#you haven’t met even a fraction of the people that’s going to love you

[fantasystar14]

I’m sad now

[strawberryya]

The art of seduction - part one

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

synopsis: Since she left you, it feels like your life has been turned upside down, and you're struggling to find your footing. He sees that, and he wants to help. Or maybe it's not as pure as that. Perhaps he's just looking for a new plaything — an artist to inspire, or someone to slowly destroy.

word count: 4.5k

genre/cw: angst, smut, suggestive, fantasy, thriller and/or romance, yandere themes, supernatural au, faery au, leanan sídhe!yunho, human!reader, they/them pronounces for reader, I tried my best to keep all descriptions gn as well - I welcome all feedback on this area ofc, grief and death depicted/mentioned, specific smut warnings will be listed in each part.

rating: 18+

a/n: this has been a big project for so many people this year, and I would like to thank all of the inspiring people in this collab for all the fantastic ideas that has been contributed to make all of these fics possible. it has been a journey writing this, but this fic is only the beginning of the even longer journey that yunho and our mc will be going on ;)

this is part one of my first fic for the wonderful collaboration thrill of the hunt, hosted by @cultofdionysusnet - check out the other exciting and thrilling stories on the official master list here!

the second part to this story will be found here once it's posted. if you wish to be tagged in the continuation you can dm me, send an ask, or comment on this post <3

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

“Oh, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, y/n! He’s perfect… I didn’t think anyone could be so perfect until he came into my life. He makes me feel like I’ll never need anything ever again… like he and I are enough forever. I need you to meet him someday soon! I wanna introduce you to him, I promise you’ll love him too!”

You never got the chance to meet him. The more you think about it, the more you regret not making more of an effort to do so. Your best friend Anna had been in love with someone, and you hadn’t even had the chance to meet the man she spoke so fondly of. 

“I haven’t been feeling very good lately, y/n… I’ve been to the doctors and they say there’s nothing wrong. They said it’s all in my head, that I should go talk to someone… y/n, do you also think I’m making myself sick?” 

She only got weaker after that. 

And he had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth after she became bedridden. 

She said he came to visit, but she wasn’t in her right mind in those final weeks. Nobody had signed in at the reception. Nobody had seen a beautiful man with dark brown hair that gleamed blood-red when the sun shone. During all that time when she was admitted into the psychological ward at the city’s second-largest hospital you and Anna’s mom were the only visitors. 

They said she was mad…

You had wondered a lot about who he might’ve been during those times when she had talked about him as if she had just spoken to him, but nobody had seen anyone in her room. Had he been a fraction of her imagination the entire time? Or had her mind created a lie based on a man who had left her before her illness took over her mind and body? 

When she passed he was the one piece of the puzzle that you couldn’t let go of. If you had tried harder to meet him, would her illness have been caught earlier? Could it have been found and treated before it took her life…?

You’ve been staying late at the studio lately, trying to get through your feelings about losing her through your art. The shadows in the room seem to close in on you at every chance they get, and you don’t fight them. Hugged by the darkness is somehow better than being left so completely alone. 

The brush strokes soothe you like nothing else is able to. Fizzling seas crash along the shore, a looming tree stands barren and alone, and her face appears in the dark clouds. 

The only things you know to be true are that: she is gone, you are in pain, and you can only paint this one single picture. The lonesome tree at the cliff, watching the storms and waves trying to pull the ground away from beneath the large oak tree. You paint it over and over again, day after day, and you haven’t even paid any mind to when other artists have come and gone through the studio. People painted right next to you, people posed on the podium in front of you, and you didn’t care about any of it. All that matters to you is that you have been left all alone. 

Your best friend has died, and you can’t even do the one thing you have been able to do your entire life ー paint. You had pursued your passion fiercely, not budging even as your parents pleaded with you to be reasonable and try “having a career worth having”, and let painting stay as a hobby. It was how you had met Anna. She was a dancer, and she had gotten into the same art college as you. Back then you had both been carefree young adults, simply trying your best to survive on your own for the first time in your lives. Now, she has left you, with the bittersweet taste of the last conversations you had had with her on your tongue. 

“He inspires me you know, I’m just a dancer anymore when he looks at me, I become the air itself.” 

You had smiled and nodded at her nonsense, she seemed to be dreaming of it. Her limbs were too weak to be of use, but she had the same smile on her lips as when she performed. You had tried your best not to be mad at her for only speaking of this man even as she lay dying in a hospital, dreaming of her passion was at least better than dreaming of him. The tears had stung your eyes as you held her hand before leaving her to her rambling. 

It has been a while since her funeral, and you have practically been living at the studio. Home doesn’t make you feel any better, so you sleep on the small pullout couch in the corner instead. It isn’t meant to be slept on and your back is sore from the many nights in a row you have spent on it. But the art studio is at least comforting you more than home. You have too many memories of Anna in your apartment. Here you can focus on your art. At least, that’s the idea. You have had no inspiration since her death. It’s strange, she hadn’t exactly been the reason you painted, but everything that happened still affected even that part of you. 

You had begun questioning if you should give it all up, move home to your parents for a few months, and go back to your waitress job until you had processed all of this. But could you give up on your passion? After years of struggling to pass courses and hustling on the side of your studies just to make it all work? What would Anna say if she knew…?

You aren’t sure how it happened, it might've been a dream. It’s barely been three weeks since Anna’s funeral and you woke up with the clearest picture of a man you had never met in your mind. 

He’s handsome, just like she had told you. He has gentle features, and dark, captivating eyes that catch hold of your mind and refuse to let go. You can’t seem to escape the image of the stranger you know in your bones is the same man Anna had known. 

Sometime after the day you had first seen him in your mind, after hours in front of your easel and a blank canvas, you finally force yourself to pick up the brush. This couldn’t be the end of pursuing the only career you had ever wanted. You need to get over it and paint something, other than that stubborn tree and the punishing sea. His features burn your eyelids, and you see him as you blink and dream of him as you sleep. You can’t escape the visions, so you make him real, tangible. You create a portrait of the man in your head. Watching the finished portrait once you put down the brush. 

You look at it until it gets dark again, staring into his eyes until you fall asleep on the couch in the corner. 

You wake up with a headache. You groan quietly since you neither have the energy nor the will to get up and take something for the throbbing pain stemming from the sides of your head. Before you could even summon the will to get up despite this, you almost jumped off the couch in surprise. There is another person in the room. You’re still in the corner of the room, so the stranger might’ve missed that you were even there, you reason. It looks like a man from behind. His short dark hair lay in a rather messy way against the back of his head. He’s turned away from you, watching the painting you had fallen asleep staring at. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad. You panic, because what did this man want, and why was he here in the middle of the night?

“Who are you?” you ask breathlessly, jumping up from the couch, trying to see if he’s someone you know in the dim light. Could he be another artist here to paint at an odd hour? You don’t recognize him, but you aren’t the best at remembering people, so you’re not sure if you should be screaming or apologizing for your hostile greeting. 

The man didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. He didn’t seem like a threat, but then again, something about him creeped you out. You ignore the fact that he also intrigued you, and try to catch his attention again. “Hey, I asked you a question.” In response, he simply raises a hand as if to shush you. 

This man hadn’t just broken into the studio late at night – he was also incredibly rude. The air around him is so still, so calm that it’s giving you chills. You want to see his face. If he was going to murder you, you want to have looked the fucker in the eye so you can, at least, curse his existence. You take a step forward, grabbing a long paintbrush from the drying rack. Maybe you can get his eye if you’re fast enough.

“So aggressive, little dove,” the man finally says. His voice is smooth and deep. It’s an attractive voice, at least your murderer has a nice voice, not that that makes this situation salvageable. You’re still prepared to stab him with the wooden brush in your hand. 

“Wouldn’t you be aggressive if you woke up to a stranger in your bedroom as well?” 

You had tried putting on a brave face, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how scared you were. He seemed to see through this facade easily though, chuckling at your attempt instead of turning around to face you. “Not your bedroom. I’ve been to your bedroom and this isn’t it. Also, not really a stranger, am I?” 

Your breath won’t calm down, and your heart is beating mercilessly in your chest. This man had been in your apartment? And you know him? What the hell is he talking about? “Are you some kind of stalker you fucking creep?” you wheeze out, taking a step away from him. 

You desperately wish for this to be some kind of nightmare. 

When he turns around you’re sure it is because there’s no way the man you see in front of you isn’t just a fiction of your imagination. Dark hair, streaks of red when the light from the window hits it. Perfect lips, and captivating eyes. It’s him. The man in your painting, alive right in front of you. Your grip on the brush tightens, the bristles folding backward from the pressure of your palm. The world began to spin, he wasn’t real, he couldn’t be real. You see the edges of your vision blur and his smile widens at the visible panic you were displaying. 

He was right, he isn’t a stranger. 

“I think you might’ve heard about me, little dove. She used to talk about you ー the talented artist she had met in college.”

It couldn’t be, you hear the blood rushing in your ears like thunder. “Who?” 

He smiled innocently, “Don’t you remember your friend? Anna, I think her name was.” 

No. It couldn’t be true. The brush fell from your hand as you fell to the ground. Your already sleep-deprived mind couldn’t handle the thought that maybe the man Anna had spoken about was real, and right in front of you. Knocking yourself unconscious was the only thing your body could do to stop your heart from giving out. 

Have you gone mad as well? Maybe this was your way of grieving? Should you go to the hospital?

The questions spun in your mind. He was gone when you woke up. But the long brush in your hand and the bruises on your knees and shoulder felt like substantial proof that you had not lost your mind. He had been here, you know it, but who would believe you if you told them? Who would even care?

You decide to let it go, instead, you force yourself to go back to your apartment. A change of clothes was needed and you know that the lady down the hallway will be worried after not having seen you for days yet again. She had been at Anna’s funeral, wondering how and why your roommate had passed so quickly at such a young age. You hadn’t known what to answer. You still didn’t have your own answers as to “how” or “why”. At least, none that you could share…

You had managed to shower and get into some clothes when your neighbor knocked on the door. 

“Hi, Auntie,” you greet her as she had insisted you do ever since you and Anna had first moved in. She’s older than any of your real aunts, but remarking on that had felt incredibly inappropriate, so you had both simply accepted your fate and begun calling her “Auntie”. 

"Darling!" How are you? I haven't seen you here in days! I was beginning to worry. You know, this was just how it was with Anna, I didn’t see her for days and then she would show up saying she had been busy practicing and dating and whatnot!”

You don’t respond, forcing a smile. She meant well, but when she insisted on bringing you some food you wanted to refuse her. She didn’t mind your protests, “Oh, dear child, you don’t even know how sunken your face looks. You need some of my home-cooked food to get your spirits back up!” 

In the end, your refrigerator was filled with casseroles and little boxes of different dishes, and a bitter feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be here to eat it. You left your apartment as swiftly as you had arrived, not wanting to stick around long enough to see the traces of a life lived – a life you didn’t feel belonged to you anymore. You brought what you could carry in your bag back to the studio. 

You fall asleep again, after hours of trying to create something, only creating more pain in your back from sitting on the wooden stool all afternoon instead. It’s not like you hadn’t tried your best to think about anything else besides him, you had actually tried your very best! But in the end, your mind kept wandering back to the dip of his lips, and the grin on his face as you fainted. You painted the outline of his lips, over and over again. 

You hated him. 

Would he come back?

He had mocked you with his words.

Why had you felt such a rush when he spoke?

You never wanted to see his perfect face ever again.

Why couldn’t you stop wishing to see him just one more time? 

You woke from a cool hand on your hair. Slowly and gently he patted your head until you opened your eyes. It was still dark out, and he was back. Leaning over your sleeping body, a large hand caressing the side of your head. You scream, and he smirks. He shushes you, and you push him away angrily. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout. 

“You wanted to see me again, I thought it best to wake you so your wishes could be fulfilled.” His voice coursed through you, giving you goosebumps again. “Don’t be angry with me, little dove.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Don’t lie. It’s not polite,” he retorts as soon as the words leave your mouth. 

“I don’t care, I hate you. Leave me alone!” You bark out the words, tears stinging your eyes. You don’t know why you’re reacting so strongly to him. 

His tongue darts out to lick at his lips in annoyance. “Little dove,” he chirps menacingly, “Lie one more time and I won’t help you anymore.”

He terrifies you. He’s beautiful, but nothing about him feels true. He’s like those beautiful flowers forever trapped inside glass orbs. You wanted to protect the frozen beauty from getting the slightest scratch and smash it to pieces, all at once. 

“Help me…?”

The gentle smile on his lips came back when you revealed that he had managed to pique your interest. “Mm, I help people. Artists, especially… it’s an interest of mine, the arts.” He winked at you, which caught you off guard. 

“And you came here to help me?” 

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced. 

“Why? I didn’t ask for any help from you.”

He looked around the room, gaze wandering over the canvasses you had painted in the last couple of weeks, all depicting the shore and the dead tree. All except two. The portrait of him, and the sketches of his lips. 

“You did that?” You ask incredulously. His gaze snaps back to you sharply. 

“Of course. Didn’t it feel different? It felt like you had been inspired by something again, did it not?” His voice is honey in your ears, but the sticky feeling is making you want to flee for your life. You don’t. 

“Want me to prove it?”

You frown, “What do you mean prove it? Are you going to inspire me to paint something on the spot in the middle of the night?”

“Tell me you want it and I’ll make sure you feel inspired for the rest of your miserable human life, little dove.” 

His wording is so unnatural, you think for just a moment. You don’t trust him one bit, but perhaps this is the way to convince yourself that he is indeed just some creep that you need to get away from. You take a deep breath before answering, “I’ll agree if you tell me your name.”

The man stepped back, you had made him flinch. You don’t know why you made that exact demand. Maybe you had just really wanted to call him something other than “the one Anna spoke of” in your mind. It hurt each time you remembered her name.

“A name can be more powerful than you think, little dove,” his tone warned you of something. He seems on edge for the first time since you met him. 

You don’t budge, his reaction only makes you more sure that you need to follow your gut. “Tell me, and you can help me.”

He hesitated before seemingly giving in to some innate need that you didn’t understand yet. “Yunho. That’s one of my names… Use it with care, little dove.”

You turned his name around in your mind, tasting the sweet taste on your tongue as you said it out loud. “Yunho… Sure, help me find inspiration to paint again.”

The same excited and menacing grin he had worn the last time you spoke now grace his lips again, and you feel you have committed a horrible mistake. 

You look around the room, the sun is rising and casting long shadows from the easels placed around the podium. How has the entire night already passed you by? You have no memory of sleeping. You look at your hands, they are covered in paint. Why had you been so messy? You couldn’t remember right away. You know that you have painted. Yunho had kissed your hand, you can still remember the heat of his breath on your skin. Then you had picked up your brush. You hadn’t been frightened by the fact that you weren’t in control of your actions. After the weeks of forcing yourself to do the most basic human functions to stay alive, having something else move your hand in your stead was somehow freeing. 

When you look at the canvas your breath stops. It’s him, you have painted him again. He’s not completely like himself, however, he is just as captivating in the picture as he is in reality. You had managed to capture his beautiful features, from the way his cupid’s bow dips graciously on his lips, to the way his hair gleams blood red when light shines through it. But behind him is something new, something you have never seen belonging to a human before. Wings, almost translucent wings, appearing on the canvas as a shimmer of light blue and white, adorned with shimmering ruby gemstones. He looked magnificent. 

“Pretty,” you hear his voice whisper on your neck before you feel his soft lips press against your skin. You shiver, it feels good but you’re still in shock, watching the man who’s behind you on the canvas in front of you. 

“How is this possible?” you mumble.

“You were inspired,” he responds calmly, brushing your hair away from your face from behind. “Did you enjoy it?”

You have a feeling that the answer to that is yes, but you also know you shouldn’t reveal that. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you did… I know you did.” 

The way he seems to know everything, even the things you don’t, scares you a bit. But you might be addicted to the feeling of his touch, you’re addicted to what he can do to you, addicted to what he makes you feel deep inside. He has given you your passion back, he has helped you paint again, and you had enjoyed it this time. This shouldn’t be possible. Why does this man have so much power over you that he could help you paint as you had used to, for the first time since Anna’s passing? 

There’s no way he’s human, no human looked like he did. In the morning light, he was even more dashing, even more unreal. You want to smash his perfect exterior to pieces and see the flower inside rot as the air hits its delicate petals. 

“Go away. I don’t want this,” you choke out, pushing down the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. He kisses your neck again, but you don’t move. “I think I’ll die if I don’t end this Yunho. Please, just leave me alone.”

“It’s possible, but maybe you’ll be the one who makes it out alive.” His honey voice rang in your ears as the day began and his touch against your back disappeared. You cried yourself to sleep. You knew everything was wrong, Yunho was wrong. But there was nothing you could do about it anymore. 

Two days passed without so much as a glimpse of Yunho. The hours of the night when he didn’t come to see you had almost been enough to convince you that you had truly gone mad. But then, suddenly, there he was, as dashing as ever. Pretty eyes watching you stare at an empty easel. 

A chilling chuckle escaped him, nothing more. He stands and gazes upon your hopeless state for a while in silence. You will never get rid of him, you realize. You’re not upset about it. You can’t be upset. Nothing feels real anymore. 

Yunho circles you, a predator watching his prey. You don’t flinch under his gaze this time. When he leans his lean body against the stool next to yours you feel disgusted. You weren’t upset that he would never leave you alone, but you deserved to know why, at least. 

“What do you want from me?”

“Want?” He sounds almost offended. 

“You’re not here just because it’s fun to sit around and watch me paint all day.”

He didn’t give you an answer, he just smiled at you with that perfectly enchanting smile of his. He’s dangerous, his beauty is dangerous. He leans forward on the stool, his face now scarily close to yours. Will he kiss you…? You can feel Yunho’s breath, hot against your lips, his gaze burning as he stares into your eyes and flickers down to your mouth. Do you want him to kiss you…? 

What do you want from him?

You almost forget that he hasn’t given you an answer when he bends forward, his lips inches away from yours. This time you do flinch. Can he read your mind too? No, your eyes stare right back into his, a flash of maroon tints his irises an unnatural color before it disappears just as fast as it showed up. 

His thumb drags across the side of your cheek, a small smirk plays on Yunho’s deceptive lips. “I’ll make you a promise,” he whispers, “I promise to make sure you’re motivated to do what you love the most, for the rest of your life.”

His breath burns hot against your wet lips. You want to kiss him. “A promise…?” you exhale, mind not quite able to focus on his words, but they sound good to you right now. You swallow, eyes flickering to his perfectly shaped cupid bow, his rosy lips, and the tongue that teases behind his plump lips. “What… what would I have to do…?” 

“A clever dove, I knew you would ask the right questions.”

You didn’t truly understand though, too distracted by Yunho’s eyes mirroring your flickering gaze, teasingly watching the way your hands fiddled with the brush in your hand. 

“All you have to do in return is say that you agree, and I will fulfill all of your wishes.” His soothing hand moves around to the nape of your neck, his grip gentle but secure. 

Will he fulfill them all? 

Does it even matter? Almost anything would be good enough to accept right now, at least you can’t think of something that would be worse than walking through life as the zombie you had been since… Since Anna’s death. If you accept his proposal, will you find out what happened to her? 

“I agree.” 

Your stomach flips when plush lips are pressed against yours. It seems he had already begun living up to his word. At least he wasn’t playing a trick on you when it came to that part. His hands travel over your body, he knows exactly how to touch you the way you like it. Has he been watching you for a long time? Or is it something magical, like those shimmery wings you had imagined he had? You’re not sure, but knowing could wait until later. Right now you have a couple of needs. Needs that Yunho had promised to fulfill. His leg firmly presses open your legs, strong muscle relieving some of the intense pressure that had built up in your lower abdomen since the thought of having him in this way had sprouted in your mind. You need more. You close your eyes even tighter as you let the brush fall from your grip. Hands moving across Yunho’s perfect form without hesitation. 

The sound of the brush hitting the floor didn’t reach your ears. You were already lost to the world of humans. 

“Do you believe in fairies? I do. I think there are things we don’t know in this world. Magical things. If I could go there I would, I think it’s a beautiful place, nothing like Earth. I’d want to dance for them…”

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[infiniteeight8]

Tony & Soul continuation perchance? You’ve got me so hooked on that series I love it ❤️❤️❤️👀👀👀

I love it, too. 😀 This one follows shortly after “entirely within your power” (I still haven’t decided where the most recent one goes, timeline-wise), but I promise it's fluffy!

Edit: Most of Tony & Soul is here. The one that isn't on AO3 yet and which I can't figure out where in the timeline it goes is here.

-

“Another field trip?” Tony asks warily. Stephen met him in the Sanctum’s foyer instead of waiting for him in the kitchen or the sitting room, as he usually did. He looks anticipatory.

“I promise you will enjoy this one,” Stephen says. “There will be no displaced souls at all.” Tony hesitates, and Stephen’s face falls a little. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll understand completely.”

He says he’ll understand, but his emotional landscape is a mess of regret and self-recrimination. It’s not that Tony doesn’t trust Stephen—it’s these new abilities he’s unsure of—but Stephen is clearly taking it that way. 

Tony swallows his anxiety. “No, it’s fine. Where are we going?”

The answer is: a comedy club.

Tony lets Stephen pay the cover and usher them to a small, two person table. It’s in the back, but no one gives them a second glance, so the wizard must be masking their identities somehow. “I didn’t take you for the stand up comedy type,” Tony says, bemused. Stephen is almost vibrating, he’s so eager. 

“We’re not here for the comedy,” he says. “At least, not directly. You said once that Soul has you feeling my emotions?” Tony nods. Stephen goes on, “When I signal you, I’d like you to extend a small fraction of that ability to the rest of the club. Only the surface!” Stephen says quickly when Tony frowns. “Just enough to pick up through soul the emotions you could easily read off their faces.”

Tony wants to argue—if he’s not getting anything he can't see for himself, why bother?—but he suspects that Stephen will take it as another sign of distrust if he does. “All right,” he says instead, though he can’t keep the skepticism out of it.

They’re about ten minutes into the set and the crowd has warmed up and is laughing enthusiastically when Stephen taps the back of Tony’s hand and nods.

It takes Tony a minute to figure out how to use Soul’s power to connect to a specific group of people on a specific level, but when the connection finally flares to life his jaw drops.

The mood of the club is effervescent.

It doesn’t feel like sensing a single person’s emotions, or even like sensing a dozen people’s emotions. Everyone in the club is on the same wavelength, they’re all experiencing the same emotion in the same moment, and it forms a gestalt that grows beyond any individual’s amusement. It buoys Tony. It’s like having a really good buzz and knowing there’s no hangover coming, and it inspires a kind of wonder that people can do this, that this feeling of connection and happiness is as much a part of humanity as any of the darkness.

Tony finds himself laughing, and he reaches out and takes Stephen’s hand and doesn’t think twice about asking Soul to help him share this feeling, because Stephen deserves to feel it, too. Stephen’s delight at Tony’s reaction threads through the entire experience, and somehow that makes it better.

[acefantasyy]

Peaceful Moments

✦- Eriks x gn. reader

✦cw. none, 98 Eriks coded, perhaps a little bit of kissing

✦note. thank you @chris-continues for feeding me ideas to make me write this. I am hella rusty on writing so forgive me if its all jumbly haha. this is also going to be split into two parts just because I don't want to cram so much onto one post.

✦word count- 791

••

Comfortable. That’s what this moment felt like. Pure comfortable bliss between two people who shared the same feeling of adoration and love for one another.

This had become the norm between you and Eriks, the mysterious man who showed up one day in your town almost a year ago that you had grown very fond of since then. The once lonely evenings of your days were now spent in the presence of the kind blonde at the town’s pub but as of late it had progressed to being in the comfort of your home.

Tonight was nonetheless different, the two of you sat on your couch with drinks in hand idly chatting away about today’s adventures. The suns having gone down was a clear indicator of just how long the two of you had been conversing for along with the now almost empty bottle of liquor sitting on your table. The liquor you had stashed in your cabinets wasn’t strong by any means, but from the way that the two of you had been pouring drink after drink it had slowly but surely done its job of rendering you both drunk and giddy. 

A brief moment of silence falls between you two once your laughing comes to a halt, your frazzled brain running a fraction slower than the rest of your body as your hand now rested in the blond’s hair, your fingers gently combing through the soft locks of hair.

“You know, you should let me do something with your hair,” you gently quipped at Eriks, his gaze locked with yours out of curiosity, “it's long enough to put it up or even style it.”

You quickly demonstrate, your hands taking gentle hold of his face to turn it to the side so you could gather his hair together to form what you could of a ponytail. Raising a brow at your work you set a hair tie in before releasing Eriks’ hair and tucking some of his bangs behind his ear. Your hand slowly travels down, now caressing Eriks’ cheek fondly for a few seconds. There’s a pause in your hands movement, the blond’s own having taken hold of your wrist to keep your hand in place as he leaned into your palm with a quiet hum.

There’s hushed words that have you leaning in as quick as they’re said, “Can I.. tell you something? Something that I haven’t said to anyone in a long time.” 

Oh that voice. That sweet voice that you loved to listen to even on the downest of days, it sounded so forlorn and scared like if the wrong thing were said it would shatter the sweet man’s soul.

Smiling gently at him you nod giving him your full attention, your thumb now running across his cheekbone, “What is it, Eriks?”

“I think.. no, actually I know this. I have feelings for you, romantic ones from what Lina said I was describing to her. And I know that it hasn’t been that long since we’ve met but,” there’s the lightest and most soft kiss to your palm, slight stubble scratching across your hand as Eriks’ eyes looking into yours once again now full of raw emotion, “you’ve been so nice to me and you’re such a sweetheart, both to me and everyone here in town which I love. To be honest, you do a lot of things that make my chest feel all warm and fuzzy. I haven’t ever felt anything like it before and it makes me really nervous, scared even."

There’s a silence for a short moment after that, his words leaving you absolutely awestruck. And that silence seems horrifying to him from the way he begins to pull away and release you all while muttering apologies under his breath as he goes to stand. You’re quick to catch him before he can actually stand up and link one of your hands with his while your other takes hold of his face again to guide him back to you. Looking from his eyes then to his lips and then back up to his eyes you sit there for a moment before leaning in and closing the distance, leaving a soft kiss full of love on his lips.

“I love you too, Eriks. I have for quite awhile actually, I just wasn’t sure how or when I’d get to tell you.” You whisper as you lean your forehead against the blonde’s, a loving smile gracing your features as you look at him, “You know, now that I think about it Lina was trying to tell me something a few days ago, I think it might’ve been your sweet heartfelt secret. Good thing I was too busy paying attention to you though when she tried to tell me.”

✦tags. @chris-continues

[britcision]

Listen. Could Dead and Loving It be a fraction of the length and maybe finished by now if I only focused on Danny and Jason?

Possibly

Would it be a better story?

Probably, from several perspectives

But it absolutely would not be the same story, and nor would it be the story I want to tell

Because I am hopelessly addicted to ensemble casts, and I don’t want the boys to exist in a vacuum. I want Jason to run off with his siblings and with Danny’s friends, and I want Danny to fuck with the bats

I want them to touch all the parts of each others lives that existed before they met, and will still continue to exist after even if things change forever between them

I want all the background characters to interact with each other, have their own inner worlds and their own motivations, and yeah, this absolutely means this is not an efficient telling of a slow burn romance

Because the story isn’t the slow burn romance

The story is these two people, and the world they live in, the story is the way Duke and Cass both see Jason differently than Dick and Tim ever could and that matters, and that none of them are wrong

The story is Danny finally telling people who will listen about the Anti-Ecto Acts, and all the fucked up things the GIW do, and being able to ask for help and have that be okay

The story is messy and complicated and will have so many rises and falls, so many pivotal moments that are drama and combat and so many that are just two people talking to each other and finally seeing eye to eye

The story is the way that Jason’s relationships with his family can finally mend, now that he has someone who can get him the help he’s needed

The story is the way that Danny can come to terms with the responsibilities of being a king, the constant question of agency and power and what he’s worth if he’s only Danny and not the Ghost King

The story is Clockwork fucking with the pair of them because he specifically thinks it’s funny (he’s right)

And yeah, there’s a slow burn romance in there. There’s also a coming of age tale, and a story about healing and reconciling and moving forward knowing you cannot change the past, but you can do better

Unless fucking Clockwork decides you can change the past because yeah then it’s fine to just go do that I guess

I was kinda considering breaking the story out into multiple chunks because holy fuck is 100k an intimidating chunk of words, but I’m not gonna

It’s all one story, and you will be my hapless victims as we get to fucking 300k or wherever this beast ends because we are not here for efficient story telling and motion of the plot

We’re here for the connections, the characters, the meaningless bullshit that would absolutely be cut in anything anyone ever wanted to sell, cuz I am not selling this

Imma write every fucking scene I wish I got from books, TV, movies, podcasts, actual plays, every fucking time I scream at the characters to just fucking talk to each other because messy is good too

Messy is okay

Stories don’t need to be marketable to be worth telling, and this one’s gonna be too long and intimidating for some people and that’s okay

But I fuckin’ rolled in from Critical Role which averages around 500 hours of content per campaign and a cast of 7 plus Matt’s NPCs

And I STILL want more goddamn character moments from all of them so I haven’t found a size yet that I can’t manage

I love reading focused stories that I can get through fast, and fuck, look at the rest of my AO3; I will fucking never diss a one shot, or a short story, or a piece that really focuses in on one or two characters

Delicious, I love them, my bread and butter

It’s just not what this mess is gonna be, and that’s okay too

Gods be fucking willing we will not have another six chapters that take place over the course of three hours, but we’ll just have to see how that shakes out cuz I’m being possessed by a seemingly infinite number of plot bunnies and my own tendency for “hey it’d be funny if”

And oh boy has it been funny every time

[badpancakelol]

It happens when Steve thought that everything was going good, and everything was mundane and normal and cheery. Eddie and him sit down on the couch, huddled together to watch some classic movie that Steve had never bothered to see, but even before the opening titles, he can tell that Eddie is distracted.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?” Eddie says, turns to him. Steve waits a bit before the words process in his mind, and then he is replying. “Just thinking about something.”

“A good something or a bad something?”

Eddie weighs the question in his mind. Steve can see him doing it — the way he looks up to the ceiling, tilts his head a bit. “I don’t know.”

Steve leans back on the couch, turns to face Eddie. “Do you want to talk about it or—”

“Why did you never remember me?”

Okay. So it was a bad something. A medium-bad something that Eddie must’ve been stewing on for a while, because the first time they met was — he doesn’t know. 

“I didn’t really bring it up before because, like, we were dealing with monsters,” He says it hushed and in secret, in the same way he always addresses them. “But now that they’re… gone. I wanted to know.”

And Steve kind of gets it. Waiting to ask questions like this until after everything has settled. Because now, they have their own apartment, with their own two cats, without any form of unwanted, needed, parents looming over their shoulders. The movie plays in the background, quiet.

“I don’t know what you want to hear.” Steve whispers.

“Just whatever you remember.” Eddie soothes.

So Steve sits. Thinks. Because it really shouldn’t be that hard to try and remember his first meeting with Eddie — he actually had a pretty good memory for important details. The time loop and the minute changes he made could tell you that. He combs through his memories of high school, going through his entire time there. It isn’t nice to remember who he used to be, how he used to act, but he doesn’t really know when he first met Eddie.

“I mean, when Hellfire still ran through the school, I used to pickup the kids there, and we would have those talks, right?” Steve sees the way Eddie’s eyes waver. It’s like the physcial embodiment of you said the wrong thing, you’ve upset him. Steve doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, how he’s supposed to fix this.

“Nothing before that?” The question is leading, but he doesn’t know where to.

“I don’t— I don’t know.” Steve says, frustrated. Because this was obviously important to Eddie, something that he’s been thinking about since before he knew of the monsters, so why can’t Steve— why can’t he think of it? Why can’t he picture their first meeting?

“Like, you don’t know when we first met, or if we first met in high school or—”

“No I— I don’t remember meeting you. Knowing you before the pickups. The carpark.”

Eddie shifts in place, turns to look at Steve more clearly. His hair is still wet from the shower they just took, so Steve knows he isn’t going to go to bed anytime soon. He knows that Eddie doesn’t like to go to sleep with wet hair, knows that it takes forever to dry. Learning these things are like little gifts that he cherishes, because he knows, now, that he’s allowed to love and be loved, to consider the mundane as beautiful. It hurts to know that he doesn’t remember something this important. 

“I’ve noticed you slipping.” Eddie says, quiet. He takes on that voice he uses when he’s about to say something important and world-shattering. Steve doesn’t know what he did wrong. Why he’s slipping. How he’s slipping. He doesn’t understand.

“What?”

“Everyone’s worried. It’s just— okay, by itself, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, right? But all of these times, the past few months since moving in, nearly everyone has seen it.”

“Eddie,” Steve says. What’s happening? What am I doing? What have people noticed that I haven’t? “What’s wrong?”

Eddie breathes deep, hands ghosting over the crest of Steve’s hair. It calms him down a fraction, but still, underlying, he can see it in Eddie’s eyes. “You’re forgetting.” 

(Later, he will be told that it was Jonathan that figured it out, that had told Eddie all about it. His missing memories. He had noticed it when he was teaching Steve about film photography, when he had lifted the camera strap around his neck, had said I never thanked you for this, only to be met with a questioning gaze. 

It would have been a small moment, something that wouldn’t really tip anyone off, but Jonathan knew that this was something Steve remembered. He knew, because this was something important to him, something that Steve had gifted in apology. A detail that was so tiny in the grand scale of things, that had made Jonathan worried.

As life goes on, Steve will find that there are patchworks — missing places that when he tries to remember start to give him headaches. Headaches that he used to just attribute to stress, or the repeated head trauma. 

He’d been dealing with those things, headaches, gaps in memory, for as long as he could remember. So why had it started to be something to worry about, now?)

He used to have a really good memory. His dad used to give him certain dates at rapid fire, I’ll be home by the 11th, you need to water the plants out front on the 8th, you have enough food at home until the 5th. It used to be so easy for him to recall things, little things, like that. Someone’s favourite colour, what song a melody came from, where he was placed in the wilderness. 

Was he really forgetting, now? It wasn’t like he was just absentmindedly not thinking, or not paying attention, and so there was nothing to remember, because — how does nearly every party member have an example of him forgetting? He doesn’t remember saying anything, doing anything, that would be seen as unhealthy, or different, or out of place.

It makes him look at his own palms. Was he just fading away? Sometimes it felt as if people would see through him, never really look at him, just past the frosted glass panes of his shell — was this how he was always destined to be? Forgetting all these moments, only remembering versions of time that don’t exist?

Steve thinks that, maybe, this was his cruel punishment. For daring to be loved.

“Tell me about it.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“The first time we met.”

Because there is nothing that he can do to make himself remember. He knows this, somehow, deep in his bones. That there is no way that he will ever remember the small things that he has forgotten. The moments of himself that he’s lost.

“We were twelve,” Eddie smiled, reached to fiddle with his fingers in his lap. “I crashed my bike into the pavement, and, god, it was horrible. Blood everywhere. So I’m sitting there, crying, bloody, and then this angel—”

“Oh shut up.” 

“—Comes and offers me a bandaid. I don’t really think it helped much, but, you know. It made me feel better.”

Eddie’s smiling, softly, wistfully, as he recalls it. He’s always been a bit rough around the edges, they both have, but Steve likes to think they’ve mellowed out a bit in recent years. He guesses monster fighting will do that to you. Or maybe it’s just the love.

And, it’s almost a picturesque moment, for a second. It would be, he thinks, if he could remember any of it. Any of their first meeting. 

Steve doesn’t remember patching anyone up. It might not seem like something he would even remember, because they were young, and it happened so fast, but a kid riding their bike in Loch Nora? You weren’t allowed to. There was some uproar about how the tires were leaving skid marks, and how it was making their neighbourhood look dirty. Nobody was allowed to ride their bikes until they got to the end of the street. 

Steve would have noticed. He would have remembered Eddie crashing.

“I don’t remember it, Eddie.” He says, tries not to show how much it hurts him.

Fingers card their way through his hair, urging him closer and closer until he’s resting against Eddie’s chest. The movie is maybe halfway through, and he doesn’t know what’s happening. 

He stops for a second, thinking in the way he does, before his words, hushed and contemplated, and rushed out of him. “I think it’s because of the loops — you dying. Maybe you’re forgetting things that happen in them.”

It doesn’t make sense. “I can remember the loops perfectly,” Steve says, before pointing to the scars on his body. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was something to do with the loop, again.”

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, though. How he’s supposed to navigate around everyone, when they could say something that he’s meant to remember, that he’s meant to understand, that he knows he’s meant to understand. Is he just meant to pretend? Does he point it out? Is there even a way to do what they did with his deaths — list them out, make them be known?

“We’ll figure it out,” Eddie hums. “Like we always do.”

“But what if we can’t? I can’t promise that I won’t—”

Forget you. It’s already happened before. They know that it’s already happened. Who’s to say that it won’t happen again?

“Then we work through it.”

-- -- --

a little epilogue post before i go back to sleep <3

[theinvisibledreamergirl]

If your Ethan wasn't with your MCs and they needed to be paired with another MC in the fandom who would they be paired with and why would they be paired with them?

yoooo anon what a superb brain you have. congrats bcs idk how many times i’ve seen the question and i still didn’t know how to answer this lol. but anyways i hope this might help:

oookay so if ethan wasn’t with klaw i’ll definitely would pair him with someone who was at mass kenmore. let’s just pretend other mc’s work there bcs if they were at edenbrook it would be a lot of chaos. you may think why?

bcs my girl doesn’t express her emotions but when she has those feelings for ethan and sees someone else beside him- her heart crumbles.

anyways back to the topic. i can’t remember every mc that i’ve read here in the fandom bcs they are lots of them and it’s very difficult to choose which one could beat my mc. but… i do remember only one who was the first inspiration for to me write here and to create this character:

Denise Hogan by @justanotherookie (which isn’t part of the fandom here anymore unfortunately)

i think her character has some tiny similarities with my mc but she is much more kind, sweet, funny and very social girl which is a contrast with ethan’s character. i imagine that ethan wants someone who is not like him bcs he hates that and klaw unfortunately wouldn’t be the perfect person. as we know by the law of physics: the opposites attract, the similar repel.

denise comes from a lovely family without so many traumas in her life whereas klaw has dealt by herself most of the time with a miserable one with full of secrets, mysteries and danger. again this impacts a lot into their characters and how they approach people. if denise is loved by everyone, klaw is hated by everyone. denise goes mostly by heart but klaw goes by brain.

if the girls met each other for a coffee i can picture this: denise would think klaw as friend; klaw would think denise as a menace. they both will go to the ends of earth to sacrifice for their loved ones. the only one who cares about reputation is: my mc bcs of her egoism whereas denise doesn’t care about it or even wealth as long as she doesn’t lose the respect from her people. that is a big difference… so who do you think ethan will choose now?

both ethan and klaw have traumas in their lives that aren’t healed. they need someone who can understand their pains and give them emotional support so they both are complex souls… which denise hasn’t experienced this and she will help ethan but even the latter with her insecurities and other issues that she struggles with. nobody’s perfect. so they will eventually complement each other like two halves of the heart.

but i need to highlight that what i said about denise’ character is only a fraction of what i can remember from the author’s writing so apologies if i have made any mistakes in her description.

thank you so so much my dear anon❤️ i truly appreciate that you took your time to ask me🥹 bcs it’s been a long time since i haven’t received one and it was so fun🫶🏻

[coffeewithastraww]

Listen to the cry baby

A decade and two cents ago, I met someone who changed my life forever and what I’m about to say is so simple in any form you look at it. You might mean the world to someone you haven’t thought twice about that day. And the single most important friendship you ever created doesn’t reach for his phone to call you anymore because it was never that serious to them. I ran in circles trying to save something we both knew was over. And yet you could tell me you missed me tomorrow and I’d be back hanging over the end of the world with only your grip to keep me alive. I went to you for every piece of advice because I trusted you, I needed your honesty and brutal words to keep me going. But you never needed anything from me except for maybe a game or two when you were bored. A person I put a light so bright over I couldn’t see your toxic mindset.

This friendship evolved every single day. Teenagers, I needed a carefree, heartbeat skip a step, out of breath, crazy adventure of a person to distract me from my childhood. And you needed someone who loved you more than you loved yourself to keep a fraction of your confidence in tact in order to survive those years. We went through alcoholic tendencies together and we had long talks about wanting to be better, we told each other every single secret about ourselves because neither of us judged each other. Years later you reached your goals and I became nothing more than the person from your hometown who never left.

A stranger who knew all of your secrets.

We grew up and the dynamic changed a few times but I always leaned on you more than you leaned on me and I never would have thought it could push you away.

Two people thousands of miles away who have nothing in common. One who looks up to the other and the other always looking down. I will sit and listen to every word that comes out of your mouth so proud of the man you turned out to be, so happy for the life you built for your family. And when I look back I only see disappointment in your eyes.

I want to be the friend you speak highly of but I know I’m not.

What was our friendship based off of? because these days I’m willing to put money on the fact that we both have different answers for that and there’s only one right one. The things I cry about you have no time for anymore and I understand that. But doesn’t that make you a bad friend?

In a time where I needed you the most you left me. Again.

The end was never signified. Like a phonecall you just hang up and laugh about it separately knowing you’ll talk again tomorrow and not even mention it. This time it feels different, and I know you won’t answer.

I know I sound pathetic when I say this but I don’t care and I never have. Each time with you felt like a movie, a beginning middle and end. A conflict and resolution. You made me cry so hard I thought I might die, you made me laugh until I couldn’t even see, you made me question reality and look at people in a whole new light, including myself. You hurt me and you put me back together again, and even though we don’t admit this like a secret nobody will ever know, I know we both felt guilty for the way things were sometimes. And like the person we both knew we hated ourselves for it. I will hold on to you forever and I know you’ll never listen to the cry baby ever again.

[palaces-in-every-paragraph]

Candy Hearts Letter 2024

Dear Creator,

Thank you SO MUCH for writing for me. I know I’m going to love whatever you come up with! I truly appreciate  the time and effort you are going to put into this. PLEASE do not stress over it; I am really very easy to please and just looking forward to seeing what you come up with. I’ve jotted down some basic prompts here, follow them or don’t--the choice is yours! 

Competency is absolutely my greatest kink. I also have a decent-sized hair kink and love hair-touching/stroking/brushing, etc, as well as any kind of safe touch. I like friendship in love, equal partnerships, ass-kicking females, friends to lovers, grudging respect that becomes not so grudging, fluff and cuteness, light angst, caretaking, cuddling and tender kissing, blanket/bed-sharing in a totally platonic way, all the non-sexual intimacy and tenderness, late-night talks, letters. Tenderly-described safe touch makes me squee. I don’t mind sex so long as it’s consensual between adults, well-written, driven by emotions, and true to character. My favorite AUs are coffee shop and library. 

General Likes: Fluff, angst with a happy or happy-for-now ending, humor, hurt/comfort with comfort emphasis, team bonding, mission fic, casefic, slice of life, missions gone bad, bad missions gone good in unexpected ways. Snowed in, locked in a closet, days off that turn into work days due to unforeseen circumstances, Undercover as a couple, enemies to friends to more, fake dating with sparks flying.

I adore setting detail and good descriptive writing. Fall is absolutely my favorite season--so perfect for walks, crisp air, toasted marshmallows, apple orchard trips, cider and donuts, colorful leaves that crunch underfoot, hay rides, warm drinks, cozy sweaters, knitting, lazy weekends, bonfires (or fires in fireplaces) new pens and notebooks, etc. I also love holidays and celebrations--all of them equally, so whatever feels natural to you and the characters is great. Cultural descriptions and events are fabulous, as well as setting, time period, and seasonal details.

DNW

-D/s relationships

-PWP 

-A/B/O dynamics (I don’t understand how these work) 

-dark/dystopian or supernatural AUs

-kidfic

-rape/non- or dub-con

-underage

-graphic violence

-suicide or self-harm 

-depression, 

-non-canonical character death

Mary Russell Series - Russell & Holmes

The first book in this series is my favorite, so I’d love a pre-marriage casefic. How soon after Holmes met Russell did he know he was dealing with not just a teenager, but a teenager who is in every way his intellectual equal? How much did he miss her when she went away to school? We see one time where Holmes shows up on Russell’s doorstep while she’s at Oxford, but were there others? Did he ever give her a test that involved chasing him from bolt-hole to bolt-hole in London, changing disguises as they went? How much did Mrs. Hudson know of what they got up to, and did she simply shake her head at the strangeness? Did she do anything to temper the way Holmes treated this young woman whom he was suddenly keeping as a pet and protegee? 

Hawkeye (TV) - Clint, Kate, Laura, Yelena

Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye run was my intro to comics and since I started, I haven’t looked back. I also thought that the Hawkeye TV show was damn near perfect. I love Clint and Kate together and how even though they are both completely badass, they always seem to be kind of making things up as they go along and can’t believe this is actually their life, for good or for bad. I imagine that there are not many people whom Kate would allow to be a mentor or teacher or even a father figure and I love Clint in that role, even as often as he rolls his eyes and wonders why and how this is life. I love their chemistry together and the banter, but I’m definitely more friendshippy than shippy about them. If you’re romantic about them, that’s fine, but either include Laura or or pretend she doesn’t exist at all–no cheating, please. 

Speaking of banter, I need the banter of Kate/Yelena like I need air to breathe. I would love something where they are grudgingly forced to work together and somehow it becomes more. I love their badassery and would love to see more of them together. Give me mission/casefic, unwinding and debriefing after a mission, Kate and Yelena babysitting the Barton kids, Clint helping Kate get ready for a date (or feeding Yelena intel about how to woo Kate), Kate making sure that Clint remembers his wife and kids on Valentine’s Day, or really anything with loads of banter.

Lockwood & Co - Lucy, George, Lockwood

I could go on for pages about how sad I am that this show got cancelled. I loved the books and I thought the adaptation was pretty close to perfect. Give me all the casefic with all three of these characters and be as shippy as you want with Lockwood and Lucy. Is there a ghost that’s wreaking havoc on couples who meet through a dating site or app? A Lockwood/Lucy date that gets interrupted by something supernatural? If you include George, please let him be a badass, too.

Thanks so much again, and happy writing!

[chasingvoidmonsters]

The storm carried in a fresh swell of ocean air. A sun-leathered, kindly old man was ducking back into his apartment from the small balcony that over looked the port, just a few blocks away. His smile was private, for himself and the decades old memories playing themselves over again in his mind. His eyes stung, not from the ocean air or the rain drops that had splashed across his cheeks as he looked up and greeted the storm with an old familiarity. It was the many emotions that come from decades, many more than most people saw, of friends loved and lost. He put a kettle on to boil and sat in his thoughtfully cluttered kitchen to wait for the knock he knew would come. As it always did for the last 70 years when it stormed on this day. He knew. The knock came just as the kettle began to whistle. He turned off the stove top and bustled his way to the front door. When he opened it, an old friend waited for him. The last of his family. Their eyes met with quiet, sad smiles and he wrapped her in a hug. The woman before him hadn't aged in decades, not unlike himself. Her bushel of shaggy brown hair was tucked away in the hood of a cloak. Admittedly, cloaks had been out of style for many years, but she refused to change that much of herself. The quiet bustle of a small seaside town was change enough for her.

She pulled away first, not unkindly, breaking the somber moment with something a bit brighter. "I brought tea. A new blend, I think you’ll like it." The man grinned and turned back to go down the hallway to his kitchen, leaving her to close the door and hang her damp cloak as he called over his shoulder "The kettle just finished, I hope this one has orange peel in it." She chuckled as she closed the door, a feeling of safety and comfort settling over her in the familiar cluttered space, "Of course it does, I can't have you getting scurvy on me now, can I captain?" He shook his head, busying himself with setting the kettle on the table and turning to a tall cupboard, hiding a small prideful smile at the old title. "I told you, I'm no captain without a ship." From the cupboard, he pulled down a teapot with a matching pair of teacups. They had clearly been kept in a careful place, only to be used on certain occasions such as this. "Eh, there's enough of her in these walls to be considered a dinghy at least." A playful smile sprung across her face as she leaned on the familiar door frame to the kitchen. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the sea spray on her face. The smile faltered for a fraction of a second as she remembered why their adventures had come to an end, the reason for her arrival at his home, but it came back quickly. The scarred grief was a close friend now. One she couldn’t escape and had learned to live with over the last couple of decades. The gruff grumblings of a cranky old man brought her back from her memories. “A dinghy she says. My Elise was no dinghy. She was the fastest ship on the seas and you know it.” “I haven’t forgotten yet, old man. She treated us well for a ship her size. I’m still not sure you didn’t have her enchanted by that sea witch back in the day.” She placed the paper bag on the table and took her seat facing the window, taking over the tea preparation. The easy motions were completely ingrained in her being. “Nope, you and I both know what kind of bad news that woman was.” He scoffed.

“Exactly,” she countered with a knowing chuckle as she placed the lid on the teapot, leaving it to steep. “she was just your kind of woman, even if you say Elise was woman enough for you.” He gave a gruff huff of air at that, knowing he had no come back to that statement. They sat in quiet companionship as they waited for the tea, listening to the rain batter the windows. The dimly lit room flashed a few times with lightening and the building rumbled with the smooth grumbles of thunder. All that was missing was the angry swaying of a ship being thrown through the waves. Eventually the woman broke the silence as she moved to fill their cups. “I bought a shop.” That gained a cautiously sideways glance from the old man, as if he was looking at a cornered animal. “Is that so?” “Yeah. It’s time. I can’t keep wandering forever.” The relief was evident in her voice, she truly was ready to move forward. He nodded at that, happy for her as he accepted the cup. “Where abouts did you settle?” He imagined her settling down in some remote hovel outside of a small village somewhere further inland to continue her relative solitude. He already had a few people in mind to send to check in on her, depending on what direction she went. “It’s the old pharmacy on Brushings Ave, actually. Here in the cove. I hope you don’t mind me being so close.” She glanced over with a soft smile, already knowing he would probably be over at the shop weekly. “I can actually see the mast from my roof. Like you always said, we should always be able to see the mast in a new port and it just… felt right.” At that, the man broke into a grin. She was referring to Elise’s mast that served as a higher lookout on his roof, he had often climbed through the hatch on the roof to look for ships he was expecting. “I can’t wait to see it, kid. You let me know if you need any connections.” “I will. I get the keys next week. It has space for a garden in the back, and the roof is flat enough for more beds, maybe even a greenhouse if I get crafty enough.” She was excited now, not having talked to anyone about her plans yet, and her they started tumbling out of her. “I’ll have to import my first couple seasons of herbs and keep limited stock, but after a year, I’ll be set and mostly self sufficient. I’ll be able to do the basics that I kept on the ship - you know, the medicines and tinctures - and some teas. But the main goal is to be everyone’s first stop when they need something for the magical and monstrous. I’ll still need a bones supplier since…” her voice trailed off and she dropped her head, trying to fend off the grief creeping up at the thought of not having an integral part of her plans with her. She quickly started losing that battle, feeling the overwhelming fear of doing this alone, starting a business that should have been his too, press in on her ribs. That feeling was, as always, accompanied by the pressure of the banshee trying to force its way out of her throat.

She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, wrestling with her other self, then let it rattle out of her mouth. The sound made the captain stiffen and turn a sharp eye to her. He knew that rattle and he was not fond of what could follow. She closed her eyes and mentally centered herself, acknowledging the thoughts and emotions that flowed through her in that moment, accepting them and letting them move along. She felt the banshee rise, past her throat and into her head. The captain tensed more as the hair at the crown of her head started turning white, but after a moment she settled herself down and looked up, the white shrinking away, not a rattling breath to be had. She caught how white the captain’s knuckles were around his teacup. He may not know exactly what she was doing in those moments where the grief took over and the banshee started to show, but he knew enough to give her the time to recover and ease through the moment. She didn’t hold the nervous look against him. They may trust each other more than anyone in the world, but he knew what power the banshee held. He had the enchanted glass hearing cuffs to prove just how close he had been to that power. She took another breath and nodded, mostly to herself. “But that’s not a project for tonight. Tonight we drink our tea and watch the storm roll through the cove.” “Aye. I’ll sip to that. And to new beginnin’s.” His now-relaxed grin was infectious. They talked through the night about the adventures they had 70 years ago. They reminisced about the friends that had been there too, updating each other on what the grandkids of those friends were getting up to these days, how often they were like their predecessors. The storm hung over the cove, as if waiting for when they finally spoke of the reason they were there together. Reminiscing was easier to do than recognize the holes left in plans that had been made when they themselves had been whole. It was bittersweet and familiar after all these years. One spoke with the pride of a father, the other with the reverence of a lover. They may be missing a different piece of their lives, but they missed the same person. Together they weathered the storm.

[heliads]

I was scrolling through Tobias Eaton x Reader and i saw you!

Could I request a fic where four and reader are both trainers. Yn also has a number nickname, two. Her fears are her abusive father and losing Tobias

Just them being a couple, the hardass around the compound and then I feel like Tobias would melt the second the door is closed ❤️

Please but if not, no problem tag me!

no problems at all! also i love it when i am seen

masterlist

It is a very peculiar thing to be in power. In most places, it serves as a slight modifier, something to tip the scales a fraction in your favor during moments of most importance. Small power in small doses can be measured out and used when necessary. Nothing more and nothing less would suit the other factions. 

In Dauntless, however? This place of shadows and blood? To have any small scrap of an advantage is to have the world. Your chosen faction is one that welcomes honor and dishonor both so long as they can send you up in the ranks. If some insignificant bit of power can change the course of your destiny, imagine the results of legitimate might.

Power is bravery here. Everyone in Dauntless knows it, from the first day initiates to the faction leaders. Some people wonder how the higher ups in your faction are able to be so brave, to take the risks that no one else will. I’ll tell you a secret, then, if no one else will:  they don’t have to worry about failing when they know they can’t. 

You get that first rush of power from your first act of bravery and it’s all easy from there on out. The free fall picks you up in its mighty arms and carries you forever. They’re coasting on the bravery of others, up there in the upper echelons of Dauntless capability. They may not be risking their lives on the daily like the regular people of the faction, but they get the credit for it nonetheless.

Only a few people know of this sort of duplicity, however, and among their rank are you and your boyfriend. That’s why you and Four decided not to pursue the status of becoming a faction leader, actually, despite the shock of the rest of the Dauntless populace. It just wasn’t worth it to you. The adrenaline of actually being brave far outweighs the power of knowing you can make anyone else bleed.

Still, in that choice you and Four reclaimed your power. Anyone knows it from seeing the two of you together, in knowing that both of you are fighters in a way that Max or anyone else at the top can never quite become again. You haven’t sold your souls yet, only your fists, and who here isn’t guilty of that?

It still makes you laugh to think of how people reacted when you and Four first got together. In the beginning, it was looked on as something unreal, a trick or a hoax that would end up with you dead and him lightly chastened. The second you started looking at him as something other than a monster, everyone knew that something bad was to come of it.

They were right, technically. The only difference is that it would be bad for them and not you. What you and Four have is extraordinary. In a way, of course your friends and fellow faction members would fear it. If they have nothing of the sort, why would they not do their best to tempt you from it? If you cannot have power of your own, you can gain some back by stripping others of it, and that is precisely what they tried to do with you and Four.

Of course, when you first met Four you had no idea what the two of you would accomplish together. Back then, you were just a first time initiate. You jumped off that roof in Dauntless and landed with someone staring at you, someone who would change your life forever without even knowing it.

Four was a year above you, trying out the title of initiation leader for the first time. Most everyone there was afraid of him despite the miniscule gap in age. You weren’t one of them, which drove your friends crazy. They were absolutely certain that you were going to get yourself reprimanded or killed because you couldn’t seem to act with the proper respect. Even worse, you seemed to like Four, which clearly marked you as insane.

They asked you time and time again what you could possibly see in him, what could ever make Four, follow-without-question Four, be human and not some sort of nightmare. You merely responded that he looked well in your eyes. Everyone with half a brain could see the way Four looked at you and realize that you were well in his eyes as well. It was almost inevitable that the two of you would get together. Whatever would happen to shake Dauntless’ foundation to the core was only a thing of the certain future, speculation be damned.

It made sense, though, the two of you. Not at first, of course. Back then, you were just an initiate and he was all of the mastery and terror that eight months’ earlier birth could give you in Dauntless. Things started changing as your training went by, however, and soon enough people realized that you were just as much something to fear as he was.

After all, Four made waves when he got his nickname. Four fears, it had never been done before. And when you came out of that final test with only two horrors displayed before you? Dauntless reacted like it was the end of days. It seemed impossible that two initiates, back to back nonetheless, could see all the world had to offer and shrink from so little of it. That wasn’t just bravery, that was something else. Something like power.

The end of initiation opened a lot of doors for you, both for your career and your private life. Although both you and Four had known there was something there, he had waited until you graduated initiation to start something. You were soaring through the rankings at a high enough clip that people would be looking to discredit you over everything. He didn’t want the rumors of a connection to the training leader to stop you before you could start.

Soon enough, however, your training did end, and Four found you that night. A few half-drunk conversations later, both of your slates were clean and you decided it was time for the start of something new, something good. 

Four understands you like no other. Perhaps that explains your two fears. Although they’ve been changing ever since the first time you entered your fear landscape, they’ve long since solidified into two distinct omens of malice that haunt your memory every time you slip into a fear simulation.

The first is one from your past, an abusive father. There’s not much you can do about years with that man, the cruelties you had to endure. It explains why you hold no fear for higher-ups in Dauntless, though– you’ve already spent your time with monsters to know that no one here can truly scare you like your father did.

The second is for your present and future, losing Four. It first appeared after the two of you had an argument during initiation, you asking for his heart and him refusing it. That was when he told you that he’d wait until training ended to protect you, but all that came off was that he never wanted to see you again. You went to sleep that night thinking that the first true love you ever had would hate you until the end of time, and when you woke up, your second fear was set in stone.

It would not come to pass, of course, that Four would leave you of his own volition, but yet the fear stays. It changes slightly from trial to trial in the fear landscape. Sometimes he’s sick and dying, other times shot in the heart from an enemy attack, and sometimes just gone, vanished into nothingness with no one able to explain or care about where he went. Each vision haunts you, but none of them can keep you down for long.

After all, why should they? You graduated initiation with flying colors. You have the man you love right by your side. And, when you decided to follow Four’s suit and become a trainer, everyone in Dauntless, both age-old inhabitants and newcomers alike, knew that your collective hold over the future of the faction was something no one could touch. With the two of you leading classes, becoming an initiate was even more terrifying a venture than before. 

In fact, some new trainees could be heard saying that they’d rather incur the wrath of Four instead of you. At least Four had some sort of moral ground, a line to cross that they could see and avoid. You, on the other hand? You were the sort of fear that no one dared touch. To recognize your fury was to accept one’s certain death.

It makes you laugh. You’ve lost count of how many times Four has teased you for it behind closed doors, about how he was supposed to be the scary one and he can’t possibly take it if you’re just as frightening as he is. He doesn’t mean a word of it, of course, and sometimes you think Four would actually be quite content to let you bear the full weight of his fearful reputation, but it does serve to put a smile on your face nonetheless.

That’s the best part of your relationship, you think. Not just the power that comes with your shared status and capability, but what happens when no one is looking. Four loves you, truly he does, and the nights and days you’re able to spend with just him and no one else go down in your memory as some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s just easy, that’s all. Easy and perfect. When the door to your shared apartment closes between the two of you, your masks can drop and the two of you can be happy together, nothing more and nothing less. Four has a handsome laugh that no one else in this entire faction has ever heard, but you’ve listened to its sound more times than you can remember. You keep up this charade of a bloodthirsty fighter every time you’re out in your faction, but when it’s just you and Four, you can be at peace. No warrior could ever ask for something more.

At the end of the day, what you have with Four is good. Perhaps your friends were right to worry about you being so close to Four, but what they failed to consider is that you are just as dangerous as he is. Both of you understand the hardships of having to stay on the edge of a razor the entire day, and how important it is to trust each other once no eyes are on you anymore. You would not trade it for the world, not even for the power that everyone else here seems to crave above all else.

No, you’re happy with Four. Simply put, he is your power, the sort of energy that makes you feel like you could rattle the entire faction to its bones. You could burn this place to the ground and come out standing strong so long as he was there by your side. Maybe that’s why everyone was so terrified about the two of you being together, they knew exactly what you could accomplish if you set your collective minds to the task.

Is that such a bad thing, in the end? To hold the awe and respect of the rest of your fearless faction in the palm of your hand, to grip it like a weapon and use it to draw blood whenever you please? It does not trouble you in the slightest. No words can crease your brow when you have Four there to smooth out the wrinkles, to make you smile when you need it most. There is nothing in this world that could slow your step. Four makes sure of that, and in turn, you make sure it’s true for him as well. No ending has ever been better.

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria

requested by @manyfandomsfanvergent, i hope you enjoy!

[cooliogirl101]

In the superhero au, how does kyoraku eventually figure out his relation to shiori, sayuri, and aizen? I can't imagine it went smoothly lol

I kind of like the idea of it being like the most mundane, throwaway, unrelated comment ever that sparks the realization lol, like someone says something that reminds him not of Shiori but rather the girl with the pretty laugh and sparkling eyes he’d had a one night stand with all those years ago, before he’s like wait a damn minute……

“Honestly Shunsui, leave the poor girl alone. Haven’t you bothered her enough?” Juushiro scolded. “People are starting to talk.”

“Who? Shiori-chan?” Shunsui blinked. 

“Yes, I’m talking about Shiori-san. Unless you happen to be stalking any other women at the moment?” Juushiro asked exasperatedly. 

“I’m not bothering her. Or at least, that’s not the reason why she keeps trying to avoid me,” At Juushiro’s dubious look, he continued, “Honest question, Juu-chan. You’ve spoken with Shiori-chan before, haven’t you? Does she seem like the kind of girl who would respond to someone paying her unwanted attention by running away?”

“No,” Juushiro admitted slowly. Actually, she seemed like the kind of person who would respond to unwanted attention by kicking the person responsible in a very uncomfortable place. “But her behavior is understandable in this case. You’re a captain--”

“She chewed out the captain of the 11th for yelling at another healer. Believe me, it’s not intimidation driving her behavior,” Shunsui said, a little rueful. “She’s not the kind of person to run away from someone bothering her, captain rank or not. But she might be the kind of person to run away from someone she’s hiding a secret from.”

“You think she’s hiding a secret from you?” Juushiro asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. Shunsui let out a frustrated exhale.

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what kind of secret she could be hiding that would warrant this kind of response. I can’t even think of where we could have crossed paths previously and yet at the same time, there’s just something about her, I can’t put my finger on it--” 

Something about her face, her expressions, the scent of her hair and the soft curve to her mouth, the way she narrowed her eyes when annoyed, the adorable way she scrunched up her nose when she found something distasteful, the stubborn set to her jaw once she’d made up her mind, the warmth in her laugh--everything about her told Shunsui that he’d met her before, that he knew her, and the longer he couldn’t figure it out, the more maddening it became.

“Well either way, maybe let up a little. At this rate, you’re going to give her a pathological reaction to seeing the color pink,” Juushiro said lightly, bringing Shunsui out of his thoughts. “If she didn’t already hate the color before, she will soon if you keep this up. Although maybe that’ll give you the push to finally give up that kimono; Genryusai-sensei will be delighted.”

“Juushiro!” Shunsui gasped, scandalized. “I could never. I’ll have you know I’ve received high compliments on this exact outfit from many a beautiful lady in the past.”

“Shunsui, I hate to tell you this, but as lovely as the women serving in those, ah...establishments you visit are, if the compliment came from someone whose company you paid to enjoy, it doesn’t count,” Juushiro said dryly. Shunsui huffed in mock offense. 

“Well then, you’ll be happy to know that the last lady to compliment me on this kimono didn’t even take my money. In fact, she...” His voice trailed off as he could almost feel the puzzle pieces fitting themselves together in his mind.

Deep, expressive eyes. A quiet, affectionate laugh. Warm, soft lips, curved up into a smile, pressed against his own. 

“A piece of advice, shinigami-san. If you wanted anonymity, perhaps visiting on a night we’re having a special promotion wasn’t the best way to go,” an amused voice tells him.

Shunsui tilts his hat up from his face a fraction of an inch.

“That obvious, huh?” He asks wryly, catching a glimpse of light brown tresses and playful dark eyes.

“Well, you are hunched over in the darkest corner of the room hiding your face under a hat,” she laughs. 

“This isn’t my best moment,” Shunsui admits. “I didn’t realize there was a promotion today.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” she grins and he feels himself unconsciously return her smile with one of his own.

He blinks when she thrusts her fan under his nose.

“A gift,” she explains when he looks at her. “You look like you need it more than I do. Not that the hat isn’t effective, of course, in a...hungover farmer kind of way, but--”

“I appreciate it,” he chuckles behind his new fan, charmed by her obvious amusement at his expense despite himself. “Would it be too much to also ask for the gift of your company?”

She pretends to think about it.

“I don’t know about that, there might be some other shinigami out there hiding behind a hat and a sake bottle in need of my help--hey!” She laughs as he pulls her to his side. 

“I’m afraid that other shinigami’s just going to have to find someone else to come to his rescue then,” Shunsui replies, his light tone in direct contrast to the firm grip he has on her wrist. “Here, let me find you a chair--”

“No need, I’ve got a better idea,” she interrupts, voice low. Shunsui goes still when she climbs into lap, straddling his waist. Slowly, she reaches out and pushes the fan down from face.

“There,” she whispers. “Now I’m fully covering everyone’s view of you.” Her gaze flickers down, eyes darkening. “This way, you don’t have to worry about your subordinates finding out what scandalous things their superior officer does in his free time,” she teases.

Shunsui sure hopes so, because if anyone recognizes him right now he’d be receiving an excruciating lecture from Yama-jii later. Not that he particularly gives a damn about that, or really anything except the very attractive girl in his lap right now. The entire Gotei 13 could walk through those doors for all he cares, he isn’t moving from this chair.

“What makes you so sure I’m a higher-seated officer?” He asks, trying to distract himself. She pauses, leaning back just so, and Shunsui’s jaw clenches, only barely managing to suppress a groan. 

“There’s the fact that you didn’t want anyone to see you-- but then, you could’ve just been trying to be discreet. You’re also suppressing your spiritual energy and people only do that if there’s something worth suppressing,” she says thoughtfully, biting her lip. Shunsui wonders what it’d be like to bite it himself, to tug that plump bottom lip between his teeth and-- “Such a shame we aren’t alone. I’d love to see what you’re holding back.”

Shunsui laughs, a little hoarsely.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he says roughly. Observant little thing, wasn’t she? “Anything else?”

She reaches out, trailing her fingers down his kimono, the light touch causing heat to slide through his veins. Such delicate hands, he can’t help but imagine how pretty they’d look pinned beneath his.

“Then there’s the kimono you wear over your shihakusho. I’m not an expert on shinigami regulations, but I have worked jobs that required me to wear a uniform before, and the only people who can get away with dress code violations are those far enough up the chain of command that no one can tell them what to do,” she continues lightly, tone still conversational. Shunsui would think she were completely oblivious to the effect she was currently having on him, had it not been for the subtle glint in her eyes. “I have to admit, it was your kimono that caught my eye in the first place.”

“Is that so?” He asks.

“What can I say?” She laughs, an endearing sound, bright and charming. He wants to see what other sounds he can tease from those soft, pink lips of hers. “I guess I like a man who isn’t afraid to wear clothes with pink blossoms on them.” 

Shunsui hums, low and pleased.

“And may I know the name of the woman with such superior taste?” He asks.  He brings his hands to her waist, slowly stroking the skin there with his thumbs, and watches hungrily as her lips part to let out the tiniest gasp. 

“W-what?” She stutters, cheeks flushing a pretty red as her composure slips for the first time. Shunsui’s smile widens and leans in, pressing a kiss against the angle of her jaw.

“Your name, sweetheart,” he says against her ear, causing her breath to hitch.

She seems to hesitate for the briefest moment, gaze lingering on his kimono before looking back up at him. 

“Sakura,” she tells him. “You can call me Sakura.”

Sakura. Pink blossoms.

Dear god, he was an idiot.

“I’m an idiot,” Shunsui repeated out loud incredulously. To think he’d never made the connection because of a fake name-- a fake name that he’d all but handed to her!

It’d been smart of her, he acknowledged grudgingly, but then he’d known since the start she was intelligent. The elaborate hairstyle and the makeup had been enough to disguise her features and time had done the rest, fading his memories until his only real, concrete recollection of that night was the name she’d given him.

Until now at least, when a random bout of nostalgia caused him to realize Aizen Shiori looked an awful lot like Sakura, the girl who’d managed to charm him in under ten minutes, who he’d spent an intensely enjoyable night with, before waking up to find her gone the next morning.

He’d found the money he’d paid her tucked back in his wallet, along with a carefully packaged bag containing two tiny cakes, a small container of healing salve, a roll of bandages, and a pair of new socks, hidden in the pocket of his robes in the most bizarre (and impressive) act of reverse robbery he’d ever experienced. 

Healing salve and a roll of bandages. Shunsui could’ve kicked himself for not making the association sooner.

What kind of prostitute returns your money and sends you away with a care package? The answer should’ve been obvious--someone who’s not a prostitute. 

“I realize that, but what did you do this time?” Juushiro asked. 

“I just realized something that I should’ve realized a long time ago,” he said distractedly. “Excuse me, Juu-chan. There’s someone I need to talk to.”

~~

Shiori two hundred years ago: I think I was pretty forgettable :) On the off chance we run into each other again, there’s no way he’ll remember me 

Shiori two hundred years later: shit he remembered me

[beardrabbles]

invitation.

characters: GN!reader, claude, mentions of GN!byleth

warnings: none

word count: 2,814

notes: posted this on ao3 ages ago and totally forgot to post it here too :’) got into the fandom late, like alwaaaays! but i have an enormous claude / golden deer bias and wanted to write some fluff with him.

You forgot sometimes that this peaceful spot tucked between the trees wasn’t yours alone. You shared it with another from time to time, but it had been so long since the last time you both stepped foot in the clearing that it startled you to hear footfalls crunching at the grass behind you. Pushing yourself up halfway, eyes blinking blearily, you spotted the richly dressed prince with his hands planted on his hips.

“Napping without me?” Claude clicked his tongue, and you quickly replied with a roll of your eyes.

“I can’t nap here on my own?” You fell back again, letting the soft grass cushion you. A soft, content sigh escaped through your nose as the sweetest of breezes barely brushed your skin. It smelled of flowers and damp leaves, dense soil and a distant storm. There was no zing of hot iron or blood, and it was a relief.

“I thought it was our thing.  .  .”

You felt him sit beside you, taking up his usual position to your left. The tiniest flutter tickled the inside of your ribs, his nearness nearly making your head spin. “Before I came along, it was just your thing, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but I like it better this way.” Claude leaned back on his hands, eyes up towards the greying sky. It had taken fighting a war to bring back their usual glimmer, but it was there in full. Bright, hopeful, determined. Laying there, gazing up at the unsuspecting prince, it was almost as if you were looking at the man from five years ago — the cunning, clever and sometimes troublesome man that you had fallen head-over-heels for and had continued to painfully pine for.

“Me too.” You dared to smile, his gaze shifting to you. Adoring him hurt, but no amount of hurt would have you appreciating his presence any less.

Claude returned the smile, and the gesture sent your heart slamming against your chest. But just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. “I spoke to Byleth.”

You sat up in an instant, concern etched into your face. You were aware that he had gone to meet them, but he had failed to tell you why. You equally failed to push the subject, as it wasn’t your place to disrespect a man in his position. Curious as you might have been, you assumed it was best not to ask and only hope that he trusted you enough to confide in you later. Seemed you were right, though you acknowledged to yourself that it was a rare thing.

“How did it go?”

“They’re disappointed I won’t be here for the coronation. I can’t blame them. After everything we’ve been through together, I should be here for them. I want to hope they understands. They always have.” He exhaled sharply. “But, hey, I got to see them smile again! I think as long as they’re here, Fódlan will be in good hands. If they keeps smiling, if they keep breaking down the walls that were built up, I can go home and do my part there. I trust them.”

You shifted, feeling uncomfortable in your envy.

“So they’re not coming with you to Almyra?” You wondered. Claude shook his head.

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. Fódlan needs to be taken care of. It needs a parent that will hold its hand and lead it in the right direction. It’s gonna stumble around like an infant walking for the first time, but that’s why they’re the best person to lead. They’ll know what to say and do to help this little baby along.”

You screwed up your face and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You really like talking about babies.” You pointed out. Claude’s cheeks and the tips of his ears darkened a fraction, but he dismissed it with a hearty chuckle.

“I guess I do. I wonder why that is.” He trailed off, voice soft but nowhere near as confused as his words would have lead you to believe. You had long ago resigned yourself to never truly understanding him, so you shrugged. Trying to pick through his mind was like attempting a hedge maze without a map.

“Does that mean you’re going to be heading back soon?”

“I can’t stay for long. There’s so much I need to do if I’m going to see things through, but there’s something important I need to do here before I can go home.” There was sharpness to his eyes that you recognized and deeply adored. He was planning something, and you felt your curiosity rise again.

“What is it? Can I help?” You were always so quick to offer him aid. Usually, he gently denied it, stating time and time again that most of his schemes were for his mind alone. Things often worked out for the better that way. The fewer people that knew, the less chance they could commandeer the plan or ruin it. Yet you still asked just in case he needed you.

“Maybe. Before that, can I ask you something?”

You frowned. “Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we met. Is it really true?” Claude smirked and raised a single brow, only for you to shove him harmlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You eyed him for a moment, worry mounting. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

The prince shook his head, as if he were getting off track. “No. I wanted to know where you plan to go. What are your plans for the future?”

“Oh! Oh.” You frowned when the sudden realization that you had no plans slammed into you. “I don’t.  .  . know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been so busy supporting everyone else, doing what I can for them, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone’s grown up. They’re all doing their own thing, starting their own lives. No one needs me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Claude’s voice was firm in your ear, and his expression was set to match. You smiled meekly.

“I grew up with all of you, but it felt like my purpose was to help you all find yours. Not that I really think I’m capable of being that helpful, but I never took the time to think about myself. I was too worried about you all reaching your dreams that I didn’t have one. I don’t have one.” You amended the last part quickly because it was blatantly clear to you that you had no direction to go in.

“There has to be something you want.” Claude pushed. You laughed.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I want what you want. I want you to succeed.” You opened your mouth again, but were quick to clamp them shut when another thought arose. I want to be with you.

It was lovely to imagine, but you had lived with the fact that any future with him was left solely to your imagination. You met him as an heir, and you knew him now as a prince. The differences in your status was vast and hard to ignore. Claude had his mind set on making those differences unimportant, but you doubted that he could find room in his heart for you. He had a country to take care of and love, not to mention you two had been friends since the start of your time at the academy. Too much time had passed since then, and while your feelings had grown deeper and more troublesome, you were sure he had none to begin with. No, as students, he had been too preoccupied with tormenting you. Teasing, poking, taking up your time with nonsense and rarely giving you a moment to yourself.

Despite him being a brat at times, you loved him. And even if he didn’t reciprocate, you were grateful to have known him at all.

“So you’re not bound to Fódlan?” His voice shook you from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you have any obligations here in Fódlan?” His gaze was so intently set on you that it made you squirm, the feeling ten times worse since coming out of your own head.

“No, not that I can think of.” You couldn’t recall making any promises.

“Right, so you could leave.” Claude hummed thoughtfully and got to his feet. Once upright, he dusted the grass from his clothes and offered you a hand. Confused, you took it and let him pull you into standing.

“I guess I could, but where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside of Fódlan.” You felt something subtle was being said, you couldn’t catch on. Some days, you could. You had learned him just as he had learned you, but he was always several steps ahead. You could read him, but only the pages he allowed you to see. In this case, the pages were written on, but only in bits and pieces.

Claude gave you a pointed stare and a gentle, encouraging squeeze to your hand. When you failed to understand, he raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself. No words were needed. His gestures and odd line of questioning were like a clarifying slap to the face. You reeled, giving him a wide-eyed stare while sputtering idiotically.

“Wh——”

“That took you while. I was starting to worry I’d have to spell it out for you.” Claude put on a convincing pout. “Unless this is your weird way of telling me you don’t want to come with me.”

“No!” You leaped too soon, your eagerness prompting a smirk on the prince’s face. You fell silent again, worried that saying anything more might reveal all of what you had been trying to hide for over five years. “I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?” He purred cunningly, hand still holding tightly to yours. You didn’t resist when he to eased you closer, your heart screaming in your chest. Cheeks red and breaths shallow, you could hardly think. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I’m still napping, and this is just another stupid dream.

You swallowed hard and peered up at him. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Vague.”

“Ah-ah,” chided the cheeky man, “you’ll have to address me as Prince Vague now.”

You scoffed and gave him another shove. When your hand pressed to his shoulder, he trapped it there with his own. Even closer now, Claude lowered his head until your noses nearly touched. You sucked in a breath and found yourself unable to move away, attention trapped in his bright, beautiful eyes.

“You want to know what I’m asking you?” He lowered his voice, tone growing tender and warm. You nodded. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me. I want you to meet my parents and my people, and I want them to meet you. I want them to love you as much as——”

He choked for a moment, a rare flicker of pure emotion startling him.

“As much as what?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Claude calmed himself with a shaky breath and tilted his chin down, lips barely ghosting the curve of your cheek. His eyes fluttered half closed, while a single lock of his dark hair tickled at your cheek. When you didn’t shy away, he spoke again in honeyed tones. “I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“You can’t mean that.” Your entire being felt numb with glee, but you couldn’t process his confession without a little doubt. He met your doubt with a chuckle, so you persisted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you felt the compulsion to reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. You had done so many times before, letting the gentle touches calm him during his bad days, but there was new meaning behind it now. There was an honest love behind it as your dragged your fingers through the strands, pushing them back and away from his darling face.

“There were so many others.  .  .” So many people wanted his attention, his affection. You were but one in a thousand that longed for him.

“I didn’t care. I dreamed of many futures, and all of the best ones had you standing there beside me.” He muttered into you, the softest of kisses resting just under your eye.

“We argued so much.” You shuddered, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“You kept me grounded. How can anyone expect to be a decent ruler if they’re always agreed with?” He countered. You huffed and tried to think of another argument.

“You used to tease me all the time.” You muttered.

“I’ll admit that was dumb of me, but it felt like the only way to get your attention.” His lips found the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t contain a snicker. “You looked so cute when you were embarrassed, especially when you wrinkled your nose. I couldn’t help it.”

“Why do I feel like you still can’t help it?” You tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and let your fingers follow the path of his facial hair. He was putty in your hands, cheek pressing to your hand.

“It’s part of my charm.” Claude flashed his usual smile, then took a step back. The lack of closeness left you feeling a little colder, but the distance let you appreciate him fully. Tall, handsome, commanding. You were exceedingly proud of him, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again. But before you could think to speak, he started again. “You don’t have to answer me right away. I know this a lot to ask of you, so I want to give you the time you need. I’m leaving in two days. Meet me at the——”

You didn’t allow him to finish. Your heart was too full and on the verge of bursting, and it seemed silly to you that he didn’t know what your answer would be when he was so skilled at predicting you. Rather than let him wonder, you removed your hands from his and took his face between them. You gathered your courage, mustered with his help, and pulled him down for a soft but silencing kiss.

Claude wasn’t often rendered speechless, but he supposed he didn’t mind being put in his place if it meant your lips fitting against his as perfectly as they did. Unfortunately for him and the heat radiating throughout him, you didn’t let the kiss last long. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and crush you against his chest like he’d long to for years, but you parted from him too soon for his liking.

“Where are you going?” He took chase, but you placed your hand over his mouth. Claude stilled and arched a brow.

“I’ve had my answer for years, Claude. I’m with you in every possible way. But if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You uncovered his mouth, but his silence told you more than words would. “How long have you, uh.  .  .”

“Cared for you? Admired you? Wanted to kiss you the way you just kissed me?” Every question he posed in response to yours made your heart thud and your cheeks burn. “A long, long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never given the chance.” He answered so surely that you wondered if he had those words prepared. You couldn’t pester him about it — too many things had gone horribly wrong during your time at the academy, and it didn’t make sense to plant seeds in dead soil. There would have been no guarantee that it would bloom and flourish, but with the land starting a slow recovery, you hoped that what you two started here would become lusher and more far-reaching than any forest in Fódlan.

“It’s alright.” You giggled giddily and granted him another kiss, this one to the corner of his lips. “We were given our chance, and you took it.”

“Does that mean you’re going home with me?” He asked.

“I told you——”

“I want to hear you say the words.” Claude softly pleaded. Weak for his doe eyes, you melted in his arms and relented.

“I’m going home with you, Claude. I want to meet your parents, and I want to get to know your people. And for as long as I’m there, for as long as you’ll have me, I want to get to know you better.”

A soft sigh tinged with relief escaped the man as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His grasp on you tightened, and you felt his heart beat against your chest.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and embraced him. “Don’t thank me. Just take me home.  .  .”

[bestiesenpai]

firsts with Gojo Satoru

Every day I’m reminded that Gojo is 6.3ft and every day I remind myself that I could still slap the shit out of him and I wouldn’t even have to reach that high. That is what brings me inner peace.

First meeting

It’s not often that the Gojo Satoru is tasked with cleaning up curses of any grade less than level 1, but sometimes while he was casually out and about he would see a few and handle them with no issue

Like the cluster of fly heads going through the street, harassing people

It takes him no time at all to get to them, a few long strides and he’s there

With a swipe of his hand, the curses are expelled, gone from the world and no longer causing havoc

“What were those things?” A curious voice asks off to the side. Lowering his sunglasses, Satoru turns to the person looking at where the curses had just been.

“What things?” He feigns ignorance and it makes you snort.

“Those flying things you just got rid of. I was watching them for a while, they were pretty annoying.” While you’re talking, Satoru is sizing you up. He can sense just a tiny bit of cursed energy coming from you, not enough to be of any use except for the ability to see curses.

Worrying his lip, Satoru debated on how much he should tell you, if anything at all. He thought you were cute, so maybe he could tell you a little bit and then lead it into another conversation...maybe get your number.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly you’re closer to him than you were before. In all his going back and forth he’d failed to see you take a few steps closer and peer at him, that curious look back in your eyes. “Try not to think too hard, mister, I wouldn’t want your pretty face to get all wrinkled now.”

Satoru actually laughs at that, his chest nearly bumping into you with how close you two are now. He even bends a little at the waist, completely caught off guard by how you, a perfect stranger, have just spoken to him.

“Ya know, that’s not the usual response I get from people.” Fixing his glasses on his head, Satoru fixes you with a smirk he knows people swoon over. “And my name’s not ‘mister’. It’s Satoru, Gojo Satoru.”

“Okay.” His smirk wavers just slightly when he realizes you’re not exactly falling into his arms, just nodding and then you’re pointing to the sky where the fly heads had been. “So Gojo, what were those things?”

First hangout

Gojo does end up telling you the truth about the flyheads and you take it better than he was expecting

He was quick to get your first and last name, maybe you were from a family of sorcerers...but you weren’t. Just a normal person who saw him expel some curses

The conversation quickly ends after he’s done explaining it to you, much to his chagrin. He’d laid on the charm thick, hoping you’d ask for his number or for an opportunity for him to ask, but none came

When he was done telling you about the curses, you gave him a brief pat on the arm, thanked him and went about your day

There was a soft smile on your face as you walked away, and the feeling of your hand still lingered on his arm

Gojo wanted to see you again, but he knew he might never

“Oh, hello Gojo.” Your voice pops up again in an unexpected place, the candy section of a local convenience store near the train station he’d just exited.

“Huh?” He turns, surprised to see you and surprised that you addressed him so casually. It was indeed you, the person he’d seen before and wanted to get to know better.

“Hm, is it not you? I don’t know anyone else that tall with white hair.” Scratching your cheek, you give him a once over.

“It is me.” He’s quick to answer before you apologize and walk away.

“Ha, knew it.” A sly grin comes on your face and Satoru grins in return, his chest tightening a little bit. Rocking on your heels, you gesture to the candy in front of you. “What’s your poison?”

“Everything.” Snorting, Satoru looks at the candy briefly, eyes scanning on all the ones he’s tried.

“Ouch, sounds like a serious sweet tooth.” Chuckling to yourself, you reach out and grab a bag of sour gummies. “These are my favorite, have you tried them?” He has and he kind of hates them, but he picks up a bag anyway and pretends to read it over.

“No, I haven’t. They’re your favorite, you say?” You nod and he holds them more securely in his hand. “Alright, I’ll get them. And this.” Snatching up a chocolate bar he knows he actually likes, Satoru walks with you to the checker and puts his items on top of yours. “I’ll pay.”

You don’t fight him on paying, thanking him with a smile and another pat on his arm. As you walk out of the shop, Satoru nearly puts his arm around your shoulder. It feels like the two of you are on a casual snack run together before going somewhere to watch a movie or something. Even though you’re a stranger, Satoru feels like you already belong together.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again.” You say, snapping him out of his delusion. “What are your plans for the day?” It’s a wonderful day in a suburb of Tokyo, near the place you’d first met. The sun is beaming but not too hot, there’s fluffy white clouds scattered around the sky and a light breeze.

“Nothing, honestly.” Shrugging his shoulder, Satoru looks up and down the street. Honestly, he did have something to do, he was supposed to meet Ijichi for a little meeting with a few other people. But if he was being honest, he’d gladly be late or even skip it entirely if it meant talking to you more.

“Really? Well if you’re into them, there’s a really good cafe just around the corner. I think you’d like it.” Oh shit, were you asking to hang out with him? Or was this more of a date? Watching you take out your phone, Satoru is confused when you pull up a GPS. “If you want, I’ll send you the address.”

Wait...what? Looking at you with clear confusion on his face, Satoru points down the street.

“Let’s go there together, since we’re already here.” Your eyes widen a fraction of an inch, but Satoru can easily see the miniscule way your face changes. Putting your phone away, you take a step down the street.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Once at the cafe, Satoru feels in heaven. It’s a space made for intimate conversations with closed off booths lining the walls and the rich dark colors decorating the space. It feels almost like a lounge instead of a cafe, but when he sees the menu and there’s no alcohol, he’s reminded of what it is.

“I like to get an earl gray and some macarons.” You tell him as you stand by the counter, looking up at the menu.

“I’m going to get that super chocolate cake.”

“That’s so much chocolate!” Chuckling, you walk up to the waiting cashier, wallet already out. “Go ahead and order, Gojo, I’ll pay.”

You don’t end up paying, actually. Gojo quickly plucked your wallet from your hands and put his money down instead. It wasn’t that he was trying to impress you by paying for everything, but he kind of was. He wanted you to know he was dependable.

Sliding into a booth, he can feel your knees knocking together, legs sliding between one another as you get comfortable. With the light from the window illuminating you, Satoru wished he could take a picture of you.

“Let me know how you like it.” Taking a sip of your tea, you watch him expectantly. Not one to disappoint an audience, Satoru takes a bite of the cake and lets out a pleased hum.

“(Y/N), this is great.” He practically moans, eagerly taking another bite.

“Knew you would like it.” You’ve got a silly smile spreading your cheeks wide, and Satoru lifts his hand up, wanting to pinch your cheek.

“You’ve got good taste.” He says instead, putting his elbow on the table to cover up his attempt at trying to touch your face. “I really like it here.”

You’re a very big reason why he likes it there.

First date

Gojo makes sure to get your number after that, he refuses to miss an opportunity like that

He can’t risk the possibility of just ‘maybe’ running into you again, he needs to insert himself into your life more than just chance run-ins

Gojo is a great texter, you’ll learn that quickly. He messages you back promptly, having riveting conversations with each other and sometimes calling on the phone as well

Whenever his phone goes off and it’s not you he automatically deflates, and has on more than one occasion answered the phone and opened up the conversation with ‘you’re not (Y/N), but I guess I have time to talk’ with a big dramatic sigh after

He asks you out the second he has a free day, just begging and hoping you’re also available

And with his oh so good luck, you are!

“How’d I know you’d pick an arcade?” You chuckle as you approach his waiting figure outside the building. Satoru is dressed nicely, but not too much. A smart bomber jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and jeans, not overdressed but more put together than his everyday look. And of course, his signature glasses.

“I have to show you I’m the best at everything.” Opening the door for you, he’s eager to get started on playing some games. “(Y/N), wander around and see what you wanna do first, I’ll exchange some money.”

“Okay.” You’ve given up on trying to pay for things when Satoru is around, he will adamantly refuse. Wandering around the arcade floor between the different machines, your eyes settle on a claw machine, a cute Pikachu plush just sitting there waiting for you.

“Gojo.” You’re bouncing on your heels watching him exchange money, and as soon as he collects all the coins you grab him by the hand and bring him to the claw machine. A light pink tinge paints his cheeks and he doesn’t look away from your hands connected together until you let go and tap on the glass. “Look at this plush! It needs me.”

“Here, try for it.” Putting a generous amount of coins in the machine, Satoru stands next to you and watches as you try to pick it up with the claw several times but fail. The plush doesn’t move at all with any of your attempts, making a frustrated whine leave the back of your throat.

“Pikachu, I love you.” You say, dramatically putting a hand on your heart and looking at the plush.

“Let me try, I’ll get it.” Confidently stepping up to the controller, Satoru smirks and taps the glass. “I’ll get the little guy real easy.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say.” Rolling your eyes, you stand close to him, eyes watching keenly as the claw moves. Grabbing onto the plush, Satoru manages to move it a good few inches towards the opening. “Satoru!” You gasp, grabbing onto his arm as he moves the plush again and it nearly falls in. His cheeks tinge a little when you say his first name.

“Told you.” He could feel himself getting distracted with the way both of your hands are now clinging to his arm, practically hugging it to your body. It only takes two more tries before the plush falls into the opening and the machine lets out a victory noise.

“Awesome!” You’re so excited that you jump a little bit in joy and actually do hug his arm tightly before letting go. Putting the plush in your hands, Satoru watches as you cutely squish it with your hands and smile.

“What other plush do you want? I’ll win them all.”

He did indeed win all the plushies and toys you wanted. He always let you try first, wanting to see if you could do it on your own, but more often than not he proved the title ‘best at everything’ wasn’t just for show.

Moving on from the claw games, you played the other arcade games around. Mario kart, random rhythm games and even scary shooters, Satoru played them all with you. Sometimes he let you win, other times he completely destroyed you. And when something scared you, he was always there to put an arm around your shoulder and protect you.

First confession

You spend far too many hours in the arcade, playing game after game and accumulating an obscene amount of claw game prizes

Gojo doesn’t joke around damnit!

He also forces Ijichi to come and drive you home lol and he sits in the backseat with you, holding your hand and playing with your fingers while you make friendly conversation with Ijichi

Carrying the bag full of plushies to your door, Gojo sets them in the threshold of your apartment before looking back at you

The open door is like a void just begging for Satoru to step into. The soft overhead light you’d flicked on was enough to illuminate a little more of your apartment, and from what Satoru could see it was nicely decorated and smelled like flowers.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” Biting your lip, you look at him for just a moment before looking away again, rocking back and forth on your feet bashfully.

“I did too.” Satoru means it, he’s already planning the next date in his head and the best way to shove his responsibilities onto others so his schedule opens up. Grabbing your hand, he laces your fingers together and holds it up to his chest. “I hope I can see you again soon. I really like you (Y/N).”

“I like you a lot too.” You’re too embarrassed to say anything more, continuing to bite your lip and letting Satoru squeeze your hand. Slowly, the two of you shuffle closer to each other, and Satoru brushes the tips of his fingers along your face, subtly tilting it up so he can kiss you.

Just as he gets close enough to feel your breath, a sharp baby's cry sounds from the apartment next to yours and it makes you jump. There’s shuffling inside and then the door is thrown open and a tired looking man in old sweats comes running out.

“Oh, hi (Y/N)!”

“Hi Mr. Yoo. What’re you doing out?” Turning to him, you try to play off the fact that you were just caught almost kissing in front of your door.

“I realized we’re all out of diapers! I have to go get some stat.” He barely pays Satoru any attention, quickly rushing off with a brief goodbye.

Now the moment had been ruined, you were too far now and you’d pulled your hands away when the door was opened. Stepping into your apartment, you give a lingering look at Satoru’s lips before meeting his eyes.

“Text me when you get home.” You say, and with a soft goodbye you close the door and Satoru leaves.

First kiss

Getting blue balled by a baby was definitely not in Gojos five year plan

He literally can’t wait until you see each other again, he’s obsessing about kissing you

Applies lip balm like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, the man would rather swallow a jean jacket than have you kiss dry lips

Any amount of time apart from you is painful and it’s only made worse when his schedule becomes full, too tightly packed to move anything around

He’s keeping up with you through text and calls but it’s not enough for him, and he lets you know almost every time you call that he wants to be with you, be able to physically touch you and see you

When there’s a little festival in Tokyo and Nobara and Itadori are begging to go, Gojo uses it as a chance to see you again

“Hi everyone!” You’re very excited to meet Satoru’s students. He hadn’t told you he was a teacher, all he said was he exorcised curses.

“Hi!” Itadori is excited to meet you, Nobara is excited to see who’s been taking up all of her teacher's time and Fushiguro is just there, curious about you but too aloof to ask any questions.

“So I take it Satoru teaches you guys how to get rid of those curses and stuff, huh?” Your question floored them, and even Fushiguro was looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N) can see curses.” Satoru steps in, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, I guess I can see a little bit of cursed energy.” Nobara mutters. Truthfully, they were all too busy asking you questions and looking at how pretty you were to notice cursed energy.

“You guys are really brave! Some of those curses are really scary.” Shivering as you recall one you’d seen recently(and texted Satoru about), you point toward the festival stalls. “But you guys probably don’t wanna talk about work, huh? Let’s go get some food, I’ll pay.”

“Sorry (Y/N), we’re under strict orders not to accept your money.” Making an X with his arms, he and Nobara shook their heads.

“Satoru!” Slapping his chest playfully, you start to walk through the festival. “Let me pay for something, you’re gonna go broke at this rate!”

“Nope, not happening.” Keeping you close to him, Satoru makes sure you don’t pay for a single thing. He’d purposefully brought a lot of cash to this knowing that the kids would go absolutely crazy - and that he wanted to spoil you some more to make up for his absence.

As the night progresses, the students get more and more distant. Satoru had briefed them on the way that it was purely a date between you and him and that they were just tagging along and not to stick around for too long.

“This snow ice is so good!” At a more secluded spot at the festival, you and Satoru find a bench to sit at and enjoy the frozen treat he’d bought.

“Feed me.” Opening his mouth, Satoru sticks his tongue out obnoxiously while waiting for you.

“You’re gonna drool on yourself.” You laugh, quickly scooping some up and putting it in his mouth. Holding your hand, Satoru lets the ice fully dissolve before pulling the spoon out. He wants to make a teasing sexual comment, but a loud boom sounds in the sky before he can.

“Fireworks.” He whispers, looking up at the sky as it’s illuminated with bright flashes of light. You let out a noise in awe of the display, and Satoru is suddenly staring right at you. Looking at the way your eyes reflect the light, he can’t stop himself from leaning forward.

“Sa-” Turning your head at the same time he’s about to kiss your cheek, your lips connect. You gasp, and if Satoru hadn’t also been holding onto the snow ice it would have fallen from your hand.

He doesn’t miss an opportunity though, pressing firmly on your lips and tilting his head a little. Your eyes flutter closed, and you pull away for a brief moment to lick your lips before going back in. The sound of fireworks continue to boom above you, continuing to flash light across your closed eyes. It all adds to the experience of kissing Satoru.

“You taste so sweet.” He says when you pull away to breathe, keeping his face close enough that he can rub his nose against yours.

“Shut up.” Satoru can practically feel the heat radiating off your face and it makes him chuckle. Giving you another kiss, he pulls away when the fireworks stop going off. The smile you have on your face warms his heart, his cheeks a light red color to show for it.

“Looks like we’ll need more ice.” Holding up the melting treat, a little pout settles on your lips and Satoru audibly coos.

“I’ll be right back.” Shooting up from the bench, he nearly runs to the stall, already hurting from being apart and eager to get back to you.

[monsteronfire]

Fishing for a Star

type;; One-shot (6.4K words)

pairing(s);; fratboy!JK x older!Reader/OC

genre;; Slice of Life, Smut, College AU

warnings;; Drinking, oral (male receiving), shy!Koo, sub!Koo, slightly dom!Reader/OC, Yoongi being a dumbass voyeur, both parties pining for each other like idiots

a/n;; I feel like it’s been a motherfuckin’ year since I’ve written and posted anything. I honestly started this thing probably a year ago. I just really love the chill college parties trope. Might add more to this, but unlikely. Enjoy my pain as I cry over JK in leather.

edit;; Totally forgot to put a read more tag on here, sorry y’all. I even told myself to fucking do it right as I started the post. Also the pic isn’t mine, got it off Google.

------

“Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing.”

You step out of the way for your housemate, the hoodie you’d picked out momentarily blinding you while you pulled it over your head.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be putting it on.” You say, finally getting it over your head and shaking the hair out of your face. You blink at her half-way-to-getting-ready state, noting in the back of your head how good she looks even now. Her hair is done, wavy and a little disheveled. The shine of the dark strands makes you want to run your fingers through them, knowing they will be soft. Her makeup is half done and she’s dressed only in her underwear, but she’s beautiful all the same. You can tell she’s planning to doll herself up tonight and why shouldn’t she? It’s one of the biggest frat parties of the year and with it being her last year, she’s aiming to have a good time.

“This is a party, (Y/N). At least try and look a little slutty.”

You snort and grin a little, watching her pop her hip out while she eyes you.

“Why is that, baby?” You reply, reaching up to pull a couple of strands of her hair back into place fondly.

“I plan to get laid tonight. I expect you to too, babe.” She snaps, swatting your hand away.

“Sorry, sexy. I’m fishing for something special tonight and it doesn’t require the slutty look.”

“Oh god, not again.”

“What?” You question, turning back to the full length mirror and carding your fingers through your own hair to fix it.

“You’ve been after this boy for three years, (Y/N). He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” She states, walking away from you and back into the bathroom. You’re still smiling when you check one final time to make sure the jeans you’re wearing make your ass look great before leaning against the door frame.

“That was my plan from the beginning. Now I just need to wrap him around mine.”

She snorts, leaning over the sink and closer to the mirror.

“I said three years, didn’t I? If you haven’t bagged him yet, you won’t.”

You pout at her, but are undeterred. You know what kind of person he is and you’re well aware of how much work he had and will continue to take. You could tell he was not a one and done from the first moment you saw him. He would take time, a lot of it and you were willing to put it all in.

“You know how stubborn I can be.” You chuckle at her. She rolls her eyes, but smirks none the less. She knows she can’t say a word to change your mind.

“Whatever. If I catch you two together, I’m telling him to fuck you already.”

You laugh as you walk away, working on gathering what you’ll want to take to the party.

“You sure I’ll even be allowed at this thing?!”

“Are you kidding?! Everyone is invited to this party. The doors are left open so anyone can just fucking walk in off the street!”

You chuckle, grabbing your bag and stuffing your wallet in it. You’d graduated a couple years ago and while most of the seniors would know you, you sometimes felt weird hanging out at a party in the college you’d already graduated from. A girl has to do what she has to do when a baby boy is on the line, though.

And a baby boy he was.

-

“Jae!”

You smile as you and your friend enter the large, old house. The lighting is dim, the music is thumping and all you can smell is alcohol, sex and sweat. There’s noise all around you, but you and your friend weave through the crowd easily. Nearly everyone greets you as you two pass, guys high-fiving you and girls giggling and touching your arms. You bounce to the music as you follow her, the two of you making your way past the front stairs and down the hall. You make a pit stop in the kitchen- Jae grabbing the classic Solo cup and you pulling a bottle of beer from a cooler full of ice- before heading out onto the back deck.

The backyard is just as crowded as the house, people in the pool, people in the gazebo and people littering about the yard and deck. There’s a large bonfire near the back of the yard and a couple other smaller fire pits in random spots. One of them is up on the deck in a small metal  pit, the warm flames surrounded by the very reason you and Jae came tonight.

“There’s our girls!” Namjoon shouts, lifting his can and drawing the attention of the seven other guys around him to you two. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jin all shout in unison as they spot you, Tae standing and pressing a sloppy kiss to your friend’s cheek. Yoongi and Namjoon lift their hands as you get closer and you reach out to slap each one. Jimin stands to press little pecks to first your cheek and then Jae’s. You all greet each other quietly before Jae slides herself into her target’s lap. She’s been after Jin all year and you haven’t been the only person sitting back to watch their game of cat and mouse. Jin is practically an expert at flirting just enough to keep her hooked without giving her what she really wants.

To be young and in lust.

Your eyes finally find the last member of the group, his silence keeping him out of spotlight unless he’s being searched for. He’s already looking at you when you spot him and his eyes dart down to his shoes while he shuffles behind Yoongi and Jimin. He can only keep his eyes off you for a moment before they find yours and he’s trapped. You smile softly at him, taking delight in how his eyes widen a fraction and his pupils grow. He’s holding a Solo cup, the rings on his fingers glinting in the firelight as he deftly squeezes them a bit tighter. He looks good tonight, his dark hair pushed back away from his forehead to show his strong brow. He’s dressed in all black, black t-shirt tucked into black jeans, black boots and to top it all off a leather jacket. He definitely pulled all the stops on you tonight and you have to make a conscious effort not to drool when you stare at him. He looks like a badass and you know every other girl in this joint sees him the same way, but you know the truth.

“Uh-oh,” Jae mumbles into Jin’s ear.

“She’s spotted her target and is locked on.”

You don’t bother listening to her, instead creeping closer to the object of your desire.

“Hey, Jungkookie,” You murmur quietly to him, leaning in a bit closer, but not too close. You had to be very meticulous with him.

“Hey, noona,” he responds shyly and the whole circle of friends is a sniggering mess for a moment. Pink begin’s to dust his cheeks, but you spare him a little and turn to flick Jimin in the back of the head.

“You lot are pretty curious tonight. Weren’t you all having a conversation before we came up?”

They all snigger some more, but quickly go back to bullshitting around the fire, leaving you and Jungkook in peace. You take another step closer to him, half expecting him to maintain the distance between you, but he remains still and lets you get closer. Threes years it’s taken you to get even this close to him, his overtly shy and sweet demeanor keeping him just out of reach of your darker, more corrupted hands.

“You look good tonight,” you comment and his blush darkens in the firelight. He thanks you almost too quietly, quickly bringing the cup of beer he’s holding to his lips to distract himself somehow and it has you chuckling lowly at him. He looks away from you, avoiding your eyes and you can’t stop the fiendish grin on your lips. You finally give him some respite, turning away from him to join in on the random conversation that the group is sharing around the small fire pit.

Finally…

He get’s his chance and takes it without a second thought. He spent years hesitating in such small matters and found himself either missing out or always caught if he didn’t take the chance when it was presented to him. So he learned. Now when you have those few precious moments where your focus is not on him- where you are off guard for just a beat- he gets to watch you instead. Watch the way your eyes glow in the firelight, or the way your hair just barely shifts as a warm breeze lazes by. He takes in your simple outfit, jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing like the rest of the girls at every party he’s ever been to. Your smile moves your whole face, your cheeks rising, you lips splitting and even your eyes squinting shut as you tease Taehyung. His lips quirk a little on their own when he notices that your ears shift a little when you smile as well.

Your lashes are long even without makeup, so much so that the first time he’d ever met you he could have sworn they were fake. But then he caught you tugging on them one afternoon while you told old stories with Namjoon. You did it regularly and had told him you could feel the dead ones coming out, you wanted to get them before they fell into your eyes. A quirk he’d logged away to keep safe for the rest of eternity. The beer in your one hand shifts to the other, the rings on your fingers clinking just loud enough for him to hear over Hoseok’s shouting. A hobby of sorts you shared with Jimin. You two wore the same ring size and often went shopping for new ones together, even swapping every now and again. The free hand moves about in the air as you speak and Jungkook thinks it almost weird now to see someone talk without gesturing with their hands so much. How did one truly immerse another in their words if they didn’t show them how it felt as well? When you were angry- fuming for either your own hardships or for those of a friend- you pointed a lot, your head shaking and your hands slicing through the air to signal how done you were. When you told stories of your adventures with the oldest members of his brothers your hands where always in the air; swiping, rolling, falling and twisting. You painted such a picture with only the movement of your hands when you spoke. They weren’t really dainty, your palms wide and your fingers not very long, but they fit perfectly with his hands. A fact that amazes him, but that he’s grown rather fond of. When you laugh, it’s loud. Not soft, not like the twinkling of bells, but like a song. Loud, but still beautiful and it can range from joyous mirth to deep and rich fondness, the type of feeling that fills your chest with warmth and adoration. That’s the laugh he enjoys the most, that deep chuckle. The one you give to him quietly so just the two of you can hear it.

He wants you. He was confused at first, for a long time. Scared of your mature age compared to him and your strength. He always sees you as strong, even if you don’t think so yourself. You always make him nervous, unsure if he is really worthy of the sweet attention you give him. The quiet whispers just between the two of you, the soft touches, the adoring look in your eyes. He fears all your attention, but he can’t deny now that he wants it- needs it. He can’t go a day without it.

-

The party winds down and you are delighted at the sight of mattresses being brought down and strewn haphazardly across the floor in their living room. When Jungkook finally picks his spot you waste no time in shuffling closer to his mattress. Normally you would keep your distance, allowing him his comfort of solitude to sleep, but you’ve already allowed him plenty of his liberties tonight. You will get something out of this evening if not a simple kiss in the dark. He shocks you by saying nothing as you lay down, your eyes just catching a glimpse of Jae and Jin heading upstairs. Probably to his room to finally earn what she’s worked so hard for. She quickly casts you a thumbs up, a large grin on her face as she tries to keep it unnoticed by anyone else in the room. You return the gesture and chuckle, groaning a bit when you body finally hits the not so comfortable springs. You take a moment to sigh before opening your eyes again and focusing them on the object of your desires.

He’s staring right back at you and your breath catches in your throat, lost in the sea of stars in his eyes. They’re wide and shining, staring so intently at you that you almost don’t take notice to the shine of his lips. Like he’s just licked them a few times. Even in the dim light of the moon that filters in through the windows and the very few lights in the house on you can see them glisten, and your eyes are torn between them and his shining eyes. He looks like a lost puppy staring at you, but there’s more in his eyes. He looks in awe, almost afraid and- dare you say it- a little eager. Like he wants something to happen, but it scares him and that thought alone drives straight to your core. A fire alights inside you and suddenly you’re staring back at him with equally wide eyes, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. The action immediately draws his large eyes to your mouth and fuck if you don’t almost groan when his tongue pokes out to lick nervously over his lips again.

His mouth parts ever so slightly and you swear you can hear him panting a little over the din of people ambling to where they plan to sleep. Someone plops down directly behind you, their back hitting yours as they shift to get comfortable. You’re right on the edge of the mattress, so this person has to be hanging off the one they’re laying on to be this close to you. And by the feel of how broad their shoulders are it’s definitely a man. Your eyes narrow and you almost growl when Jungkook stiffens in front of you and the man knocks against you again. Your head turns just enough to spot the thin, white shirt he’s wearing stretch over one shoulder before you’re shoving back with your elbow. He grunts when you dig into his back, but says nothing else, only leaning away from the discomfort. He’s clearly wasted. Still, he’s too close to you and taking the great opportunity presented before you, you scoot closer to the apple of your eye. He doesn’t shy away and it takes all your effort not to reach out to him when you finally focus back on him.

“Sorry,” you whisper, scooting just a tiny bit closer than you really need to. He shakes his head quietly, mumbling out an ‘it’s okay’ while his body leans closer to yours. God you want to ravage this sweet boy. It’s practically making your heart explode with how cute he’s being right now. He’d looked away in his response, but when he looks back to you he’s dragging his lip through his teeth and you really can’t take it. Again you two are lost in your own little world as you stare at each other.

“Jungkookie… you’re not being very nice to me right now.”

His eyes widen even further- if that’s even possible- and he looks almost stricken at the comment.

“What?” He manages to almost whimper out and you just can’t stop yourself from scooting even closer to him.

“You’re looking at me so sweetly, baby. How am I supposed to play nice with you tonight if you keep staring at me like that?”

You don’t know where all this confidence is coming from. Granted you’ve always been a bit more confident than the young man in front of you, but even still, you never thought you’d get to a degree where you were saying such flirtatious things in such a dominant tone to him.

“Play… nice?”

The glint changes in your eyes and Jungkook visibly shutters at the sight. Your eyes had been so deep and full of adoration just a moment ago, now all he sees is greed and lust. It makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants. Gods he’s been hard from the moment you called him that nickname- Jungkookie. He generally doesn’t like anyone, but the guys saying it. But every time you say it…

He’s almost scared to feel how excited he’s getting every time you scoot a little bit closer. He doesn’t want you to stop. Not until your body is finally pressed to his and he can hold you so tight, and never let go. He’d hoped something would have happened between you two before tonight, but he was always so scared and you were always so cautious with him. He just wants you to ravage him already. He’s dreamed about it practically every night, it might as well happen already.

“Stop,” you suddenly say and he can feel your fingers on his chin, pulling his lip from between his teeth.

“If you lick or bite your lips one more time,” you have to take a moment to calm yourself before continuing, “… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”

He throbs in his jeans and when he locks eyes with you he’s lost. He doesn’t want you to stop, he realizes that now after feeling your fingers touch his skin. Fire ignites where they trace from his chin and along his jaw. He trembles beneath your touch and you can feel it. Oh you can feel it. You do the opposite of what you just told him, biting your lip to draw his eyes to them again as you two gravitate ever closer.

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

He doesn’t speak, he feels like he doesn’t know how to in that moment. He doesn’t trust himself to anyway, so he does the next best thing. He licks his lips again and is rewarded. Your fingers that had been running along his jaw suddenly snake into the hair at the nape of his neck and you pull him close. He is just as needy as you are, his hands which had been fiddling with his shirt the whole time are suddenly flying up to tug your bodies even closer. Your lips crash against his and he whimpers into your mouth when you both open them simultaneously, your tongue dragging along his. It takes all your conscious effort not to moan, your body melding itself against his. His arms wrap around you and squeeze you to him, his whimpers turning into a little moan when you gain dominance in the kiss.

You pull away, one of your hands coming back to his jaw to to place a thumb over his open lips. You turn to look back at the bodies laying around the room, most of the members of the fraternity still down here, all of them passed entirely the fuck out. The guy just behind you is snoring up a storm and you can’t help smirking a little when you turn back to face Jungkook. He looks so fucked out already, his eyes glazed and his pupils blown wide as he pants lightly against your thumb. Your smile is both devious and full of fondness as you stare at him.

“You look so good baby, but you have to be quiet for me,” you whisper to him and he does nothing more than open his mouth wider. His tongue snakes out and licks against your thumb, pulling it in and sealing his lips around the appendage. He suckles on it hungrily and gods be damned if your panties aren’t soaked at this point.

“Fuck,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You want him so bad it almost hurts. He pulls away far enough that your thumb pops from his lips and he whimpers once again, pulling you as close as he can.

“Noona, please,” he says, his breath shuddering.

“Please what, baby?”

He grabs one your hands and pulls it down between your bodies, pressing your palm to the bulge in his jeans. Your breathing deepens when you palm the hardness through the thick fabric, wondering how you didn’t notice it before.

“Oh baby,” you coo quietly and rub your hand heavily over his bulge. He bites his lip to hold back the moan threatening to break free and you feel his hips start to rock into your hand. He’s so fucking hot, how have you been able to resist him for so long?

“How long have to been this hard?”

He takes a moment to respond, trying to take deep breaths. Your hand stalls to help him regain some semblance of sanity, but he seems against the idea. His hand returns to gripping yours, pressing your palm back against his hard-on.

“Long time,” he finally gets out in a clipped tone, probably unable to speak properly at this point.

“Poor thing.”

You pull closer to him, pressing your forehead to his and lowering your voice so that you’re barely audible.

“Take your cock out for me, baby. Please.”

He keeps you close and groans into your neck, only taking a moment to collect himself before he’s pushing away, and his hands are flying to undo his pants. He struggles with the button for a moment, but you don’t help him, only leaning back to watch with excitement. When he finally gets them undone he’s tugging them down just enough so he can freely pull is cock out and gods is it beautiful. Your mouth waters as soon as he has it out, its pink color and red head making you want to feel the weight of it on your tongue. It’s not particularly long, but it’s thicker than you thought it would be and the precum that glistens on his tip calls out to you. You let out a heavy breath when his hands hover just shy of his shaft, trembling and aching to give the poor weeping thing some relief. Still he hesitates to touch himself.

Such a good boy.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you practically wheeze out, finding it hard to breathe when your twitching hand finally reaches out for him. He’s whimpering before you even touch him and you have to remind him to be quiet when the tip of your finger goes to touch the head.

“Remember, baby, keep it down.”

He nods a little shakily and just as you press into the precum on his tip with your finger, his hands are flying up to cover his mouth. He’s so sensitive and you love it.

“Well, you’re certainly aching there aren’t you? Does it feel good to have me touch you?”

Again he nods and you pout, swirling your finger in the sticky fluid at his tip. His eyes clench shut at the sensation and he deftly thrusts his hips up to meet more of your hand.

“Use your words or I’ll have to stop.”

“Yes,” he whispers out harshly, his hands clenching into fists at his stomach, “… yes, yes, yes, yes!”

You smirk, the high you’re getting from all of this driving you to carry on.

“Good boy.”

You continue to swirl your finger over his tip a few more times, widening your circle until you’re sliding your finger down the top of his length, all the way to the base. He pants a little too heavily, his eyes glued to your hand and what you’re doing to him. You circle around his base to the bottom of his cock before dragging your finger back up and rubbing it deftly over the slit a few times.

“Fuck noona-“

“Language, Jungkookie.” You say with a smirk, your hand finally flattening over the underside of his length so you can palm him a few times. His hips rock against his will and meet you half way every time you press down on him. He looks so pretty like this, his eyes nearly black and so focused on how your palm drags over his length. He’s sweating a little, panting a lot and his gorgeous cock is ready to explode at any second. And you’ve barely even done anything to him yet.

“What made you so hard and needy like this?”

He stays silent for a long moment, only answering when the pressure of your hand lightens and you begin to pull away.

“You… you made me like this. You always… make me like this.”

Always?

“Fuck, Kookie, if you had told me sooner we might’ve actually got it in tonight.”

His eyes are glistening at this point as they shoot up to glance at you before scrunching shut when your fingers finally wrap around his shaft. You pump him slowly, but his hips make up for that and keep the sliding of his cock in and out of your hand at a steady pace.

“I wanted to. Fuck I wanted to, but…”

“But?”

He pants a few times, focused more on chasing his high. Your grip on his cock tightens to the point that he’s forced to stop thrusting, only allowing him to continue when he answers.

“I-I was scared. And you were being so cautious with me-“

“Of course I was! I didn’t want to scare you away. I worked too hard for you, I wasn’t going to mess that up by being too greedy.”

His hips stutter and then pause, his eyes opening to look at you. His face is flush, you can tell even in the dark, and his hair is starting to stick to his face. Still he looks like the sexiest, most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Why?”

“What?” You ask, not prepared to be questioned back like this.

“Why did you put so much effort into me. You could’ve easily slept with one of the other guys. Yoongi’s always had the hots for you. So has Tae. Why me?”

You take a long moment to mull over your answer, your other hand coming up to push some of his sweaty hair out of his face. When you get some clear, you lean in to kiss him a little more gently this time. Though it isn’t any less heated, it’s more of a deep sensual kiss than one of hunger and lust. When you pull away, you look him in the eyes when you answer.

“The same reason anyone chooses anyone else. You’re the one I wanted, Kookie. I would’ve put in a hundred years of work if I had to.”

His eyes are wide with adoration and awe, but the moment can’t last forever. His cock twitching in your hand reminds you of what is happening and you squeeze it gently before going back to pumping him. He gasps quietly at the sensation, his eyes falling closed and his body slowly starting to roll backwards. You move with him, pressing your body into his side when he’s finally laying flat on his back. His hands are clenching and unclenching against his stomach, desperate for some kind of anchor. A thought pings into your mind while you watch him grasp sporadically at his shirt, releasing his cock and pushing both his hands and the shirt up his abdomen. He whines at the loss of contact, lifting his head to see why you’d stopped stroking him only for his eyes to go wide. He looks a bit panicked, his gaze darting around to the half dead bodies around you two. You could so easily be caught, but most of the occupants of the house were completely wasted and would likely never remember this even if they did see it.

You slide down his body quietly, stealthily, like a cat taunting its prey into the shadows. Your eyes catch his and they hold him, their mischief so palpable that it makes Jungkook’s mouth go dry and his cock pulsate so fiercely it taps against his stomach. Your one hand trails down his side lightly, nails tickling his hip and thigh so that he’s shuddering beneath you. He reaches for you, one hand cupping your cheek- wants to tell you to stop, but his throat is so dry he can’t even whisper. Or perhaps he’s lying to himself and doesn’t want you to stop at all. When you quirk an eyebrow in question and you feel the object of your desire tap against your throat with another needy pulse, you know the answer is no, he doesn’t want you to stop.

A trembling whisper of your name leaves his lips and you can only smirk, tilting your head down to kiss just above his navel and then to one side of it. Down, down, further you trail, your kisses getting sloppier as you descend closer to your target. Your tongue and teeth leave wet, rosy patches as you go and you can feel his muscles quivering every time you touch him until finally the desperately red tip of his cock is right in front of you. He whimpers beneath you and you shush him gently, unable to tear your eyes away from the way it pulses and twitches up towards you.

“Please,” he finally lets out, sounding much like he’s on the verge of tears. You smirk again and glance up at him through your lashes.

“Please what, baby?”

He huffs cutely, his other hand cupping the other side of your face and his thumbs smoothing along your cheekbones like he’s so desperate to just pull you into his cock, but doesn’t want to be too demanding. You smile a bit more when his look gets more and more frantic, one of your arms reaching up to rub his chest under his shirt soothingly.

“Relax, my sweet star. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“P-please…”

“Go on, baby. I know you want it, just tell me.”

“Please, I want your mouth,” he finally shutters out, but you can’t help yourself and push just a bit more.

“What do you want from my mouth?”

He huffs again and looks away, searching the room to make sure everyone there is truly oblivious.

“I-I want…”

“Want?”

“Please, noona, ravage me with your mouth.”

He looks you directly in the eyes as he finishes and the glee that soars through you practically makes you light headed. You grin broadly at him and bite your lip.

“I’ll give you anything you want, bunny. You just have to ask.”

Before he can really bask in your words you focus back on his cock, the hand that had been trying to soothe him shooting down to wrap gently round his base and lead his head to your waiting tongue. His breath shudders out and his mouth opens to let out a rush of air. The precum leaking from his tip covers your tongue in salt, but you don’t mind, all too desperate to feel the full weight of him at the back of your throat. Still you take your time, only licking at his slit to tease him, another droplet of precum oozing out every time to you do.

He’s panting while he watches you, his hands trembling on your face until one shakily weaves into your hair at the crown of your head. He doesn’t grip or pull, doesn’t try to shove more of his cock into your mouth which is what you’re used to. No, he’s too gentle and sweet to force anything. He only wants and lets you lead the way. When you finally wrap you lips around his tip he can’t hold back the noise, his head falling back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and what he hopes is a quiet moan leaving him. And you can only smirk at the sound, the subtle shudder in his voice making you even more wet and your stomach clench with desire.

You take the time to generously wet the head of his cock, delighting in its twitches while you swirl your tongue around him. When you pop him from your lips the poor thing looks pathetic, practically weeping in your fingers and you feel all too obliged to take him back in. Only this time you take him all in, or at least as much as you can. You suck him all the way to the back of your throat, moaning quietly around his shaft so he can feel the vibrations. And oh does it make him make the most wonderful of sounds. A surprised cry and the slapping of a hand over his mouth (the one that was lightly stroking his fingers along your cheek) has you trying to smile around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-…”

He lets the mantra trail off quietly, his body arched so you can’t see his face anymore. And as much as you adore the sight of him losing control, you’d much rather see the pleasure on said face. You suck harshly and pull off him, letting him once again pop from your lips. You take care to pump him slowly while you speak, you spit slicking his cock enough that there’s little friction.

“Look at me baby.”

It takes him a few moments, but you wait patiently until he realizes you gave him an order and he follows through. He looks a little lost when he finally locks eyes with you, his gaze a little wild like he can’t really see you at first.

“Noona?”

“Are you with me, sweetheart?”

He looks confused, but nods all the same, probably ready to agree to anything at this point.

“Listen carefully, baby. I want you to look at me the whole time. Don’t you dare look away or I’ll stop, okay? Eyes on me.”

He nods deftly, afraid he won’t be able to fulfill your request, but eagerly wanting to please you.

“Good boy.”

You don’t give him any time to prepare himself and suck him back in as far as he’ll go. He wheezes and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, quickly remembering your order and opening them back up to focus on you again. You smirk around his cock to let him know you approve and focus back on your task. When you can’t push him any further down your throat you opt to bob your head, one hand stroking what you can’t swallow and the other massaging his balls. You look up every few seconds to make sure he’s still watching and only have to stop once to make him look at your again. The sloppier his cock and your mouth gets the more he shakes and shudders beneath you, the hand in your hair trembling like a leaf in the wind. He keeps his other hand up by his face, ready to cover his mouth every time he can’t hold back a whimper or moan.

It doesn’t take long, only a few minutes and he’s desperately pleading to you, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I-“

You push him in as far as you can take and swallow around him just once before he’s shooting his load down your throat. Tears form in his eyes when he squeezes them shut and you can’t fault him when his head falls back onto the mattress. He did such a good job of watching you, you’ll let him have this one. When the last of his cum is swallowed down, you take care to gently clean what you can off his cock with your tongue. He shakes and gasps beneath you as you do, his head shaking back and forth as if to say he can’t take anymore. You pop off him one last time and kiss his tip softly, grinning when he finally cracks his eyes open to look at you.

He looks madly in love while he stares at you and it makes you somewhat nervous to see such intense emotion in his eyes. You lift yourself and crawl back up his body, pausing to help him pull his pants back up and his shirt back down. You hush him when he tries to button and zip everything back up, pushing his weak and tired hands away.

“No one will notice, just rest baby.”

“Well that was hot.”

You freeze over him, Jungkook’s body going rigid and his eyes widening with fear. You both look over your shoulder and spot Yoongi a small ways away from the foot of your mattress, laying on his side with his head propped up in one hand. He’s smirking at the two of you and while Jungkook looks mortified, you only feel proud. Now someone has witness that Jungkook is yours and no one else can have him.

“Hyung,” he whispers harshly, both his hands coming up to cover his face. You smile fondly at your boy before looking back to Yoongi.

“Well if you’re good and keep this to yourself, maybe next time you can join us.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow and grins excitedly, Jungkook letting out a panicked noise when you settle in beside him. He whispers to you quietly as if he doesn’t want Yoongi to hear and you only shush him gently to calm him.

“Lay down and rest, bunny. Don’t worry about him, he’ll keep quiet.”

“But-“

“Shh, sleep.”

You run your fingers through his hair until he finally settles down, turning so that he can wrap himself around you and tuck his head under your chin. You chuckle lovingly and continue to pet him, using your free hand to flip Yoongi off when he makes lewd gestures at you in the dark.

[forever-rogue]

116 and 139 from the prompt list with Bucky please

Prompts used: 

116. “I love you a lot,  but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

139. “I thought you were a dream come true.”

A/N: Hello friends! I’m so glad to be writing for Bucky again. I hope you all enjoy! 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Bucky paused as he started at the brass 314 just above the top of the door to your apartment. The delicate gold threading of his vibranium arm glinted in the bright, artificial lighting of the hallway, causing him to pause for a moment as he contemplated walking away and never coming back. But no; that wasn’t him anymore, he wasn’t going to continually run away and lock himself up and shut everyone out in the process. The time for that was over, despite how hopeless it seemed at times.

Besides all of the hesitations and reservations he experienced, you’d never once made him feel small or insignificant or like he was just that Bucky. You’d always managed to see him for who he was, and slowly, over time he worked to shed the layers of worry and fear and let you see him, the real him. The seemingly ever present gloves had come off, followed by his jacket, and every other little barrier he had put up over the years. When he’d first told you who he was, who he really was, he’d watched your face flicker through a series of emotions before a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth and you’d responded with a simple okay. Then you told him everything about yourself; trust wasn’t easy, you’d reminded him that day, and it was a two way street. If he allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to open up to you, you would do the same. 

It was hard to believe that it had been almost four months. In some ways it felt like no time had passed at all, and in other ways he felt like he’d known you for eons. He’d abhorred the concept of online dating, but for once, he was glad he had listened to Sam and Dr. Raynor and hadn’t deleted his profile on the spot. He had been ready to give up until he received the simple notification that you had matched with him and messaged him. Everything after that felt surprisingly...easy. You had proven to be a beacon of bright, brilliant sunlight in the seemingly endless storm. Not that he had told you that...not in those specific words anyway, but he had a lot of other tells that you picked up on.

As soon as he slipped back into reality and he prepared himself to knock, the door opened and he found you beaming at him. 

“Hi James,” his expression softened and any lingering doubt he had about staying was washed away as he held out a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Wide doe eyes met his and suddenly all he could think about was the fact that he really, really wanted to kiss you then and there, but he would save that for later if he felt bold enough to steal a kiss or two, “they’re beautiful! What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” he insisted, stuffing his hands into his pocket as was customary, offering a shrug of his shoulders, “I saw them when I was walking over and I thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you promised, a gentle hand on his forearm as you pulled him inside, “come on. And no hands in pockets! Not around me anyways.”

“Right,” he reminded himself with a light grimace as he stepped in and closed the door before shucking off his jacket and hanging it on your coat rack. Your apartment was small, not much bigger than his, but much more homey - he always enjoyed the warmth and comfort it provided. The whole place smelled delicious, and judging from the small mountain of dishes in the sink, he could see that you had been working away for some time. An odd, warm, sensation bubbled him in stomach as he trailed after you, noting the music you had on in the background. He made a mental note to ask you about the artist later as he was still getting a grip on what was popular...Sam wouldn’t let go of that one.

“Beer?” you nodded in the direction of the fridge as he sauntered over and made quick work of grabbing two bottles out. He set one down for you before studying you intently as you stirred the pot of pasta sauce. You’d noticed that about him, he was quiet, and aloof, always analyzing everything. But you relished into it too - when silence fell over the both of you it was never awkward or uncomfortable. You turned to him, a smile on your face as you raised an eyebrow at him, “what? Is there something on my face?”

“N-no,” he answered quickly as he took a swig of what he already deemed as liquid courage, “it’s just...how did you know I was at the door?”

You snorted at his question, barely able to contain a fit of giggles as it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at you. But god, did he love hearing that laugh; even if you thought it was a silly question, it was worth it just to hear your amusement, “really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Yeah,” he grinned back at you, “out with it.”

“Well,” you clinked the neck of your bottle against his before taking a long drink, “you’re always early, never more than ten minutes, but always at least five, from our planned time. You have a particular walk, not loud but not soft...just you. I dunno, but it’s distinct. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Plus I heard you and then you didn't knock, so I had to make sure you weren’t having some sort of ...panic out there. And maybe I was just really excited to see you.”

“Excited to see me?” he was incredulous. He wasn’t sure when someone had last told him that.

“I’m always excited to see you, James,” you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching over and gently putting your hand on his cheek. And he practically keened into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the tenderness so you openly displayed, “oh! I almost forgot, will you grab a vase for the flowers so I can get them in water?”

“Of course,” he agreed. Of course he was ready to do almost anything for you, “one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you call me Bucky?” he kept his gaze trained on the vase as he pulled it from the cabinet and filled it with water. For some reason he was almost nervous to hear your answer. 

“You told me that only your family or friends called you Bucky,” you reminded him as he answered with a simple nod, “so I figured it was something earned, something that I should only call you if you trusted me enough to know you in such an intimate manner. I-I didn’t want to overstep your boundaries either. W-would you like it? If I called you Bucky?”

His throat felt tight and his heart constricted as he listened to your words. For once it wasn't a cloying, negative feeling but one he...enjoyed. How very odd. A silence fell over the kitchen as he arranged the flowers in their new home and you finished dinner. For the briefest second did you think you’d said something wrong, but after he set the flowers on the dining table, he turned to and nodded, a slow, sure thing, “yes. Please - call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you repeated softly, grinning from ear to ear to as you pulled out the loaf of bread to prep to throw into the oven to turn into garlic bread, “my Bucky.”

The singular use of the possessive might have been lost on you, but it most definitely wasn’t lost on James Buchanan Barnes. He gripped the edge of the table so tightly, he was surprised it didn’t break. Collecting himself for a moment, he came back over to you and offered to take the garlic and press to assist you in your little venture.

You were quick to playfully swat his hand away before nudging your hip with his, “I’ve got it. You go ahead and start getting plates and stuff ready.”

“Come on, I can totally help,” he insisted as you brandished the press at him, “how hard is it? You’ve done everything!”

“Nuh huh,” you insisted, “remember the first we had dinner at yours? You almost burnt the kitchen down because you didn’t pay attention. Not happening - I love you a lot, but please stop trying to cook me dinner, you suck.”

“I-I do not suck,” his mouth ran dry as he gaped at you like a fish out of water. How easily the words had spilled from your mouth, without a second thought, without hesitation. He wondered if you’d even realized what you said, “I...umm-”

“Oh,” it was then that realization hit you and your face felt warmer than it ever had, “Bucky, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to say that...out loud. I’m sorry, please don’t...I’m sorry. I don’t want to seem too forward.”

‘Y-you love me?” a dark pink flush rose in his cheeks as you chose your next words carefully. You didn’t want to lie to him and backtrack on your declaration, but you didn’t want to drive him away either. Instead you settled on a small squeak and a slight nod, “I can’t even remember the last time someone told me that. Or the last time I felt that for someone else too. It’s been a long time.”

“Things haven’t exactly been easy or normal for you, Bucky,” you laughed lightly as he came closer and left only a minuscule amount of space between your bodies. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his body as it took every fiber of your being not to throw yourself at him then and there, “but you deserve kindness and love as much as anyone else, if not more so. You are a good man Bucky, despite what some people want to believe and despite what your mind tells you sometimes. The last few months with you have been...the most wonderful. You’ve made me so happy. I hope to be able to give you even a fraction of that in return.”

“You have made me happier than I thought I deserved to be,” he admitted as it became your turn to take a step closer. If you leaned in now, your lips would almost brush his. And god, you wanted to kiss him - until you were breathless, until it was the only thing you knew. The two of you had taken it slow, upon requests from both of you - Bucky for the obvious reasons and you after a very rough break up. It hadn’t been much more than sweet kisses and honeyed whispers, but he meant so much to you. You liked how things were progressing, but you couldn’t deny you would always take more, however much he was willing to give you, “when I first saw and met you, I thought you were a dream come true. Like you really couldn’t be real, or even like me, but here you are."

“I don’t really plan on going anywhere,” you promised, inching that much closer, your face almost touching his, “I hope you’re not either. Because I kind of...really like you.”

“M-may I kiss you?” he brought his hand to your face while his vibranium arm settled on your waist. It was an odd tango, one he was still trying to work out to see what felt right, normal. It had been a long, long, time since he’d held someone this way. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you carded a hand through his hair, playing with a particularly wild bit at the nape. You wanted nothing more than this, than him. It was such a simple act, and yet so saccharine and intimate when it was the two of you. It was an act of trust, an act of intimacy, and so much more. 

“Please,” you beamed him before he closed the distance and kissed you. And this time, he really kissed you, like you were the only thing sustaining him, the only thing he wanted or needed - a fresh breath of life. Plush lips were delicate and soft again yours, but hungry and yearning as though nothing could ever be enough. When you chanced a breath of air, you nuzzled your nose against his and softly whispered his name, “Bucky.”

“I don’t know if I can say it yet,” he swallowed thickly as you knew immediately what he was indicating. You cupped his cheek before tracing over his features, “I…”

“I know,” you promised as you met his eyes. They were so soft and gentle; this was perhaps the most relaxed you’d seen him. At your words he seemed to melt into your touch as a soft sigh escaped him, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m all in.”

“Me too,” he promised, “me too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @queenbbarnes  @persephonesnebula   @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander  @rae-gar-targaryen    @hiscyarika  @readsalot73  @huliabitch  @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd  @beepbeepsephy   @scarlettwitcher  @nerdyknightwritersblog  @choicesarcade  @arrowswithwifi  @everythingaboutnothingstuff  @suckerfor-fanfics  @bestintheparsec @javihoney  @aeryntheofficial  @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial  @asgardianvamp21  @keithseabrook27  @karmezii  @dearspacepirates  @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou  @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian @phoenixhalliwell @lucifer @cosmoschick @kochamcie @linkpk88 @leaiorganas @nikkixostan @haley-the-comet @chibi-yuki @computeringturtle @4ng3lf43 @intu-witch-tion @wondergal2001 @gingerbreadandpaper @willowtheewisp @milkxxkookies @smollpinkgirl @zukoyonce  @boomtownboy @velia27 @discowitchyy