#while being patient and friendly the entire time

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

[tizeline]

Some snippets into Donnie's relationship to his brothers in the Separated AU

So after having figured out that Donnie is in fact their Long Lost Brother, the Drax Trio obviously want him back, and while Donnie is initially excited to find out that he has a bunch of siblings, he's less excited to find out that they're a bit, uh, evil. And they keep insulting April!! How dare they!!! Not to mention, he already has a dad, he doesn't need a new one! So no, Donnie isn't planning on just leaving his current family behind for this new one, and his brothers react to this in various different ways.

As much as Mikey wants Donnie back, Dr. Feelings understands that this is quite the adjustment for Donnie and that he may need some time to come to terms with the fact that he actually belongs with them and not with the humans. Mikey doesn't wanna force his brother to reunite with them, so instead he tries to convince Donnie to come home willingly through various ways. I mentioned this in an earlier post, but AU Mikey is essentially trying to give Donnie a redemption arc like Canon Mikey did with Draxum

Raph, however, sees Donnie and immedietly goes full Protective Big Brother Mode. He thinks the best course of action is to "forcefully rescue" (kidnap) him and and then convince him to stay and be apart of their family. He's can't help catastrophizing about all the way his baby brother is definitely being mistreated by Lou Jitsu and April and all the other evil humans oh NO they have to SAVE HIM!! The only reason he doesn't is because no one else in the Draxum family thinks it's a good idea

And then Leo. I'll go more into detail about Leo's character in this AU at a later dat cuz hhhhhhh but basically, he's still dealing with pretty intense Middle Child Syndrome and the LAST thing he need is another middle child joining the family! Why are all his family members so obsessed with getting Donnie back anyway? He's already clearly chosen the human side so why waste their time on him! .....Now that's not entirely the whole truth, he's kinda ecstatic when he first meets Donnie, except Donnie doesn't seem to care about them any, which... ouch.

Another way to describe their dynamic would be similar to their canon dynamic, a lot of friendly bickering.... except they don't really know each other and are also enemies here so like.... UNfriendly bickering.... which is just bickering lol. They fight a lot, is what I'm getting at.

Anyway you know the family dinner scene with Draxum in season 2 of the show? Yeah, Mikey tries that tactic here too. Like I said, Mikey wants to be patient with Donnie, but he does eventually get a bit tired of Donnie acting so hostile all the time so he starts organizing hangouts for the four of them (attendence is mandatory!)

And poor Donnie, this whole situation is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him, as you might imagine. Reuniting with your secret lost family is fun for all of five seconds before you find out that they're actually kinda messed up uh oh. A big reason why Donnie acts so hostile towards his brothers is because it's easier for him to just dismiss them as mere enemies that he feels no attatchment to. He's basically being made to pick between this new family and his old one is Not Fun.

[vibeswithdivs]

He’s more patient than he looks

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

The hum of conversation filled the Red Bull Racing headquarters as employees bustled about with an energy that was almost infectious. Engineers huddled over laptops, mechanics leaned against tool racks with grease-streaked hands, and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. It was a world that thrummed with purpose, speed, and precision—qualities that the newcomer sitting at her desk felt slightly out of sync with.

You can do this, she told herself for the hundredth time that day.

Being a social media manager for one of the most prominent teams in Formula 1 was a dream job. Yet, as she stared at the screen, where a half-finished tweet about race day statistics blinked back at her, that dream felt a lot more like a free-fall. She wasn’t just crafting posts about breakfast specials or gym memberships anymore—she was managing the online presence of an entire racing empire.

And, truthfully, she was floundering.

“Morning!”

The cheerful voice made her jump, and she turned to see her colleague, Sophie, leaning over her cubicle wall with a grin. “How’s the newbie settling in?” Sophie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh… good!” she replied quickly, pasting on a smile that she hoped masked her nerves.

Sophie tilted her head, unconvinced. “You’ve been staring at that screen for an hour, and the only thing you’ve posted today is a retweet from Pirelli. Do you need help?”

“No, I’m just—” She paused, biting her lip. “I don’t even know what half these terms mean. DRS, power unit, undercut… it’s like everyone here is speaking a different language.”

Sophie’s face softened. “It is a different language,” she said with a chuckle. “Give it time. It’s only your first week. You’ll get the hang of it. And if you’re still lost, you’ve got plenty of people to ask.”

“Like who?”

“Like me,” Sophie said with a wink. “Or, if you’re feeling brave, you could ask the drivers. Max and Checo are usually good sports about answering questions.”

“Right,” she said, laughing nervously. “Because it’s totally normal to walk up to Max Verstappen and ask him to explain tire degradation.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sophie replied with a grin. “He’s more patient than he looks.”

She didn’t expect to test Sophie’s theory quite so soon. Later that afternoon, while she was setting up her phone to record a behind-the-scenes video in the garage, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Need help?”

She turned, almost dropping her phone when she saw Max Verstappen standing there, dressed in his Red Bull team kit and holding a bottle of water. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity, and his expression was disarmingly friendly.

“Uh… no! I mean, yes. Maybe?” she stammered, fumbling with the tripod. “Sorry, I’m still figuring all this out.”

Max chuckled, setting his water down on a nearby workbench. “Don’t worry about it. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m supposed to get some footage of the engineers prepping your car, but I can’t get the angle right, and—” She broke off, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “It’s my first week. I’m still getting the hang of everything.”

“You’re doing fine,” Max said, his tone reassuring as he stepped closer. “Here, let me see.”

She handed him the phone, watching as he adjusted the tripod with practiced ease. He crouched slightly, angling the camera until it perfectly captured the scene in the garage.

“Like this?” he asked, stepping back to let her check.

She stared at the screen in amazement. “That’s… perfect. How did you do that so quickly?”

“Years of media obligations,” he said with a shrug. “You pick up a thing or two.”

She smiled, feeling some of her nervousness ebb away. “Thanks, Max.”

“No problem,” he replied, picking up his water bottle. “And if you ever need help with anything else—questions, technical stuff, whatever—just ask. It’s better than guessing.”

Max wasn’t kidding. Over the next few weeks, she found herself turning to him more often than she expected, and he answered every question with surprising patience.

“What’s a DRS zone?” she asked one afternoon during a lunch break.

“It’s where we can open the rear wing to go faster,” Max explained, demonstrating with his hands. “But only in certain areas and under certain conditions. You know, to make overtaking easier.”

“And what’s an undercut?” she asked the next day while filming a promo video in the paddock.

Max smirked. “That’s when you pit earlier than the car ahead of you to get fresher tires and gain track position. But timing is everything. If you mess it up, it doesn’t work.”

“Right,” she said, nodding along even though she still felt a bit lost.

Max seemed to notice her confusion because he added, “It’s like beating someone to the front of the line at a concert by taking a shortcut. Make sense?”

“Ahh,” she said, grinning. “That actually helps.”

With Max’s encouragement, her confidence grew. She started experimenting with different content ideas, from quirky Instagram stories to polished YouTube vlogs. Her colleagues noticed the change, offering praise and feedback that bolstered her even further.

But it was Max’s quiet support that made the biggest difference. He never made her feel stupid for asking questions or stumbling over her words, and his humor often turned stressful moments into something lighter.

One evening, as she sat in the media center editing a race weekend highlight reel, Max walked by and paused to watch over her shoulder.

“Not bad,” he said, nodding at the screen.

“‘Not bad’?” she repeated, turning to him with a mock glare.

He grinned. “Okay, fine. It’s great. But you missed the part where I overtook Checo in Turn 3. That was the best move of the race.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’ll add it to the blooper reel.”

“Bloopers?” he said, pretending to look offended. “That was pure talent.”

She shook her head, unable to suppress her smile. “You’re impossible, Verstappen.”

“And you’re doing a great job,” he said, his tone softening. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

By the time the season reached its midpoint, she felt like she’d finally found her footing. The fast-paced world of Formula 1 no longer felt overwhelming; instead, it felt exhilarating.

One evening, after a particularly successful social media campaign, she found herself standing on the balcony of the team’s hospitality unit, watching the sun set over the paddock. Max joined her a few minutes later, leaning against the railing with a relaxed smile.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Always,” she replied with a chuckle. “But I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“I’d say you’re more than getting the hang of it,” Max said. “You’ve been killing it lately. Everyone’s noticed.”

She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And in case you haven’t noticed, you’ve made this job your own. You’ve brought something new to the team. It’s good.”

Her chest swelled with gratitude, and she looked down, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Thanks, Max. For everything. I don’t think I would’ve survived my first month without you.”

He chuckled, reaching out to nudge her shoulder playfully. “Anytime. You’re part of the team now, and we take care of our own. Even if you still ask a million questions.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Get used to it, Verstappen. I’ve got plenty more where those came from.”

Max smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Bring it on.”

[starseungs]

to love you like the snow melts. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — if seungmin wanted to be loved like a planet being discovered, he wanted to love you like the snow melted during the cusp of spring.

GENRE/S — fluff, maybe kinda emotional (or is that just me), slight college au mentioned in passing, he fell first trope • 1.1k words

WARNING/S — nothing really unless you're not into lovesick pining, story told in seungmin's pov, slightly unedited cz idk

( ✒️ ) happy seungmin day !! i think i dissociated while writing this fic cause man... i barely remember shit 😭 i originally had a plan going into writing this but it just got thrown out the window by my brain apparently (also this fic is inspired by one of the results in this quiz cause i loved the prompt i got so much) this fic is a bit short but i hope yall like it <3

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Seungmin’s eyes love to rest on you. 

That was an undoubtable fact in his life—one that he, himself, doesn’t even know how it started. Yet, the acknowledgement of this unknown didn’t bother him at all. If anything, it was a source of comfort for him; a way of reminding himself of the joy in living. To Seungmin, one thing was for certain: He was given the gift of sight to experience you in your entire beauty.

He first met you in a university lecture, where you simply happened to frequent the seat just a row behind and two chairs away from where he usually sat. Perhaps he was enamored from the very beginning. It was like his gaze would always find a way back to you whenever you were in his immediate vicinity, reminiscent of a magnet longing to cling to metal.

That was also the way he took in your presence as a whole. Seungmin was a man starved for knowledge, desperately clawing for anything he could get to broaden his desired expertise that was you. He particularly loved the way your eyes drooped whenever the lecture of the day bore you, as well as your tendency to make origami on available paper during the times you could care less to listen. The latter always ended up with you blinking endearingly after a successful craft, glancing around the people near you to figure out who to present it to.

Oh, how he wished he had been over there instead, happily receiving a paper star to keep. However, it was your friends that surrounded you on a daily, barely giving you time to be alone. And maybe you didn’t want to be alone—another thing about you that he’d like to discover the truth to. But he thought that until the day he somehow found himself stumbling into your life, he’d have to be grateful to your friends for making you shine the way you deserved every step of the way.

So, imagine his surprise when he finally got the chance to make a mark in the vast expanse of your world.

The opportunity came in the form of a group project with you; the catalyst in which his whole life began to change. Friendly introductions of obligation quickly turned into incessant strings of conversation, bringing the two of you closer. The sheer pace of the development was overwhelming. Seungmin never thought his presence bore enough weight for gravity to grab him by the neck and lock him in the system of the star that was you. 

It was a trip and a half, consisting of countless miles to lap around with seemingly no end. So much, that he feared falling out of your grace—to be like a passing asteroid who foolishly dreamt of becoming a planet. Seungmin was endlessly yearning to solidify his place in your world, just like he always wanted. And still, despite that all, he didn’t show it. He merely laughed when you laughed, stayed silent when you needed silence, and experienced anger on your behalf when you couldn’t show it for yourself. 

Because Kim Seungmin knew that you needed to be loved patiently.

Even throughout the tightrope of uncertainty he walked months on like his life depended on it, he never once made it seem like he was waiting on a move from you. If Seungmin wanted to be loved like a planet being discovered, he wanted to love you like the snow melted during the cusp of spring. 

Seungmin knew that even with the shows of your cheery demeanor, your heart still remained frosted over from your previous winters. That even when your fingers danced their way to intertwine with his, there was still that moment of hesitation. He was forever thankful that you caught him from falling when he did, refusing to let him disappear into the abyss. Yet, who was lighting up the skies of which you lay under to stare at each day?

He longed to give you a love that was true. One where he showed you how warmth creeped in with small trickles of heat, giving you enough time to decide whether you truly wanted it or not. Love that was considerate in the way that it willingly warned you of its presence, but in a way that cupped your cheeks and sang you lullabies. To love you gently as to not sully your shoes with messy, muddy soil of the ground peeking out from beneath the snow. 

To Seungmin, there was no greater gift than being able to be the sign of your spring.

“Baby?” You called out to him softly, a flash of concern twinkling behind your gaze. “Is anything wrong?”

Seungmin feels like he was just coaxed out of a trance, previously being too occupied studying the details of you at the moment, as if he hadn’t already spent the past hour doing just that. A string of golden celebration banners made its presence known in the corner of his eye, briefly acknowledging the once-a-year greeting printed on them. The slight smell of smoke fully brought him back to his senses, finally glancing down towards the cake with a small lit-up candle you were presenting him.

Right. It was his birthday today.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No,” he replies truthfully. “Everything is perfect.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, having trouble making sense of the situation. Seungmin has half a mind to think if you would forgive him if he tried to straighten it out with his thumbs as a tease.

“But, you’re not blowing out your candles,” you purse your lips in contemplation. He feels an unstoppable force creeping up to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. Did you even know just how much he loves you?

“I was just enjoying the view, that’s all.”

Your demeanor visibly brightens up. “Is the cake that pretty?” Was your smug question, clearly feeling proud of yourself. “I worked hard on that, you know?” 

Seungmin only smiles. Like he always does whenever it concerns you. That warm boyish grin he had paired with a certain fond look in his eyes that his friends never failed to point out just to fluster him into oblivion. But he lets them anyway. There was no way he could ever deny the truth of how strongly he felt for you.

“I know.” 

Because he always does. 

And as he leaned forward to feel the last heat of the flickering candle before it went out, he couldn’t help but think that the snow had finally melted. His wish had already come true.

“Happy birthday, Seungmin!”

Spring has come.

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung @thecutiepieme @yaniiiiism

[lascvitae]

the hills. — kim minjeong x reader.

"when i'm fucked up, that's the real me."

sypnosis ⸝⸝⸝ park y/n has always hated minjeong, and the feeling has always mutual. growing up as rivals, it only made sense for their rivalry to carry on with them to college. but when minjeong became student council president she devloped a knack for using that power over y/n, causing for the line in between love and hate to blur.

pairing ⸝⸝⸝ enemies to lovers, stuco president!minjeong x campus player!reader

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ profanity, suggestive, alcohol & cannabis consumption, cheating, y/n is lowk big mad, minjeong is down bad

note ⸝⸝⸝ HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY TO ME AND MINJEONGGG 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 and happy new year too!!! idk how i feel about this fic, it’s kinda out of my comfort zone (also its so late rn, i took WAYYY too long to post this)

word count: 4.4k

if there was one thing that every college student looked forward to during midterms, it was the month long break. whether they spend it sleeping, partying, or with their loved ones, it was always the fuel of their excitement.

this had even been the case for park y/n, an extremely popular student yonsei university. the popularity wasn’t due to her looks & lovable bold personality, but she was also park sunghoon’s little sister. sunghoon was notorius for his ability to ice skate, entracing everyone who watched him dance across the ice almost insantly.

y/n went viral after being spotted giving her brother a pep talk before a big performance, resulting in praise for her demeanor and refreshing visuals.

this event lead to her current boyfriend at the time, kim sunwoo, who was one of the most popular campus crushes. he was known for throwing the craziest parties, especially during the breaks.

even though y/n is well-known for breaking hearts and then moving onto the next person she deems worthy, sunwoo didn’t seem to mind this at all. he was happily enjoying his 15 minutes of fame. and in his mind, they were the hottest couple the university had laid their eyes upon.

this hadn’t been the case for student council president kim minjeong, who was currently eyeing the said girl with disdain. the annoyance was practically radiating off of her at this point.

minjeong wasn’t the typical president, though. while she exuded the punk and rock aesthetic perfectly, she was extremely nice to everyone. some would even describe her as shy, but everyone could tell that she genuinely cared for the students. with the way she coordinated all the activities, advocated for the students’ needs and concerns, and represented the entire studdent body. her leadership and communication skills were out of this world.

that was with everyone except for park y/n.

they had been enemies — or more so rivals, for years now. it started in elementary school, where they used to be table partners.

their table was pretty far in the back, so the teacher would always reach them last.

on the very first day when the teacher handed out colored construction paper, minjeong took the last blue colored one. the one that y/n had been waiting so patiently for.

that wasn’t the worst part about it all. she even left a friendly comment for her so-called table partner.

“i’m smarter, so i get it instead of you!” she chirped.

y/n smacked her gum angrily, crossing her arms as the teacher scolded minjeong.

“you’re a big fat liar!” y/n spat back, resulting in a loss of two class dojo points.

“park y/n! give me your gum, now.” the teacher scolded, and y/n immediately obeyed.

two more class dojo points that she needed for her favorite candy — the big blow pops with gum inside.

she could still remember the event as clear as water to this day.

and everytime she does, she reminds herself that she is indeed better than minjeong, and she wouldn’t let that anger consume her. it wouldn’t have been possible to beat minjeong in every spelling bee if the girl was better than her.

minjeong and y/n used to compete in the spelling bee every year during middle school, and they would always be the final two left standing.

but minjeong could never beat y/n. and the smile that y/n would give everyone once she got the award was worth losing.

and the time in high school where —

“are you even listening?” minjeong quirked a brow, patience running thin. her teeth grazed against the piercings that looped around her bottom lip. the piercings that made minjeong look ten times hotter.

y/n hated those.

“yeah, whatever. i, park y/n, swear to improve my behavior over the break. can i go now?” the blonde-haired girl shook her head in disappointment.

“today isn’t the day to be testing my patience.” even if there was any real threat behind the warning, y/n didn’t care. she rolled her eyes before standing up from the chair, smacking her gum to take it a step further as usual. she always knew exactly how to push minjeong’s buttons.

“just get out.” minjeong ordered before holding out the palm of her hand, tilting her head as her eyes zeroed in on her rival’s lips.

a reluctant y/n spat out her gum with crossed arms, huffing quietly. this wasn’t uncommon for the two, and y/n was never truly bugged by the action. she only feigned annoyance so that minjeong had a reason to do it more often.

and she definitely did.

“ugh! i can’t stand minjeong!” y/n complained in the canteen, fixing her lip combo as sunwoo held up the phone camera for her.

sunwoo was currently seated with y/n and her friends, listening to his girlfriend rant on and on about their student council president. this wasn’t a new topic for him.

yuqi was absent this time — she had probably been lip locking in a hallway with her boyfriend, waiting to get caught.

“is there something i should know about her?” aeri raised an eyebrow. “she’s my r—“

“mm-mm. just let her finish, aeri.” sunwoo cut her off, waving his hand side to side in the air. aeri could only shrug in response.

“i swear she does it on purpose too… she never reports anyone as much as she reports you.” ningning chimed in, sipping from the lilac stanley cup that sat on the table.

“exactly! urgh, like she’s so infuriating!” her boyfriend, who was more of a decoration, watched y/n work her magic, amazed by how pretty she was. “i swear we’ve memorized each other’s schedule.” aeri’s face contorted into one of confusion.

“maybe she wants to be your friend.” sunwoo shrugged, resulting in y/n giving him her signature eye roll.

“be my friend? baby, come on now…” she had looked up at him for a moment, sighing quietly before passing her attention to aeri instead. “babes! you should totally come to sunwoo’s party tonight.“

aeri was the newest addition to y/n, yuqi, and ningning’s interchangable clique.

while the three of them stuck together like glue, it was never the same case for the fourth person.

but they had high hopes for aeri.

“i wouldn’t miss it, y/n. anything in particular i need to wear?” she questioned.

“just come to y/n’s house. she’ll get you all fixed up.” ningning’s smile widened, twirling a strand of aeri’s hair. and if anyone was paying enough attention, they could see the faint blush appearing onto the pink-haired girl’s cheeks.

“yuqi had designer dresses made for all of us! today’s your lucky day, because we have a fourth.” y/n smirked, stuffing her makeup into sunwoo’s hands.

the boy hurriedly but carefully put everything back into her purse, along with the pink iphone 16 he knew she loved so much.

“it was originally meant for yujin.” ningning explained, sipping from her stanley as they all stood up. “before she went… rogue.” her voice dropped an octave on the word ‘rogue.’ aeri believed that she understood what that meant — yujin had made friends with minjeong and the rest of the student council.

“but it’s okay, because you’re totally prettier.” y/n giggled before grabbing aeri’s arm and walking off, ningning following close behind.

sunwoo dropped his girlfriend’s phone just as they walked off, picking it up and wiping it off with his hands. “y/n, wait!”

“yuqi, we look like cheap fucking whores. i thought you said this was designer?” y/n complained over the music after they arrived fashionably late to sunwoo’s christmas party.

there were already tons of people there. people that y/n could recognize and some that she couldn’t. some were dressed appropriately for the occasion, and some were in casual clothing.

they all had something in common though — hazy clouds filled the air, and the scent of alcohol boomed throughout the whole building. clearly whoever the dj was didn’t give a fuck about christmas, and that was obvious enough with the way rihanna blasted through all of the speakers.

“this is designer! feel the material.” yuqi retaliated, caressing the faux fur that stuck out of the top and bottom of the red minidress. the belt that defined their waists brought it all together.

aeri shrugged, being pulled closer by ningning. “it’s not too bad.”

their dresses were topped off with a matching santa hat, as well as black gloves and boots.

y/n crossed her arms, poking her hip out as she scanned the crowd. they had noticed their arrival now, earning the attention from a select number of the partygoers. she sighed, knowing that she couldn’t leave early because she rode with yuqi.

unless she were to leave with someone else tonight.

“damn, baby. you look good.” sunwoo sauntered over with his red cup in hand, smelling like a mixture of weed and his signature cologne as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against y/n’s lips.

he was dressed up as an elf. santa and the elf, how fitting for the couple.

“we look no different than the cup in your hand right now.” she pushed him away, furrowing her eyebrows.

“you look good in everything, though.” he pulled her close once more, planting open mouthed kisses to her neck.

“where’s the weed?” y/n subtly pried him off of her neck, clearing her throat. “this is a party, right?” she tilted her head, eyes burning into his.

“just come this way, baby.” and with that, he maneuvered his way through the crowd, being extremely easy to lose due to the dim and multicolored lighting and the way his green outfit looked underneath it.

the group had a bit of trouble following behind. all different types of people were around with their train of thought altered. high, drunk, both. sober.

they staggered into the kitchen, watching sunwoo open the door to a room just some feet away from them. “he went in there.” yuqi pointed out.

“hey! fucking watch it!” y/n shoved a random person after seeing them bump into aeri, who was being pulled close to ningning’s side once more.

the girl turned around, and y/n validated her own anger once she saw the girl’s face. it was ahn yujin.

yuqi stepped in front of aeri and ningning before gasping comically.

“hey! she didn’t even touch her.” a tall girl that had long brown hair spoke up for yujin with an alert expression painting her features. her name was wonyoung or something? whatever. y/n didn’t care.

“bitch, don’t lie! i saw it!” yuqi raised her voice, and wonyoung gave her a look of annoyance. this made both yuqi and y/n’s temper flare up.

y/n moved in closer to give them both a piece of her mind, but she was stopped by the familiar voice that she could recognize over any symphony.

kim minjeong’s.

“yujin? wony? what’s going on?…” the blonde haired girl was accompanied by the vice president of the student council, yu jimin.

jimin had two drinks in her hand, and yujin scurried out of sight. wonyoung was quick to give the two girls an apologetic look before following.

minjeong’s breath stopped as her eyes met y/n’s, studying the girl’s attire whilst her tongue played with her lip piercings. it was like her expression did a whole one-eighty. taken over completely by anger and something else that y/n couldn’t name.

y/n hated it.

“minjeong, huh?” she let out a laugh that was annoying to minjeong’s ears. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

it’s not that minjeong wasn’t expecting to run into y/n. this was her boyfriend’s party.

after all, y/n was the reason why she left the house tonight.

“this doesn’t look like improving your behavior.” her hand waved around y/n’s figure, arms crossed in her leather jacket. her shirt was short enough that her abs were on display.

y/n hated that.

“you aren’t innocent either, president.” y/n motioned to the red cup that was in jimin’s hand.

jimin laughed awkwardly, opening her mouth to de-escalate the situation.

“i earned this, don’t you think? for being valedictorian this semester.” minjeong spoke in a condescending manner, inching closer to y/n. the way she could see y/n’s eye twitch was the icing on the cake, smirk dancing onto her lips.

and y/n fucking hated it.

“you’re not better than me at everything, minjeong.” her words were laced with venom, even though the person in front of her was the snake.

“i’m sorry? name it.” minjeong chuckled, shoving jimin’s hand that came onto her shoulder.

“if you really wanna hear the answer, come smoke with us. i spent too much time on you.” y/n crossed her arms, smacking her gum.

minjeong was slightly taken aback, and jimin noticed this.

“hey, minjeong… we can—“

“lead the way, y/n.”

jimin’s face fell. how far was minjeong willing to go just to prove y/n wrong? her friends were in need of her help right now.

“hurry up! yuqi said sunwoo went this way.” aeri grabbed ningning’s arm, guiding her through the ocean of people as the rest of them followed, leaving jimin there alone.

“president finally letting loose, huh?” yuqi’s boyfriend, juyeon vocalized in an intrigued tone while sparking up both the blunt and the conversation. the group shared laughter of their own.

yuqi was cuddled close next to him, with aeri and ningning exactly to her left.

y/n was seated in between sunwoo and minjeong, while jake sat next to sunwoo. they were having their own conversation that y/n couldn’t care less about.

as the blunt started it’s rotation, the topic of conversation started to get lost. random thoughts were being talked about now. minjeong swore that she could hear juyeon lighting another blunt.

once it y/n passed it to minjeong, all eyes were on her.

“just do it.” y/n laughed at the worry plastered on the girl’s face.

“or are you a pussy, kim minjeong?”

that was all it took for minjeong to take a hit. a big one, too.

she blew out the smoke and immediately went into a coughing fit, sunwoo rushing to get the girl some water.

y/n felt jealousy coursing through her veins over this. but she wasn’t feeling jealous of minjeong.

“hey.” y/n stood up, elbowing sunwoo away from the blonde haired girl. she pat her back, taking the water bottle and waiting patiently for the coughing to come to an end.

once it did, minjeong tilted her head back so y/n could pour the water into her mouth. yet neither of them broke eye contact.

had aeri seen that right? because it looked like y/n pushed sunwoo away just to help minjeong. purposely.

but if sunwoo didn’t find anything wrong, she didn’t find a reason to, either.

all it took was a few minutes for the whole group to be completely faded. yuqi and her boyfriend left the room a while ago, and ningning excused herself to the bathroom. aeri followed to make sure the girl was okay.

this left jake, sunwoo, y/n, and minjeong. jake had the blunt, and he was laughing after y/n politely asked for a game of truth or dare.

“i might admit something i’ll regret later.” he shook his head, eyeing y/n considerably. this didn’t go unnoticed by sunwoo or minjeong.

she nudged y/n’s shoulder, leaning in to speak quietly once she had acquired her attention.

“the fuck does that mean, jaeyun?” sunwoo barked, sitting up slightly.

jake raised his hands, shaking his head as he yielded.

“still haven’t told me what you’re better at.” the president whispered, and the corners of y/n’s lips went upward.

“come here.” y/n grabbed minjeong’s hand as they stood up, sneaking out from the room that was full of hazy clouds.

sunwoo clicked his tongue, leaning back onto the couch as he looked over at his friend. “you gonna keep babysitting or what?”

“my bad. would hate to ruin y/n’s night.” his voice was lower now, and he handed the blunt to sunwoo, who was obviously upset.

sunwoo took a hit while shaking his head, turning his head to talk to his girlfriend.

“you good y/n—“

“the fuck? where’d they go?” he asked, coughing as he took the blunt from between his lips.

jake shrugged, and sunwoo left him alone in the room to start his search for y/n and minjeong.

“he took the blunt.” jake lifted his arms up dramatically.

y/n and minjeong were in the corner of the kitchen, and y/n smirked as she settled onto the side of the table parallel to her rival.

random people were watching as they began their game of beer pong.

“if minjeong wins, i’ll sleep with chaewon tonight.” a classmate named yunjin spoke out.

y/n started the game, easily taking the lead with two cups to zero.

“seriously? you can drink better than me? everyone knows that, y/n.” minjeong spat out once she kept losing. there were ten cups and y/n had already scored four, while she was at zero.

“hey, now. you know what they say. if you’re not drinking, you’re not playing.” y/n teased.

minjeong huffed, realizing that people were recording now. a light flush painted her cheeks. she didn’t want to seem like a total loser, at least.

she played with the piercings on her lip, finally landing the ping pong ball into one of the cups.

y/n couldn’t focus on anything else after seeing minjeong tease the lip rings, slowly losing her lead.

and after two more, the crowd began to ramp up. they were surrounded by red cups and camera flashes.

“yo, the president is about to beat y/n in beer pong!” some guy yelled out, and y/n furrowed her eyebrows. that’s not what she wanted to be remembered at this party for.

then suddenly, the crowd exchanged gasps as all of the cameras were suddenly pointed at y/n.

jimin had splashed a drink onto y/n’s dress, the liquid coating almost the entire top half of it.

and while y/n was enraged, minjeong found it the hottest sight laid upon her eyes. ever.

“minjeong! the fuck are you doing! people are recording!” jimin scolded her, grabbing her arm to drag her out of the party.

minjeong was crossfaded — she didn’t care. she hadn’t even zoned back in all the way yet.

“this is designer, you whore! it costs more than your whole life!” y/n yelled, and the room had gone quiet.

“you bitches post this anywhere and i’ll kill you.” she threatened the crowd, stomping off to the bathroom.

finally coming back to her senses, the blonde-haired girl spoke up. “jimin, what the hell?” minjeong pushed the vice president off of her shoulder, running after the girl she claimed to be the bane of her existence.

“what the fuck just happened?” a troubled sunwoo asked the crowd that had quickly dispersed and continued on with their previous activities.

a few had sobered up, but the rest replaced their tasks with getting wasted.

“i don’t know. chaewon ain’t getting laid tonight though.” ryujin commented, pouring a drink for yeji.

y/n found herself in some random bathroom, wiping frantically at the stain and trail of drink mixture trickling down her cleavage.

she groaned loudly, grabbing more paper towels when she heard the door open and close. it was no one other than kim minjeong.

she even heard the lock click.

the fucking audacity, y/n thought.

“y/n—“

“get the fuck out, minjeong!” she yelled out, words coming out slower than intended.

“let me help you—“ y/n pushed her away, chest heaving with anger as minjeong stumbled back into the door, leaning against it.

“this is all your fault, kim minjeong. she wouldn’t have spilled that drink on me if it wasn’t for you.” y/n yelled, pointing her finger at the girl. “it’s always your fucking fault!”

her words were slurred, but minjeong thought it was the hottest thing ever. had she ever gotten turned on from a girl yelling at her before?

“w-what jimin did isn’t—“

“shut up!” she moved closer to the blonde haired girl, and she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking straight at her chest.

y/n couldn’t help but notice this, and it made her heartbeat accelerate. “you know what? my whole mood is ruined. just… just shut the fuck up.”

minjeong fiddled with the piercings on her lip. she didn’t want to shut up.

“let me take you home.”

“while you’re drunk? no. this is why you just need to shut up.” y/n scoffed, making minjeong want to try even harder.

“then let me pay for your uber.” minjeong spoke up again.

“what do you not understand about shutting the fuck up?“

“please, y/n?” she breathed out, pushing off of the door to hold herself up on the edge of the sink. “i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

y/n looked at the other from over her shoulder, imaging how it would feel to have her lips against her own.

“okay.” the conversation ended there and the room went silent. only for a while though.

“does sunwoo do that?”

y/n’s breath hitched, and she swallowed harshly. “do what?” she whispered back, skin ablaze with the amount of fire that was burning in minjeong’s eyes.

this was the moment that they realized they both wanted each other this whole time. the way that minjeong slammed their lips together proved it.

it didn’t take long for y/n to get into the feel of the kiss, lips dancing together in a rhythmic manner as y/n pushed her back against the door.

y/n smiled into the kiss as she finally fulfilled her dream of finding out how those piercings would feel at her lips, and it had her craving more.

the president let out a quiet moan as her rival’s tongue slithered into her own mouth, cheeks flushing as she lost herself in the sensation of their heated kiss.

“y-y/n...” she breathed out, and y/n pulled back to witness the sight.

minjeong was so cute.

“this isn’t the student council president i know.” y/n smirked, challenging the girl as she connected their lips once more.

they were drowning so deep into each other that they didn’t even notice that someone was knocking at the door.

“y/n? y/n, you in here?” sunwoo called out, twisting the doorknob.

oh fuck. y/n’s stomach dropped.

minjeong took this opportunity to switch them around, trapping y/n against the door as she attacked her neck with desperate kisses.

y/n didn’t know what to do. should she stay silent?

surely sunwoo had heard the noise of her colliding with the door.

should she just pretend that they were some random couple making out?

minjeong had gotten touchy, shakily gripping y/ns waist as she marked her as her territory.

sunwoo was persistent — knocking again as he continued to call out for y/n. does this guy ever give up?

just as she heard another guy approach the door, minjeong bit down on the sweet spot of y/n’s neck.

y/n whimpered at the action, listening to the conversation that happened on the other side of the door with heavy breaths.

sunwoo was asking someone if they had seen his girlfriend.

even if y/n did want to answer now, minjeong swallowed her noises, tongues fighting each other for dominance as y/n traced the other girl’s abs.

she whined into y/n’s mouth, feeling all of her fantasies finally coming to life.

“please, y/n..” it was a desperate whisper as they pulled away just enough to breathe, not wanting to create any more distance.

“i’ll take care of you.” she panted, playing with the piercings on her lip as she eyed y/n hungrily.

“i love it when you do that.” y/n whispered, keeping eye contact with minjeong while the footsteps retreated. “yeah?” minjeong closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a needy kiss.

“minjeong— baby, wait...” y/n moaned, pushing the girl away.

“call the uber.”

it felt like y/n’s brain was doing summersalts inside of her head, hammering against the edges with each routine. she groaned, reluctantly opening her eyes as she scanned the room that she found herself in.

the sheets smelled like amber vanilla with a hint of tart cherry. a scent she had come to love and hate over the years.

because it belonged to kim minjeong.

y/n sat up abruptly, breathing frantically as she really examined the room that she was in. she hadn’t even noticed the figure with blonde hair that she had been previously cuddled up with. that’s why she didn’t recognize this room.

because it belonged to kim minjeong.

“shit shit shit! what the fuck?” y/n bounced out of the bed, searching for her clothes that were scattered on the floor. her phone was on the nightstand, and she could see the multiple notifications that she had received from sunwoo.

she collected everything, tip-toeing into the connected bathroom and slipping back into the outfit she had on previously.

the mirror revealed that her lip combo was stained and there were marks scattered over her skin.

she would have to hide all of this from sunwoo.

feeling the realization really sinking in now, y/n grabbed her phone and traversed into the hallway. she saw that there was a door that seemed to lead to another room, and she began to panic more.

of course minjeong has a roommate.

quickly finding her way to the living area, it was barely lit up by the sunrise. the blinds were completely closed, and there was no other light available. y/n could barely see now, so how did anyone even see when they got home?

her mind tunneled on getting out of this mess, finding one of her boots at the door. after slipping it on, she ran a hand through her hair as her eyes scanned the space for the other pair.

it had to be close, right?

she hit her knee on the sofa, yelping and kneeling down to grab it. “fuck!” she whisper-yelled, pouting up at the sofa as she mentally cursed it out.

someone walked into the living room, flicking the light on and y/n fell silent. she froze in place, closing her eyes as she hoped the sofa would hide her figure completely.

“y/n. i can see your hat.” a familiar voice called out.

what the fuck?

y/n jumped up. “ningning!” her eyes were damn near poking out of their sockets.

ningning’s lips spread into a smile, letting out a melodious laugh after she scanned all of the hickeys and love bites scattered on y/n’s collarbone area and up.

y/n was confused and embarrassed, but not ashamed. “wait, but minjeong isn’t your roommate?…” that was when another figure left the room, grabbing both of their attention.

“holy shit, aeri??” y/n yelled out in surprise.

taglist — @saysirhc

[alyszuha]

what the bsd charcters would get at the gas station (as a gas station employee)

a/n: i wrote this while bored at work a few months ago in my notes app, and thought it would be funny to share. nikolai's is def my favorite. enjoy.

dazai - just black coffee like a few times a day. he would talk to the clerks and is friendly to the point where he gets free coffees. flirts with the young women working but we cant tell if he is actually or not because he’s just hard to read. i can’t tell if he smokes or not but if he did he would get marlboro black 100’s.

atsushi - white cherry gatorade and some chips. very average customer. might eventually become friendly with the workers but hes a bit shy, and is surprised when the workers ask him how he’s doing.

kyoka - snack cakes. doesnt talk at all other than saying thank you. sometimes comes in with atsushi.

kunikida - coffee as well. very respectful and if he likes it will become a regular and add it to his schedule. everyone likes him. will occasionally rant about a coworker that annoys the fuck out of him (hm i wonder who).

ranpo - a fuck ton of candy and soda. like takes several trips back and fourth with handfuls of random ass snacks. he’s annoying as fuck about it too.

akutagawa - water. probably goes to the self checkout too, just does not wanna talk to anyone.

chuuya - premium gas and occasionally cigarettes. he’d get some odd type too like winstons or very specific marlboros. he doesn’t talk much unless the worker talks to him. but me and my younger female coworkers would definitely gush over him when he first starts coming.

hirotsu - he would get some old people shit like tourneys or parliaments and say “in a box”. but is patient when the workers take a second to look for them because literally no one gets them.

oda - marlboro black 100’s (which would have inspired dazai's choice). doesn’t talk much.

ango - water and a small snack like a doughnut or peanuts.

tachihara - mountain dew voltage. very chill and talks to the workers. if he finds anyone attractive would lowkey flirt.

tecchou - he would find some type of snack that no one knew we even had. like the byson meat sticks that are definitely expired.

teruko - look i love her but i KNOW this bitch door dashes shit, and it drives us nuts because its always when we’re busy.

fukuchi - he gets beer and would pay with like a 50 dollar bill. my friend i work with would make an inside joke about him being our sugar daddy.

nikolai - (this is something an actual person has done) walks in , says hi and takes an entire fucking tray of lighters before walking out.

fyodor - calls the store and scams the worker for hundreds of dollars.

edit: should i tell more stories about working at a gas station? because i have a lot. i also wish i could have put in the time i was serenaded by a customer when i was by myself. but idk who would do that. maybe dazai??

[akutasoda]

I saw your requests are open so here I am! The fandom is BSD and the characters are Fyodor, Akutagawa, Yosano and Jouno (if thats not too many). Reader and them are not offically in a relationship! Reader nonchalantly brings up that their being stalked, not quite realizing the weight of their situation. What are the characters going to do about it?

never alone

synopsis - how would they react when you casually mentioned you might be being stalked

includes - yosano, akutagawa, fyodor, jouno

warnings - gn!reader, reader gets stalked, slight angst, fluff, wc - 1.3k

nowadays you always felt like something was wrong. your nomral everyday routine had an addition to it which made you uncomfortable and made you feel vulnerable. it always felt like a pair of eyes were trained onto your figure at every waking minute of the day.

the figure that you regularly saw was definitely new. it was only a handful of times but there was no way that all the times were pure coincidence? right? and why would the figure stop or turn away when you turned to check they were still following you?

after a very short while it started making you really uncomfortable. it felt like you were being constantly watched and you could no longer focus on anything else as it worried you. but truth be told you didn't know what to do. you felt like you should tell someone but you didn't want them to think you were just being paranoid and you didn't think it was that serious, so you shrugged it to the back of your mind and let it slowly eat away atyour conscience.

eventually you let it spill and you told your most trusted friend about your worries. it was an accident to start with, like you were telling a joke, so you came of very nonchalantly but they didn't take it so lightly.

akiko yosano ★↷

what had started as one of your many friendly catch-ups with yosano had now turned into a very troubling conversation. you and yosano would practically meet everyday if you didn't see eachother throughout and because you both were extremely close you two would often spill secrets or gossip.

when you casually mentioned that you thought you might be being stalked her face dropped immediately. you felt the air tense from the normally friendly atmosphere and you really only registered what you said when she asked you to repeat yourself. that's sort of when you let it all out as you finally felt you had someone to talk to about it.

her face only became visibly more concerned but she would patiently wait for you to finish telling her about every little detail. once you had finished, you felt like a weight had been lifted but immediately replaced as you then realised the situation fully.

yosano noted your current concerns and immediately offered help, help you knew she wouldn't let you refuse. she worked in a detective agency afterall, sure they dealt with more aggressive cases but stalking wouldn't be turned down especially if it was you who was suffering.

she offered to walk you home herself afterwards and that would be the first time in ages you didn't feel those eyes on you. it would also be the last as from the next day you noted that you never felt them again.

ryūnosuke akutagawa ★↷

you often would talk to akutagawa during or after a mission. he wasn't exactly talkative but you never minded and still found his company rather comforting - some may call you crazy for thinking that. and lately being in his presence made you much more comfortable as it no longer felt like you were being watched.

akutagawa may struggle with many things to do with friendships and such but he wasn't entirely dumb to not notice your recent constant discomfort. he could recognise that something was troubling you, especially when he caught your eyes frantically looking around if you were alone, and so he asked what was wrong - you were being rather distant on the current mission.

you nonchalantly mentioned about your growing discomfort and worry about someone following you constantly, you couldn't tell but his face dropped with a certain seriousness. you didn't realise and so you went to act as everything was normally but he stopped you and asked you to repeat yourself. the seriousness is his voice was something you've never heard.

he eventually got you to explain everything to him and while he didn't show anything on his face, you knew he was mad and that's when the weight of the situation dropped on you. from that day forward akutagawa made it a point to walk you anywhere. you're going home? he'll accompany you, you're heading to the shops? he needs to pick some stuff up anyway.

sometimes it felt overbearing but you knew why he was doing it and eventually after a couple of days he stopped. you really didn't have to ask about why you didn't feel watched anymore, you knew the fate akutagawa had given someone.

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

fyodor had once told you that you were one of few he would properly engage in conversation with. most of the time that meant you telling him about your day while he chimed in with the occasional hum or question while he worked at his desk - he did barely do physical missions.

you had been busy telling him about something that you'd done that day ehile you were out and so your brain immediately went to talk about how uncomfortable you had been feeling when going anywhere. you hadn't noticed at first but fyodor stopped typing when he asked you to elaborate. what you did notice was him turning to look at you fully when you elaborated.

you let out an awkward laugh and asked if something was wrong and he immediately started asking questions. you didn't quite understand but the seriousness soon became emphasised when he offered that you stay with him that night and you really didn't want to say no after seeing how angry he seemed to be.

you would come to wake up the next morning to a nornal fyodor. he'd greet you and he seemed back to his normal self and if you asked about last night he'd justt deny anything. you would note how for the first time in ages you didn't feel like you were being constantly watched.

saigiku jouno ★↷

if time was available, you would often head round to jouno's residence to see him. it was atleast once a week so it served as a catch-up between the two of you, most of the time he was extremely busy and saw your company as a reminder to finally take a break.

you two would often spend ages talking about whatever thing that had occurred that week and it was a real safespace for you. so it was only natural that you casually mentioned how you always felt watched. you had been fiddling with your cup so you hadn't noticed jouno's face sour.

you only noticed when he asked you to elaborate and you did without second thought. jouno didn't like the fact that you had mentioned it so casually. he was a hunting dog, a morally gray one perhaps but still, he protects people and so he would be failing his duties of he couldn't protect you. it shocked you with how fast jouno was to offer you to stay round his residence that night.

you didn't say no as he seemed very dead set on you staying. when you woke and got ready to leave, he accompanied you back to your residence despite your questions about if he had work to get to. the next time you were to see jouno he seemed rather smug but you immediately told him about how you didn't feel followed anymore he only smiled more and told you that he was glad you felt safe again.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I can't just let Douma be in the spotlight now, can I?

For the past few months, you'd have a secret little rendezvous every single night without fail. You never saw his face as he would always have his back turned to you but you eventually gave up on pestering him to reveal himself fully.

He stumbled upon you randomly as you were tending to your garden and humming to yourself. It was a long way until his destination so the demon decided to take a breather, just for a little bit.

Besides, to him, you were nothing more than a potential snack at the time.

Your blood was young and hot and your flesh smelled sweet - the ultimate food. However, even a monster such as Upper Moon One liked to enjoy himself from time to time. He patiently waited for you to finish humming and he would strike you down then.

Never in his wildest dreams could he imagine that you would be able to even see him let alone approach him.

Tiny specks of fear and suspicion laced your voice but other then that you were completely friendly towards him.

It was moronic. He didn't understand why he chose to entertain you and your stupid questions.

You were cautious of him at the beginning but still kept a kind and friendly air around you, an odd change of pace for the demon.

And that is how this entire thing started, him and you, together in the moonlight. His checkered black and purple haori swayed lightly with the wind as his long hair covered most of his back, except his sword. You would often remark that because of the weapon he carried you oddly felt safe around him, that if anything dangerous would cross your path he could just hack it to bits. There was a bit of truth there, he was indeed capable of slicing down anything and anyone who stood in his way.

It's simply your own fault for not realizing that he was the danger you should run away from.

Kokushibo was amazed at how at ease you felt with him, so much so that you never actually stopped to analyze your surroundings - the world would go stale and quiet the moment he made his presence known, all of the woodland beings would flee the moment they would catch a whiff of the scary demon. The eerie silence did not stop you from babbling endlessly and Kokushibo himself never actually made the effort to do so either.

He'd would often ask himself why was he even wasting time with you like this. Someone this naive, silly and carefree was a walking target, dare he even say a simple meal on legs even. Any other demon would have eaten you by now and would have savored every single bite.

He hated himself a little because of this, for wasting his time with you.

But the thought of cutting you down made his chest ache, a feeling he had almost completely forgotten.

So he settled on this, for now. He would indulge you on your little outings and, while he would never dare to say it, he indulged himself as well by simply being in your company. When he was with you he was just another ordinary person.

The truth of his nature could still be a secret for a while.

[storiesfromafan]

Rumours - Buck x Reader

A/N: okay, this is my first attempt at good old Gale 'Buck' Cleven, so please be nice 😅 And I am sorry in advance if its not that good haha.

Warnings: angst, possible grammer and spelling mistakes

Prompt: “You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you”

Tag list: @strayrockette

When you signed up to be a nurse during the war, you had been scared of what you would see. And see you did. Many times you questioned why you did it. But meeting both Buck and Bucky, you understood why. They were funny and sweet guys. Buck the more level headed one, while Bucky was a wild card. You never know what he would do. You did what you did for them, and men like them. They needed someone that was like home while doing what they did and through this war.

They took you into their circle. Making it hard to say no to their company, which you were grateful for after a long day after being on stand by, as those injured came in for treatment. The hurt and broken men you saw, it was heartbreaking and soul crushing. Yet you did your job. Helping Doctors and tending to those in recovery.

Over time you found yourself having a silly crush on Major Cleven. And when it turned to something more – love – you thought yourself foolish. He had a sweetheart back home, waiting for him patiently. So you put those feelings away, in a box which you locked and hid the key.

Unfortunately, a few of the other nurses, ones who you think fancied Bucky more than Buck, had it out for you. For rumours started to make the rounds about you and your affections. The way eyes would watch you as you entered a room. Silence falling between those that had clearly been conversing before your arrival. And then when you heard what they were saying, it hurt. It hurt because these people, whom you thought highly of, had tarnished your reputation.

“She's trying to steal another woman’s man, how shameless".

“I heard she's thrown herself at Major Cleven and Major Egan. It's why she's always with them".

“I always thought she had no morals. She’s always too friendly with the Doctors".

That was just some of the stuff you'd heard. So you took to distancing yourself from everyone. Only being present during your shifts, meetings or at meals. Otherwise you were in your quarters, walking around the base or going into town. It was lonely being separate from everyone. But you didn’t want to stir any new gossip.

Currently you were taking a walk around the base, enjoying the nice weather. You had been over worked the last few days, having a moment like this was just what you needed. In the distance you could hear the air crafts being worked on. But other then that, it was quiet. A contrast to back home and where you lived.

If only your peace was to last. Coming up behind you, as you were looking off into the vast open area and the blue sky, was Buck. He looked worried as he studied you. It felt like forever since he had spoken to you. He was concerned about you and how you were taking the rumours going around base. Ones which he and Bucky had been working to clear up.

You heard the rustle of grass from moving feet. But you remained where you were, waiting to know who it was. You had a fifty-fifty chance on knowing who it was, though you hoped it was Bucky.

“Hey" came Buck's soft voice. And squashing your hopes on Major Egan.

“Hi" you replied, still not turning around.

There was a moment of silence between you both. You hoping he wasn’t here to talk about what people were saying. While Buck was trying to think of how to say what he was thinking. He wanted you to know he didn't believe what was being said, that he knew you were a nice and good woman who didn't deserve this slander.

“Look, about what I've heard” Buck began, making you stiffen. “I don't believe what anyone has been saying, you know that right? You're not that kind of woman".

You nodded your head slowly. “W-what have you heard?” You asked, not entirely wanting to hear his answer.

Placing his hands on his hips, Buck looked down, unsure if he should answer your question. “Let's just say what I heard, I didn't like. And both myself and Bucky have been doing our best to shut it all down".

That was when you turned around, a sad but thankful smile on your face. Seeing your face and how worn out you look, it pulled at Buck's heartstrings. He could see you were tired, but that was due to the busy last few days. But also he could see the toll how this whole rumour thing was taking on you. When you distanced yourself, it broke his and Bucky's hearts.

They had come to enjoy your company, and your spirit. The three of you always finding something to talk about or laugh at, though it was usually at Bucky's antics. He never understood how women could be so catty. But in some cases, men are just as bad.

“Everything will be alright" Buck said, looking you in the eye. “Give it a few days and it should start to go back to how it was...”

You frowned. “I'm afraid the damage is done Buck. Even if people aren't saying it, they'll be thinking it. I'll be surprised if I don't get pulled in for a meeting over it...”

“Bucky and I will stand up for you".

“That might not be a good idea. It may only make it worse" your voice weary, eyes falling to the ground.

“But none of its true, right?” He questioned, hoping he sounded worried and not accusing.

You should have said no right away, though it might have given him the wrong idea. But the prolonged silence didn't help either. You avoided his eyes as Buck tried to meet them. You turned away from him and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“(Y/N), none of its true...?” Buck repeated himself, now with worry.

You sighed. “No...except for one thing...”

Buck moved closer to you. “What is true? You have to tell me so I, Bucky and I can help".

Thinking he was going to place a hand on your shoulder, you flinched, taking a few steps back. “I-it's embarrassing...and childish...”

Buck remained silent, urging you with his eyes to go on.

You sighed. “I-it's my feelings...for you" you ended on a whisper.

But Buck still heard it. He had heard how some women had gossiped about you being in love with him. And he had found it ridiculous. You were friends, that was it. So he had thought. But now, from your admission, those women had been right. Which didn't help the unease he was feeling over it all. He felt angry that they had spread your true feelings. Feelings you had kept to yourself, never acting on. Unlike some women he had seen. They were more shameless then you.

“I see...” he stated, voice calm and gentle.

“Yes...now you know how silly I am" you started, feeling tears rise in your eyes. “How silly I am to be in love with you. When I know I shouldn't".

“It's alright" Buck said reassuringly. “It happens...”

Those words hurt, like a slap to the face. Like he was trying to play it off, or sweep it under a rug. Like it didn't matter. Well it didn't, but some kind of assurance would have been nice. But in stead, Buck was keeping you at arms length over it. And it sparked different emotions in you; anger, frustration, hurt and sadness.

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you” you said with a strained voice. Tears in your eyes, which you were managing to hold back for now.

The look on Buck's face was like pity, how his eyes looked guilty and in despair. “(Y/N)...” his voice soft and weary.

“No Buck, don't" you held up a hand. “I don’t, can't hear it". A tear escaped and ran down your cheek. “I don't want to hear your kind words, as you let me down...I know you have Marge. And I shouldn't have let myself get carried away with being around you and Bucky. But you were both nice to me, the company that I needed. Yet I let my feelings get away from me...”

You dropped your hand, your shoulders slouching slightly as you looked down. Unable to face the gorgeous Major who'd stolen your heart. From the dashing smile, to his warm heart dancing with Meatball, and everything in between. Major Gale Cleven was the man of your dreams, but he belonged to another. A woman that Buck spoke fondly of on the nights when you had to bunker down as bombs went off near by. A woman that made you feel less than in just about every way, except being a nurse during the war.

“Marge is a lucky woman...” you stated with a small laugh. “You're lucky to have a woman like her waiting for you back home...no doubt you'll both be happy" you voice dropping at the end.

It was silent after that. You having said your piece, something that shouldn’t have been aired out, if it wasn’t for the other nurses. Buck was quiet because he was processing your words. Which struck a cord in him. And dare he say that he felt for you. Over this time together, bonded in the worst way, he had grown closer to you. He sort out your company and spirit, especially after returning from a mission that was tough. He revelled in your sunshine. Seeing you like this hurt his heart.

Neither knew what to say after all that. Buck had opened his mouth and closed it a few times. Hoping when he would go to speak the words would come to him, but there was nothing. He should have agreed with you, and said he appreciated your affections. But he couldn't. Because a small part of him liked this, and wanted it from you. And even a part of him at one point had entertained the idea of you.

But he let it be just that, a thought. He had a girl back home waiting, a sweet thing who wrote him letters and cared. Could he really lose that? Or juggle both? No, he wasn't that kind of guy. Yet Buck had feelings for you, that weren't entirely friendly.

“F-forget this ever happened Buck...” you said softly, so softly that Buck wondered if you spoke at all.

And with that, you took your leave. Heading back to your room. Back to solitude and your thoughts. It wasn't great, but its all you had till either people stopped being asses. Or the war was over. Which ever happened first.

[moonlight-alexia]

hate that i love you (not really) | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 2.7k | a night out with the arsenal girls. misunderstandings and jealousy leads to realisations and regrets

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pair of pests universe. thank you for being so patient with me. the ending to this went a lot different to how i originally planned it to go, but i like where it went and i hope you all like it too. i also kind of think this part is horrible but yeah enjoy and thank you :)

You hardly slept not being able to stop thinking about Kyra. Thoughts swirling around your head, wondering why she wouldn’t tell you. You thought you told each other everything. The only conclusion your mind would believe is that there was something going on between Kyra and Lia. There wasn’t any other possible reason that you could reason with being true. 

You didn’t know how you felt about the thought of Kyra liking someone but you knew it didn’t feel great. It felt like you had swallowed a weight that was now just sitting in the bottom of your stomach. You could feel your face scrunch up in a look of disgust. These thoughts and feelings you hated having but you couldn’t get them out of your head.

It’s what kept you up almost the entire night, up until you couldn’t help but fall asleep from pure exhaustion. Though you didn’t end up sleeping much. Thankful that you had the next few days to just rest and you didn’t have to put your tired self through any training. Resting the whole day until you decide to pester Steph into getting ready for the night out together.

‘Stephy come on,’ You whined when Steph wouldn’t take another shot with you after the two you had already downed close together, ‘Kyra would do it,’ 

‘Well why aren’t you with her instead of bothering me,’ Steph joked around, continuing to do your makeup after you begged her until she finally agreed, ‘Really shouldn’t poke fun at someone who’s could make you look real stupid,’ 

‘You better not,’ Your smile dropped and you glared at your older sister, ‘If you somehow manage to mess up perfection, it’ll be the last thing you do,’ You tried to threaten her instead Steph laughed out loudly at you.

‘You don’t have an intimidating bone in your body, you’re too cute,’ Steph poked your nose with the brush she had in her hand making you scrunch your nose up and even further prove her point.

‘Older sister bias,’ You rolled your eyes, swatting her hand away from poking you on the nose with the brush again.

‘Nah the girls will agree with me, I’ll ask them tonight,’ Pushing Steph lightly you reached past her taking another shot of vodka.

‘Gonna need the whole bottle to put up with you,’ The two of you laughed even more, somehow managing to get yourselves ready between the constant back and forth banter you’d started.

Though you were the last two to arrive, Steph dragged you out of the house before you could change your outfit for the thousandth time while complaining about how you couldn’t bring Calvin to the club with you. Your already half drunk self trying to set up a solid plan on how you could create a dog friendly club. 

Steph had no idea what you were going on about but was grateful to make it to the club and pass you off to Kyra, knowing she was one of the only people who could make sense of you. As soon as you entered you saw the rest of the girls, though your eyes scanned through looking for the one person you wanted to see the most.

The alcohol already flowing through your body didn’t help one bit when your eyes landed on Kyra, especially seeing her next to Lia. It felt like time had stopped and your body was frozen in place when you saw Kyra laugh at something she had said. 

Taking a deep breath you tore your eyes away, pushed everything down, put the smile that had dropped slightly back on your face and walked yourself to the opposite end of the group, as far away from Kyra as you could.

Your sister furrowed her eyebrows watching you not greet your best friend and, instead, joining the group that she had joined moments before you. Something was a bit off but Steph couldn’t put her finger on it. Shaking her head she decided to let it go for tonight, letting herself not worry about you, tomorrow would be a different story.

‘My sister here, thinks she’s intimidating,’ Steph voiced out, not letting go to prove her point that the other girls would agree with her.

‘You’re joking?’ Katie laughed out raising her eyebrow turning to look at you, ‘Everyone would laugh if you tried to intimidate them,’ 

‘You’re the least intimidating person I know, mate,’ Leah joined in the conversation, handing you a drink then putting her arm around your shoulder, ‘Oh cheer up, you’re cute and endearing. You don’t need to look tough when you have that,’ Leah squeezed your arm, you rolled your eyes and a small smile formed on your lips.

‘When I’m back on the pitch I’ll show you,’ You mumbled into your drink, knowing no one at the table would ever find you intimidating. Thankfully the conversation naturally shifted away from you being the focus, allowing you to relax beside Leah.

If it wasn’t a night where everyone was allowed to completely let loose, the other girls would probably be concerned with how much you were drinking. Your behaviour wasn’t completely unusual, especially for a night out, but it was still slightly out of the ordinary.

Every time you heard her laugh, every time you looked up and saw how she was unaffected by your absence around her that she seemed, you drowned your feelings with even more alcohol. It wasn’t healthy but at least it could mute how much you were feeling, how much you were feeling towards Kyra. 

Kyra could have other friends, you were never jealous over that. But the possibility of her liking someone, someone that wasn’t you, didn’t sit well with you. Dealing with your emotions could be done another day, it wasn’t your problem for today. You wanted to have fun and you knew you had to get further away from the group to properly ignore Kyra and Lia the rest of the night.

However, the moment you walked in, Kyra did notice that you were here. It was comical how Kyra visibly perked up at the sight of you. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, making sure to not be too noticeable in her happiness towards you finally showing up, ‘You can finally stop checking the door every few seconds,’ Lia leant in joking around quietly to Kyra causing her to take her eyes off of you and laugh at Lia’s teasing. 

Just happened that the moment you spotted Kyra was the one time she wasn’t already looking at you and instead engaged in a conversation with Lia. Kyra expected you to come over to her and then you could’ve spent the night together, like you both had planned. She felt your presence disappear and saw that you had joined the group of girls that wasn’t with her. 

Lia frowned watching Kyra visibly deflate, ‘She’ll come over, probably just saying hi to everyone first,’ Lia tried to cheer Kyra up. It worked for the most part until Kyra realised that you weren’t coming over to her. She didn’t know if she had done something wrong or something to upset you. 

Before Kyra could get lost in her thoughts, Lia kept prompting her and engaging her within the conversation with the other girls around them. Trying to keep her away from thinking about you and your weird behaviour towards her, just wanting Kyra to enjoy her night.

No matter how much Lia tried to cheer Kyra up, it never fully worked. Kyra kept sneaking glances your way. She would watch the way you were interacting with others, mostly with Leah, any hopes that she had of you liking her the same way she liked you were quite low now. But even just as a friend, the way you were acting had Kyra overthinking. In the years you’ve known each other neither of you have fully ignored the other's presence. Kyra was mostly just worried about you instead of upset with you.

‘Le, come dance with me,’ You suddenly stood up and tugged at Leah’s arm trying to drag her to the dance floor with you.

‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ Leah noticed how much you were drinking and had stopped herself from drinking more so she could keep an eye on you. Leah also cared for you and your injury, overhearing within the locker room she knew how much being off the pitch and not playing had impacted you and didn’t want you to do something to keep you out longer.

‘Le,’ You whined, ‘I’m off crutches now, I can dance. Stop worrying,’ Glancing up towards Kyra’s direction, you made eye contact briefly before you successfully managed to get Leah up and moving with you, putting even more distance between you and Kyra.

It felt like Kyra spent most of the night watching you from afar. If she was more confident in herself she would’ve gone over to the dance floor and taken you away from Leah. In her mind that’s what she did, if it wasn’t a night out where everyone else would be watching her actions and the potential of outing her feelings for you and if it wasn’t with Leah then Kyra would’ve definitely taken you away and had you dance with her instead.

‘Let’s go get another drink,’ Lia’s voice brought Kyra back to reality. Taking a deep breath Kyra agreed and followed Lia towards the bar, ‘Leah doesn’t like her like that and I’m pretty sure they’re just having fun,’ They opted to sit at the bar and sip on their drinks there instead of going back to the others.

‘Why didn’t she come and see me though?’ Kyra glanced back your way, watching you dancing with Leah. Leah’s hands on your waist and your arms wrapped around her neck, Kyra wishing that it was her instead of Leah. But if anyone didn’t know, they would think you and Leah were together with the way you were dancing all over each other, well with the way you were dancing all over Leah trying to not think about anything other than getting lost in the music.

‘I think you need to talk to her. Not tonight, no. Another day. Tell her everything, communicate with her,’ Lia’s advice scared Kyra. Scared of the possibility of rejection. Scared to lose her friendship with you by saying the wrong things. You were a big part of Kyra’s life and to have the potential to ruin it all scared her more than anything else ever has. More than when she first moved away from home to play overseas.

‘There’s my favourite pest,’ The voice Kyra dreaded hearing tonight coming from Steph, ‘Everything all right?’ Steph’s head nodded in your direction while talking to Kyra.

‘Yeah, I just didn’t feel like dancing,’ Kyra sighed. Steph could tell that wasn’t the truth, she hadn’t seen her sister interact with Kyra all night. A stark difference from how you and Kyra were acting in the locker room just yesterday. The silent exchange between Lia and Steph had the older girl not pushing her friend any further. Instead, Steph put her arm around Kyra and pulled her in for a brief hug. Hoping to make her feel a little better, making a note to talk to you about everything tomorrow.

You saw Lia and Kyra head to the bar together and continued to get even more lost in the music. Pushing yourself further into Leah, though in the back of your mind you were pretending Leah was Kyra. But you convinced yourself Kyra was with Lia and she didn’t want or need you anymore. Your mind failing to keep the irrational thoughts pushed down, letting them all come to the surface and pushing down any rational line of thinking.

A mix of the alcohol, the endless thoughts and the music pumping through your ears, your head started spinning. Feeling uneasy and quite dizzy you ended up stumbling a few times. Luckily, Leah’s hands were already on your waist managing to keep you upright and not letting you make a fool of yourself.

‘Do you want me to take you home?’ Leah whispered in your ear, knowing you weren’t doing alright when she felt your head rest on her shoulder and your body stop moving. With a small nod, Leah had the two of you heading towards where Steph was, still at the bar with Kyra and Lia. As soon as you saw Kyra and Lia it felt like something inside of you took over and you tried to act more put together than you were feeling. 

‘I’m gonna take her home,’ Leah semi shouted over the music to Steph. You weren’t focused on their brief conversation instead you looked towards the other two. Suddenly your arm was wrapped around Leah, pulling her closer to you while you had a slight smirk on your lips. Your other hand moved to rest on top of Leah’s that was resting on your waist, playing with her fingers a little bit.

Part of you wanted her to feel the same way you felt every time you saw those two together tonight. You were feeling so much you felt like you were going to burst. Everything felt confusing and you weren’t sure how to process exactly what you were feeling but you knew that you hated it. You hated it and you hated Kyra for making you feel like this. But you really didn’t hate her. You love Kyra and you hate yourself for only realising it now. You hate yourself for realising you love her when she’s clearly got someone else.

You hate how your head won’t stop spinning, how everything doesn’t make sense. Part of you hates that you caught feelings for your best friend. But you love the way Kyra always makes you feel. You love the way she makes you feel safe, the way you can be completely yourself and you’ll never feel judged. You hate yourself for making things messy in your own head. You hate that you’ll never be able to tell her, that you’ll have to go on pretending until these feelings stop.

You love Kyra. But you hate that you love her the way that you do. But you love that you love her. Nothing makes sense and everything feels wrong but right at the same time. You wish you could curl up in a ball under your covers until everything suddenly made sense, until everything felt completely right again. 

Avoiding feelings, avoiding hard situations was what you did best. It was easier. Drinking was supposed to make it easier to forget everything for one night, instead it did the opposite and caused you to confront your feelings rather than hide from them. 

You were too far gone in your head to realise that you had made it back to Steph’s apartment, the place you called home for now. It was only when you felt a lack of warmth from Leah that you noticed your surroundings. The feeling of the cold air sending chills through your body. You wrapped your arms around yourself, you didn’t want to be left by yourself. Not when all you’d do is torture yourself with your own thoughts.

‘Did you want me to-’ You cut Leah off, catching her and yourself off guard when you cupped her cheeks and pressed your lips against hers. You didn’t know why you did it, you just wanted to be close to someone. You want your mind to stop and you don't know how to do that. This was the first thing you thought of. Thinking before you act isn't your best quality.

Leah’s hands gently pushed at your shoulders, causing you to separate from her. You kept your eyes closed afraid she would be mad at you, afterall you did just push yourself onto her. You were overwhelmed with emotions when you opened your eyes and Leah was staring at you with concern etched on her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ Tears sprung to your eyes but you did your best to hold them back, not wanting to let what was inside you out.

‘Tiny, what’s going on? Are you okay?’ Leah instantly pulled you into a hug when the tears you tried to keep back came streaming down your face. Everything within you felt like it had exploded, everything around you felt like it was going to crumble away from you. You wanted it to stop.

‘I don’t know,’ 

[jetii]

Light in the Dark

Pairing: Hound x fem!Reader

Words: 13,250

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, hurt/comfort, coworkers/friends to lovers, black cat/golden retriever dynamic, reader is a medical examiner so there's some gore/corpse talk, anxious/insecure reader, we love men who respect boundaries, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), biting/marking

Summary: On a bustling planet like Coruscant, you enjoy the comfort and solitude of your profession, even though it can be lonely. The only one who can't seem to let you be alone is Hound.

A/N: First fic back after my little break from one-shots! I've been kind of trapped in a rut with life stuff and struggling to adopt the "write for yourself and not for others" mindset, and this is the first fic in a while I wrote truly just bc I wanted to and it felt good. Hope you enjoy!

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Coruscant has never been your favorite place. It's not the people, though they are numerous and can be rather rude, or the architecture, though it is both imposing and suffocating. No, you’ve decided, the reason that you hate Coruscant is the fact that it is so damn bright all the time.

A hundred sunrises are reflected by a hundred different buildings, a hundred sunsets by a hundred more, and even when the clouds are thick enough to obscure the sky, the city still glows with an unnatural, garish light that’s almost impossible to adjust to.

It's why you prefer to spend your time in the lower levels of the planet-wide metropolis, where the shadows are as thick and comforting as the air is stale and the smells are unpleasant. You don't care. The neon signs, the advertisements, and the glow of the holonet broadcasts keep the streets and walkways lit well enough for you to see what's in front of you. The dimness suits your mood better than the glaring brightness of the upper levels.

It's also why you found yourself in perhaps the most undesirable profession on the entire planet, despite the fact that your talents could have seen you gain a much better one. When the only place you're comfortable is in the quiet dark, why not work there, too?

Being a medical examiner might not seem like a glamorous job, but there are days when it's better than having to deal with living patients or, Force forbid, their family members. In the end, the dead don't judge. They also can't complain. It's a win-win situation.

It's nice. On a planet where you have no space, no quiet, no solitude, you're grateful for the morgue and its constant stream of silence and stillness. You don't need to be around others when they're alive, anyway. They just make things complicated.

Most of the time, you're left alone to your own devices. No one's eager to hang out with the corpse doctor in the basement of Coruscant Guard precinct. That's fine. You like your solitude, your peace and quiet, your personal space. 

And the only problem, the only disruption, is Hound, who also happens to enjoy your personal space.

The clone is... odd. He's tall and broad, his skin a rich, earthy brown and his hair a dark, curly mass that always looks unruly. It's hard to believe that he's a member of the Republic's military, what with his lopsided smile and easygoing manner, but you've seen him in action. He's fast and deadly, with a calm, steady gaze that is belied by the manic gleam in his eyes.

And he likes you.

You aren't sure why. It's not as if you're particularly friendly, or that you've gone out of your way to befriend him. In fact, you're pretty sure that your attitude toward him has been less than warm. You aren't sure how it happened, but you're fairly certain it started the first time he'd visited the morgue.

There's a door at the top of the stairs that leads directly into the lab, a metal slab that swings open with the slightest touch, and he'd stepped inside, glanced around, and flashed a crooked smile that made your stomach flip-flop. It had taken him less than a minute to locate you, and the next thing you knew, he was standing beside you, watching you work.

At the time, you'd barely spared him a glance. He was a new face, and not one you were interested in looking at. There were things that needed doing. Reports that needed writing. A body on the table that needed cutting open and dissecting. All of those were more important than a stranger, and so you'd ignored him until he spoke.

"What are you doing?"

You'd answered without looking at him, your hands deep in the cadaver's abdominal cavity, your fingers wrapped around a lung. "My job."

"You're the new M.E.?"

"No, I'm a serial killer who's pretending to be a medical examiner so that I can have access to the morgue."

He’d laughed. You didn't. It had been a long day, and you weren't in the mood to deal with some joker who didn't have the sense not to interrupt a forensic pathologist while she's in the middle of an autopsy. 

Your answer had apparently been the right one, though, because he'd nodded and said, "Good. The last one was an idiot."

You'd blinked at that, your head slowly turning to look at him. It wasn't a joke. He was serious. You'd had to swallow the smile that threatened to surface, and instead gave him a cool, polite nod. 

"That's good to know."

You'd returned to the autopsy then, but not before seeing the way his eyes had lit up. Not before seeing the spark of interest, the challenge. It wasn't the kind of attention you wanted, and it certainly wasn't the kind of attention you expected to keep. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, he kept coming back, and somehow, you'd found yourself looking forward to his visits.

That had been a year ago. A year, and every few days, he was back.

You're in the middle of the autopsy of a man who was found dead in an alley when you hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind you. You don't have to look up to know that it's Hound, because his gait is unique to him. He walks heavy and fast, not because he's in a hurry, but because he's too large and too solid to do anything else.

Biting back a sigh, you look up. 

"I thought I told you I'm busy today."

"Hello to you too," Hound laughs. He's still peeking around the doorway, watching you, his head tilted to the side. He looks like an excited puppy. Fitting for his namesake, and, unfortunately, quite endearing. "Can I come down?"

You set your scalpel down and give him an exasperated look. "Since when have you ever asked?"

"Since you told me to," he replies as he pulls off his helmet and fixes you with a grin so blinding, you nearly flinch. Against your will, a flutter of butterflies rises up in a wave in your stomach, and you look away from him to try and hide your blush.

"I did?" you ask. You think back to your conversations with him. Had you asked him not to barge into your workplace and distract you with his... Hound-ness? You honestly can't remember. "Huh."

"So can I come down or not?" 

He's still grinning, and he's still standing half-in, half-out of the doorway. His dark eyes are fixed on you, and there's no denying the excitement in them.

You pause, both to gather your thoughts and to make it seem like you're deliberating. You don't need another distraction right now. You really, really don't. But the longer you hold out, the more his eyes light up and the wider his smile gets, and, damn it, you can't help it.

"Where is she?" you ask instead, pulling off your gloves and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Hound gives a dramatic sigh and steps aside, and Grizzer comes bounding down the stairs straight for you. Her nails scrape and clack against the floor as she skids to a stop at your feet, and before you can even kneel down, she's on her side with her legs kicking in the air, tongue lolling out of her mouth full of dagger-sharp teeth. She's begging you for belly rubs, and how are you supposed to deny that?

"What am I, chopped liver?" Hound asks, sounding put out.

You look up at him, one hand scratching the spot under Grizzer's chin that makes her leg twitch, and raise a brow. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, his helmet dangling from his fingertips, and his hair is wild and curling from being confined for so long.

"You aren't here for a belly rub," you reply, and a flush rises up on his cheeks. You bite back a smile. "Or are you?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind one."

His grin is back, and you roll your eyes.

"Get out of my lab," you order, pushing Grizzer's shoulder gently until she rolls over onto her feet and stands, panting happily. 

"But I brought you lunch!" Hound protests.

"You did?" 

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you glance up at him, then at the paper bag in his hand. You hadn't expected that, and it throws you off a bit. You'd assumed he'd come down here because he was bored. And you weren't entirely sure how he'd managed to afford food for the two of you on the Guard's budget, either.

Your confusion must show on your face, because he laughs. 

"Grizzer and I saved a tooka from a high-rise balcony today," he explains. "The guy owned a restaurant and gave us lunch in thanks. I thought you'd be hungry, so..."

His sentence trails off, and he looks suddenly unsure of himself, as if he's made a mistake. Your heart flutters and then does a double-take, and the warmth in your cheeks spreads down your neck. He'd bought lunch for you? How is this the same man who had been so obnoxious and annoying the first time you'd met him? How is it possible that he's still here, still trying, when you're convinced you haven't given him an inch of encouragement?

You quickly stand and reach out to take the bag from him. You don't miss the way his eyes widen slightly at the gesture, and his fingers brush against yours as you take the food.

"Thanks, Hound," you mutter. You muster a small smile for him, and you're rewarded by the sight of a blush creeping down his neck and the tips of his ears. "That was really thoughtful of you."

He shrugs and looks away, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, well, it's not a big deal or anything."

It is a big deal, though, and the realization settles over the two of you like a blanket. It's not often that someone goes out of their way to do something nice for you. You can count on one hand the number of people who've done so since you moved to Coruscant, and Hound is at the top of that list.

"Anyway, we've got the afternoon off, so I thought I'd swing by and see what you're doing," he continues. He's clearly eager to change the subject, and you can't blame him. This whole situation has suddenly become awkward.

"Well, right now, I'm in the middle of an autopsy," you say, gesturing vaguely at the dead man lying on the table between you. Hound leans over and takes a long look at him, then wrinkles his nose.

"He smells bad."

You roll your eyes.

"Dead people tend to," you point out, and he laughs.

"I noticed." He gives the cadaver a long, hard stare, and after a moment, says, "Stabbed in the back."

"I haven't started yet," you protest, and he shakes his head.

"Didn't need to," he replies. He points at the body. "Knife went in here, hit the kidneys. It's messy, and whoever did it was either in a hurry or didn't know what they were doing. My guess is the latter."

"What makes you say that?"

"No defensive wounds." He's pointing at the hands now, the fingers still curled as if they were grasping for something. "He was caught by surprise."

"You're right," you say, impressed. "Maybe I should get you to do this instead."

He grins at you, all cocky confidence and charm.

"If you wanted to spend more time with me, you could have just asked."

"Don't flatter yourself," you retort. You're fighting back a smile, though, and it's a losing battle. "Go sit over there and leave me alone."

"Fine, fine."

He raises his hands in surrender and goes to sit at the table in the small kitchenette, Grizzer at his heels. While you clean your hands and put away the equipment you'd been using, he pulls off his gloves, sets his helmet on the table, and pulls the food out of the bag.

"There's a lot of food here," you remark, and Hound nods.

"Yeah, the owner insisted. I think he felt guilty that his tooka almost fell."

"How did that happen, anyway?" you ask. Hound looks down at Grizzer, then back up at you, and smiles sheepishly.

"Grizzer may have chased it up the side of the building," he admits. You snort. Of course she did.

"Well, it's good to know the Guard is keeping the people safe," you tease, and he grins.

"We do our best."

"Mm."

You settle across the table from him and begin to unpack the food. You pull out the cartons and containers and spread them out on the table between you, and you can feel Hound's eyes on you the entire time.

"So, how's it going?" he asks, and you give him a flat look.

"What do you mean, how's it going?" You pick up a dumpling and bite into it, pointing at the other boxes of food with the remains. "Eat."

He picks up the container of noodles and fishes around for a piece of meat with his chopsticks, then shrugs.

"I dunno, you've just seemed kinda down lately."

"Down?" you echo. You raise an eyebrow at him. "I'm a forensic pathologist, Hound. How exactly am I supposed to be 'up'?"

"You know what I mean."

He's giving you a look, and you sigh. Yes, you know what he means. You know that he knows when you're upset or anxious, and you know that he can see right through the mask of cool indifference you wear when you're trying to hide it.

"It's just a little crowded up here," you say. You're not going to talk about this, not with him, not now. Maybe not ever. But you can tell him a little, just enough to ease his worry.

He nods. "It's loud."

"Loud," you agree, and take a sip of your water. It's loud, yes, and there are far too many people. Sometimes, you want to scream. The sheer amount of life pressing down on you can be overwhelming, and the silence and stillness of the morgue is a balm on the ragged edges of your psyche. "And bright."

"Too much light," he agrees, and you give him a wan smile.

"Right."

He's quiet for a few minutes while you eat, and you're grateful. It's nice, sometimes, to have someone to share the silence with. Nice, too, to not have to fill it with unnecessary words. Sometimes, just the presence of another person is enough.

After a while, though, the quiet becomes too much for him, and he speaks.

"Are you not happy here?"

The question catches you off guard, and you nearly drop the dumpling you're holding. "Happy?"

"Yeah." His brow furrows, and his frown deepens. "Do you not want to be here?"

"Of course not," you say automatically, and he winces. The look on his face sends a jolt through you, and you realize your mistake. I mean, I do! But..." You pause, thinking. How can you explain this? How can you put it into words? "I don't fit here, Hound."

"You fit fine."

His response is quick, almost desperate. You can see the worry in his eyes, the uncertainty, the fear. Does he think you're leaving? Do you want to leave?

That's a question you've been asking yourself for months now. You'd left Eadu, and the only place you'd known as home, in order to start a new life. You'd chosen a career, a city, a place to live, and a path that would make your parents proud. And you're here, but you're not. You're just floating through life, going through the motions and keeping yourself busy, but it doesn't mean anything. Nothing has purpose, and nothing is permanent. You don't even have any friends.

Except...

You look across the table at Hound, who is still frowning. He's worried about you. The realization makes your stomach flip-flop again, and the dumpling you'd just eaten suddenly feels like a stone.

He's actually, genuinely, truly worried about you. He's the first person to actually care about your wellbeing in a long time, and it's not just him. He brought you food. He's always trying to make you laugh. He brings Grizzer down every chance he gets. He wants you to be happy.

"I don't know," you finally say, and your voice is soft and uncertain. "I just... feel like something's missing."

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asks, his voice soft.

You don't have an answer. You've been here for a year now, and yet, you feel as if it's only been a few weeks. As if it's still the beginning. Maybe you've gotten a little further, but not enough. 

You haven't settled in, but the thought of leaving Coruscant is a terrifying one. There's nothing left for you back home. Your family doesn't want you there. The planet is too cold, and it's too wet, and the skies are too dark. You prefer the artificial sunlight and the artificial warmth and the bright lights that never turn off. 

The only problem is the people. They're everywhere, all the time. In your apartment building. In the precinct. In the cantinas. On the speeders. And you hate the crowds. You hate the noise. You hate the way everyone is always talking, and the way they walk with no regard for anyone else, and the way they never seem to shut up, and...

Hound is still watching you, his expression worried. You shake your head and manage a smile.

"No," you say, taking another bite of the dumpling. "I think I'll stick around a little longer."

"Good."

His relief is palpable, and a wave of guilt washes over you. How did he manage to wriggle his way into your life? Why does he care about what happens to you? How does he even know what's wrong?

You don't have any answers, and the more you try to figure it out, the more confused you become. It's just Hound. He's just a clone. He's a good guy, a kind man, a decent human being, but why is he different from the others?

You've met other clones. You've met other guards. They're all polite and courteous, but none of them have gone out of their way to befriend you. None of them have spent the time and energy Hound has, and none of them have ever given you a reason to trust them. Not like Hound has. Not like he continues to.

He's always around, always ready to lend a hand. He's a constant presence in your life, a constant source of comfort and support. You didn't ask for him, and yet, there he is, a bright light in the darkness that surrounds you.

"I mean, I don't have a reason to go anywhere," you say. You're trying to sound casual, but you're failing. His eyes are focused on your face, and he's not blinking. You're not sure what's happening, or why, but it's making you uncomfortable. "But if I did, it'd be too much trouble to uproot everything and move, right?"

"Right."

"Besides, I have a job. And an apartment. And my boss isn't a complete dick, which is more than most people can say." You smile at him, but his expression doesn't change. He's still looking at you, his dark eyes intense, and the feeling of unease grows. "And I like my work. Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes it's boring."

"I understand," he says, nodding. He doesn't smile. You swallow hard, then look down at your plate.

"And... I don't know, there are perks." You give a small shrug, trying to seem nonchalant, and hope that the sudden heat in your cheeks isn't noticeable.

"Perks?" he asks. His eyebrows rise, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. "Like what?"

"You know," you say, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Things."

"What things?"

He's teasing you, now, and you're blushing.

"Just things." You shove the rest of the dumpling into your mouth and chew slowly, trying to buy yourself some time. "Grizzer. And, um..."

"And?" 

Hound is smiling at you now, and it's hard not to return it. It's just so damn contagious. It's like looking at the sun, or standing next to a star. It's hard to look away.

"Don't make me say it."

"I wanna hear you say it."

"Hound..."

"Please?"

"Ugh, fine," you sigh. You roll your eyes and set the empty dumpling container aside, then lean back in your chair. "You, okay? Happy now?"

His smile widens, lighting up his entire face. It's impossible not to smile back. You can feel it spreading across your face, and there's nothing you can do about it.

"Yeah, actually. I'm pretty happy," he says, his voice soft. "Thanks."

"Good. Now shut up and eat."

You look down at the remaining food, but suddenly, you're no longer hungry. Instead, you find yourself glancing at him from beneath your lashes. He's digging back into the noodles, and Grizzer is sprawled out at his feet, chewing on a bone.

Maybe it's not so bad.

It becomes a routine after that.

Hound comes down almost every day after his shift to hang out and have lunch with you. Sometimes he brings Grizzer, sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he has food, sometimes he doesn't. It's not much, but it's something. It's a bit of comfort, a bit of normality, a bit of light in the otherwise dull, colorless life you're living.

And once, when you're knee-deep in a complicated case and you forget to eat, he brings food down for you anyway. He doesn't stay. He just leaves it on the table and goes back upstairs, but not before making sure you know it's there. It's a simple gesture, and it's sweet, and it makes your heart flutter.

You aren't used to that. You aren't used to people going out of their way to make sure that you're taken care of. It's not something you've ever really experienced. But now that you've seen it, felt it, you aren't sure if you'll be able to live without it.

The next time he comes down, you're not surprised. You're expecting him. Hound still waits for permission to enter your space, and you're secretly pleased by that. You're grateful that he respects the boundaries you've set, especially since most people don't. They think they can intrude, can walk right into the lab, because they have clearance. Hound, however, does not, and so he always knocks. Always waits. Always gives you a moment to prepare.

You've also gotten used to his presence, and it's easy enough to keep working while he chats away.

Today, though, the conversation has died, and you've gone back to your paperwork. He's quiet, and there's an odd tension in the air that you can't quite pinpoint. You can feel it, and you're fairly certain that he can, too. You want to ask, but you don't. You know him well enough by now to know that he'll tell you if something's bothering him.

"Hey," he finally says, and you look up from your work. He's sitting across the room, still eating his food, but he's not looking at you. His attention is fixed on the table, his jaw clenched.

"What's up?" you ask, trying to sound casual. Trying not to show your concern. He's fidgeting with the lid of the empty food container, his hands moving faster than usual.

"Are you busy later tonight?"

"Probably," you say. "Why?"

"Just curious," he says with a shrug, and he turns his attention back to his meal.

He's lying. He's a terrible liar, and the fact that he's refusing to make eye contact only proves that something's wrong. You put down the stylus you'd been using and turn your chair to face him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Why?"

He shrugs again and shoves a large bite of noodles into his mouth.

"Hound."

He chews and swallows, and the frown deepens. He doesn't answer.

"Hound," you repeat, a bit more forcefully. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're obviously upset about something," you point out. You lean forward in your chair and rest your elbows on your knees, watching him. "Did I do something? Did I piss off someone in the Guard again? I swear, they can't handle constructive criticism."

He shakes his head, a small smile playing across his lips. "No. It's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

He opens his mouth, closes it, then shakes his head again. His dark curls bounce around his face, and you're distracted for a moment. Then, before you can ask again, he stands. He gathers the garbage from the table and puts it into the recycler, then heads for the stairs.

"Hound."

He freezes in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening. He looks like he's debating whether or not to leave. Finally, he turns and gives you a sheepish smile, his face turning red. 

"There's an officer's gala tonight," he says, and your brow furrows. What's so bad about that?

"Okay," you say slowly.

Hound stares at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching, as if he's waiting for a response. You have no idea what he wants you to say, or how you're supposed to respond, and so you wait. You sit and stare, and his discomfort grows.

"I'm invited," he says. He's starting to fidget again, and his voice is quieter. "They're supposed to have good food and decent booze. It'll be a nice night out."

"Sounds like fun," you hum, nodding. Not for you, but that's not the point. He's a social person, and you're not. It makes sense. "I'm glad you're going."

"So, are you coming with me?"

Your jaw drops, and you nearly fall out of your chair. It takes a second for the question to sink in, and even longer for it to register. Is he serious? Does he really expect you to go with him? To an event where there will be dozens, if not hundreds, of people? You're not sure if he's joking or not. If this is a trick, it's a cruel one.

"Wait, what?"

Hound looks like he wants to disappear, and the flush on his cheeks has darkened.

"I mean, you don't have to," he says, shaking his head. "It's fine. I know it's not really your scene, but I thought maybe—"

"You're serious?" you ask. Your heart is pounding. You can feel it in your throat, and in your chest, and in your ears.

"Well, I figured, y'know, since I have to go, I might as well make the most of it. So I was wondering if you'd like to come with me," he says, his voice a low rumble. He's practically mumbling, and you have to strain your ears to hear him. "As, y'know, a date. Maybe."

"Me?" you ask, barely able to find your voice.

"Yes, you," he laughs. It's a bit forced, and the nervousness in his voice is obvious. "No one else is down here, so I'd have to be talking to them."

"Right, but..."

"Look, if you don't want to, it's fine," he says. "I know this isn't your thing. I just thought, y'know, we could spend some time together, outside of this place."

You stare at him, unsure of what to say or do. He wants to take you out on a date? He wants you to be his date to the gala? He wants to spend time with you outside of the morgue, when there are other things that could easily catch his attention? He actually wants to spend time with you, of all people?

"Hound, I... I don't think..." Your voice trails off, and you clear your throat, trying to find the words. How do you tell him that it's not a good idea without hurting his feelings?

"Oh." His face falls, and he looks so disappointed that you immediately feel guilty.

"No, I didn't mean—"

"Nah, I get it," he interrupts, waving his hand. He forces a smile. It's fake, and it doesn't reach his eyes. "You're right, it's a dumb idea."

"That's not what I meant," you insist.

"It's cool, don't worry about it."

"Hound, I'm sorry—"

"No, it's fine. It's my fault for bringing it up."

"I don't—"

"It was a stupid idea. Just forget about it. We can—"

"I want to!”

You blurt the words before you can stop yourself, and the moment they're out of your mouth, you wish you could take them back. Your face is hot, and your hands are trembling, and the butterflies are beating their wings against your stomach, but the damage is done. You've already said it, and the shock on Hound's face only confirms it.

"You want to?" he asks, his brows raised.

"Yeah." You duck your head, staring intently at the floor. It's easier than looking at him. "I want to. I'm just... Not good with social stuff."

"You're better than you think," Hound says, his tone soft and warm.

You give a small shrug, and a heavy silence falls over the room. After a few seconds, he speaks again.

"Look, the gala is gonna be boring as hell," he says, and you peek up at him through your lashes. He's grinning, and the warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. "Everyone there is just gonna be kissing each other's asses, and it'll be the same people as always. The same stupid conversations, the same stupid stories, the same stupid shit. And it's not gonna be fun."

"Wow, sounds like a great date," you say sarcastically.

"But if you're there, then it'll be bearable," he finishes. "You'll make it fun. You're always funny, and interesting, and... And..."

His voice trails off, and his face is beet-red. You bite back a smile. He's never this flustered. It's adorable, and it's also a boost to your ego.

"Are you sure?" you ask. "I mean, I don't exactly have a pretty dress, or anything like that. I'm not exactly high-society material."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. Wear whatever's comfortable."

"You're sure I'm not gonna be in the way?"

"I'm positive."

"And if I get bored or overwhelmed?"

"Then we can leave and do something else."

"Really?"

"Really."

You pause, thinking, then nod. "Okay. Yeah, sure. I'll come."

"You will?" He looks excited, and his smile widens. "You really will?"

"Yeah," you say, laughing.

"Alright!"

Hound pumps his fist in the air and gives a whoop of victory, then bounds over and wraps his arms around you. Before you can protest, he picks you up and swings you around.

"Hound, put me down!"

After one more swing, he does, and you nearly collapse into his chest. You're dizzy, but his grin is infectious, and soon, you're smiling back. 

"Sorry," he laughs.

"You're ridiculous."

"You're amazing."

The compliment is given so easily, and it's so earnest, that your face heats up. You look away from him, not wanting him to see how much the words mean.

"Anyway," you mutter, pushing him away. "Go do something useful, and let me get back to work."

"Yes sir," he says.

He snaps a salute, his expression still bright, and then turns and runs up the stairs. Grizzer chuffs once, then follows him. He looks so excited that you can't help but smile, and the butterflies finally settle.

It's going to be fine.

It's not fine.

As soon as your shift ends, you race back to your hole-in-the-wall apartment and tear through your closet, looking for something, anything, that doesn't scream 'I'm socially awkward and I have no idea what I'm doing.'

But the clothes that you brought from Eadu are simple and functional. You hadn't been planning on attending any galas or balls or fancy parties. There's nothing here that screams classy or elegant or sophisticated. It's all cheap, practical, and serviceable, and you're quickly losing hope.

You're about to call the whole thing off when you see a dress tucked into the corner, hidden beneath a stack of towels. You frown, unsure how it got there, then snatch it up and hold it up in front of you.

It's a nice dress, one that your mother had forced you into for a cousin's wedding several years ago. It's a dark, deep blue that fades to black, and the sleeves are long and sheer. The fabric is soft, and it's still in good shape, which means you probably shouldn't have left it buried in the closet for so long.

Sighing, you carry the dress to the bathroom and change. The dress is a little loose, but it's not too bad, and you're able to tighten it enough so it fits. It's not as bad as you remember, and the longer you look at it, the better you feel. This is fine. You can pull this off. It'll be a lot better than the shapeless smock you wear every day, and at least Hound will appreciate the effort.

Your hair is a different story.

It's a mess, and your fingers aren't much help. You're tempted to cut it all off, but you'd promised yourself that you'd never go that route again, no matter how frustrating it is. You need help, and you've got half a mind to comm the office and ask the receptionist for some advice, but she's not much better off than you are. You're just going to have to improvise.

An hour later, you're ready. Or as ready as you're going to be.

The dress fits nicely, and the makeup is the same dark shade as the dress, so at least it goes well together. Your hair is still a bit messy, but you've managed to get it into a bun and pin it down so that most of it is out of your face. You've even found a pair of heels in the back of the closet, and though they pinch a little, they're not unbearable.

When you step outside, the first thing you notice is that the sun is setting. That's not a good sign, because it means that you've already wasted an hour and a half doing nothing.

The second thing you notice is that Hound is leaning against the wall opposite your door, wearing his formal uniform.

He looks gorgeous.

You've never seen him dressed up like this, and it takes a few moments for you to register the sight. The uniform is crisp and clean, with gold buttons and a high collar. There's a single stripe across his chest, signifying his rank, and he's got a medal pinned to his lapel. His hair is slicked back and tidy, and he's even taken the time to polish the mud and dirt from his boots. He looks professional and commanding and sexy.

"Wow."

The word slips out before you can stop it, and Hound's head snaps up. He blinks at you in surprise, then slowly smiles, his eyes roaming over you with blatant appreciation.

"Wow," he echoes, his voice a low rumble.

A flush rises up your neck, and you swallow hard. "Is this okay?"

"Are you kidding?" Hound laughs and crosses the distance between you in a few long strides. He towers over you, but he doesn't feel threatening. In fact, the closer he gets, the safer and more secure you feel. "You look amazing."

"I look like a mess," you say, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"You look great." He reaches out and tucks the hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin, and the blush spreads further. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and his fingertips are calloused and rough. "You always do."

"Thanks," you mutter.

He tilts his head to the side, and his smile widens. "You're beautiful."

"Stop,” you whine, ducking your head. You're used to Hound's teasing, but not this kind. Not the kind that makes your pulse quicken, or makes your heart stutter.

"No, really, you are."

"Hound..."

"So beautiful."

"I mean it. Stop."

"Gorgeous."

"Hound!"

He laughs and holds his hands up. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Uh huh." You give him a dubious look, then roll your eyes. "Let's go."

"Yes, ma'am," he says. He offers his arm, and you hesitate for a moment before taking it.

It's an odd sensation, touching him. Not bad, necessarily, just odd. You're used to his casual manner, the way he always brushes his shoulder against yours, or the way he nudges you when he wants your attention. But this is different. It's intentional. Intimate.

You're not sure how to feel.

"Shall we?" he asks.

"Yeah," you reply, and your voice comes out soft and breathless.

He leads you out of the building and down the street towards the main avenue. He's tall and solid and sturdy, and his stride is long and confident. The two of you look like an odd pair, and you feel a bit self-conscious. He, on the other hand, seems completely unfazed. Hound keeps up a steady stream of conversation, and you're grateful. It distracts you from the fact that his arm is pressed firmly against yours, and it's difficult not to lean against him.

By the time the two of you reach the venue, the sun has set and the city is lit up with artificial light. You can see the gala from blocks away, and Hound is quick to point out the various dignitaries and important officials who are milling about. He's not particularly interested in politics, and you suspect that the only reason he knows so many names is because it's required of his job. He does, however, enjoy making fun of them behind their backs, and his comments have you in stitches by the time the two of you are in line to enter the hall.

"Ready?" he asks, glancing down at you.

"No," you admit, but there's no point in stalling. It's not like you can turn back now. You'd agreed to come, and the least you can do is stick to it.

"Good," Hound laughs. "I'm not, either."

"Somehow, that's not reassuring," you mutter.

"C'mon, let's go."

He pulls his arm away from yours, and your skin immediately grows cold. Before you can protest, he places a hand on the small of your back and leads you inside. The warmth and security are immediate, and you lean into his touch without thinking. He stiffens for a moment, but he doesn't complain. Instead, he leans closer, and his thumb brushes against the fabric of your dress, stroking in slow circles.

As soon as the two of you step inside, the noise levels increase tenfold. People are shouting, talking, laughing, and dancing, and the band is playing a loud, boisterous song. Everything is bright and loud and colorful, and the smells and sounds and sights are overwhelming. The panic returns, and you freeze. Hound must notice, because he squeezes your waist.

"Breathe," he whispers.

You do as he says, and the tension eases. The noise fades to background static, and the colors stop spinning. Hound doesn't remove his hand, and it's a welcome weight, keeping you anchored to reality.

"I don't know about this," you say, your voice so small and so quiet that it's a wonder he hears you at all. But he does, and he gives you a reassuring smile.

"We don't have to stay," he promises. "If you get uncomfortable, we'll leave. It's not a big deal. We can do whatever you want."

"Really?"

"I mean it." He gives a small shrug, and a slight flush colors his cheeks. "If you wanna ditch, we can ditch. It's no big deal."

You stare at him, dumbfounded, and wonder how you'd ever gotten lucky enough to meet someone like him. Someone who is patient and understanding, who never judges or pries. Someone who just wants you to be happy.

"Thanks," you say.

"Don't mention it," he replies, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Wanna grab a drink?"

"Sure."

He guides you over to the bar, and the two of you order your drinks. He chooses something strong, while you opt for a glass of wine. As soon as the bartender sets the glass in front of you, Hound snatches it up and takes a sip.

"Hound!" you yelp, smacking him lightly on the arm. "What the hell?"

"Sorry, force of habit," he laughs.

"Why the hell are you so used to stealing other people's drinks?"

"Because my brothers are assholes," he says. He puts the glass down and raises his hands in surrender. "I promise, I'll let you drink the rest."

"Damn right, you will," you grumble. You pick up the glass and take a sip, eyeing him over the rim. "I'm watching you."

"I'd expect nothing less," he says, grinning. He reaches over and grabs his own drink, and the two of you clink glasses. "To... I dunno. To whatever the fuck this is."

"To us," you reply, and he laughs.

"Yeah. To us."

He downs the entire glass, then turns and watches the crowd. Couples are pairing off, and the band has started a slow waltz. You spot Commander Thorn with the Senator of Atrisia in the middle of the dance floor, looking rather pleased with himself, and your stomach does a nervous flip. How the hell is she able to wear those heels without tripping and falling? It looks exhausting. And painful.

"Do you wanna dance?"

The question startles you, and you whip your head around. Hound is looking down at you, his brows furrowed, and he seems hesitant.

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you want to dance?"

"Dance?"

"Yeah." He nods towards the floor, and the couples swaying back and forth. You let out a breath, shaking your head, and you take a long sip of your drink.

“Not really, no," you admit.

You watch his shoulders slump, but the look on his face is more relief than disappointment.

"Okay, good," he says, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Oh, thank the Force," you mutter, and he grins.

"Didn't think you'd say yes, honestly."

"And what if I had?" you ask. You arch an eyebrow at him, and the grin widens.

"Then I'd have made an ass of myself trying to impress you," he says. His dark eyes shine with amusement, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "Not that I don't normally do that, anyway."

"Mm," you hum. "You do alright."

"Yeah?" he asks. He cocks his head, and the smile disappears. "Really?"

"I mean, yeah." You take a sip of your wine and try not to think about how warm and safe and secure he makes you feel. Or how handsome and charming he is. Or how much he actually cares. "You're not too bad."

"High praise," he laughs, his tone dry. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"I can't tell if you're serious or not," he says, giving you a wry smile.

"I'm very serious," you retort. You're smiling, though, and it's a struggle to keep a straight face. "Dead serious."

"You're awful," he snorts, shaking his head. "Absolutely awful."

"That's why you like me," you tease.

"Well, not the only reason," he murmurs. There's a faint blush on his cheeks, and the expression on his face is far too sweet for someone who is usually so gruff and unruly. "There's plenty of others."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. He looks away, his eyes darting around the room, and a heavy silence settles over the two of you. He clears his throat, and his hand finds yours. "C'mon, let's go see what they've got for food."

"Sounds good," you reply. You let him lead the way, his fingers laced through yours, and his grip is strong and firm.

It's going to be a long night.

You end up staying for a couple hours.

The food is excellent, and the booze is decent, and Hound keeps his promise. You stay glued to his side, letting him lead the way and navigate the crowd. He introduces you to some of his friends, and it's not as awful as you'd feared.

You make polite small talk, and laugh at their terrible jokes, and they seem impressed. Thorn even goes as far as to say that you're good for him, and when Hound shoots him a warning look, he only grins.

It's not as awkward as you'd feared, but it's not exactly relaxing. Thankfully, Hound is good at picking up on your cues. When the chatter starts to die down, he knows to make an excuse and move on. When the crowd gets too thick, he pulls you away. When your anxiety starts to mount, he finds a place where the two of you can be alone.

At some point, the two of you find a quiet spot in the corner. He leans against the wall, and you lean against him. The two of you watch the people milling around, and the band strikes up another lively tune. He's still got an arm wrapped around your waist, and his hand is resting on your hip, his fingers tracing slow circles on the fabric of your dress.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

"I'm fine," you say, and this time, it's the truth. "Thank you for this. I know I'm being difficult, and I'm sorry."

"You're not being difficult." He's smiling, and his fingers move from your hip to the curve of your spine, sliding down your back in a soothing motion. "You're perfect."

You snort, and the butterflies are fluttering madly, beating their wings against your stomach, rising higher and higher. You ignore them and roll your eyes. "Whatever you say, Hound."

"I mean it." He turns his attention away from the crowd and looks down at you, and the intensity in his eyes takes you by surprise. "You're incredible."

"Oh, come on."

"Seriously, you are."

"Hound, I've been a nervous wreck all night. If that's incredible, I hate to hear what you think of the other people here."

"Other people don't matter,” he says. His tone is soft and warm, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart skip a beat.

"Of course they do."

"Why?"

"Because... Well, because..." Your words trail off, and you frown.

That's a good question.

Why does it matter?

Who cares if someone else has a nicer dress or better manners or more friends or a more prestigious title? Why is it important? What does it matter, in the grand scheme of things? You're not even sure anymore, and you find yourself searching for an answer. A good, solid, valid reason that will make sense, but there's nothing. Nothing that isn't completely superficial or trivial.

"They don't," he says. His eyes are fixed on your face, and the intensity of his gaze is unsettling. He's so serious, and his expression is so tender, and it's so unlike him. But before you can respond, he smiles and shrugs. "I'm just sayin'. No one else matters."

"Maybe," you murmur, and your head falls to his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises.

You know he's right. He's never lied to you before. He's never been dishonest, or cruel, or uncaring. He's always been considerate and thoughtful and kind, and he's the first person who's cared about you since you left home. He's always there, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, with a smile and a joke and a friendly hello.

He's always there, and that's a good thing.

You take a deep breath and turn your attention away from the crowd and back towards him. He's still watching you, and his expression is soft and open and vulnerable. He's not trying to hide anything, and it makes your heart flutter.

"Good," you whisper, and he smiles.

And then his hand is on your cheek, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb stroking the soft skin just beneath your eye.

"I've got you," he murmurs, his voice rough. "You know that, right?"

You swallow hard and nod, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. Your noses bump together, your lips inches apart, and your breath catches.

"Thank you," you whisper.

He's still watching you, and the intensity of his gaze is almost too much. There's a flush on his cheeks, his breath coming out in short, quick puffs. You can tell that he's hesitating. Waiting. Giving you time to react.

You can't speak. You can barely breathe. But your fingers curl around the lapel of his jacket, and you pull him closer. That's all the encouragement he needs, and his lips brush against yours in a featherlight kiss.

The kiss is slow, and soft, and sweet, and the butterflies explode in a whirlwind of emotion and sensation and excitement. Your skin is on fire, the heat spreading from your face down your neck and chest and lower, lower, lower. He's not pushing or demanding. He's gentle and patient and caring, and it's perfect.

When the kiss ends, Hound pulls back, but not far. He's still close enough to press his forehead against yours, and his hand is still on the nape of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair.

"Okay?" he whispers.

You nod, and his smile widens. He leans down and kisses you again, and this time, the butterflies aren't fluttering. They're flying.

It's perfect.

The rest of the evening is a blur.

Hound is by your side the entire time, keeping you grounded and safe and secure. His hand is on the small of your back, his fingertips gently stroking the fabric of your dress. He keeps his pace slow, matching your steps, and his voice is a low, steady rumble in your ear, whispering little bits of information and gossip and stories. It's easy to tune out the other people, to ignore the music, to focus only on him.

By the time the two of you leave the gala, the moon is high and the streets are mostly empty. Hound walks you home, his hand never leaving your waist. You're both a bit tipsy, and the walk seems much shorter than usual. It's not long before the two of you are outside your door, and he's reluctant to let you go.

"Tonight was nice," you say. You're leaning against him, your face pressed into his chest. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his fingers splayed across your back. His hands are warm, and the heat from his touch is spreading across your skin, sending tingles down your spine.

"It was," he agrees, and his lips brush against the top of your head.

You sigh and relax further, resting your cheek against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a comforting rhythm, and the scent of his cologne is a pleasant mixture of spice and leather. He smells amazing, and you can't resist pressing a quick kiss to the base of his neck. He shivers, his hands tightening on your waist.

"We should do this again," you murmur. "But maybe next time, without so many people."

"Yeah," he chuckles, the sound low and husky. His lips trail along the shell of your ear, and the butterflies are awake again, fluttering lazily. "I'd love to take you out again."

"I'd like that," you whisper.

You want to tell him that you had a great time, that he was a perfect date, that you don't want the night to end. You want to tell him that he's amazing and sweet and kind and generous. You want to tell him that he's the only person who's cared about you in a long time. You want to tell him how much it means to you, and that you'd be happy to do it again.

But the words are stuck in your throat, and the butterflies are blocking the way, so instead, you tilt your head back and meet his gaze. His eyes are dark and hooded, and his face is flushed, but his smile is warm and soft. He's looking at you like you're the only person in the world, like he's happy just to be near you.

"Do you want to come inside?" you ask.

It's a risky move, and a bold one. You're not usually so forward, and the alcohol is giving you courage. But you can't deny the desire coursing through your veins, and the thought of him leaving makes you feel empty.

Hound blinks, his eyes shifting from your door and back, and he swallows hard.

"If you want me to," he says. His voice is soft, but there's an edge of desire to it, and it's a struggle to keep your hands from trembling.

"I do," you whisper.

He stares at you for a moment longer, then nods.

"Alright," he murmurs, his voice rough. He presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose, and a flush rises up your neck and into your cheeks. "Then I'll come inside.”

His hands are still on your waist, and you reach up and grab his shirt, pulling him closer. His breath hitches as his body comes flush against yours, and his grip tightens. The kiss is more passionate this time, less hesitant and timid, and it sets your nerves alight. The butterflies are in full force now, and they're flying so fast and hard that you're sure they're going to escape.

The two of you stumble into the apartment, barely managing to shut the door behind you. Your hands are buried in his hair, and his are wandering up and down your sides, tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts. You pull away for a moment, trying to catch your breath, and Hound immediately starts pressing a series of quick, sloppy kisses along the length of your jaw.

"I've wanted to do this for a while," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

"Me too," you admit, a bit breathless.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad."

He captures your lips in another kiss, and his tongue slips into your mouth. The kiss is rough and wet and hot, and you moan into his mouth, gripping his shirt tighter.

Your legs hit the edge of the couch, and you fall backwards onto the cushions, dragging him down with you. He lands on top of you, and the sudden weight causes you to yelp in surprise. He catches himself at the last second, bracing himself with his arms, and he breaks the kiss.

"You okay?" he pants, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah, sorry," you mutter.

He grins and ducks his head, resuming his trail of kisses along your jawline and down the column of your throat. Your head falls back, and you moan, tugging at the hem of his shirt. His lips are searing, and the heat is spreading across your skin, setting every inch of you aflame.

He's intoxicating, and you want more.

You push him off, and the two of you scramble to your feet. He grabs the back of his shirt and tugs it over his head, tossing it to the side. You're not sure where it lands, and you don't care. Your attention is focused on him and him alone. You're staring, shamelessly drinking in the sight, and your mouth goes dry.

He's built like a mountain, broad and thick, and his skin is covered in a patchwork of scars and tattoos. You can't stop yourself from reaching out and running your hands along the smooth planes of his chest and the ridges of his abs. The muscles flex under your fingertips, and his eyes drift shut.

He's practically vibrating with anticipation, and when your fingers hook into the waistband of his trousers, he grabs your waist and pulls you close. He doesn't have to say anything, because his eyes are screaming. They're full of want, desire, need. You can feel it in the air between the two of you, heavy with anticipation, with promise.

You reach up and cup his cheek, running your thumb along his lower lip. He parts his lips, and his tongue flicks out, teasing the pad of your thumb. His teeth graze the sensitive skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

The two of you move together, and your lips crash against his in a bruising kiss. You're a tangle of limbs, your bodies pressed so tightly together that you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. His hands are wandering, sliding over the curve of your ass and up the length of your back. He grabs the zipper at the top of your dress and slowly pulls it down, his knuckles brushing against your bare skin.

The dress pools around your feet, and he lets out a low whistle.

"Goddamn," he breathes as his gaze roams over your body.

You bite your lip and look away, suddenly embarrassed. Your face is burning, and you wish the butterflies would go away. But they're relentless, and they're not going anywhere.

"Hey, look at me," he says, his voice low and soft.

He places a finger beneath your chin and gently tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression is tender, and the smile he gives you is full of affection. He leans down and presses a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth, his hands sliding over your shoulders and down your arms.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs.

"You're not so bad yourself," you reply.

He chuckles and shakes his head. "You have no idea, do you?"

"What?"

"How gorgeous you are." He cups your cheek and traces the curve of your jaw, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "You're incredible."

"So are you."

"No, I'm not," he laughs, his hand sliding up your neck to tug gently at a loose strand of hair. "I'm just a guy who somehow managed to convince the most amazing woman in the galaxy to go on a date with him."

"Shut up," you scoff.

"It's true," he says, and there's a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "I'm lucky to have met you."

"Hound..."

"So, so lucky," he repeats. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours. It's a quick, fleeting kiss, but it's enough to make your heart stutter. "You're incredible."

"Hound, shut up," you groan.

He laughs, the sound rich and deep, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

"Make me."

You reach up and grab the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair, and you press your mouth against his. The kiss is hungry, desperate, demanding, your lips parting, tongues clashing, teeth biting, noses bumping. He growls, the sound rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your body.

When the kiss ends, he's still holding you, and his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Yes," you breathe.

"I don't want to rush—"

"Hound, if you stop now, I'll kick your ass."

He laughs and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you easily. Your legs automatically wrap around his hips, and he carries you into the bedroom, his lips trailing along the column of your throat. The mattress hits the back of his legs, and he sits down, settling you in his lap. You straddle his thighs, your knees digging into the soft fabric of the bedspread, and you bury your hands in his hair.

He slides his palms over the curve of your ass, squeezing and massaging the supple flesh. His mouth finds yours, and his tongue slips past your lips, exploring and teasing. The taste of alcohol is still heavy on his breath, but beneath it is something else. Something stronger. Something darker.

You're vaguely aware of him reaching for the clasp of your bra, and it loosens, falling away. You break the kiss and pull back, and the expression on his face nearly undoes you. The raw, naked hunger in his eyes is enough to make the butterflies beat their wings wildly, and you can't help but grin.

"See something you like?" you tease, and he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, yes," he growls.

He cups your breasts, his fingers teasing and pinching, and your breath catches in your throat. Your hips shift as his thumbs rub against your nipples, grinding down against him. The first brush of your clothed pussy against his erection is electric, and the noise he makes sends a fresh wave of heat washing over you.

He's hard and thick, his cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. You roll your hips again, and his hands tighten on your breasts, his nails digging into the sensitive skin. The pain is delicious, and you moan, rocking against him again. He groans, his hips jerking, and his lips find yours. The kiss is rough and demanding, and his tongue is practically fucking your mouth, licking and stroking in time with the movements of your hips.

He pulls away, his eyes wild, and his hands leave your breasts, sliding down your sides to settle on your waist. He holds you still as he thrusts up, grinding his cock against your pussy. You gasp and moan, your head falling back, and his mouth finds the exposed flesh of your throat. He latches onto the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, sucking and biting. He's leaving a mark, and the thought excites you more than you'd like to admit.

His hands move lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, and he lifts you up, rolling the two of you over. He looms over you, his body a solid wall of muscle, and he kisses you, slow and deep. Hound shifts, and his knee spreads your legs wide, pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties. You whimper into his mouth, bucking your hips, trying to find some relief from the building pressure against the hard muscle of his thigh.

Hound pulls away, and you groan, reaching for him, trying to drag him back. He's too far away, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin.

"Last chance," he whispers. The husky tone of his voice, coupled with the sight of his eyes, dark and hungry, sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, straight to your core. "Are you sure?"

You nod, unable to find the words.

"Tell me," he says, and his thumb slides under the thin strap of your panties. He teases the edge of the fabric, tracing lazy circles over the curve of your hip. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you breathe, the words coming out as a needy whine.

His eyes widen, and a grin spreads across his face. It's not the playful, easy smile that you're used to seeing. It's wolfish and predatory, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, tossing the ruined fabric aside. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, both of you breathing hard, chests rising and falling in sync, before he descends with a low growl. He licks a slow, teasing line up the inside of your thigh, stopping just shy of your aching pussy. His lips ghost over your mound, the lightest of touches, before moving to the other thigh, repeating the torturous action.

The first swipe of his tongue against your clit makes you cry out, the sound echoing off the walls. He laps at the sensitive bud, swirling around it, then presses the flat of his tongue against the folds of your pussy, lapping at the wetness leaking from your core. You buck your hips, desperately grinding against his face, but he holds you still, keeping his movements steady.

"Fuck," you gasp, your hips jerking involuntarily.

His tongue plunges inside you, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you open. His eyes are closed, and his expression is one of pure bliss. He's moaning, his tongue darting in and out, tasting every inch of you. You bury a hand in his hair, tugging at the short strands, urging him on.

He's relentless, devouring you, his tongue thrusting in and out of your cunt. His thumb brushes against your clit, sending shockwaves through your body, and you gasp, arching off the bed. You're close, the pressure building and building, and his tongue moves faster, curling and twisting inside you.

You're not going to last.

You're not sure if it's the alcohol, or his enthusiasm, or the sheer fact that it's Hound who's between your legs, but you're already close to the edge. The pleasure is overwhelming, flooding your body, washing over you like a wave.

"Please, Hound, I need to come," you plead. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop..."

His grip on your thighs tightens, his tongue thrusting faster, deeper, harder. He moans, the sound muffled by your cunt, his lips sucking at the sensitive bud of nerves. Your hips jerk, grinding against his face, the pressure building and building until it's almost too much. You can feel it, the orgasm just out of reach. It's just a matter of seconds. A matter of moments.

And then you're flying, your entire body trembling, shaking, pulsing. You're vaguely aware of the loud, ragged moan that escapes you, but you're too lost in the pleasure to care. The orgasm rips through you, crashing over you like a tidal wave, drowning out everything except the feeling of his tongue fucking your cunt.

You're panting, gasping, writhing on the sheets, every nerve ending on fire. Your body is shaking, your muscles twitching, and it takes several moments before the aftershocks finally subside. When the last one passes, you're left breathless and boneless, sprawled on the bed, struggling to catch your breath.

You feel a rush of cool air as Hound pulls away, the sound of his belt being unbuckled barely registering. Your head lolls to the side, eyes fluttering open. He's standing next to the bed, his pants hanging loose around his hips, his cock standing proud, flushed and achingly hard. He's looking down at you, his gaze hooded, his pupils blown wide.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that?" he murmurs. His voice is low, husky, full of desire.

"Probably as long as I've wanted it," you say. You reach up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling him towards you. He hurriedly kicks off his pants, nearly tripping over the fabric in his haste, then settles over you, his hands planted on either side of your head.

"How's that possible?" he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Because we're idiots," you laugh. You reach up and grab his neck, tugging him down, and he dips his head, capturing your lips in a kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, and you moan at the taste of yourself.

"Maybe," he agrees, the word a soft sigh against your mouth. "But I don't care."

"Me neither," you whisper, a slight smile curling the corners of your lips.

You shift, spreading your legs, welcoming him into the cradle of your thighs. His cock brushes against your folds, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins, and the two of you groan. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his heart pounding against your chest, the scent of his cologne filling the air. He's everywhere, surrounding you, enveloping you, drowning you in his warmth.

Hound shifts, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Precum is leaking from the tip, and the head is flushed red, almost purple with need. He lines himself up, the head teasing your entrance, but he doesn't push inside. Instead, he slowly circles the swollen bundle of nerves, coating his cock with your slick as he leans forward and braces himself on his forearm. 

His mouth finds yours, kissing you deep, his tongue plunging into your mouth, mimicking the slow, lazy movements of his hips. The kiss is intense, possessive, claiming. He's branding you with his touch, his taste, his scent. He's marking you as his, and it's perfect.

The head of his cock slips inside you, and he moans, his body shuddering.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers, his voice rough.

"I want you," you whimper.

He thrusts, sinking in another inch, and you cry out. He's stretching you open, and the feeling is incredible. Your walls flutter, your hips bucking, but he's holding you in place, pinning you to the mattress.

"Say it again," he growls, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

"I want you," you moan, the words coming out in a breathy, needy rush.

He pulls back, the head of his cock just barely stretching your entrance. The sudden loss of his warmth makes you whimper, but before you can protest, he surges forward, filling you completely.

Every inch of you is burning, every nerve ending screaming. You're full, stretched to the limit, molded perfectly to the shape of his cock. His body is flush against yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His hips rock, grinding his pelvis against your clit, setting off another round of sparks.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans. "So fucking good."

His words send a thrill through you, your cunt tightening around his cock. He curses, his hips jerking, and his hand finds your stomach, pressing down.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Don't want to hurt you."

"You're not," you gasp, and your walls ripple around him again. He moans, his head dropping to your shoulder.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Don't do that. Not yet."

You can't help but laugh, breathless and lightheaded. He's being so sweet and careful, and you can't resist the urge to push him a little further. You contract again, squeezing and releasing, feeling every inch of him buried deep inside you.

Hound's head snaps up, his eyes wild, his nostrils flaring. There's a moment where the two of you stare at each other, neither one of you moving. And then, in one smooth, powerful thrust, he drives his cock all the way inside you.

Your back arches, and his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin where your neck meets your shoulder, biting and sucking. His teeth graze the bruised flesh, and his hips snap, his cock slamming into you.

You cry out, nails digging into the hard planes of his shoulders. He sets a slow rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate. He's not holding back anymore, and neither are you. His hands are on your waist, and he's slamming his cock into you, each thrust punctuated by a sharp slap of skin on skin. You're moaning and gasping, and his name falls from your lips, over and over.

You can feel another orgasm building as he picks up the pace, and the heat is spreading, coiling and twisting. His cock is hitting all the right spots, and you're so close, the edge just out of reach.

He leans back, his hands moving to your thighs, spreading you open. The new angle is deeper, and his cock is rubbing against the spongy patch of nerves. He's breathing hard, his chest heaving, and his eyes are dark and hungry.

"Come for me," he rasps. "I want to see you come on my cock."

You cry out, and your fingers twist in the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly. He's pounding into you, his hips slamming against yours, his cock driving you higher and higher. The heat is spreading, and the colors are blurring, and the only thing you can focus on is him, and the feel of him, and the taste of him, and the smell of him.

He's everywhere, and it's too much.

The coil snaps, and the orgasm rips through you, tearing a scream from your lips. Your back arches, and your cunt convulses, tightening around his cock like a vise. His breath hitches, and his hands grip your thighs tightly.

"Fuck," he grunts, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing. "Where?"

It takes a moment for the question to register, but when it does, you manage to find your voice.

"Inside," you gasp. "Please, Hound—“

That's all the encouragement he needs. His cock pulses, and he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The heat spreads into your core, his cum filling you, and the aftershocks wash over you, the waves crashing and rolling, leaving you boneless and spent.

His arms wrap around you, and he rolls the two of you over. He's still buried deep inside you, and the feeling of his cock pulsing and twitching is almost enough to make you come again. You're both shaking, and he's muttering something, his words jumbled and unintelligible.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, his cock buried inside you, your bodies tangled together. But eventually, the pleasure subsides, and you can breathe again. You press a kiss to his collarbone, then his shoulder, and his grip tightens around you.

"I'm not sure if I'm dreaming," he says, and the admission is so earnest, so vulnerable, that it nearly breaks your heart. "You're real, right?"

"As real as it gets," you reply. You rest your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "Promise."

He lets out a sigh, and his grip relaxes, his hands sliding over your sides, down your back, along the curve of your ass. You run a hand through his hair, smoothing the messy strands. He shifts to lean into your touch, and his softened cock slips free, leaving a trail of his seed across your thigh.

"You okay?" he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

"Mhm," you hum as you kiss his neck.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His tone is soft, and there's a note of concern in his voice.

"No," you whisper.

He lets out a sigh, and his lips press against your cheek, featherlight.

"Good," he murmurs.

The two of you lay there, your bodies entwined until eventually Hound moves, rolling you onto your side before sitting up and stretching. He runs a hand through his hair, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders ripple. 

You watch, enjoying the view, but you can't help the way your heart sinks as he gets up. You know that he's going to leave, and the realization is a sharp stab of disappointment. You try not to let it show, and you do your best to keep your expression neutral.

But he must sense it, because he pauses and looks at you, his brow furrowed.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine," you reply, not wanting to admit the truth. You don't want him to think that you're clingy or needy or dependent. That's not who you are. At least, it's not who you want to be.

"You sure?" He studies you, and the look in his eyes is thoughtful. "You seem a bit...tense."

"I'm fine," you say, giving him a smile. "Just tired."

He snorts and shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He moves to the bathroom, and you hear the sound of water running. He returns a moment later with a wet cloth, and he sits down beside you, cleaning up the mess that he left. He's gentle, careful, and you can't help but notice the way his fingers tremble slightly as they move over your skin.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," he says, his tone apologetic. "I wasn't planning on taking things this far."

"I wasn't either," you admit.

"Well, shit." He tosses the cloth to the side, and the grin that spreads across his face is lopsided and endearing. "Now what?"

"We can pretend this didn't happen," you suggest, even though the idea leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Hound’s brow furrows, and his smile fades.

"Why would we do that?" he asks, his tone incredulous.

"Because..." Your words trail off, and your heart races.

Because you don't want him to think you're desperate. Because you don't want to scare him off. Because you don't want to ruin the friendship that the two of you have built. Because you don't want him to regret it.

He sighs and reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers brush against your cheek, and the gesture is tender and gentle.

"Hey," he says, his voice low. "It's okay. You don't have to explain."

"But—"

"Listen." He takes a deep breath, and his hand falls to the bed, his fingers tangling with yours. "I like you. I really, really like you. And if you want to pretend this didn't happen, we can. But if you want to see where things go, I'd like that, too."

"Really?" 

"Really," he says.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. He's giving you an out, a way to save face, a chance to take a step back. But you don't want to do that. You don't want to lose him. You don't want to pretend that this didn't happen. You don't want to go back to the way things were.

You take a deep breath, and his fingers squeeze yours.

"Hound," you begin, then pause, collecting your thoughts.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "I get it."

"I like you," you finally manage, the words tumbling out in a rush. "And I'm sorry. I know I'm bad at this. But I like you. And I want to see where things go."

"Oh, thank fuck," he breathes, and the relief in his voice is palpable.

"What?"

"I was worried you were going to say you regretted it." He grins, and the tension drains from his shoulders. "I was worried you were going to tell me to leave."

"Never," you reply, your heart leaping. "I'll never regret this."

"Good."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It's different from the others. There's no urgency, no desperation. It's sweet, and tender, and full of promise.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispers when the kiss ends. Then his mouth twists, and he looks away, his voice turning sheepish. “Well, I can leave if you want. If you need some time alone, or some space, or—"

"Stay," you interrupt.

His smile widens, and he squeezes your hand.

"Okay," he says.

He pulls the covers over the two of you and lies down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you close, and you nestle against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice thick with sleep.

"For what?"

"For tonight. For everything."

"Of course."

You're tired, and it's getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. You can feel yourself starting to drift off, and the last thing you remember before sleep claims you is the feeling of his lips pressed against the top of your head, and the soft, steady rhythm of his heart.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, the warmth of his body chasing away the last vestiges of loneliness.

And when you wake, he's still there, holding you tight.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

@floofyroro @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @meshlajetii @heaven1207

@808tsuika @aanncummings @lugiastark @maniacalbooper @sensitive-shark

@kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees @c0rn-fl3x @lunaastars

@capricornrabies

[grandline-fics]

Would you feel comfortable writing for Kid? If so, could I request him falling for fem reader that's the total opposite of him? She's more on the quiet side and doesn't really speak first until someone comes and talks to her. Doesn't have a lot of confidence, but is friendly, just a little awkward.

DESCRIPTION: You’re his opposite 

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff

CHARACTERS: Kid

WORDS: 1,056

A/N: Thank you for this request and sorry it took so long to do this one. I hope it was worth the wait and I hope I got the vibe for the story that you were looking for.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

If anyone were to look at the entire crew of the Kid Pirates it would be clear that you’re the odd one out. While they’re a bunch of loud misfits in their own way, to an outsider it would seem as though you got lost and found yourself caught in their crosshairs. There’ve even been cases when some people have assumed you were kidnapped by the Kid Pirates. However nothing could be further from the truth, you’re a key part of the crew despite your differing personality compared to the others. While it doesn’t make sense to outsiders for you be there, to the crew you love it makes sense to them and you. You didn’t need to be as loud as them, you didn’t need to be as quick to blowing a fuse and getting into a fight as them, you didn’t need to have the outward confidence and intimidating aura they had. You were you and none of them would change that. Kid especially. 

Kid couldn’t help but be drawn to you from the very first time he saw you on your home island. While you’d been helping out in the local bar he noticed you straight away, watching you work silently and diligently to serve the other patrons. It was clear you were shy but being shy doesn’t mean you are weak or a pushover, as one patron quickly found out. When they tried to push their luck with you, you dealt with them swiftly and just as fiercely as anyone on his crew could. Kid’s interest in you only grew then as he watched you single handedly put the drunk in his place and then went straight back to your work as though nothing had happened.

It was that moment there that Kid wanted you on his crew. Over the course of that night he’d asked you to join the Kid Pirates. At first you ignored his offer with a simple ‘no thanks’ believing it to be a joke but as the night wore on and his request was just as earnest as the first time, you began to consider it. The morning he left the island he was smug to see you walk towards the ship. ‘Knew you couldn’t resist my charms.” He’d joked as you wordlessly climbed aboard. 

Ever since then it was beginning to dawn on Kid that it was he who couldn’t resist you. While he was everything harsh and sharp and short-tempered, you were soft, warm and patient. Having your calm manner amongst them helped assess situations and served as an anchor for the crew when they were getting too worked up. You were able to talk freely to him and the crew but still you usually waited for them to engage you first, always speaking kindly and listening intently to their words. Kid found he could talk to you about anything and everything, mostly in part to just be around you and talk but also to just allow himself to indulge in the way you looked at him with undivided attention and small, encouraging smile curving your lips.

Kid knew he’d fallen for you and the crew knew it too and they all collectively agreed that until he actually confessed to you or acted on his feelings they were going to tease the hell out of him and use the information to their advantage. On days he was in a bad mood, they would ask you to go and relay any further bad news to him, smirking at the sound of his yell choking in his throat when he realised it was you coming into his workshop to tell him. Almost every meal they would coincidentally leave the seat next to Kid’s free for you to sit in. When they docked on a new island,  most of the time they made sure you and their fearless Captain were paired together, but when it was a group of them, the others would clumsily get lost so it would leave just the two of you for a couple hours to explore or shop for supplies. 

One afternoon while you were helping Kid in the workshop, and by helping it just meant you were both sitting in comfortable silence while Kid worked on. Idly you toyed with a screwdriver in your hand and you observed your Captain quietly. Kid knew you long enough to know when you were just merely staring in his direction or if you were actually looking his way because you wanted to talk to him about something. “What’s up?”

“I’m curious…” you began carefully deciding on how you wanted to phrase things. “Why do you let the crew tease you the way they do?” 

“Tease me how?” Kid asked, his eyes still trained on the mechanism in front of him. 

“You know how. With me.” You glanced up from the screwdriver you were still fidgeting with to meet his gaze, his attention now fully on you. Your lips twitched slightly to see his expression. He looked apprehensive, cautious of your reaction. “They aren’t exactly subtle, Kid and their covert planning on how they can get the two of us alone isn’t ever whispered.”

“Are you mad?” He asked, he also feared asking if it made you uncomfortable but he knew you’d never let them force you to do anything that would cause you discomfort or anxiety. 

“Mad for getting to spend time with you without the others hanging around?” You asked softly, returning your stare to the tool in your hands. “Can’t get mad at something I like doing, can I?”

Kid watched you with a slowly growing grin, even with how shy you were, you’d somehow managed to admit something he’d been too scared to face first. Quickly he activated his Devil Fruit power and commanding the screwdriver in your hand he coaxed it towards him, causing you to be pulled along in your seat until you were pressed beside him, the perfect fit he thought. Kid stared down at you and smirked when you slowly look up and offered him a sweet smile of your own. He took the screwdriver out of your hands and slipped his hand into your loose, gentle grip. It looked like the rest of the crew would have to find something else to entertain themselves with now.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld

[multifandumbmeg]

Thinking about how JJ was the only Pogue who ever really saw and respected Kiara, and that's why he was the endgame. John B and Pope aren't bad people, but ultimately they liked her because she was hot and maybe fun to hang out with. Since being rejected by her, both have actually been a lot more respectful of her and stopped treating her like an object. Of course JJ also finds her attractive, anyone with eyes would, but there was a marked difference in how he interacted with her season 1 and 2. Even as it became clear he had true romantic feelings for her, he kept his hands off apart from a few, truly friendly interactions- there was never an ulterior motive or sexual undertone to the way he touched her, as if he had intuited she didn't like that early on and abided (okay apart from that montage scene in episode one where they'e dancing, but note he doesn't actually touch her and it stops on good terms when she pretend slaps him, unlike the awkward icky reaction she gives John B and Pope every time they try something). He even says in season 1 that he "tried that door" and implies she rejected him, and I wonder if maybe he made a slight physical move once and after she reacted poorly, dutifully kept his hands off. That's respect. That's acknowledging her autonomy. Also, though they bicker sometimes when he calls out her rich privilege, he always either takes her side (or intervenes and diffuses in the case of that S1 argument with Pope), defends her, and maintains that she's one of them. Coming from the one with the least out of all of them, that's meaningful, and I think it's because he's the only one that (at least initially) sees her beyond the surface level. John B and especially Pope come with a litany of reasons they're not compatible long term with Kiara, which she is aware of; JJ's primary obstacle is himself.

Regarding emotional intimacy, this is another place Jiara stands out. While Kiara can be emotionally vulnerable with a number of people (not uncommon for girls, who are raised to be that way) JJ is only emotionally intimate with her, all the way back to season 1. He cries in front of her several times, even lets her hold and comfort him when he's at his lowest. Contrast this to his best friend in the world John B. Though JJ clearly cares about him a ton and they're both ride or die, John B completely turns a blind eye to his abuse and neglect. I'm sure he knows JJ doesn't want to talk about it, but in doing so he normalizes and accepts that behavior, which further entrenches the normalization to JJ. Kiara on the other hand is extremely direct in denouncing JJ's treatment from the start. Even if JJ doesn't directly open up about it until the hot tub scene, she makes it clear where she stands and that she's on his side, which is exactly why he knows she's safe to be vulnerable about it with her. Kiara also innately understands and is lenient with him in ways that others aren't. She seems to naturally see the direct connection between what he's feeling, why he is the way that is, and the way that he behaves, even when he's self-sabotaging. She knows him on a deeper level too, which terrifies him until he overcomes it- entirely thanks to her patient, repeated efforts to reassure him.

All this to say I love the interactions we're getting in season 4, even if there's surprisingly little physical intimacy. JJ being protective on main (although we already saw this in season 2 with Kiara and his dad), Kiara accepting him even at his stupidest because loves him warts and all, Kiara reaffirming her feelings for him often, JJ making an effort to do things that make her happy (like having a little date), and of course, once again JJ respecting her autonomy no questions asked (agreeing despite his own fears to let her go along on the diving venture).

They want the same things, they're innately comfortable with each other, they protect each other, they respect each other, and they know each other's value. And, of course, they also thoroughly enjoy each other's company. That's why they're perfect for each other.

[amiti-art]

Did you guys know that Admetus' son Eumelus was fighting in the Trojan war?

Alcestis: I worry about Eumelus, it's been 10 years. I fear we will never see him again.

Admetus: Don't worry dear, I'm sure Apollo is watching over him, like he always watched over our family.

Meanwhile in Troy

Apollo: *kills dozens of Greeks with the plague. Constantly protects Hector and makes sure he can kill as many Greeks as humanly possible. Helps Trojan princes kill Greeks' best warriors*

Eumelus after seeing all of this: mom come pick me up I'm scared

But all jokes aside

Can you imagine Eumelus coming back home and seeing Apollo visiting his parents?

He sees Apollo being loving and kind to Admetus, he sees Apollo being gentle and friendly with Alcestis. He saw that his entire childhood, he saw the god of music, knowledge, light and poetry.

But now, after the war, Eumelus can't help but only see the god of plagues, the destroyer of men. He can't forget the horrible smell of disease and rotting human flesh, he can't forget what happend in Troy.

Obviously, it's not only one sided. Eumelus was fighting in this war, he helped destroy the city, he does have blood on his hands. And that could make him even more terrified of Apollo. Because he helped destroy the city that was under Apollo's protection.

What if one of the man he killed had Apollo's favour like Hector did? What if the only thing standing between him and Apollo's rage are his parents? What if Apollo is waiting for them to pass away to punish Eumelus? He can be patient, he's a god after all, he have all the time in the world. What if Pherae (their polis) will lose Apollo's favour with Admetus' death? What if Apollo will send a plague upon them as soon as Eumelus takes his father's throne? He can't stop thinking about all of this every time he sees Apollo.

I also like to think that Apollo did protect Eumelus despite being on the other side of the war. After all, Eumelus didn't die during the plage. He didn't die in the last battle despite being on the front line, inside of the Trojan horse. He made it home while most of the Greeks didn't.

He had and still have Apollo's favour, he just can't see it through his fear.

[kvroomi]

May i request megumi headcanons or drabble about him having a pet shop? Have a nice day

in good company

author note: I DIDNT REALISE I HAD THIS SITTING IN MY INBOX IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET AROUND TO!! this started becoming a little too self indulgent but i hope you enjoy it anyways! :)

☆ pairing: petshopowner! megumi x fem!customer! reader

☆ word count: ~1.6k (got carried away,, whoops!)

Megumi believes he's lost 10 years of his life span since beginning this shift.

The entire place is bustling; voices are overlapping and the faint music he plays every morning over the speakers can no longer be heard as more customers pile in. Suffering from the worst migraine, Megumi thinks he can feel himself begin to grow two heads as he tries to simultaneously watch over the two young children playing around with the newly rescued cat and the old lady who’s poking her finger inside the cage of parrots. He notices her scolding them for being too loud and he lets out a deep sigh as she grows even angrier when they spit her complaints back verbatim, mockingly.

The "NO YELLING" sign attached to the cage that’s only inches from the old woman's face (who ironically is currently yelling), is written in glaring red marker. It stares back at him and for a second he thinks that if it grew a face and some arms, it'd start pointing and laughing at him. The boy’s hand drags down his face as he groans at the thought.

To anyone else, they'd think the sign was written to warn the customers not to disturb the birds. But Megumi knows he wrote it for the parrots, sternly telling them to "keep it down," as he taped the sign onto the cage.

He knows they can't read and deep down he knows they don't even understand half of what he mutters to them—but if parrots could talk and respond to even just some of his conversation, then what was stopping them from learning how to read and comprehend a single set of instructions?

He walks over to the old woman, placing a warm hand on her back and guiding her away from the squawking parrots. Once her back is turned, Megumi sends them all a dirty look: a silent message that says he'll be giving them a lecture once everyone is gone.

Bringing her up to the counter and rambling about how “the birds have been in a mood today”, he offers her a 10% discount for pet food with her next visit. She laughs as he hands her the coupon and tells him “[she'd] love to have a sweet boy like him, come over to cat-sit for [her] while [she's] away”.

Megumi smiles and tells her she's welcome to come by any time and help him schedule it, all whilst ushering her out of the store. He desperately needs one less customer to worry about.

As he shuts the door, waving goodbye to her from afar, he mentally curses out Yuuji for calling in sick at the last minute. He'll have to stop by and bring him some soup to make sure he's alive.

The thought of food reminds Megumi that the animals must be hungry. Glancing up at the time, the boy takes note of his lunch break in the next 10 minutes.

He walks around the store, informing everyone that the shop will be closing soon for the next half hour.

The place is filled with warm and friendly smiles; gentle biddings of farewell fill the air. Despite the comforting atmosphere, Megumi has to hold back from grimacing through each entire interaction from how awfully his feet ache.

Thankfully and slowly, he watches as people collect their belongings. He listens patiently for the ring of the bell above the door.

There are still a handful of customers wandering around and collecting last-minute items so he watches from the counter—waiting. Shaking out his arms, he moves to crane his neck over on either side, pausing once he feels the familiar popping sensation of his muscles relaxing.

It’s sudden, and his stretching is halted when he notices. His arms have stopped high in the air. His heart plunges and it’s an immediate swell of anxiety that consumes him.

2 ferrets: Rose and Violet–both of whom are starkly distinct in colour when in comparison to their third companion who is banded with brown fur accompanying their own completely white appearance.

This also happens to be the same third companion missing from the cage. The black-haired boy winces and a deep line forms across his eyebrows—his face hauled into a tight scowl.

Always trust Lily to be wandering off on her own in the worst circumstances.

After spending the entire morning brisk on his feet and repeating the same "how to care for your new pet" conversation over and over again, Megumi was starting to think that closing the shop a couple of hours early and dealing with getting into trouble would be worth it.

How many more times will he have to clarify that, “No, these fish can not survive in a fishbowl,” or that “No, you will not find any pets here that don’t require any effort.” The three hours of sleep he had been functioning off of was ultimately starting to deplete and now on top of everything, he had an escape-artist-ferret he needed to locate.

Oh, the pleasures of working in a pet shop.

Imagine his surprise when he's hauled from his thoughts by the hasty clatter of cans and a foreign shriek, rushing over to the pet food aisle to discover you—frozen in place with Lily attached to the bottom of your pants, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

All prior apprehensions about whether or not Megumi was going to make it out of the shift alive had instantly vanished, and he found himself standing clueless in the middle of the aisle. He’s uncertain of how to approach you because ‘holy shit’, you were just so pretty.

Had you been in the shop the entire time?

All you planned to do today was drop by your local pet store and pick up a couple of packs of treats for your cat Winston. What you didn’t plan to do, was get jumped by a brown and white ferret that flew straight for your face while reaching for a can of cat food.

A soft “ahem” entices you to turn around.

It's brief, but you lock eyes with his own and Megumi swears he can feel his legs buckle from underneath him. He reminds himself that he’s probably just exhausted, shoving down any other ideas that it could be because of you.

“I’m so sorry about her.”

He’s the first to speak, and though his voice may have cracked mid-sentence and he can feel how coarse his throat is getting from the nerves—Megumi hopes that the gentle smile he offers is enough to distract you from it.

And it is, because currently all your thoughts are occupied with how you believe his smile alone could heal every bad day you’ve ever had in this lifetime. You want to tattoo the inside of your eyelids with a picture of his smile, just so you could see it even with your eyes closed and in your dreams. But you couldn’t possibly say that to him, so you settle for the next best line of dialogue.

“I didn’t realise I was a hit with the ferrets.”

Your comment makes Megumi laugh, and he thinks it’s his first, honest laugh since he started work this morning.

“She’s usually quite picky.”

He’s closer now, and your eyes watch as he squats down. His hands are soft and gentle as he attempts to guide Lily off your pants and into his open palms.

Your gaze wanders and you take note of his many rough calluses and lingering scratches that line his fingers, evidence of the hard work and pieces of him that are so beautifully human. Your voice catches in your throat, desperate to uncover the many anecdotes he holds—desperate for your own piece of his humanness. It’s the second time that you are forced to say something else on your mind.

“It seems she’s quite persistent too.”

Megumi lets his eyes trail upwards with a soft chuckle as the small ferret climbs up your leg and then your back, choosing to nestle herself in the deep crevice of the side of your neck. Even though you know Megumi is probably more concentrated on the ferret than what you looked like in the current second, you can’t help the anxious thoughts that run rapidly though your head when you notice his vision follow along the edges of your face.

Did you put on enough lip balm today? Your lips weren’t dry right now were they?

It took a lot of mental strength to not unconsciously bring your hand up to check your lips. Instead, you chose to purse them tightly to hide the awkward smile developing at Megumi’s next sentence.

“I’d go as far as to say she has good taste.”

And that’s when you can feel your breath stop. The isle feels constricting and hot, and the sudden appearance of sweat in your palms makes your mouth feel dry.

His tall figure is standing back up and moving towards the cans that were knocked over seconds earlier—tender hands aiding them to stand back up. He was avoiding eye contact.

Your silence makes Megumi’s stomach churn uncomfortably and he’s already turning his head around, mouth halfway open and ready to apologise when you let out a louder-than-intended and impulsive “thank you.”

It’s cute how bashful you both are, faces avoiding one another and warm smiles yearning to be exchanged.

It’s you who decides to break the pause in the moment. Though upon realising what you had just said, it almost sends you into a psychosis on the spot.

“I guess her and I have that in common.”

This time, it’s Megumi whose gaze snaps towards yours in an instant, a bright grin decorating his face alongside a soft pink hue that was slowly forming across his cheeks.

He thinks he may have just gained back the 10 years he lost earlier.

AUTHOR NOTE: just a little something to keep you all at bay while i work on ‘right person, wrong address’ enjoy! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

all reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[citrus-writing]

I'd love to see more Illumi x reader from you <3

Thank you so much for reqesting! I wrote some misc yandere illumi headcanons and drabbles, mostly pre-kidnapping. Feel free to request more!

Illumi is patient, especially in the beginning. He's content to follow behind you, unseen and unheard, watching you go about your normal day to day. He watches you go about shopping for groceries and despite how mundane and boring it is, he watches you pick out your desired meals with rapt attention. He watches you when you go out with your friends, watches the way they behave around you, the way they laugh and joke- when you laugh, he tries to comprehend what about them is so endearing to you. But when they make a joke at your expense, and yours smile doesn't quite meet your eyes, he decides that they done something unforgivable, and that they won't get the chance to do it again.

No matter how you met him, whether it was friendly or casual or even hostile, once he's laid eyes on you there's no way to get away from him. From the moment he saw you- you, who's looks and voice and smile have insnared him so entirely- he knew he had to have you. It's only fair for him to be on your mind since you're always on his. Even he cant place what about you is so interesting to him; just that you are, and that everything you do is worth taking note of and everything you say echoes in his head. It's strange; how obsessive and yet detached he is. How everything you do is so important to him, yet he takes so long to even consider trying to get closer to you.

When he does decide to try to engage with you, there's that same patience, that same cold detachment that both helps and hinders his attempts. On the one hand, he never comes on too strong, he nevergives off the vibes of a creepy pervert, he never seems too close for comfort. It's easy for you to overlook him the first few times he comes around. Little do you know how often he's actually around, wearing other faces, constantly trailing you. He's everywhere, but you don't know that. On the other hand, he's so cold towards you that you wonder who he is, why he seems so untouchable, why you've never seen him before but now you see him several times a week. The reasonable part of your mind tells you that you just didn't notice him before. But his eyes send a terror through you, and you find yourself hoping not to see him again.

But it's not enough to just interact with you is passing- it's not enough to stand behind you on public transit, it's not enough to bump into your shoulder, it's not enough to ask casually if you know directions to somewhere nearby. Pretending to be a stranger can only get him so far. He takes note of your friends and family, ofthe way you interact with them, who you know better than you know yourself and who you seem to like being around best. Trailing them isn't nearly the same satisfaction, but he knows the reward will be well worth it. Taking their place in your life is easy compared to other things he's done, you're so willing to write off any mistakes, so willing to forgive when you mention a memory together and they don't remember. Illumi is partly endeared and partly disgusted by how forgiving you can be.

But eventually you start to catch on, start to pull away from them- from him.

That's when you wake up in a room unfamiliar to you- nice, almost lavish, but the unfamiliar surroundings send a panic through you. Before you can even scream, there's a hand over your mouth, hard enough to muffle the sound but gentle in a way that makes you feel sick. Even in the dimly lit room, you recognize him from the times you've run into him while going about your day. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere- you'd always been uncomfortable under his gaze; but for the first time you're terrified.