , and your face gets buried in his neck. "I gotcha, babe," You melt deep into him, grateful as ever that you have a boyfriend who cares for you so much. You stay like this for a long while, occasionally shifting ever so slightly for more comfort. You almost fall asleep, but you know you have to get up and eat something before passing out at the very least. Ted's free hand, the one that isn't tucked under you, makes its way all over your body. He rubs your back, scratches at the base of your scalp, twirls your hair through his finger. He trails the pads of his fingers down your side, massages circles into your hip and thigh like a cat kneading biscuits. Inevitably, he grabs your ass. You chuckle slightly at this, as his fingers grip the exposed cheek and tug at it gently. "Can you blame me?" You feel the rumble through the parts of your body against his chest and neck. "Your ass is just so nice babe," He gives it a few light smacks, and you giggle. He keeps his hand there, completely unmoving besides his ministrations, until you reach down and grab his ass. He snorts. "Like a stress toy, huh?" You groan appreciatively into him, matching his movements on your ass on his own. Eventually it becomes playful, him poking at your ass until it jiggles, and you attempting to do the same from your much more awkward angle. He smacks at it again, and when you echo the motion, he full on chortles. "Alright, c'mere n give me a kiss, baby," You release his ass, push up off of him onto your side, and lean down to press your lips to his. His hand comes up to hold your chin between his fingers as he kisses you slowly, carefully, before pulling away. "Wanna order takeout for dinner?" Your heart soars.

Schlatt

You both sleep naked. It's a habit you had slowly picked up from one another. Schlatt slept with his shirt off when you met him, and you didn't wear pants to bed. Eventually, you craved skin to skin contact and had shed your shirt, cuddling up into his side every night as he wrapped an arm around you. You could have purred at the sensation of it, and it seemed Schlatt agreed, because he ditched sleeping in pants soon after. And then, obviously, because the two of you went at it like animals, you tended to end the night without underwear on anyways, so what was the point of wearing them to bed in the first place. So now, both of you would slide into bed without any clothes on, the gentle chill off the sheets at your back with the warmth of the blankets on top of you, before you huddled together in the center of the bed and fell asleep tangled around one another. Waking up in the morning was always a pleasant experience, rolling over and forcing your eyes open, to be greeted by the massive expanse of Schlatt's chest. You'd rub the sleep out of your eyes and watch until necessity interrupted your reverie or he did. Today was a weekend, so it was him ending your surveyal of his body. "C'mere, perv," He groaned, pulling you into him. You giggled at his choice of words, reaching up and tweaking a nipple in response. "Oy!" He protested. "Criminal," He dug his fingers into your side until you yelped. "That'll teach you, little freak," He pulled you closer against him again, hand to your ass pushing your pelvises together. You placed soft kisses against his jawline as an apology, and soon he was turning to kiss your forehead in return. "Fuckin' weirdo," his tone held nothing but obvious affection. You placed a hand on his chest and slung a leg over him, pushing until you were laying on top of him. "Oof, hiya, darlin,'" You rested your head on his chest, sighing at the immense amount of comfort from your boyfriend below you, basically your own personal heater. "Ay, you're not thinkin' of fallin' back asleep on top of me, are you, sweet thing?" Well, of you hadn't been before, you certainty were now. You nestled even further into his chest, using one side as a pillow and the opposite as a hand rest. Schlatt groaned under you in fake annoyance. "If you're coppin' a feel, I'm gonna too," His hands came up from his sides and landed on your ass, the sound echoing into the room slightly, mostly muffled by the blanket still on top of you both," As you started to lose consciousness, you felt him sigh gently beneath you. "Sleep tight, doll,"

Charlie

You flopped over on your side, sweaty, gross, and giggling. Charlie panted next to you, his chest rising and falling as he gulped in air, trying to get his breath back. "Jesus Christ, babe, that was a lot. Even for me," You couldn't stop yourself from giggling at him, a smirk gracing your features, even as you tried to catch your breath. Charlie often chased you through the house pre shower, but unbeknownst to him, you had started going to the gym, working on your endurance specifically to evade his grasp better, or at least for longer. Charlie worked out, but he focused more on weight training and climbing more than anything. Obviously it still helped him physically, and it really didn't matter in the end how much training you had done, you weren't going to be able to catch up to him. Obviously, he was going to be the one catching up to you forever. You had managed to keep away from him for a while, darting around corners and running across the couch as a short cut, but the stairs had been your undoing. You figured if you could get to the bedroom fast enough to close the door behind you before he caught up you would be able to lock yourself away. Objectively, it was a great plan, but you hadn't considered the fact that closing the door against Charlie's muscular form would take a lot more energy than you had left. He had shouldered his way in, scooped you up at the waist, and flopped you both down on the bed, you on top of him. You'd squirmed against him while he used his position to dig his face into your chest, pressing himself into the skin and inhaling the scent of you until you had conceded his win and begged for mercy. And that was how you found yourself here, a gasping Charlie at your side as you also attempted to regain the natural rhythm of your breath. Eventually, his breathing slowed and he rolled to his side, glancing down at you. "I'm impressed, hun," His glasses slid down his nose as he spoke, and you reached up and tugged them off lightly, folding them and setting them aside. He leaned down to kiss you in thanks, hand grabbing your hip for stability, but he didn't let go as he pulled back. "How'd you manage to run away for so long this time?" You debated on revealing your secret to him, but decided against it, only haughtily raising your eyebrows at him in silence. He chuckled, low in his chest. "Alright, keep your secrets then, you silly goose," He leaned down again, fingers tracing your thigh this time as he kissed you deeply, before pulling away and sighing contentedly. "Well," he glanced down at you, adoration clear in his gaze. "I think we both need a shower after that. Care to come with me?"

[formulafanfics13]

hello evie! i love your writing! 🩶

i have a request: charles and reader have had sex, but it’s always been pretty vanilla. one day charles accidentally finds out that reader has a pair of handcuffs and asks her about it. she says she used to use them with her ex, and charles asks why the two of them haven’t used them. “i didn’t think you’d be into it”, “i didn’t think you’d be into it”. they decide to use them straightaway but as charles is about to handcuff her she goes “wait, no, these are for you”

😇 thank you love

These are for you - CL16 🔥

Masterlist

Summary: Charles accidentally discovers your real handcuffs while looking for a hoodie, which leads to a dominant night where you tie him up, tease him, and ruin him in the best possible way. It’s his first time being cuffed, and by the end, he’s addicted.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, bondage (handcuffs), light humiliation, orgasm control/denial, riding, oral (f to m), praise kink, teasing, begging, power play, slightly rough sex, aftercare. Contains themes of submission and control.

He didn’t mean to snoop. Honestly, he was just looking for a hoodie. Yours, the pale blue one he always stole when he stayed over. Your drawers were usually a mess, but he didn’t mind. He liked your chaos. Liked the way your clothes smelled like you. Liked the fact that his toothbrush lived beside yours now.

But then his hand brushed something cold, metal, clicking beneath a shirt. He froze. Pulled it out slowly. And blinked. Handcuffs. Real ones. Sleek black. Heavy in his palm. No fluff. No keys with hearts on them. These weren’t novelty. They were real. Serious.

His brain stuttered. You, soft, sweet, warm you had cuffs. And hadn’t used them with him. Why? What else were you hiding in your messy little drawers?

When you walk in, towel wrapped around your chest, fresh from the shower and humming to yourself, you stop mid-step. Charles is sitting on the edge of your bed. Turning the cuffs over in his hands.

Your heart stops. “You found those,” you say quietly.

He looks up. “You own these?”

You nod.

He blinks. “Since when?”

You shrug. “A while.”

“Have you used them?”

“Not in a long time.”

“With your ex?”

You hesitate. Then nod again. “Yeah.”

He swallows. Looks at you differently now. Like the world has tilted sideways and he’s still trying to find his balance.

“Why haven’t we-?”

“I didn’t think you’d be into it.”

He laughs. Not mocking. Just soft. Disbelieving. “I didn’t think you’d be into it.”

A beat of silence. Then “So,” he says carefully, “are we into it?”

You walk to him slowly. Slide the towel off and straddle him in one motion, bare and wet and warm in his lap. “I am,” you whisper. “The question is... are you?”

He gasped when the first cuff clicked. Wrist secured to the headboard. “You-wait-”

You tightened the second one.

“These are for me?” he choked.

You grinned. “What, did you think I was going to lie there and let you have all the fun?”

His cock twitched under the cotton of his joggers. You noticed.

Charles groaned. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t expect the way his body responds. Doesn’t expect the throb that kicks low in his gut. 

He’s hard already. You notice. You smirk. “Good boy.”

He exhales shakily. “Fuck.”

You start slow. Let him feel what it’s like to need. You kiss down his chest. Bite his ribs. Drag your nails along his hips. You take your time pulling his shorts off, revealing the flush, the twitch, the desperate tension in his thighs. You wrap your hand around him and he gasps.

“You ever been cuffed before, Charlie?”

He shakes his head, eyes wide. You stroke him lazily. Cruelly. “First time for everything.”

He’s panting by the time you go down on him. Not rough, not at first. Just slow. Wet. Purposeful. You let your spit drip down his length and watch him whine through gritted teeth, hips jerking helplessly.

“Can’t touch me,” you whisper. “Even though you want to.”

He groans. Pulls at the cuffs. You hold his hips still. “Say it.”

He swallows. “I can’t touch you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m yours.”

You hum, pleased. “Good boy.”

You ride him slow. Hands planted on his chest. Grinding, rolling, taking your time until he’s begging. He pulls at the cuffs like they might magically give. His voice breaks when he moans. His hips twitch like he doesn’t know where to put the tension.

“You’re fucking glowing,” he groans. “Above me like that. Fuck, I can’t-”

“You can’t come.”

He jerks. “What?”

“Not yet. I’m not done.”

You fuck him through two near-orgasms, pulling off just before he spills, licking the sweat from his throat while he whimpers. You come. Twice. On him. Around him. With his name on your tongue. Then you lean down. Kiss his jaw. “Now.”

He breaks. Loud. Desperate. Ropes of come over his stomach, his chest, his soul. You unlock him only after he’s panting, boneless, fucked-out and glowing. He collapses into your chest, arms limp, mouth still parted.

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

You stroke his hair. “Still think I wouldn’t be into it?”

He laughs. “I think I’d let you cuff me every damn night.”

[fuckitupfelix]

hope I’m doing this right but I was wondering if you could do a kyoutani or Tanaka with a very sleep deprived bf who will just like nap anywhere and everywhere and they are constantly swaying and zoning out or a bf who lost his headphones but needs headphones all the time otherwise he can’t think properly at all cause his thoughts are way too loud

I actually really like the first one omgg kyotani needs more love </3

half-conscious banter

kentaro kyotani x male reader

wc: 0.5k

in which kyotani's sleepy boyfriend "helps" him clean up after practice.

fem aligned dni

there's a distinct, mutual understanding between you and kyotani. you sleep on his shoulder at any given moment, and he's granted a short period of silence. people never approach him when you're drooling onto his shoulder out of fear of waking you up; not even oikawa, who normally always tries to talk his ear off. it was great.

it's a simple, wordless agreement you two had. okay, it wasn't exactly an agreement— one day you fell asleep on kyotani's shoulder during the bus ride back to school after a particularly long practice match, and he didn't bother shaking you off once he noticed that everyone had finally left him alone while you were there— so much as it was that kyotani lets you sleep on him and he tolerated it.

but hey, as long as you're not collapsing onto the floors, you're not complaining! he's almost concerned by how often you do it, though. almost.

"hey, [name]!" you jolt awake, prying your eyelids open. you had dozed off in the middle of taking a drink, your water bottle almost slipping from your fingers. you glance in the direction of the voice; kyotani was calling for you. "help me take down the nets." he demanded.

"ah, yeah, sure," you give him a thumbs up and set your bottle down, making your way over to him.

wrapping up practice always felt so much longer than the actual hours of practice you were dedicated to. you felt your eyes grow heavy again, your hands stilling their motions of folding the nets.

kyotani gives you a skeptical look, but doesn't say anything. you're grateful for that. he folds the rest of the net himself and takes the rest from you.

"oh," you snap awake once more, eyes lazily dragging up to his face. "sorry 'bout that." you say in a tone that suggests you definitely weren't.

"tch— whatever." he huffs, yanking the net out of your hands much more aggressively than he needed to. "why the hell are you so tired, anyway? it's not like you're up studying," he sneers.

"shut up, i don't wanna hear you talking, you literal dog," you scoff, lightly shoving his shoulder. you don't bother to notice that he actually lets you. "i've just been busy, is all."

"playing video games or some shit?"

that shut you up fast.

"knew it." kyotani said, shoving your head. "you should start sleeping earlier, idiot. you're gonna end up falling asleep in the middle of crossing the street."

you don't miss the underlying concern in his voice, though it's still bundled deep under his usual anger. you just giggle, a little loopy, and smack him playfully on the arm.

"awwwh, kyo worries about me!" you say, linking arms with him. he scoffs at you, spouting profanities at you as he lets you drag him back to the bench to grab your things.

"shut up."

"i love you too!"

"fucking kill yourself."

this was very short bc im busy with artfight, volleyball, and some work stuff but im writing some more stuff I promise !

[mi-co-uk]

── GRUMPY MATT X MUTE READER ⋆˚࿔

BLURB: "billie bossa nova"

WARNINGS: matt is pervy, teasing and praising, (f) masturbation, face grabbing, finger sucking, crying, little overstimulation, fingering, idk if this would count as edging..? prolly not but yep, nicknames (good girl, baby...)

wc: 1.2k

this is a part of my billie eilish writing marathon [here]

au masterlist // navigation // all aus // alt pairings

thank you @luvs4matt for proofreading <3333

"just steal one of my shirts, its fine."

turns out it was not fine.

matt watched her potter back nervously with one of his shirts hanging off her shoulders like a psychological torture device made perfectly for him.

she'd taken off her skirt, the tee covering as much as had been previously, except now he couldn't escape the thought of her panties being the only barrier to what he craved.

he leaned back against the couch, arms spread wide on the back of it while he eyed her thighs as she walked back over, standing in front of him awaiting approval.

he met her anxious gaze, smirking when he realised just how much dotty also liked wearing his clothes.

"comfy?"

she nodded giggling, feeling his lust throughout her whole body. she shuffled closer, gripping onto matts shoulder for balance to place herself cautiously on his lap.

she traced her fingers lightly over his stubble, increasing in excitement to the feeling of his hands tracing patterns on her lower back over the shirt.

she kept darting her eyes from a wide eyed silent beg back down towards where she held his face.

"you want somethin'?" he teased.

dotty couldn't hold back a sheepish grin, endlessly avoidant of his gaze yet unable to avoid the effect his words had on her.

matt studied her body language, finding a gain of confidence in her nervousness being from excitement as oppose to uncomfort. she nodded giggling, shifting around in matts lap out of impatience.

"show me." he eyed the way the hem of the shirt was riding up as she moved. "show me what you want."

it was as if her hand knew his words before they left his mouth, her pinky finger twitching out in reach for matts hand. she moved with more intent, holding and pulling it toward the space between her legs. he halted her efforts and pulled his hand back to rest on her knee as it perched to the side of his hip.

"not with me. show me on yourself."

his smile had faded out of expectancy, knowing she'd have to do it if he acted serious enough. she had to need it badly enough that she'd obey his every word, and then he'd do what she wanted - even if the wait was just as unbearable for him.

her fist gripped the bottom hem of his shirt, buying time and wishing her body would carry out the action for her.

noticing her hesitation, matt gently gripped her jaw to pull her closer and place a quick but firm kiss on her cheek.

"dont have to." he gripped her hips once again, massaging into her skin to comfort her. "can just relax if you dont wanna do anythin'"

the motion caused her hips to subtly rock against him lap, sending her into an even deeper and all consuming desperation for him.

a subtle whine escaped her before she could contain it, matts eyebrows raising in an accusatory stare.

dotty finally met his gaze more constantly, holding onto it as she moved her hand towards her desperate heat.

she noticed the way his breath hitched, surveying her entire body's movements under a trance.

the shirt shifted when she traced her fingers over her panties, matts eyes locked onto it, concentration solidified in watching the slow darkening wet spot on the fabric. she applied more pressure, giving into the feeling as she rocked her hips against the flat of her fingers.

matt felt her nails accidently scrape on the bottom of his torso, using his shirt as the only thing to ground herself. her eyes squeezed tight, taking a deep breath out before watching herself shift her panties to the side, revealing her core to matt. she barely thought twice, too overwhelmed with need to feel embarrassed in exposing herself.

she rubbed against her clit, crying out feeling the pleasure tighten in her lower stomach. her body couldn't support itself, crumbling to rest herself against matt chest focused on reaching her release.

he stopped her. gripping her face once again to force her to see his own, the sudden movement enough to halt her hands movements.

"you wanna be a good girl?" an immediate nod as she tried to discreetly continue the movements between her soaked folds. "then you keep looking at me, yeah? dont close your eyes, dont think about anything or anyone that i dont tell you to, no cumming until I tell you to. got it?" dotty nodded more again.

she eyed his other hand for a millisecond, matt laughed knowingly.

"you want me to help you?" more nods. "you gotta earn it first."

he finally freed her face, grinning again watching a glint of sadness in her eyes from the lack of contact.

she continued her motions, her fingers beginning to tease her hole.

"be loud for me, baby."

the words went straight to her hand, slowly plunging her middle finger deep inside as she practically started to ride her own finger. her mouth was agape, strained moans escaping out as she increased her pace. matt licked his lips at the sight.

"does if feel good?" she whimpered. "not enough?" she shook her head in agreement. tears brimming her waterline in desperation.

"aww," he mockingly cooed, "you gonna pretend its my fingers, huh? you need me that badly?"

she sped up immediately. wet sounds from her pussy began to echo in the room.

cries escaped her once again, interrupted by matt stuffing his fingers into her mouth before she closed her soft lips around them. she instinctively sucked on them, groaning as she did.

"yeah, you know what to do."

his hand felt firmer on her hip, even though her pleasure came from her own hand, she still felt as if her body was completely his.

he pushed his fingers a little deeper, grinning as her spit spilled out her mouth and down her chin.

everything led her close to the edge, stimulated in multiple places enough for her to lose the steady pace she'd had previously working her hole. matt noticed immediately.

he nudged her hand away with his own, no caution in pushing two fingers into her. she moaned loudly around his other fingers, wet with spit.

the pace was immediately fast, immediately difficult to hold back from cumming. her eyes were pleading, eyes furrowed and body twitching from pleasure.

he was relentless, impossibly fast inside her pussy and deep in her mouth with his others.

"take it, baby. good fucking girl."

dotty tried to hold back her release, crying out in heightening pitch. her tears began to fall, overtaken with pleasure.

"cum for me, youre doing so good."

her eyes rolled back as if by his command, both fluids spilling down both of matts hands as he stretched out her high.

"thaaats it."

matt watched her body settle down, keeping up his movements a little after she twitched from overstimulation.

once he pulled his hands away she fell into his chest, completely worn out. he cradled her close, grinning with satisfaction.

he worked soothing patterns into her back, watching her eyes flutter open and shut. he breathed in her scent from her hair, placing gentle kisses atop her head.

"my perfect girl."

a/n i actually enjoyed writing smut this time who am i

[winteringdream]

WHERE HANDS LET GO ──── park sungho

You’ve never been certain about your future, but music was the one thing that always made sense. Until the day your hand starts hurting after a recital leaving you unable to play. Now, everything you’ve built feels like it’s slipping away. Park Sungho doesn’t understand what it’s like to lose the thing that defines you, but he does know this: he’s not leaving. No matter how far you fall or how long it takes to get back up, he’s choosing to stay right beside you.

✩ ⋅ pairing. polisci major!sungho x pianist music major fem!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, lots of angst, university!au ✩ ⋅ warnings. hand injury (carpal tunnel syndrome), overworking, burn injury ✩⋅ wc. 6800 ✩⋅ with triples hsu nien tzu ✩⋅ a/n: it's not mentioned in the story but carpal tunnel syndrome is implied!

It was a late afternoon the first time you had bumped into Sungho. You were on your way home from your piano accompaniment class when the rain hit. To protect the freshly printed sheet music that was sitting in your bag, you burst into a shop you’ve been meaning to visit.

You shake the rain from your umbrella and instinctively make your way toward the music section. There’s a particular book you’ve been meaning to find: Harmonic Language in the Romantic Era.  

As you round the corner of the aisle, someone else reaches for the same worn hardcover at the exact same time.

“Seriously?” he scoffs dryly, hand still on the spine. You look up to see whose hand it is. He’s tall and rain-drenched, with a slight intimidating look on his face.

Your hand lingers near the shelf. Unable to give up the book almost everyone in your class has been wanting to find. 

“Tell me the reason you need it and I might consider giving it to you.” He suddenly says, a slight teasing tone in his voice. 

You hesitate, a little taken aback.  “I’m a music major,” you say carefully, watching him. “Classical piano. There’s a midterm analysis on Schumann next week, and the professor practically hinted that whoever uses this book will get the upper hand.”

He lifts an eyebrow, amused. “So, academic desperation?”

You frown, a little embarrassed. “Isn’t that why you’re here too?”

He tilts his head slightly, “I’m writing a paper about how harmonic transitions in Romantic compositions reflect the era’s ideological shifts. Nationalism, revolution, that kind of thing.”

That’s not the answer you expected. You had thought he was one of your peers who has been trying to get his hands on the book. 

“You're using Schumann for politics?” you say, half-disbelieving. 

He smirks. “Originality gets you more points.”

You glance at the book again. He still hasn’t let go. The rain outside continues to drum steadily against the windows. 

“You let me borrow it first. I’ll scan what I need in twenty minutes and then it’s yours.” He offers suddenly, pulling the book out of the shelf.

“Why?” you ask, skeptical, narrowing your eyes.

Sungho glances at you and then his gaze flickers down for a second. He seems to notice something he hadn’t before.

“Your hands,” he says.

You follow his eyes instinctively. Your fingers are raw at the joints, a fading purple bruise near your thumb from hours of octaves. A few calluses where the skin never quite heals.

He doesn’t look away.

“You’ve probably practiced more in the last two days than I’ve slept,” he mutters, “I’m not exactly generous, but I know what that kind of dedication looks like.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, “Take however long you like to scan the pages.”

A slight smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“It won’t take long,” he says, pulling out his phone and motioning for you to join him. 

You both make your way toward the small reading table tucked near the back of the store. You pull the book between you and sit down while he carefully opens it, sliding his phone out to scan a few pages.

He glances at you mid-scan. “So, you’re a student at Eunhae conservatory?”

You smile faintly. “Yes, that’s right. I’m currently in my second year and piano has been kicking my ass.”

He chuckles under his breath.

“I’m Park Sungho,” he says after a pause, offering his hand without looking up from the page. “Political science, as you may have guessed.”  

You hesitate a moment, then take it.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N L/N.”

“I’ll remember that name for when you’re famous.” Sungho jokes, as he flips the page. You grin, but it quickly falters. 

“I’m not so sure about famous.” 

The second time you saw Sungho was in the city park. You and your friend Nien were enjoying a picnic when the two of you decided to play some music just for fun. You pull out the ukulele that had been collecting dust in your room, and Nien chuckles at the sight of it. 

“I thought you had thrown it away.” She laughs, her hand reaching out to wipe away the dust on it. 

“I was thinking about it, but I’m too attached to it.” You reply, as you begin to tune it. It’s terribly out of tune, but it only takes you a few tries before it’s back in tune. 

You strum a few chords to make sure everything sounds fine before beginning to strum a familiar tune, one that Nien knows all too well. 

It’s I will by The Beatles, a song the two of you practiced in your freshman year as an assignment. 

“The memories!” Nien exclaims, as she hums along.

Laughter bubbles between you both as you miss a chord and quickly recover. 

Unbeknownst to you, Sungho walks  along the nearby path, his steps slowing as a faint melody catches his attention.  

“What are you looking at?” Riwoo asks, a few feet ahead of him. 

The scene before him is unexpectedly warm and genuine. Two friends singing a song they both seem to have practiced with genuine love for music. 

He watches as you strum, Nien’s laughter echoes through the park, and Sungho finds himself smiling without realizing why. 

Then his eyes land on you, really land. Recognition dawns slowly, that it’s you. The pianist he had met a few weeks ago at the book shop.

“Seriously?” he says under his breath, stepping forward.

“Sungho!” Riwoo calls out, a little louder this time. 

You look up, startled to hear his name spoken so clearly in the park. Sungho jumps up abruptly, cheeks flushed as he realizes he’s been caught watching you and Nien.

“Uh… hey,” he says, running a hand through his hair, trying to cover the awkwardness. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I swear. I just heard music and thought I’d see who was playing.”

You smile, and watch as he walks over to your picnic blanket.

Sungho’s gaze flickers to your ukulele as you absentmindedly strum a soft chord. “That sounded really good, by the way.”

“We played this song for an assignment last year.” Nien explains as she eyes Sungho up and down once. “I’m Hsu Nien Tzu, by the way. Call me Nien.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sungho smiles, “I’m Park Sungho, the two of us met when in the book shop.” He explains as he turns back to you

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to unwind lately. Piano’s been intense, especially with that Schumann midterm coming up.” You put down the ukulele and roll your wrists, feeling the pain from the numerous practice sessions. 

There’s a pause, the kind that’s comfortable rather than awkward. Then, gathering a bit of courage, you say, “Actually, I’m performing a recital next week at Eunhae Conservatory. It’s also a piece by Schumann. If you’re interested, you should come.”

Sungho raises an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden invitation. He looks at Riwoo, who gives him a thumbs up from afar. 

“A recital sounds serious. You must be really talented.”

You shrug, a small laugh escaping. “I’m still learning. Honestly, having someone there who isn’t a music major would be nice.”

He smiles, realising he’s happy to hear that you want him in the audience. “When is it?”

You pull out your phone and scroll to the event details, handing it to him. “Next Friday evening. It’s at the conservatory’s recital hall.”

Sungho studies the screen for a moment, then looks back up at you. “I’ll be there and if you want, maybe I can help you practice some political speeches in exchange for some piano lessons.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “We’ll see, I think your friends are waiting for you.”

He grins, eyes warm. “Then I’ll see you next Friday,”

He gives the two of you one last wave before running off to his friends. Nien studies your face as your eyes follow him. 

“I sense that there’s love in the air.” 

The polished wooden floor gleam softly under the dimmed lights, and rows of chairs are neatly arranged facing the grand Steinway piano that stands center stage. 

A quiet murmur of the audience fills the room, fellow students, professors and family have all joined.

Backstage, you sit in a small waiting area, your hands folded nervously on your lap. The faint scent of polished wood and fresh flowers drifts through the air. Your fingers flex automatically, remembering the hours of practice.

The piece is muscle memory by now, all those days you spent practicing have all come down to this day. And even though you won’t get graded, even though this is just a way to showcase the students of Eunhae, you are extremely nervous. 

Nien is nearby, offering encouraging smiles but wisely keeping quiet. You can feel your heart beating loudly in your chest. Your gaze flicks to the program pamphlet in your hands, your name printed there, bold and clear: Y/N L/N —  Schumann Abegg variations, Op.1.

Then, a soft ripple of applause announces the previous performer’s final notes, and the stage manager nods toward you. 

You stand up, smoothing the front of your simple dress, and walk toward the stage. The spotlight warms your skin, and the auditorium seems to hold its breath as you settle onto the bench before the piano. The black and white keys glisten, the way they only do during recitals.

As you place your fingers on the keys, you catch a glimpse of someone near the front row. Park Sungho. He’s sitting upright, eyes focused intently. You give him a small nod, which he returns with a supportive smile.

You can feel the room’s stillness, the collective attention of the audience.  All the focus is only on you, every movement, every note you press being perceived by hundreds of people. 

At times, your muscles ache from tension, but you push through, determined to finish the piece the way you’ve practiced countless times .

When your hands finally leave the keys of the piano, applause breaks out. You stand up, your cheeks flushed. 

From the audience, Sungho is clapping the loudest, a proud glint in his eyes. You bow twice, before disappearing backstage again. 

Your heart is  still racing when you make your way to the hallway where everyone has gathered. Parents and friends warmly greet the person they’ve come to watch, and the strong scent of flowers lingers in the hallway.

Suddenly, you feel someone gently brush past the crowd toward you. You turn around to see Sungho holding a small bouquet wrapped in paper. Fresh lilies and soft white roses.

“For you,” he says, handing the flowers over with a shy smile. “I figured a recital without flowers just wouldn’t be right. I’m not lying when I say you were the highlight of the night.”

You smile, touched by the gesture, and reach out to take the bouquet. But as your fingers closed around the paper, a sharp twinge of pain shoots through your hand and wrist, making you wince.

Sungho’s hand swiftly closes around your lower arm, steadying you and keeping the flowers from slipping out of your grasp.

His eyes immediately narrow in concern. “Hey, are you okay? Your hand, did you hurt yourself?”

“It’s nothing, just a little cramp from all the practice.” Although you’re a little startled yourself too. The pain in your hand has never been this bad before. 

He gently takes your hand in his, carefully inspecting it as if he can will away the pain with his touch. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, haven’t you? You should be more careful.”

You glanced down at your hand. For a moment, you consider brushing it off again, but something in Sungho’s worry makes you pause.

“Maybe I need to rest more,” you admit softly. “At least this recital is over, so I won’t be practicing as hard anymore.” 

Sungho gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself. You’ll actually injure yourself if you continue to push yourself like this.”

You nod, feeling warmth spread not just from the kindness behind his words. Holding the flowers, your hand still aches, but you don’t want to make him worry any more.

A few days after the recital, you find yourself behind the counter of the small café where you work part-time. The familiar scent of ground coffee beans and the sweet scent of baked goods comforts you. 

Your right hand, still tender from the strain of recital practice, aches faintly. The doctor’s advice to rest it has been easier said than done. Every movement, every small task behind the counter, reminds you of the advice of the doctor. You keep your gestures slow, careful not to injure yourself even more.

The café is relatively quiet this late afternoon. A few students tap away at laptops, and a pair of elderly friends chat softly over tea. You move smoothly behind the counter, wiping down tables, restocking cups, and arranging pastries.

Then, the bell over the door jingles. You glance up and your heart unexpectedly flutters. It’s Sungho, dressed casually in a white shirt and dark jeans. His eyes scan the room and land on you with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he greets, approaching the counter. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

You smile back, a little breath caught in your throat. “Yeah, part-time, got to pay the bills somehow.”

He orders a black coffee, and as you prepare it, your fingers tremble slightly. You quickly hide it behind the counter.

“You okay?” Sungho asks, noticing your hesitation.

“Yeah, just still a bit sore from the recital,” you reply, forcing a light tone. “But it’s getting better.”

He nods, eyes lingering on your hand for a moment before looking away. “That’s good. You should take it easy though. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

You nod, grateful for his concern.

Suddenly, the café grows a bit louder as more customers trickle in. A young woman behind you, balancing a tray with two steaming cups, steps forward hurriedly to get to a table.

“Watch out!” you hear a warning, but it’s too late.

The woman stumbles slightly on the uneven floorboard, her grip slipping. One cup of piping hot coffee tilts and before you can react, the scalding liquid splashes across your exposed right hand and wrist.

A sharp, searing pain erupts through your skin. You cry out involuntarily, jerking your hand back and dropping the towel you’d been holding. The hot liquid drips onto the floor as you clutch your hand tightly, your breath hitching with shock and agony.

Sungho immediately moves beside you, eyes wide with alarm. “Oh my god, are you okay? Show me your hand!”

The woman gasps, her face pale with guilt and fear. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to steady your shaking voice. The pain is sharp as you watch your skin turning red where the coffee touched you.

Someone from the café rushes over with a bowl of lukewarm water and towels. You dunk your hand carefully into the water.

Sungho kneels beside you, his brows furrowed deeply. “We need to get you to a hospital. This looks serious.”

The next few hours blur into a haze of sterile lights and antiseptic smells. At the emergency room, a doctor examines your hand, peeling back the wet cloths to inspect the burn.

“This is a second-degree burn,” the doctor explains gently. “You’ll need to keep it clean, apply ointment, and avoid any strenuous movement for at least a month.”

“I’m a music major, a pianist. Is it also necessary to avoid the piano?” You ask, your voice shaky because you already know what the answer is. 

“Yes, I’d recommend at least 2-3 weeks of no piano. Or at least not practicing for too long.” 

Your chest tightens, the words not even registering completely. Half a month without piano. You quickly thank the doctor, before exiting the room. 

Outside, Sungho jumps up at the sight of you. “Is it bad? Can you still practice?” 

You don’t reply, tears prickling at your eyes, not just from the pain, but the sudden, crushing reality of your situation. 

You already felt so uncertain about music, but now that you manage to get yourself injured you can’t help but think that maybe you shouldn’t have devoted yourself to music in the first place. 

“Hey,” Sungho tries again, stepping closer. His voice is softer now. “What did the doctor say?”

You stand there, shoulders stiff, eyes fixed on a spot just beyond his shoulder. If you look at him, if you see the concern in his face, you might cry right there in the hospital hallway.

“They said no piano,” you finally whisper. Your voice cracks, and your fingers curl slightly around the gauze bandages wrapped around your hand. “At least for a few weeks. I can’t even… I can’t even practice.”

Sungho exhales, a low breath between clenched teeth, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say quickly, but your voice is trembling. “It’s mine. I was already overworking my hand and now this. Maybe I’m just not meant to do this. Maybe I shouldn’t have—” You cut yourself off, jaw tightening. The tears you’ve been holding in finally begin to slip free.

Without a word, Sungho closes the distance between you. He doesn’t say anything at first, he just wraps his arms gently around you, careful not to touch your injured hand. 

“I know this feels like the end of the world right now,” he says into your hair. “But it’s not. You’re hurt, yeah, but it’s temporary. Your music isn’t going anywhere.”

You shake your head against his shoulder. “I’m not even sure if I’m any good. I’ve been wondering about that for months now. And now this, it’s like the universe confirming I’m not supposed to do this.”

Sungho pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting lightly on your arms. His expression is serious, his dark brows drawn together.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t twist one bad accident into a prophecy. You’re not cursed, you’re not untalented. You’re human. You worked your ass off for that recital, and you were brilliant. I watched every second of it and so did everyone else in that room.”

You bite your lip, looking away, but his words make something stir in your chest.

“You know what I think?” he continues. “I think you’re scared. Not because you can’t do this, but because you care so much, it hurts. That’s why it feels like the end of the world, because music matters to you.”

You stare at him and you feel your heart soften. Sungho notices the shift in your expression and gently brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

“Just focus on healing your hand. I’ll help however I can.”

You give him a faint, teary laugh and he smiles at the sound. 

“I’ll be okay, right?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

Sungho squeezes your uninjured hand gently. “Yeah. You will, and until you can play again, I’ll just have to keep you distracted.”

It’s a Saturday afternoon when Sungho texts you. He had promised to keep your mind off of not being able to play piano, but you didn’t think he actually meant it. 

[Sungho📚 ]: since you can’t play piano right now [Sungho📚 ]: i’ve decided you need a new talent [Sungho📚 ]: we’re cooking dinner at my place

You stare at your phone for a moment, amused, before replying:

[You]: Is this your sneaky way of making me suffer through your cooking? [Sungho📚 ]: yes. but you’re the co-chef so it’s technically your fault too.

You arrive at his apartment just as the sun begins to dip outside, casting golden light through his windows. He greets you with an apron half-tied around his waist. 

His house is tidy, but there’s a suspicious number of kitchen utensils already scattered across the counter. A cookbook lies open, its pages already stained with flour and a smudge of sauce.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admits, gesturing toward an assortment of ingredients: garlic, some questionable onions, three kinds of pasta (“for options,” he claims), and what looks like a single shriveled tomato.

You laugh. “You said dinner. These ingredients won’t even produce enough food for a bird.”

“I have more in the pantry,” he says, picking up the tomato. “How do you chop this again?”

You take a seat at the counter, your bandaged hand resting in your lap. “You don’t, that tomato’s dead.”

Soon, you’re guiding him through the basics. He insists on doing all the work because “You’re the injured artist here”. So you sit and instruct, occasionally stepping in with your uninjured hand when he nearly burns something.

“You’re using the wrong knife,” you say for the third time.

He glares playfully, then points the spatula at you. “One more comment and I’m throwing you into the pasta.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You chuckle, as Sungho stirs the pasta that is boiling in the water. 

At one point, he’s stirring pasta and a bit of water splashes around. “Shit, did it get on you?” He asks, worried. Sungho mentally scolds himself for the fact that he’s putting you in danger even though he’s supposed to help distract you.

“It didn’t get on me.” You quickly say, hopping off of the counter. “Don’t worry so much, Sungho.” 

Dinner ends up being a strange hybrid of garlic bread, and pasta that tastes surprisingly good. You both sit on the floor with plates in hand, backs against his kitchen cabinets, laughing at how nice it tastes.

“You know,” he says, chewing slowly, “I think I’m getting better at this.”

“No,” you reply immediately. “But you’re excellent entertainment.”

He nudges your shoulder gently. “Hey. That was the point.”

You glance over at him and smile, heart swelling just a little. Sungho can’t deny the feelings bubbling up inside him. How he wishes he could reach out, brush the hair from your face, take your hand and just hold it. 

How he wishes he could tell you that you don’t have to prove anything, not to the world, not even to yourself.

He clears his throat, suddenly aware of how close you’re sitting. “You know, I wouldn’t be mad if this became a regular thing.”

You laugh, and you feel his gaze lingering on you and when you glance up, he doesn’t look away.

There’s a beat of silence.

“I meant it, you know,” he says, voice a bit lower now. “About helping you get through this. I’m not just saying it because you’re hurt.”

Your breath catches slightly. “Then why are you saying it?”

Sungho hesitates. “Because I care about you. More than I probably should, and I don’t want this to be temporary.” He says, his voice soft and certain. 

You don’t respond right away. You reach out, brushing your fingers lightly against his wrist. Sungho watches as your fingers dance around on his wrist, as if they’re pressing the keys of the piano.

“It doesn’t have to be temporary,” you whisper.

Sungho has been coming over lately, keeping his promise to distract and help you with your injury. But, his help seems futile when all you can think about is how uncertain and unstable a future with music is.  

It starts with something small.

You’re reaching for your sheet music with your injured hand, mind elsewhere, focused on remembering how the chord progression in the second movement felt. Your fingertips graze the edge of the page when a hand intercepts yours.

“Don’t,” Sungho says gently, his palm brushing yours before he pulls the music out of reach. “You promised you’d rest today.”

You blink at him. “I am resting,” you say, but the words come out with more bite than intended. 

Sungho lets out a soft breath, tilting his head in that way he does when he’s trying to be patient. “You’re clearly not. I saw your hand shake yesterday when you poured tea. And today you’re trying to practice again. This is exactly what I’ve been trying to stop—”

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, but your voice trembles and you’re already pacing. “I know you mean well, but you don’t understand what this is, Sungho. You don’t know what it’s like to wake up every day wondering if you made the wrong choice, if the thing you built your entire life around is slipping through your fingers. I chose music because I believed in it, because it’s the only thing I’ve ever truly loved, the only thing I’ve ever given all of myself to.”

Sungho straightens up slowly, his arms folding across his chest. “I am trying to understand. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. Trying to be here, trying to protect you from making it worse.”

You laugh bitterly. “Right. Protect me.”

He says nothing.

You continue, the words bubbling up too fast, “I’m not your responsibility, Sungho. You don’t get to play nurse or savior just because you feel guilty for watching me struggle.”

His brow furrows. “You think this is about guilt?”

“I don’t know what it’s about,” you admit, voice cracking. “All I know is that every time you tell me to rest, to take it easy, it feels like you’re telling me I’m already failing, like it’s already over. If I stop now, I might not start again. Do you know what that feels like?”

He’s quiet for a beat, “No. I don’t. I’ve never had to wonder if my body would betray me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what pressure feels like, or doubt, or losing things that matter.”

You shake your head, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “It’s not the same. I can’t change bodies. I can’t start from zero. I only have this.” you lift your bandaged hand slightly “What if it doesn’t work again, then what am I?”

His face hardens, jaw clenching. “I’m only doing this because I care about you,” he says, voice low, quiet, but he sounds hurt. “I’ve been worried about you every day since the accident. But if you can’t see that I’m on your side, then maybe we need space.”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

You just turn away, staring blankly at the piano bench as you try to steady your breathing. 

“I’ll see you around,” Sungho says softly, as he closes the door. He looks back hoping you’d at least turn around, but you don’t.  

A few days passed with complete silence. No texts, no calls and no visits. Part of you wanted to reach out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to start the conversation again. Because the truth still hadn’t changed: he didn’t understand.

So instead, you buried yourself in the only thing you had left: practice.

It wasn’t real practice, just slow scales with your left hand, and very very light practice with your right, nothing that would push it too far. You followed every rule the doctor gave you. 

But the silence between you and Sungho itched beneath your skin and made your fingers twitch. You needed to prove to yourself that you were getting better and that you could come back from this.

So, one late afternoon, when the campus was quiet, you slipped into an empty practice room and sat at the piano.

You told yourself it would just be a few chords, but your hand wanted more. You wanted more.

The familiar feeling of being able to play an actual piece is better than you expected. Ever since you were 5 you haven't been away from the piano for such a long time. A smile tugs at your lips, the music filling your ears 

Suddenly, pain blooms from your palm. Your fingers seize mid-motion, and you immediately stop playing. You let out a soft cry and jerk your hand back, clutching it to your chest.

Your hand trembles slightly, as you stare at the keys of the piano. After all that rest, 3 weeks of waiting as the doctor recommended, things still hadn’t improved. 

It wasn’t the burn wound that hurt, it was a pain that shot through your wrist and spread to your fingers, as if it came from somewhere else. 

You try to breathe through the panic and heavy disappointment. You can still hear the unfinished phrase echoing in your ears.

You don’t look when you hear the door creak open, assuming it’s another student looking for an empty practice room.

“I thought you might be here,” Sungho’s voice sounds loud in the quiet practice room.

You say nothing, mind still fixated on the pain. You feel him approach with caution. He stands in the doorway, watching you with that expression you’d seen before.

Gently, he kneels down beside you. “Can I see?” he asks.

You hesitate, then slowly hold your hand out. It’s trembling in that way you hate, as if doing nothing is already straining it. Sungho’s hands are warm and steady as he examines your hand, his thumb brushing the base of your palm with careful pressure.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You were right. I don’t know how you feel, or how to help you. I thought that if I kept you away from the piano, you’d stop hurting.”

You finally look up at him.

“What am I supposed to do when this is all I know how to be?” You ask, voice barely a breath. 

He meets your gaze, “I don’t have the answers, but I think maybe  you just needed someone to sit beside you. Not to fix you, just to be here.”

The breakdown didn’t come that night.

It came the next day. 

You were home, curled up on the floor of your apartment. Your sheet music lay scattered across the rug and you couldn’t stop shaking. You didn’t even know why, not exactly.

Your mind spun in circles. What if it never heals? What if your right hand never recovers? What if you pushed yourself to the point of no turning back?

You tried to breathe, but you couldn’t, the what-if’s making you feel physically ill.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You picked up your phone.

“Park Sungo.” You mumble absentmindedly as you scroll through your contacts, your fingers trembling, not because of the pain, but because of the panic. 

He picks up immediately. “Hey, is everything okay?”

You try to answer, but the words catch in your throat. Your lips part, then close again, and suddenly it’s like you’ve forgotten how to speak. 

“I don't know,” Your voice cracks. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

There’s a pause on the other end, you can hear how quickly Sungho shifts. You hear rustling, the jingle of keys, the sound of a door slamming behind him.

“I’m coming,” he says without hesitation. “Don’t hang up, okay? Just stay with me.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Okay,” you whisper.

Your phone is warm against your ear as you continue to lay on the ground. He doesn’t talk much as he makes his way over. He just murmurs things now and then to let you know he’s still there. “Almost there.” “I’m turning onto your street.” “Just a minute more.”

You hear the knock at your door less than ten minutes later. He only knocks once, before opening the door himself. 

His hair tousled from running but he quickly steps inside without a word. He drops his bag by the door and gently makes his way over to you.

It’s not until he quietly reaches for your hand that the last thread snaps.

“I’m scared,” you breathe, and the tears come faster than you can stop them. “I’m so scared, Sungho.”

He pulls you into his arms without hesitation. His arms wrap tight around you as you sob into his shoulder.

Sungho doesn’t say anything, he just holds you tighter. You can feel his hand at the back of your head, his palm against your spine.

“You’re still you,” he says finally, voice low, steady. “Even without the piano, you’re still you.”

You pull back a little, just enough to look at him. “But I don’t even know if I’m getting better. My hand, it seized up again. I felt it, and all I could think was, ‘What if this is it?’ What if I can’t come back from this?”

He cups your face gently, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “Even if you walk away from it entirely,” he says. “I don’t care about your career. I care about you. The you who lights up when she hears her favorite chord progression. The you who still picked up a dusty ukulele in the middle of a park just to feel something again.”

“I just don’t want to lose it all,” you say.

He nods slowly. “I know. But even if everything changes, I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s been a week since that night on your apartment floor. Things haven’t magically gotten better but it’s gotten better. 

One afternoon, your phone buzzes with a message.

[Sungho📚] do u have a couple hours free tonight? [Sungho📚] i want to take you somewhere. [Sungho📚] dress warm

[You]: mystery date should I be worried? [Sungho📚]: i’ll pick you up at 6 🫡

At 6 p.m. sharp, he’s outside your apartment in his usual black coat, a coffee in one hand and something paper-wrapped in the other.

“For you,” he says as you step outside.

You take it carefully and peel back the wrapping. It’s an almond pastry from the café you once told him you loved, even though you barely go anymore. 

“Where are we going?” you ask as he leads you down the street.

“You’ll see.”

You don’t even realize where you're headed until you turn the last corner. Your steps slow and Sungho chuckles at the look on your face when you see where the two of you are.

The little bookstore.

You stop just outside it. The same cracked wooden sign swings gently in the wind, the windows still a little bit dirty. It’s like nothing changed.

“I thought,” Sungho says softly, “maybe we could go back to where it all started.”

Your heart stutters. You glance at him, and he’s watching you with that quietly serious look he always has on his face.

“You remembered,” you murmur.

“Of course I did.” He pushes the door open for you, the bell above it chiming the exact same note you remember.

Inside, it’s almost empty. A soft jazz track plays from the corner speaker. It smells like old stories, paper and tea leaves.

You follow Sungho toward the music section, your breath catching when you pass the same table. The one where you first sat down together as strangers.

He gestures to it. “Thought maybe we could sit again.”

You lower yourself into the seat slowly, running your fingers over the grain of the wood. “You know,” you say, “I wasn’t even planning to go here that day.”

“You were escaping the rain.” Sungho recalls. 

“And you let me borrow the book.”

He smiles. “Still have the receipt you gave it back in.”

Your eyes widen. “You kept that?”

Sungho shrugs, almost sheepish. “I didn’t know why I did it at the time. Just felt like I should.”

The bookstore is quieter than you remembered it, and maybe that’s why your heartbeat feels so loud.  Maybe it’s the way  Sungho sits across from you like you’re the only person in the world, in the way his knee brushes yours under the small wooden table and doesn’t move.

You’ve spent nearly an hour there, looking through pages, talking about your first impressions of each other. At some point, he finds a candle on a shelf labeled “scent of old sonatas” and insists on buying it for you. You roll your eyes, but it ends up in your coat pocket anyway.

The sky is turning lavender-blue by the time you step out. It should be an ending to the date, but Sungho stops just outside the bookstore, near the edge of the sidewalk. His eyes are on the sky for a moment before they flicker down to you.

“Wait,” he says.

“Hm?”

“I was going to wait,” he says quietly, “but I don’t want to anymore.”

You pause, the air caught in your lungs. “Wait for what?”

He swallows, then shifts slightly, facing you more fully. “For the right time. For when you’re healed. For when you’re not overwhelmed or doubting yourself. But the truth is, I don’t want to keep pretending like I haven’t already.”

He pauses, takes a deep breath in. 

“I like you, a lot more than just like, actually.” His voice drops lower, steadier. “I know things are hard right now. I know you’re not sure where you’re headed, but I’m not here because I think you’re perfect or because I want you to be okay all the time. I’m here because even when you’re not okay I still want to be where you are.”

You stare at him and you can feel your cheeks heat up, your heart beating loudly.

“I’ve felt this way since that day in the park,” he admits. “And I thought maybe I should keep it to myself. I thought it was selfish to tell you about my feelings when you were struggling. But I can’t help it anymore. I just—”

You reach forward before he can finish. Your fingers wrap around his coat sleeve, pulling him closer to you.

“I like you too.” you whisper. “Even when I’m not sure about what will happen to me.”

“I know,” he says, not even hesitating. “But I’ll be there for you. If you’ll let me.”

He doesn’t kiss you, not yet. He just reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers and smiles. And as you smile back, Sungho feels like his heart is about to explode.

Tonight, it’s raining.

You’re curled up on Sungho’s couch in a hoodie that used to be his, watching the steam from your mug twist up toward the ceiling. 

Your hand rests on your lap, wrapped in a soft compression glove. Sungho is at the counter, warming up dinner. It’s kimchi fried rice that he swore would be “better than the last batch”.

He glances over. “Are you falling asleep again?”

“No,” you murmur. “Just listening to the rain.”

He brings over two bowls and sets one in front of you before flopping down beside you with his own. 

“I still think you have a superpower,” he says as he scoops a bite of rice. “You make silence feel nice.”

You raise a brow. “That’s the lamest compliment I’ve ever heard.”

He grins. “Don’t lie, I know you love it.”

You do.

The two of you eat in comfortable quiet for a while, until he sets his bowl down and leans back against the couch, watching you.

“You played today,” he says.

“Yeah,” you nod, trying not to sound too proud. “A full two pages without stopping.”

Sungho’s eyes brighten. “That’s amazing, Y/N.”

“It felt okay. ”

“Good.” He gently takes your hand and lifts it to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’ve been working so hard.”

You blink, a little stunned by how tender the gesture is. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I notice everything,” he says simply. “Especially when it comes to you.”

You look at him, heart swelling at how completely serious he is.

“And I don’t care how long it takes,” he adds. “If you never perform again, if you take five more years, if you change your path entirely. I just want to be the one beside you through it.”

Your eyes sting a little, and you hate how easily he can do that to you now.

“I think I’m getting used to having you around,” you say quietly.

Sungho smirks. “Only took three months of intense emotional labor.”

You laugh, and before you can say anything else, he shifts closer and presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek. You tilt your head up and Sungho knows exactly what you want as he presses a kiss on your lips.

When he pulls away, your heart is beating a little faster, but your hands aren’t shaking.

“Stay the night?” he asks, voice low. You nod, as you tilt your head towards him again. He chuckles, before pressing one last kiss on your lips before telling you to choose a movie.

bnd taglist: @tanghuyuj @ihruaz @tmrwsuns @lakoya @canheavenwait @hyeinsveil

[jacsismattswife]

late night at the studio : matt sturniolo

pairing ; soft!matt x singer!reader

warning ; just pure fluff!!, pet names (baby, sweetheart), lowercase intended, spellings may be different cause i'm from the uk

author's note ; i've had this idea for ages but i js couldn't be bothered to write it but here! just a short fluffy fic :p

word count ; 418

you'd had a long, exhausting night at the studio. you have been working on your new album, and you got so caught up in it to the point that you hadn't even realised it was currently 4 am.

you groggily walked through the front door, taking your shoes off and dumping your bag on the floor, not even bothering to put it on the hook.

you headed to the living room to see matt sprawled out on the sofa, watching gravity falls. typical.

he noticed you as soon as you peeked your head into the room, concern taking over his own tired face as he took in the dark circled under your eyes and just your overall exhausted expression.

he silently waved you over, signalling you to come sit down.

you immediately obliged, wanting to just be with matt.

as soon as you sat down, you were already snuggling into him. your head was on his shoulder and you were sat impossibly close to him.

he just wrapped an arm around you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "you need to stop spending so much time at the studio, baby. you're exhausted," he whispered, gently kissing your forehead. "i know you want this album out but you need to prioritize youself. i hate seeing you like this," he pulled you into his lap and cradled your head against his chest.

"but you're also awake," you mumbled against him.

he looked at you then, taking his eyes away from the tv. "i know i'm awake, but i wasn't working. i was just waiting for you. you're a lot more tired than me, sweetheart, you've been using your brain to make music since, like, 6 pm?"

all you could mutter was a small "i know," feeling like you could fall asleep any second.

he kept his soothing motions of gently rubbing circles on your back, trying to coax you into sleep. "rest, sweetheart. i'm here," he whispered.

the last thing you felt before you fell asleep was the soft kiss to your forehead, classic matt making sure you feel fully comforted and safe all the way up until you fully lose consciousness.

gravity falls continued to quietly play in the background as he, too, fell asleep. the only thing that kept him awake was waiting for you to come home.

you both slept soundly on the sofa, you in his lap. you'd both end up waking up with sore backs from the position tomorrow but you didn't mind.

taglist...

all ; @conspiracy-ash @emely9274 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @mattsdeer @iluvchr1s @sturn-l0ver

if you would like to be added to my taglist, click here!

dividers by : @bernardsbendystraws

[goooofy-goooober1121]

Hii could I request viktor x a chubbier reader who’s so soft and cuddly viktor can’t keep his hands off 🤭

Hehehe yes absolutely!!!! one of my favorite tropes is tall skinny and angular x chubby soft and curvy it's so elite＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／

Sharp Angles and Soft Curves

Aka Viktor loves every bit of his lover 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

This one goes out to my midsize guys and girlies (we stand together ✊😌) Also I don’t have my computer at the moment so sorry my setup isn’t its usual, I’ll fix it as soon as I get it back <3

Reblogs are highly appreciated!

Requests are open here!

Tags: chubby!gn!reader, Viktor is catastrophically down bad (but only for you). Reader is super open to the imagination, no hair types or skin tones or specific features described other than chubbier body type. I know I mentioned midsize in the note but reader can be any body type other than skinny 🙏

Leaving bed never failed to pain Viktor. A part of the problem could be contributed to his physical condition— his spine, bent eternally like a snake mid-motion, always protested the effort of extending itself to sit up. His right leg had been another point of contention for his mobility. It was turned inwards; his right knee insisted on reaching for the apathetic left one, like an overly friendly individual relentlessly approaching someone whose only objective was to ignore them best as possible.

The more prominent culprit, however, was you.

All curves, soft and round and the edges— sleeping beside you was like slumbering amongst the clouds. Before you, Viktor swore that physical contact was something he preferred to steer clear of. Something about it was too invasive to him, too vulnerable.

Now he contributes the majority of his morning pains to the sheer amount of strength it took to will himself away.

He knew there was work to be done. That was why he awoke at the crack of dawn each morning, why he consistently had the faint scent of coffee on his breath, and why he was moved to near tears having to leave your warmth.

To hold and touch and run his hands over your softness was a blessing from the gods themselves; to be held and touched back was his ascension to a higher plane. Viktor, all sharp angles and bony edges, had never been afforded comfort in Zaun. Then you came along, and suddenly he could not imagine a life without you.

You had, effectively, ruined him.

He could not sleep unless pressed against your form, basking in your warmth and comfort. Had he not seen how the apples of your cheeks lifted and grew rosy at your smile, he would go about the day with the sinking feeling of something missing deep in his chest. His hands felt empty if not splayed affectionately across your body.

So on those mornings— those terrible, cruel mornings— where he awoke before you to set off to the laboratory, he mourned the loss of your presence like a tiny funeral, and on those afternoons— those long, exhausting afternoons— he held onto the memory of you while he calculated the future of Piltover like he were authoring a nursery rhyme.

And on those wonderful, beautiful evenings, when he returned home to you?

He stuck himself to your side as a bee would to honey.

Good luck getting him away from you. Or don’t. He would prefer it that way.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A/N: he’s so silly I love writing men who are devastatingly in love with their partners. PLEASE we need more of them 🙏