#Stars and the moon the first and word refresh

[bookofmac]

All Dave Malloy knows is fairytale motif, mental illness, video game, crunchy chords, drink booze, sad lesbians, write canon and send me into a State

[bvidzsoo]

Every time I see you...chapter 1 ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Warning: none ☆ Word count: 5.3k ☆ Rating: sfw ☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, fluff ☆ Summary: There was nothing exclusive between the two of you, but somehow you didn't mind being in Mingi's arms, in his presence. A day spent well gets rewarded by a movie night with the person you're the most fond of.

☆ Visuals ☆ 

M.list

A/N: And so, the first chapter is here! It's a slow ease into their relationship, it will pick up as we proceed, I promise. I hope you find it intriguing, let me know what you thought of this part, I'm curious to hear your opinions! I think this is very different from what I usually write, but soft!Mingi is so dear to me that I sob anytime I write for this series LMAO. The Mingi from this story is canon Mingi, and you can't convince me otherwise lol. Next chapter coming next week around this time! ^^ Check out the vision board I made for this story, as well as Giselle's Dopamine song! Taglist is open for the story! Enjoy! ^^ divider

Taglist: @spicxbnny @hongjoongspoetry

🎧 𝘭 𝒹𝜎𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝛼 𝓂𝛼𝑛, 𝒿𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝛼𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝜎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 / Ⴘ𝑒𝛼ℎ, 𝑦𝜎𝑢 ℓ𝜎𝜎𝑘 𝑠𝜎 𝑔𝜎𝜎𝒹 𝑠𝑡𝛼𝑛𝒹𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑒𝘹𝑡 𝑡𝜎 𝓂𝑒 / 𝛮𝑒𝘹𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝘭 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝐷𝜎𝑝𝛼𝓂𝑖𝑛𝑒 / 𝘊𝛼𝑛’𝑡 ℓ𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢 𝑐ℓ𝜎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝜎 𝓂𝑒 🎧

            The scent of ground coffee was potent as the grinder disturbed the otherwise serene atmosphere of the modest coffee shop, located in the heart of the city, right under a publishing company. Thus, it was famous among bookworms, office workers, or high school students who loved to skip their last class of the day, the school was located just a bit further up on the street. I loved this area because it was always busy, littered with people and various shops on both sides of the boulevard, housing hidden gems and other popular hot spots like the Moon & Stars Coffee Ground coffee shop that Mingi worked at part-time. His back was turned to me as he worked the coffee grinder, his exposed biceps bulging as he screwed the top of the lid back shut, finally stopping the grinder. Silence fell upon the coffee shop once again, giving way to the quiet jazz music playing through the speakers. Mingi had the opening shift today, the shop wasn’t opened yet, but I had a few privileges by being his friend, so, I was allowed in as long as I helped with dusting the tables off and changing the flowers which were withering away in the small, cute, orange vases placed on top of each round table.

The coffee shop was an explosion of colours, the walls painted a deep green with low-hanging retro chandeliers that gave the place a moody vibe even during the day. Plants weren’t scarce either, giving the air inside a much-needed refresh from the polluted air coming from the outside. Abstract paintings hung on the wall from artists even I didn’t know, and the counter I was leaning against was a deep maroon, sturdy and able to withhold a few splashes of the drinks placed atop it. A few delicacies were displayed in the window to my left, most of them were still being baked in the kitchen located straight behind the counter, and I picked at the leaf of the small plant absentmindedly as Mingi’s silver rings collided against the shaker he used to combine different coffee grounds. The sun was just rising on the horizon, coating the inside of the coffee shop in an orange hue, a single sunray falling onto Mingi’s dark brown hair, making it appear lighter than it was. I continued watching him in silence, my eyes still heavy from having woken up not even an hour ago.

The world was still quiet outside, but those who started their jobs early or had to travel longer were out and about, all quiet and not bothering each other as they walked down the sidewalks. The coffee shop had half an hour before it would open, and by that time I would be gone, headed to the store I worked at. We were lucky that our workplaces were relatively close to each other, if we were in a hurry, we could make the walk last roughly ten minutes. The thought of having Mingi just around the corner was comforting for some reason, perhaps knowing that if I texted him that I needed him for something, he’d come running around the corner brought a sense of security with itself. I was used to having Mingi by my side, ready to drop everything if I needed his help or assistance with something. He was a good friend, dependable and trustworthy, loyal beyond what could be considered healthy. I smiled as Mingi lightly swayed his hips to the music, the dark green apron tied around his waist accentuating the tininess of it. The sweet scent of salted caramel made saliva gather in my mouth, and I knew Mingi’s intention before he had even turned around.

“You haven’t dozed off, sleepyhead?” He asked with a chuckle, his voice quiet and a deep rumble in his chest. It had always been like that, gravely with a rasp to it, yet warm in tone and used with gentleness. Mingi wasn’t the type of person to shout, perhaps if he got too excited his voice would raise a few octaves as he was carried away by his exhilaration, always eager to share it with someone as his eyes sparkled like the stars on a clear stary night.

“Not yet,” I answered, chin resting in my palm as Mingi leaned his hip against the counter, searching for the right lid for the cup he held, “It would be a bit difficult while standing up, I’m not like you.”

That made Mingi chuckle as he threw me an amused glance, his heavy and sharp eyes friendly as they crinkled at the ends. He found the right lid for the cup and placed it on top of it, pressing down thrice to make sure he had placed it on correctly. Then, he slowly pushed the warm container towards me and I smiled, accepting the coffee wordlessly. Our fingers brushed together and I felt a rush of warm tingle through my hand, making my smile widen as did Mingi’s, his eyes becoming smaller with the action.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I raised the sweet coffee to my lips, taking a cautious sip since it was still hot. Mingi hummed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and his taut chest muscles pulled at the form-fitting white tee he wore. It was warm inside the coffee shop, but I wondered how his exposed arms weren’t covered in goosebumps yet. My cardigan was warm, yet I didn’t look forward to when I’d have to step outside into the crisp morning air once again. Mingi’s necklaces were nicely layered, his outfit simple but put together with a good eye for fashion, “Did you forget your glasses at home once again?”

Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and he reached up with a hand to touch the bridge of his tall nose, having to check physically that his glasses were missing or not. I shook my head with amusement as I took a small sip of the salted caramel-infused drink, “Seems like you are the sleepyhead.”

“No, it’s here,” Mingi argued, leaning down and reaching forward, arm getting lost in the counter as he felt around for his glasses. His thick eyebrows furrowed, and from his position, they framed his eyes, making his already sharp features sharpen even more. He liked wearing his hair brushed back and out of his eyes lately, the length not quite ready to require a cut, but annoying enough to make Mingi complain about it every once in a while, “See?”

He stood up straight, his height almost intimidating as he leaned forward, shaking the glasses in front of my face before he wore it, the rim thick, boxy, and black. The shape suited his face and softened the intimidating features he was born with, making him look cute. I reached forward, hip digging into the counter, to push the glasses further up on his nose because he had a habit of looking above the glasses instead of through like he was supposed to. Mingi pouted at the action but leaned into my touch, his plush lips jutted out reminding me of our adolescent days when he was nothing but a sulky boy, hating his round-rimmed glasses and always complaining about his school uniform, which didn’t fit him because it was a hand me down. It had taken a few years of maturing for Mingi’s muscles to grow out, strengthened by Pilates, his guilty pleasure as he liked saying. The few classes I accompanied him had me convinced that Pilates was invented for those who craved to have their muscles burning for days, a sort of masochism that I found no joy in.

“You should wear it more often,” I noted, raising an eyebrow as Mingi playfully rolled his eyes, “before your eyesight worsens, of course.”

“Right,” He mock-saluted, leaning just a bit over the counter to be closer to my face, “You’re starting to sound more like my mother each day, Y/N, it’s a bit freaky.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, reaching out to flick his forehead, but he knew me too well and dodged my inoffensive attack in time. But before I could retract my arm, he grabbed my wrist with his large hand and brought it down to the counter, gently keeping it in place as his larger hand caged mine against the surface. It was a small effort to make physical contact and I didn’t hate it, I rather enjoyed the small moments of intimacy we could share freely when it was just the two of us. Mingi was an affectionate person, he didn’t shy away when he needed a hug or just a little bit of support, arms wide open and eyes soft as he batted his long eyelashes at you. I hummed and basked in the peace that enveloped us around, something we both enjoyed on quieter days. There was no need for loudness or boisterous behaviour, we already knew who the other was, and there was no need to show off anything.

“Let me play the role of a concerned mother for a bit longer, then,” Mingi snorted, glancing at the clock on the wall to make sure he didn’t keep the coffee shop closed for longer than the program said, “Did you start your research on your final coursework?”

Mingi liked to stay ahead of his assignment deadlines, but sometimes laziness got to him like to any other person. But he hated having to hurry and half-ass his work so that rarely happened. Unless he was loaded with coursework, his assignments would be handed in weeks before their deadline.

“Yes and no,” Mingi sighed, his soft fingertips gently tracing my skin, “I’m supposed to meet with my coordinator this week so that we agree on a subject, I have too many ideas to choose from and I know he’s not fond of research that goes past the twentieth century.”

I nodded, taking a larger sip of my coffee, I could already feel it rejuvenate me, the sleep was gone from my eyes and my body felt less sluggish. It’s a wonder I even managed to get out of bed today, “And let me guess, you want something that deals with the nineteenth century, huh?”

“You know me too well,” Mingi chuckled with a shake of his head, taking his hand off mine as he reached out, swiping his thumb over the corner of my mouth. I looked down at my cup of coffee and ignored the skip of my heartbeat, my cheeks feeling a bit warmer than before, “Maybe I’ll manage to convince him, who knows…what about your day? Do you have a lot of work to do?”

“Not that much, we got three commissions this weekend for five pieces, I’m hoping to get the larger necklace done today,” I answered, glancing at the clock on the wall, and realised I’d have to leave in five minutes if I wanted to make it to the store before it opened.

“You’re always quick, I’m not worried about it.” Mingi winked with a bit of a struggle and I smiled, humming because I knew he was right. I had been making jewellery for a long time now, I was becoming faster and faster at crafting lately, it was rather a blessing since we could have plenty of orders coming in on busier days.

“I’m going to go now,” I said as I grabbed my bag off the floor, throwing it around my shoulder as Mingi nodded, grabbing the keys to come and unlock the entrance door for me, “Are you coming over tonight?”

“Yeah, want me to bring anything?” Mingi asked as he came around the counter and linked our pinkies together while we walked to the door. I quickly did a mental check if I had everything we’d need for our movie night, then remembered that I was out of popcorn…the most important snack of the night.

“Buy some butter-flavoured popcorn, I forgot to grab some yesterday.” Mingi nodded as he unlocked the door, playfully tugging on my pinkie when I went to open it. I glanced back with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, looking down to the floor like a kicked puppy. I chuckled and squeezed his pinkie back, pulling my hand away as I finally pushed the door open, “Don’t pout, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Mingi hummed as he came to the door and leaned against it as I exited, giving me a small smile, “See you, have an easy day.”

“You too, Mingi.” I waved before turning around to head down the street, which was slowly filling up with cars and people as the city awoke, the sun higher in the sky. I could feel Mingi’s eyes on the back of my head, and I didn’t have to turn around to know he’d stay in the doorway, watching me until I crossed the crosswalk and turned the corner, disappearing from sight. The thought of having someone who cared for my safety and looked out for me wasn’t too bad, but I thrived on my independence and wouldn’t have struggled if Mingi wasn’t so sweet to look out for me. Even so, the lingering warmth in my chest due to his attentiveness wasn’t too disheartening.

            By noon, the city had fully awoken and was bustling with restless people going on about their day. The jewellery store I worked at was on a side street, so, we were away from the rambunctious traffic and the impatient drivers that honked their car’s horns at the smallest inconvenience. That didn’t mean, however, that our store was one filled with quiet and calm, it was quite the opposite if our clients proved to be teenage girls looking for beaded friendship bracelets, or colourful rings with gemstones of which attributes they didn’t know about so they asked me or my boss, who was a lovely lady in the forties. She had untameable ginger hair and fiery red lips, her earrings always colourful hoops and her outfit the colours of the rainbow. She was full of energy and life, filling the shop with her radiance much like the sun filled our hearts on a cold winter day. I loved working with her, she saw beauty in everything and offered anyone a chance when they felt useless or good for nothing.

Her store, much like herself, mirrored the same brightness its owner carried. The walls were a light orange with yellowy rays painted on the opposite wall to the entrance, mimicking the warm sun beaming down on Earth through the clouds. Wooden shelves were set up across from the front desk, framing the walls with quirky designs that held the handmade jewellery we worked on day, and sometimes even at night. The floorboards were a rusty copper, and much to everyone’s surprise upon a first encounter with the store, a gorgeous Persian carpet was laid down with intricate design that just brought the aesthetic of the whole place together. The back room was small and hidden behind a beaded curtain right behind my back, offering a perfect escapade when the day was getting too long and the customers were too demanding. Incense always burned, coating the store in a woody scent that felt refreshing but sometimes nauseating if my boss left it on for too long, the ceiling fan thankfully dispersed the strong scent evenly.

The store wasn’t huge, but it felt inviting even upon one glance, and our customers felt cared for whenever they entered and we listened to their requests closely. Having landed this job was just as random as me deciding one day that I wanted to attend a Fine Arts course, focusing more on crafts and clay making. The few vases I had designed were displayed on the higher shelves where it was harder to reach and accidentally break them, my boss was more than happy to sell those too in her store. We both contributed with a little something of ours to the store and that’s why it worked out so nicely, just two fundamentally different people who enjoyed the same arts were brought together to attempt to make something beautiful and long-lasting.

I was tying the knot to the custom-made bracelet one of the teenagers had asked for when her friend walked up to the front desk, eyebrows furrowed and phone in her hand. She held two crystals in her palm, looking at them sceptically.

“Which one is the rose quartz?” She asked, her voice loud and a little rough as she let the crystals fall onto the glass counter. I glanced down at them and pointed at the clearer one on the left.

“That’s a clear quartz, the other one,” My burgundy nail pointed at the pinkish crystal, “is the rose quartz. Which one are you looking for?”

“Rose quartz,” She answered quickly, pushing at the rose quartz with narrowed eyes, “Is it true that it attracts love? Will I find a boyfriend if I wear it all the time?”

“Depends, are you a Taurus or Libra?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair, my boss was on her break and, meanwhile, she knew more about crystals, I had learned this and that from her throughout the years I’ve worked here.

“Not really…” The girl muttered as she shared a look with her friend, who had taken the bracelet I made for her to try it on. The strings I used were yellow and brown, a nice combination of colours, personally not my favourite, but it worked well with her complexion and it was also what she had asked for.

“Well, I heard it’s better if you have Venus in your chart if you want to wear a rose quartz,” I hummed, looking up at the ceiling in thought before I shrugged, “Rose quartz is good for emotional healing too, not just attracting love. But if you think it will help, you could try it out…”

“Do you believe it works?” The girl asked, her eyes just slightly widening. I chuckled, deciding to be honest with her.

“No, but that’s just me. Maybe it’ll work for you.” The girl just nodded, looking at her friend for another opinion. She just shrugged and told the girl to do whatever she wished. Their third friend walked up to the counter and told them that she wouldn’t buy anything today, so they could head out if everyone was ready to leave.

“I’ll buy it.” The girl said as she placed the crystal on the counter and I nodded, grabbing a small plastic wrap for her to store it in until she got home. I scanned the items and told the two girls the price of their purchase, watching them with amusement as they left the store in a hurry, words leaving their mouths in a hurry before they were even out of the store. I settled back into my chair and grabbed my bottle of water to take a gulp, my fingers aching just slightly from the various jewellery I had managed to make until now. The shop was rather busy today and my boss was excited as she whirled around, helping customers out with choosing items for themselves or as gifts.

My phone pinged before I could reach for it, and Mingi’s name lit up my screen as I unlocked it. I tapped on our messaging app and opened our conversation, gasping quietly when I was presented with a picture of a black and white spotted cat, emerald eyes staring curiously into the camera, head tilted to the side in wonder. Its ears were pointed backwards and I could practically hear Mingi cue at it. He loved kittens more than anything and had always wished to buy one, but he thought he was too busy right now to care for another little life besides his.

Mingi: Look how cute she is!! I’ve been feeding her for two weeks now, I’m 100% sure she knows who I am. I’ve named her Genie, isn’t she just so adorable? Me: Man, she really is adorable! I wish she was around when I’m at the shop, pet her in my place too! Genie because she grants wishes?

Mingi: Not more adorable than me, right?? I bet she’d love you too…but I’m her favourite, I just know it. I wanted to name her Greenie at first, but that felt weird. Genie, however, isn’t too bad. No reason for why I gave her that name, though… Me: I think she might be more adorable than you, Mingi… Wait until she meets me, you won’t be her favourite anymore, mister… Your mind sometimes is a mystical place, Mingi, I wonder what goes on inside of it

Mingi: Well, right now I’d like to be in your arms sitting on the couch or something… Something like…being the little spoon because I fall asleep faster when you wrap yourself around me… That’s what I’m thinking about right now instead of making sure I don’t burn the next batch of apple pies, do you want me to put some aside for tonight? Me: You are so cheesy, Mingi, anyone else would block you… I knew you liked being the little spoon, now I even have receipts of it, hah! I had muffins yesterday, so no thank you! Now stop texting and focus on your work, man. Mingi: Right, see you later, woman. Muawh

I chuckled and shook my head, setting my phone to the side with a smile on my face as I opened the new email we had gotten while I was texting Mingi. Seems like the week just started and we’d barely have any time to breathe between all these commissions.

            My living room was covered in darkness aside from the flashing lights of the TV, the movie playing at an acceptable volume to not disturb the neighbours or deafen us. The blanket was fluffy and draped over our legs, mine pulled underneath me while Mingi’s were propped up on the coffee table. His legs were long enough to reach it if stretched out, and I might have envied him for that for a long time. Our hands were intertwined underneath the blanket and placed on Mingi’s thigh, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against my knuckle every once in a while. Our shoulders brushed together and I would shift around from time to time, to try and keep my ass from going sore. Mingi, on the other hand, had no issue keeping his initial posture for hours on end. The blackout curtains were drawn together to offer us privacy since I only lived on the second floor, and the butter-flavoured popcorn Mingi had brought had been long eaten.

We had been watching the movie in silence for over an hour now with the occasional commentary coming from Mingi about how cool Captain America was. No matter how many times we’ve seen this movie, it never got old or boring. Perhaps it was Chris Evans’ face that made the viewing more pleasurable, alongside Scarlett Johanson, but we were both pretty hooked on the plot despite knowing what came next. There were small easter eggs that we hadn’t noticed before, so there was always something new that one of us accidentally discovered during our rewatches. I felt warm all cosied up next to Mingi, a bit even sleepy as his familiar cologne eased my tense muscles after the long day I’d had. My wrists were sore from all the crafting at the store today, I had even brought home a bracelet that I had to finish for tomorrow. I was too tired to work on it now, but I could thankfully get it done in the morning in thirty minutes.

As if Mingi had read my thoughts, he grabbed my wrist with both hands and slowly started rubbing it, creating heat and gently massaging the tense muscles of my hand. I smiled and playfully grabbed at his fingers, making him chuckle under his breath as the Winter Soldier appeared on the screen for the first time, the car the characters had been using now nothing but a mess of scrapes. I could see Mingi angle his body towards mine from my peripheral, and he licked his plump lips before he cleared his throat.

“I’ve been thinking…” He started quietly, his forehead slightly creasing as his eyes bled into the side of my head. I turned my head away from the TV, familiar with the scene already. The light lit up Mingi’s face, his glasses creating a tiny shadow over his face as I raised my eyebrows at him to prompt him to continue, “So, we’ve both been working hard, and I could use a vacation before my last exams come up. I know I should be studying, but at this point, I feel like I could recite any textbook you hand me, I really need a break. You’ve also been working a lot, and you didn’t take vacation off last year, so…”

I hummed, curious as to where this was headed, “So?”

“Let’s get away for a few days, I’ve been looking for a nice little cabin somewhere in the mountains. Not too far though, I know you don’t like long car rides.” Mingi grabbed my other hand and started massaging that one too, making me sigh in contentment as my hands now tingled with warmth, the tenseness gone from them.

“Just the two of us?” I raised an eyebrow, the idea actually sounded appealing. I could use a break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

“Yeah, just us.” Mingi nodded, smiling a little as I contemplated his offer for a second. I would have to visit my mother before we left, and I’d have to let my boss know in time, but other than that, it sounded like a plan to me.

“Sure, I’d love that.” I smiled and Mingi’s eyes lit up, fingers intertwining with mine as he squeezed our hands together. I chuckled at his excitement and let my eyes run over his face, taking in the softness in his eyes and the curve of his gorgeous mouth. Something in my gut coiled as my hands continued tingling with electricity, and I licked my lips as I leaned forward, eyes set on Mingi’s parted lips. He mirrored my actions and leaned forward, closing the distance between us confidently. His lips were warm as always and faintly tasted like the marshmallows he kept stuffing himself with not even half an hour ago, another guilty pleasure he seemed to have. This one, however, I could understand and even support.

Our bodies leaned closer as I raised my free hand to hold his jaw, tilting his head slightly back so that our lips pressed together a bit firmer. Kissing him always brought a wave of excitement, an electrifying spark running up my spine as our lips moved languidly, taking their time since there was no reason to hurry. He was sweet and gentle even with his kisses, always allowing me to set the pace as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, his long nose digging into my cheek. Mingi wasn’t a messy kisser but he had never shied away from a little saliva, and there was nothing he loved more than tracing his tongue against mine, sucking on it to deepen the kiss even more as he brought me halfway into his lap. Our hands parted as I grabbed his shoulder and swiped my tongue against his, a content sigh catching in the back of Mingi’s throat as his hand pressed into the small of my back, warm and burning through the fabric of my thin blouse. I could never get tired of his lips, sometimes kissing Mingi was so disorienting that we’d lose track of time, our lips almost as if glued to each other.

Inhaling through my mouth, I let Mingi press small kisses to my chin and mouth, muttering something I couldn’t understand before I captured his lips again, adding just a bit more passion into it as I felt a suffocating emotion build in my chest, heavy and demanding as if having Mingi like this wasn’t good enough. I had always craved more despite having everything I could ask from him, it seemed that I hadn’t been fully satiated just yet. It was a peculiar feeling, but I couldn’t ignore the fire and knot in my stomach anymore as he lapped at my tongue, his fingers gently holding my jaw as if he was afraid I’d slip away. Tonight was a slow evening, I was content with being in his arms, content in wrapping myself in a cocoon of safety that helped me forget the hardships the day had brought with itself. Pulling apart, I pressed a chaste kiss against his swollen lips and cradled his cheek, feeling how warm it was. Before I could completely pull back and sit back next to him, Mingi grabbed my arm as he readjusted himself on my spacious couch, opening his legs up so that I could sit between them. I climbed over his leg and settled down, adjusting the blanket around us so that it would keep his legs warm too as Mingi’s arms wrapped around my torso, nose nuzzling into my nape as he exhaled loudly.

“Do you think Natasha and Steve should’ve ended up together?” He asked quietly, mumbling it into my skin, and I laughed, looking back at the TV.

“I think they were too different for it to work out, and Steve was still in love with Peggie,” I answered truthfully, watching Chris Evans lean against the doorframe in nothing but a muscle white tee, a few bruises here and there, jeans, and a white towel to clean his hands in.

“I think Natasha would’ve been able to show him a new world, I wanted them together.” I didn’t have to look to know that Mingi was pouting, I could hear it in his voice.

“You say that every time we watch this movie.”

“Right, my thoughts won’t change on a random afternoon.”

I chuckled as silence fell upon us once again, wrapped around in the blanket and Mingi’s warmth, with his arms around my body, I felt the safest. It was a weird feeling that never developed into something I could completely understand, but there was something about Mingi’s presence that made me feel at ease, like the earth outside us would keep on turning around its axis and we wouldn’t miss out on anything because here, in each other’s arms, we had everything we needed. It was something I had never felt with anyone else, not even with my ex-boyfriend I thought I would end up marrying. There was something so gentle about the silence between Mingi and me, the understanding without spoken words, the warmth of a simple caress, the reminder that we were there for each other by the simplest things only made my chest tighten as the TV screen blurred, making me wonder whether I had gotten teary-eyed or just extremely sleepy.

Here in Mingi’s arms, in a dark living room lit up by the movie that we were watching for the nth time, I wondered if I could ever again trust that love existed, trust that there was indeed a person that was yours, meant to be with you without hurting you. I wondered if Mingi ever thought about it, if he wondered where his person was. Perhaps he didn’t care about such things and that’s why he wasted his days away by my side, smiling from ear to ear with glimmering eyes full of hope and something I could never truly understand. I grinned when I felt his feet rub against mine playfully, it was his way of letting me know that he wasn’t so lost in the movie that he wasn’t aware of me anymore. I sighed and relaxed into Mingi’s body, letting the doubtful thoughts and feelings simmer in a deep cavern of my heart for the rest of the evening.

 >> next chapter

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[cynosdaydream]

knight!sylus x royalty!reader sneaking away into the garden to shower each other in affection

ROYAL UNDERCOVER!

When the world gets too loud, your loyal knight will always be there to save you.

Now playing: Moon - The Cab

Word count: 1.4k Author's Note: Here you go! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out, my mid-term exams just finished. This is totally not proof read as I am looking at my computer screen through blurry eyes at 12am, so feel free to dm me if there are any errors. enjoy :) Desc: knight!sylus x royalty!reader, fluff, escaping from royal bums, dancing under the moonlight type shit, nothing much really it's just fun teasing n happy stuff yayy

The atmosphere in the foreign ballroom was suffocating. Noble and royalty alike were dressed to the nines, pearls and jewelry reflecting the light from the enormous chandelier. People were mingling, music was playing, and drinks were flowing.

As lavish and glamorous as this event seemed, you felt overwhelmed. It had been hours, and your head was pounding. You couldn't even remember what the purpose of the event was at this point-- 'something about a King's birthday...?' You thought, trying to recall the details on the piece of parchment that your family had received.

"My lady, are you feeling alright?" A hushed voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and a lock of silvery hair brushed against your ear. Ah, Sylus, your knight. He had been your knight since the both of you were children, so he knew you from the inside out. Your parents tried suggesting a change of your personal knight in the past, or even having an additional knight by your side so you could get familiar with the other guards in the castle. However, you were always quick to shut down the idea, insisting that Sylus was doing his job perfectly. As for the additional knights that your parents tried to implement, they usually lasted a few weeks by your side before they seemed to get scared away by something...

"The air here is suffocating." You breathed, tapping your fingers impatiently on the glass you were holding. You gazed at the contents inside, wondering if you should take a sip, but the sickly sweet scent of the drink quickly demolished that idea. "I wish to leave, but alas, I have to keep up appearances."

Sylus smirks. "How unfortunate." His tone suggests that he has no intention of helping you find a way out, but you knew him better than that. Sylus scans across the room, searching for a way to exit discreetly. After a few beats of silence between the two of you, he spots a door at the corner of the crowded ballroom, and leads you to it wordlessly. He lets you step outside first, and before he exits himself, he looks around, making sure that no one saw you two.

The outdoor air felt deliciously refreshing on your skin. After hours of being cooped up in the ballroom, this was the best thing you could have asked for. The night sky, littered with glittering stars and constellations, was a pleasant change from the glaring and overstimulating crystal ceiling of the castle. You weren't familiar with the layout of the foreign castle, but you could recognize that the place that you were in was the royal gardens. Carefully trimmed bushes and flourishing roses lined the paths, leading to various places.

"Where shall we go, my darling knight?" You inquired, turning to face Sylus. He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but ultimately lists a few options. "There's a flower display with a fountain to our left, and a pond with a gazebo to our right. It's up to you, lady __." You ponder for a moment, and you ended up deciding on the gazebo.

It wasn't a long walk from the castle, but it put enough distance between you and the ballroom to ease your headache from the noise. The once overwhelmingly loud chatter from the ballroom dimmed into a faint hum in the background.

The garden was beautiful, breathtakingly so. A circular pond made up most of the section you had walked into, reflecting the twinkling stars, with a short bridge connecting to the gazebo. Even though there were railings along the bridge, your knight still gingerly took your hand as he guided you across.

Despite the darkness of the night, the warm lanterns hung around the gazebo emitted just enough light for you to see the various lily pads floating on the water and the koi fish swimming underneath. You reached over the railings from where you sat to skim your fingers along the surface of the water, admiring how the light seemed to dance and sway along with your movements.

When you turn around to face Sylus, you find that he is already looking at you.

"Come sit, what are you doing just standing there?" You laugh playfully, clasping his hands in yours to drag him to sit beside you. Smiling gleefully, you say, "Isn't this wonderful? The atmosphere here feels so different from just ten minutes ago. The lighting here also gives me less of a headache then that giant crystal ball they call a chandelier." Sylus nods in agreement, crimson eyes still fixed on you.

You tilt your head, curious about why he wasn't saying anything.

"The lighting from the lanterns makes you look even more beautiful, your grace." He mumbles it quietly, but you still catch it anyway. Sylus looks away, seemingly embarrassed, and you decide to tease him just a little. "What? I didn't quite catch that, my ears are still ringing from the music in the ballroom." You start, cupping your hands around your ears.

He glances back at you, mouth pressed into a thin line. Of course he could tell you were joking, but his ears turned the slightest bit red anyway. Sylus hesitates for a moment before repeating himself louder. "I said, the lighting here enhances your beauty, princess ___." He says gruffly, clearing his throat.

Smiling, you lean on his shoulder and hook your arm around his. "That's good to hear. Thank you, Sylus." He simply nods.

The both of you sit like that in silence for a while, and you were starting to get bored. You didn't know when the party would end, but from the way the silhouettes of the orchestra were still fervently moving, you guessed it wasn't anytime soon. Your eyes darted around the surroundings, before you finally got an idea.

"Sylus, let's dance!" You propose, getting up and tugging him up with you. Your knight quirks an eyebrow at you. "Why the sudden burst of energy?" He asks.

"I'm bored to half-death, and it would be a waste of good music to let this moment slip by!"

"I thought you said that the music was giving you a splitting migraine just now?"

"...whatever. Just get up here and dance with me, please?"

You knew that he wouldn't refuse. He never did.

"Alright, at least let me ask you formally first. It would be rude of me not to." Sylus grins. "Lady ___, would you let me have this dance?"

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand in yours and letting him spin you around. The two of you danced for a good while, twirling and prancing around with uncoordinated steps. After all, there were no nobles or royals around to watch you, so all normal dancing etiquette was thrown out of the window. As a knight, Sylus wasn't even supposed to be dancing with you like this, a protective hand on your waist and fingers intertwined with yours.

After what felt like forever, the both of you finally stopped dancing, stamina drained from silly leaps in the air and overly exaggerated twirls. Out of breath, you looked up at Sylus and grinned. Obviously, he wasn't as exhausted as you, but his hair was the perfect balanced between tousled and neat. You threw your arms around his shoulders and smiled into his jacket, suddenly overcome with a wave of appreciation for him.

"Thank you, Sylus. For all of this. It really means a great deal to me." Your voice was muffled. As his arms snake around you, you hear his voice, "No need to thank me, I was only doing my duty as your knight, your gr-"

You cut him off, telling him that it was alright to use your name as it was just the two of you around. And you swore you could hear the proud smirk in his voice as he said, "Alright, ___. I'll do whatever you say." You could feel your face warm up due to Sylus' silky smooth voice, and you suddenly felt oddly flustered.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You slipped out of his arms and started running back to the palace, yelling out behind you. "People-- are going to get-- suspicious if we're gone for -- too long!" You shout between breaths, tripping on your precariously long skirt every few seconds.

Even though you could see him pinch his nose bridge and sigh in frustration, it was hard to miss the adoring glint in his eyes as he hurriedly ran to catch up with you.

--

additional a/n: I was GOING to make this angst, but i can't be miserable forever

[zaynessbeloved]

A Duke's Promise

Synopsis: In a world of whispered expectations and carefully arranged futures, your life was meant to unfold quietly beside your sister’s—until the man promised to her began to look at you instead.

The Duke of Ravencourt was meant to be hers. Courted her with duty, danced with her out of tradition. But slowly—delicately—his eyes began to wander. To you.

Content warnings: Regency Era AU, Regency Romance, Slow Burn, Forbidden Love, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Tender Romance, From Courtship to Marriage, First Time Feelings, Mutual Pining, Letters as Love Language, First Kiss in a Garden, Longing Across Ballrooms, Dancing as a Love Language, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Night, Honeymoon Seclusion, Flash Forward Epilogue, Loving Marriage, Reader is Pregnant in the Epilogue, First Time, Consummation After Marriage, Fingering (implied), Oral (female receiving), Breeding Kink (soft & emotional), Table Sex, Library Sex, Bath Intimacy, Hand Kisses through Gloves, Stolen Glances.

Pairings: Rafayel x reader

Word count: 6.3

Chapter 2

You had begun to enjoy the Season. Not in the frantic, wide-eyed way most debutantes clung to it. Not for the gowns or the gossip columns or the secret notes passed behind fans. But because of him. Lord Wessex.

He made every event something to look forward to. He remembered small details—your distaste for overly perfumed rooms, your preference for lemon over raspberry, the way you avoided dancing directly after supper to keep from tripping on your gown. He made you feel seen in a space that often demanded you simply be beautiful. He never once asked for more than your company. And you were beginning to give it freely.

The soirée at Lady Redgrave’s townhouse was a grand affair. Chandeliers hung like upside-down stars from the ceiling, and the air buzzed with the scent of roses, honeyed wine, and conversation layered in silk.

You arrived on your mother’s arm, Eleanora at your side again, at last recovered. She looked radiant, as always, in pale mauve and pearl combs in her hair. The room greeted her warmly. People remembered. So did he. Rafayel Vale appeared as always, dark and composed, offering his bow to Eleanora first, and exchanging the expected pleasantries. 

You stood nearby, speaking with Lady Thorne about her dreadful pianist, until Lord Wessex arrived and promptly stole you away with a smile and a whispered, “Save me from another story about her poodle’s cough, I beg you.” 

You laughed, let him lead you away, and the evening began. You danced once. Then again. You shared a drink near the window overlooking the gardens. You teased him about his horribly dramatic cravat. He told you you looked like the moon in blue silk. It was warm. Familiar. Effortless. 

But across the room, someone else was watching. Not constantly. Not openly. But enough. You hadn’t noticed the Duke’s gaze as you passed. Not the first time. Or the second. Not when you threw your head back in laughter. But Eleanora did. You found her later, seated near the refreshment table, her glass untouched.

“You’re glowing tonight,” she said lightly as you approached.

“Am I?” You sat beside her, smoothing your skirt. “Perhaps it’s just the champagne.” She didn’t laugh. 

“He keeps looking at you,” she said softly, almost idly. “The Duke.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Not in a scandalous way,” she added quickly. “Just… often.”  

You glanced over your shoulder instinctively, but he wasn’t looking now. Speaking with a Viscount. Expression unreadable.

“You think he does it out of interest?” you asked, voice low. Eleanora was quiet for a long moment.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I do know this: I want more than presence.” You looked at her.

“He is kind,” she said. “Proper. He does what’s expected. But it feels like he’s fulfilling something… not choosing it.” That struck something in you. Not just about him—but about her.

“You deserve to be chosen,” you said softly.

She smiled, just a little, and looked down at her glass. “Don’t we all?”

The ride home was quiet. Your mother had fallen asleep across from you, her head tilted slightly, fan still clutched in one hand. The carriage swayed gently beneath you, candlelight flickering in its brass sconces.

Beside you, Eleanora sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable. You didn’t press her. She would speak if she wished. The city lights slipped past the window in golden blurs.

Back at the house, you helped her unpin her hair in her room—just as you had as girls. Gowns loosened. Jewels set in velvet. Stockings peeled away from tired feet. The silence remained comfortable until she broke it, voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think something is wrong with me?”

You paused. “What?”

Eleanora sat before the mirror, brushing through her curls slowly. Her reflection didn’t meet your eyes. “With me,” she said again, quietly. “The way he looks at me. Or rather… the way he doesn’t.”

You walked over, gently took the brush from her hand, and began to move it through her hair yourself. A ritual older than either of you could name.

“Eleanora,” you said softly, “there is nothing wrong with you.” She didn’t answer for a while. You saw her eyes flick toward her own reflection.

“I think the Duke is... trying,” she said. “In the way one tries to like something they were told they should enjoy. A book. A song. A person.”

You slowed the brush. Let her speak. “He’s polite. Generous. And yet, when he’s beside me, it’s as though he’s already half a room away. His mind elsewhere. His eyes…” She hesitated. “Drifting.” 

You swallowed. She turned slightly to look at you over her shoulder.

“I don’t know where they drift. And I don’t think it matters. But I’ve felt it, and I’ve had enough of pretending not to.”

You met her gaze. Open. Honest. Strong. “So what will you do?”

She stood slowly. Turned toward her dressing gown, folding it neatly. “I want someone who chooses me. Not out of arrangement or expectation, but because they can’t help themselves.”

Then, a small breath of laughter. “And I saw at least three men tonight who looked at me like I’d hung the stars.”

You smiled at that. “You did look stunning.”

“Well,” she said with a soft shrug, “I think I’ll let someone else tell me that next time.”

She hugged you before bed, soft and tired. And as she disappeared into her room, you stood in the hall a moment longer. Not thinking about the Duke. Not really. Only about your sister. And the quiet courage it took to walk away from something most would chase until the end.

——

The Marquess of Windham’s estate was famous for its winter garden—an indoor marvel of lantern-lit paths, glass ceilings, and the scent of citrus and jasmine that lingered no matter the season. The event was smaller than most. More curated. Fewer eyes, fewer expectations. Enough space to breathe between conversations and laughter.

You wore ivory silk that night, stitched with soft green thread and tiny crystal accents that caught the light like dew. You hadn’t worn the dress before. Lord Wessex had told you, weeks ago, that green suited you. You hadn’t forgotten. He found you easily, as he always did.

“There you are,” he said, as if your absence had been a problem he meant to solve.

You smiled. “Here I am, my Lord.”

He offered you his arm, and the evening unfurled with a sense of calm delight. You laughed together. Walked along the stone path beneath the glass roof. He told you a story about a terrible painting his brother once commissioned that ended up resembling a spoiled ham. You wiped a tear from your cheek from laughing so hard.

It wasn’t a whirlwind romance. It was a quiet glow. A lantern between two hands. And that made it all the more real. Later, as the music resumed, you danced once more—spinning gently beneath the low-hung lanterns. You felt his gaze on you, as always. Safe. Attentive.

Until, at the edge of a turn, another gaze caught yours. Just for a second. The Duke stood near the musicians, a glass of champagne in hand. Not speaking. Not smiling. Watching. You hadn’t noticed him arriving. You hadn’t even known he would be attending. But there he was. And his eyes—his eyes—did not drift away this time. They stayed. Not cold. Not guarded. But different. Focused.

You didn’t stumble. You didn’t react. You simply turned, as the dance required. But something in your chest shifted—just enough to notice. And when the dance ended, and Lord Wessex stepped back with a smile and a joke about needing a rescue from Lady Redgrave’s latest tale of gout, you caught it again. A flicker across his face. A glance toward the Duke. And then—

“He’s watching you.”

You blinked. “Who, my Lord?”

Lord Wessex arched a brow. “Come now.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because you didn’t know what to say.

“Should I be concerned?” he asked, voice still light, but something beneath it more serious.

“No my Lord,” you said after a moment. “There’s no reason to be.”

And that was the truth. There was no reason. Except for the look you couldn’t forget. And the one he hadn’t meant to give.

——

The garden was quiet in the early light. The gravel path crunched softly beneath your slippers as you walked beside Eleanora, your shawl wrapped tight around your shoulders. Dew clung to the grass. The sky was still deciding whether it meant to be grey or blue.

You walked often like this in the mornings. Ever since you were girls. But lately, the silence had taken on a different rhythm—less shared imagination, more quiet reflection. Eleanora carried a small sprig of rosemary, plucked absently as you passed the herb garden.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” she asked lightly.

You nodded. “I did. It was lovely.” 

“Wessex certainly seemed to think so.” 

You smiled at that. A small thing. “He always finds me.”

She looked over, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“He always sees you,” she said. “There’s a difference.”

You glanced at her, surprised.

“You noticed, didn’t you?” she added quietly, turning her eyes forward again.

You didn’t ask what she meant. You both already knew. You let the silence stretch a few steps longer.

“Yes,” you said softly.

She was quiet. Then, with a dry little exhale: “He does it more now.”

“Do you think it means something?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Eleanora tilted her head toward the hedge wall, running her fingers along its edge.

“I think... It means something. But not something he’s willing to say aloud. Not yet.”

You swallowed. “He shouldn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. “He shouldn’t.”

Another beat of silence. Then, she stopped walking. You followed suit.

“I don’t think I feel much for him anymore,” she said, looking down at the rosemary between her fingers. “Not enough to fight for something that was never truly mine.”

Your heart ached for her—not out of pity, but admiration. For her honesty. Her clarity.

“And you?” she asked, lifting her gaze. “Do you feel anything… for him?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“No,” you said. Then quieter, “I don’t think so.”

But something had changed. Something had cracked open. And though it hadn’t spilled yet, you both knew it might.

“He looked at you like he’d finally seen you,” Eleanora said gently. “Whatever comes of that, I think you ought to be ready.”

You nodded once, the wind tugging at your shawl. You didn’t want to be someone’s second choice. Someone’s accidental affection. But the way he looked at you— It didn’t feel like a beginning. It felt like the moment before one.

The letter arrived late morning. Pressed parchment, a familiar seal in golden wax. Not overly formal. Just neat. Sincere.

My dearest Miss Everleigh,

I wonder if I might persuade you to join me for a walk this Thursday morning. There’s a rather lovely glade near the lake on my family’s estate—unremarkable to some, but I’ve always found it peaceful. I’d be honored to share it with someone who actually sees the world in detail.

There will be a carriage waiting, if you’re inclined.

Warmly, Lord W. 

Your heart fluttered—not with surprise, but with quiet delight. He always wrote the way he spoke: clever, but never rehearsed. Warm, but never overreaching. You accepted.

Thursday arrived with soft sunshine and a breeze that danced along the hem of your gown. The glade was everything he promised—quiet, blooming with wildflowers, dappled in shade. You walked for nearly an hour. Sometimes in silence, sometimes in stories.

He told you about his late sister—how she used to press wildflowers into the pages of every book he owned. You told him about the time you and Eleanora tried to escape a dinner party by climbing out the library window and fell into the hedges.

You laughed, breathed, let the afternoon settle into your skin. When he walked you back to the carriage, he didn’t ask for anything more. But he held your hand a little longer than necessary. And for the first time…you found yourself wishing he would. 

——

The ballroom at Althridge Hall was vast and gold-draped, lanterns burning low to cast a romantic glow over the polished floors. Eleanora entered on your arm, her head high, her new suitor—a kind-eyed Viscount—already waiting near the stairs. She no longer searched for the Duke. Not with her eyes. Not with her heart.

And when he approached her that night, offering a dance, she accepted with grace. They danced once. Spoke little. And when they stepped apart, something passed between them. A quiet understanding.

This is not the story we were meant to write.

He danced with two other ladies. Politely. Dutifully. But not presently. Not truly. You stood near the terrace doors when it happened—watching the moonlight pour through the glass, speaking with a gentleman you barely knew, Lord Wessex beside you with a glass in hand, whispering something ridiculous that made you bite back a laugh—

And then you felt it. Not on your skin. But somewhere deeper.  Your gaze drifted. Found his.  Rafayel Vale. Standing still. Eyes on you. Not by accident this time. And he didn’t look away. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. But in that single moment, the air between you changed. And beside you, Lord Wessex’s hand—holding his glass—tensed ever so slightly. He had seen it too. 

——

The gallery was nearly empty. It was a private viewing, arranged by Lady Welgrave—an afternoon invitation sent to a small handful of guests who might appreciate art more than gossip.

You went because you do appreciate art. You went because you’d grown tired of sitting still while everyone else waited for something to happen. You went because you didn’t expect to see him there. But he was there. The Duke of Ravencourt. Rafayel.

Standing at the end of the corridor, gazing up at a massive oil painting of a storm at sea. All blue-black fury and golden light breaking through clouds. He didn’t notice you at first. Or perhaps he did and simply chose not to react.

You turned toward a smaller portrait—a woman in green, her hand poised mid-motion. You tilted your head, studied the brushwork.

“She reminds me of you.” You turned. He was beside you now. Not close enough to startle, but nearer than you expected. His hands clasped behind his back. His voice was low. Soft.

“The woman in the painting,” he added, when you didn’t speak. 

You looked back at it. Then at him. “She looks nothing like me, my Lord.” 

“No,” he said. “But there’s something in her eyes. As if she’s trying not to speak.”

Your heart fluttered. Not from the words. But from the way he said them. Carefully. Like he hadn’t meant to say them aloud.

You turned your gaze forward again. “That’s a rather strange compliment, my Lord.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.” He didn’t apologize. Didn’t smile.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you said. 

“I didn’t expect to speak,” he replied. 

You glanced sideways. He was already looking at you. There was something new in his eyes—something like focus. Tension. A man standing too near a line he’d drawn for himself. You searched for something safe to say. Something easy.

“Did you enjoy the ball?” 

“No.” The answer surprised you. He didn’t elaborate. You waited.

“There is something unpleasant,” he said slowly, “about being expected to play a part you no longer believe suits you.”

Your throat tightened just a little. “Then don’t play it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It could be.”

He looked at you. Truly looked at you. And something flickered across his face then. Not clarity. Not desire. Just the ache of almost.

“You make things sound easy,” he murmured.

“Only because I’m not the one who made them difficult.”

Silence stretched. Someone else entered the gallery then—a pair of older women, deep in conversation, oblivious to the stillness between you and him.

You took a step back. Just one. “Good afternoon, my Lord.”

“Miss Everleigh,” he said, but slower this time. Like he almost wasn’t ready for the moment to end.

You didn’t look back. But you felt it. The crack. The first true one.

——

The night shimmered with candlelight and soft perfume. The Grand Salford Ball had always been the crown jewel of the Season—a ballroom lined with mirrored walls and high arched ceilings, where every lady in London seemed to shine a little brighter beneath the chandeliers.

You were dressed in soft grey silk, silver thread sewn into the bodice like a whisper. You’d already danced twice. Spoke with two earls. Smiled more than you truly felt. You weren’t looking for him. But he was there. Rafayel Vale, standing near the floral arrangements beneath the north arch, half-shadowed, as always. 

He’d danced already—twice. You’d seen it. Obligation. Courtesy. Grace with distance. And then— He moved. You caught the motion from the corner of your eye. Thought, at first, he might be heading toward your sister. But he wasn’t. He stopped in front of you.

People noticed. Of course they did. The air shifted. And then, softly: “Miss Everleigh.”

You looked up. “My Lord.”

He bowed. “May I have this dance?” 

For a moment, you said nothing. Not out of drama. Not out of awe. But because something inside you paused—pressed its hand to the glass and whispered, be careful.

Still, you extended your hand. “Of course.”

The music began—a gentle waltz, sweeping but quiet. His hand was warm against your waist. His movements precise. Fluid. You had danced this pattern with a dozen men. But never with him. And you felt the difference.

He didn’t speak at first. Neither did you. Then, finally, “You weren’t at the gallery long,” he said.

“No,” you replied evenly. “I didn’t wish to intrude, my Lord.” 

“You never intrude.” It came too quickly. Too softly. You didn’t answer. The dance continued.

“This isn’t wise,” he murmured, almost too low to hear.

“Then why ask?” you asked back.

He looked at you. Not a glance. Not a flicker. A look.

“I’m beginning to ask myself the same thing.”

You didn’t fumble. You didn’t blush. But when the dance ended, and he stepped back with a bow deeper than necessary, your heart was not still. 

You curtsied. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Thank you,” he said—soft, real.

Then he was gone. Lord Wessex found you near the refreshments later. He didn’t speak immediately. He handed you a glass.

“That was unexpected,” he said finally, gently.

You looked at him. His expression was warm. Steady. But something behind his eyes had shifted.

You didn’t lie. “It surprised me, too.”

He nodded once, slowly.

“He’ll have to mean it,” he said. “If he’s going to try. Because anything less than everything will not be enough for you.” You swallowed. 

“You deserve more than half a heart,” he added, voice quiet now. “And I would never offer you that.” And then— He smiled. Small. Honest. A little sad. “Just… don’t forget how good we were.” 

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. He kissed your knuckles, and stepped away. Not out of anger. But out of care. 

——

The Ainsworth soirée was smaller than most. Quieter. Subdued. The parlors had been cleared for music and conversation. Candles flickered in glass bowls on every sill. A string quartet played something gentle and slow, meant for swaying rather than showmanship.

You arrived with Eleanora, both of you dressed in pale silks—your colors soft and unremarkable, by design. There was no need to be seen anymore. You had already been seen. Lord Wessex was already waiting inside. He kissed your hand with a familiar smile and asked if you’d saved a dance. You had.

Eleanora was soon spirited away by the Viscount, now her most consistent caller. And as the night passed, you found yourself at peace. Not ecstatic. Not glowing. Just still. Until he looked at you again. 

The Duke. Across the room. Standing near the windows. A glass untouched in his hand. He didn’t approach. Didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. But he looked. As he always had. You told yourself it meant nothing. You told yourself you were past wondering. You almost believed it.

Later, near the end of the evening, you stepped out into the garden. Just for a breath. The air was cooler, the roses just beginning to bloom. You were alone for no more than a minute before footsteps followed. You didn’t turn. Not yet.

“You were always meant for the garden,” came his voice behind you.

Low. Steady. A little tired. You turned slowly. He stood there. Hands clasped behind his back. Moonlight catching on the edge of his coat.

“That’s a strange thing to say, my Lord” you said, not unkindly.

“Not strange,” he replied. “True.”

You looked at him. Waiting.

“I meant to stay away,” he added after a moment. “Truly, I did.”

“But you still came.” He stepped closer—but not too close.

“I see you,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen you for longer than I should’ve allowed.”

Your breath caught, just slightly.

“Then why say nothing?” you asked. “All this time?”

“Because I was promised to someone else. Someone good. Someone who deserved better than a man who couldn’t keep his eyes where they belonged.”

Silence stretched between you. The only sound was the soft flicker of the wind in the roses.

“You never asked again,” you said, finally. “To dance.”

“Because I didn’t trust myself.���

That made your heart beat harder than it should have. You turned your face away—toward the stars. “And now?” 

A pause. Then— “Now I don’t know if it’s too late.”

You didn’t answer him. Because you didn’t know either. The silence between you grew heavier. You were the first to break it.

“You know Lord Wessex is courting me.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be. His jaw tensed, ever so slightly. But his voice remained level.

“Everyone does.”  

You nodded once, slowly. “And yet… here you are.” 

His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Here I am.”Another pause. “Should I step back?” he asked then, his voice low, careful. “Let him continue without interruption?” 

You didn’t answer right away. You didn’t know how. He took a step closer—just one—and your breath caught before you could help it.

“Or should I ask,” he continued, voice a thread, “if you ever wondered what it would be like... if it were my lips that kissed your hand instead of his?” 

Your heart stopped. He saw it in your face. The shift. The flicker of disbelief, of feeling. He stepped back, respectfully. His voice softened further, barely more than a breath. 

“Do you wish it was his touch you waited for every evening…or mine?” 

You didn’t look away. You couldn’t.

“Tell me what you want, Miss Everleigh,” he said. “And I’ll leave you be… or I’ll stay.”

The wind stirred your gown. Somewhere beyond the hedges, the music drifted faintly from the house. But here—beneath the soft gold of the lantern and the weight of everything unsaid—the world held its breath. You didn’t answer yet. Because your own heart was still catching up.

You didn’t speak as the wind moved through the garden. Not for a long moment. Then, at last, you lifted your chin and met his gaze—steady, unreadable, quiet thunder just beneath the surface.

“I think I should return inside,” you said gently.

He didn’t move. Didn’t ask again. Didn’t stop you.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Good evening, Miss Everleigh.”

“Good evening, my Lord.” You curtsied. Turned. And walked away. Not because you’d made a decision. But because he had waited too long to ask you to. 

—— 

The next ball bloomed with music and golden gowns, the scent of roses woven through the warm spring air. You arrived late. By design. You wore blue this time—a deeper shade. Sapphire silk that shimmered beneath the chandeliers.

The music floated around you like smoke—soft, glittering, golden. Another waltz, another string of polite laughter and silk shoes brushing marble floors. Lord Wessex stood before you, as he always did. Familiar. Steady. Smiling just for you.

“You are late,” he said, voice warm with amusement. “I nearly despaired.”

“Then I suppose I should offer my sincerest apology, my Lord.” you replied, matching his tone.

You extended your hand. Gloved. Elegant. Offered without hesitation. He took it with a flourish and bent to kiss your knuckles. His lips brushed the silk lightly—nothing new. Nothing scandalous. But the flutter in your stomach came not from the kiss.

It came the moment your eyes lifted—almost absentmindedly, unintentionally— And met his. Across the ballroom. The Duke. Half-shadowed beside a marble column, his expression unreadable. But his gaze— Unflinching.

He had seen the kiss. Had watched your hand held in someone else’s. Had not looked away. And something tightened inside you. Low in your chest. Breathless. Not shame. Not guilt. Something else. Something dangerous. Something real.

You felt Lord Wessex straighten, release your hand. Still smiling. Still unaware. And yet, for a moment—just one—you weren’t there with him. You were still across the room. Where he was still watching you.

The night unfolded like all others. You danced. Smiled. Tilted your head at the right moments. Let Lord Wessex pull another laugh from your lips with some quip about powdered wigs and naval titles.

Your hand rested lightly on his arm. Your glass never emptied. The music swelled and carried you with it. And yet—Your thoughts strayed. Not to the ballroom. Not to the dress. Not even to the way Lord Wessex’s eyes lingered on your mouth when you sipped your wine. But to a voice.

“Do you ever wonder if it should’ve been my lips instead?”

To a hand not taken. A dance never shared—until it was. A look that never stopped. You caught him watching again. Across the ballroom. Between guests. Through shadows and silk. Your breath caught—so subtly you doubted anyone noticed. But your cheeks warmed. Betrayed you. His gaze didn’t drop. Neither did yours.

“I’ll be just a moment, my Lord.” you said softly to Lord Wessex.

He blinked. “Of course,” he said easily, ever the gentleman. “Shall I send for you if another dreadful dance begins without us?”

You smiled, touched his arm. “If you must.”

And then you turned, skirts brushing the floor, and slipped through the archway into the corridor beyond the ballroom. It was quieter here. Still lit by flickering sconces, still warm with laughter and footsteps echoing behind closed doors—but separate.

The hallway stretched ahead of you, lined with paintings and velvet drapes pulled aside to reveal the windows beyond. You walked without urgency. Without reason. You just needed to breathe. The music behind you dulled, like a memory being slowly folded away.

And as you passed the tall mirror at the end of the hall, your reflection looked a little different than it had at the start of the night. Not flustered. Not lost. But… uncertain. As if something inside you had shifted, and the rest of you had only just begun to feel it.

The hum of the ballroom faded with every step. You hadn’t meant to walk this far. But your feet had carried you, slowly, gently, down a long stretch of corridor where the candlelight softened and the laughter gave way to hush.

The air here was cooler. Still perfumed faintly with roses from the arrangements in the nearby drawing room. But emptier. Yours. Paintings lined the walls—portraits, mostly. Women in silks, men in gold-trimmed coats, their eyes fixed forever in oils and varnish. Some regal. Some sad. Some full of secrets you’d never know.

You let your fingers brush the carved wood of a frame, your eyes catching on a woman in a green gown. Her hand was half-lifted, as if to wave, or perhaps to reach. She reminded you of something. Of someone.

You stepped closer. And for a while, you forgot the room behind you. Forgot Lord Wessex’s smile. Forgot the dance. The wine. The heat beneath your gloves when lips touched silk. You simply breathed. Until—A shift. Not sound. Not footsteps. Just… presence. Your skin prickled, warm. You turned. And there he was. Rafayel. 

Standing in the corridor, half in shadow, his expression unreadable—just as before. But his eyes? They weren’t just watching. They were fixed on you. Your breath caught. Not in fear. Not in surprise. In that quiet, fluttering place just beneath your ribs. You hadn’t heard him approach. Hadn’t felt him near. And yet— Somehow, you weren’t surprised to see him there.

“Forgive me, my Lord.” you said softly, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for.

He shook his head once. A subtle thing. But his gaze never left yours. You turned slightly, as if to retreat—but your feet didn’t move. Neither did his. The silence between you stretched—not uncomfortable. Just… fragile. You turned slightly back toward the painting, letting your voice fill the space between your heartbeats.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” you murmured.

His gaze shifted to the portrait.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But her eyes are not on the man who painted her.” 

You glanced at him, a soft lift of your brow. 

“And who are they on, then?”

“Someone else entirely.”

A quiet smile tugged at your lips. You took a step forward, fingers still lightly brushing the edge of the frame.

“Do you frequent corridors often, my Lord? Or do I simply have a habit of wandering into yours?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

The silence stretched between you like a string pulled taut. You turned your gaze from the portrait and looked at him fully—his shoulders held in perfect stillness, his eyes unreadable but undeniably on you.

And before you could think better of it—before you could remember names or consequences— You lifted your hand. Not high. Not forward. Just enough. A subtle offer. A breathless question made of movement. You didn’t speak. But he did.

“Are you certain?” he asked, voice low—rougher than you’d ever heard it.

You didn’t look away. And you didn’t lower your hand. So he stepped closer. And took it. Not with the easy charm of practiced affection. Not with the flirtatious grace of a ballroom gentleman. But with intention.

His fingers curled around yours. And slowly, without flourish— He brought your hand to his lips. And kissed it. No sound. No heat but his mouth, barely there through the silk.And yet your whole body felt it.

The pressure of his lips sank through the glove like warmth through snow. Down your spine. Through your chest. Into the quiet ache in your stomach that hadn’t stopped since the garden. It was not performative. Not expected. It wasn’t even a kiss, not really. It was him. And when he lowered your hand, his eyes still didn’t leave yours. 

“Does he make you feel like that?” he asked softly. “When he kisses your hand?” 

The words landed like a breath against your throat. You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t need to. He already knew. Your breath trembled in your chest. His fingers still held yours—lightly now, almost reverently—but he hadn’t let go. And you hadn’t asked him to.You stared at your hand in his, the silk warmed by his kiss, your skin beneath it burning like some secret had been pressed there. And then, softly—

“It wouldn’t be fair,” you whispered, “to Lord Wessex.”

The words barely reached the air between you. A pause followed. Not cold. Not scolding. Just weight. But still, your hand stayed in his. He glanced down at it, at the contradiction between your words and your touch. When his gaze lifted again, it was steadier. Sharper.

“Then tell me,” he said, voice low—calm, but threaded with something breaking open, “should I step back?” His thumb brushed along the edge of your glove—so lightly it could have been imagined. “Do you want me to?”

The question hung there. Not as a demand. But as a man on the edge of something he’d never dared want until now. And the truth? Was sitting in your hand. Still resting in his. His question still hung in the air, suspended between your hand in his and the heat in your chest that refused to fade. You wanted to answer. You tried to.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. Because he—Lord Wessex—offered you calm. A clear path. Kindness, laughter, ease. And this? This was nothing but tension. A thread pulled too tight across your ribs. A glance that lingered too long. A kiss that didn’t even touch skin but still burned through silk like flame.

How could it already feel like this? How could your body ache from a man who had never truly held you? Your breath shook as you looked at him—this man who was promised to someone else, who had waited too long and yet made your heart twist in your chest with only his voice, his eyes, his nearness.

And before you could speak—before you could decide—A voice echoed faintly down the corridor. Laughter. A gentleman’s footsteps. Someone approaching. Not toward you, not fast—but near enough to remind you both of where you were. 

His hand released yours gently, slowly—like letting go of a secret he wasn’t ready to give up. Your fingers curled into your palm, holding the ghost of his kiss like something you weren’t sure you wanted to keep—or bury. Neither of you said a word. 

You turned back toward the light of the ballroom. He walked beside you in silence. And when you crossed the threshold again, the music picked up as if nothing had happened. As if the hallway hadn’t nearly changed everything.

The rest of the ball passed in a blur of candlelight and conversation. Lord Wessex remained by your side, as he always did—charming, clever, completely unaware of the storm still rolling beneath your skin. 

He made you laugh. You danced twice more. He offered you another glass of wine, and you took it—hoping it would cool the heat that hadn’t left your cheeks since that corridor. But it didn’t. And at one point, as he passed you a napkin with a scribbled caricature of Lady Ashford’s towering feathered hat, he leaned in, brow slightly knit.

“You’re flushed,” he said softly. “Is it the wine, or the warmth of the room?”

Your smile came too quickly. “The ballroom’s stifling.”

He didn’t press. But something in his eyes lingered.

The carriage ride home was quiet. Eleanora leaned against the seat opposite you, half-asleep, her earrings already tucked into her glove. Your mother mumbled a list of names she’d overheard in the hallway, entirely unaware of the war playing out behind your calm expression.

Back in your room, you sat at the edge of your bed, gown half-unfastened, corset loosened, your hair beginning to tumble free. Eleanora stepped through the adjoining door in her dressing gown, barefoot, face still faintly powdered from the night.

She sat beside you wordlessly. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then— “It happened again, didn’t it?”

You looked at her. Blinked. She was already watching you. Calm. Knowing. You didn’t nod. You didn’t deny it. You just exhaled.

“In the corridor,” you whispered. “We didn’t do anything. We didn’t even say much.”

“But he kissed your hand.”

You paused. Then— “Yes.”

Eleanora didn’t speak at first. She only reached for your hand, held it loosely in hers.

“And it felt different,” she murmured.

Your eyes prickled. “It wasn’t even skin,” you said. “Just silk. But I felt it. All of it.”

She squeezed your fingers gently. “And Lord Wessex?”

“Is good to me,” you said. “He makes me feel seen. Safe. Steady.”

“But not undone.”

Your throat tightened. “No.”

Eleanora nodded, softly. “Then I think you already know.”

You looked down at your lap. Your gloves still lay there. One of them still warm.

——

He arrived mid-afternoon. Lord Wessex. His coat was a rich navy, his boots dusted from the ride, and a single tulip tucked into the fold of his arm. Not a grand gesture—just enough. Just thoughtful.

“A bold choice, my Lord.” you said, accepting the flower with a soft smile.

“I nearly brought roses,” he replied, stepping into the drawing room as your maid closed the door behind him. “But then I thought… Everyone brings roses. You deserve something else.”

You said nothing. You only turned, placing the tulip in a crystal vase by the window. He watched you quietly as you did. You sat across from each other, tea between you, your mother making polite excuses and vanishing after only a few minutes—delighted, of course, by his consistency.

He spoke of a new play being performed at the theater. A cousin’s engagement. The ridiculous hat Lady Thorne had worn last night “I nearly lost my footing—twice”.  You laughed at the right moments. You always did. And then— A shift. He leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on the arm of your chair—not touching you, not yet. But near.

“You were quiet last night,” he said gently. “Not distant. Just… somewhere else.”

You blinked. “Was I?”

“You were.” He smiled. “But I don’t mind. I like the parts of you that don’t always speak.” 

And then—Without asking, without hesitating—He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered only for a breath. Soft. Respectful. Kind. But the moment they touched your skin—Your cheeks flushed. Warm. Immediate. Visceral. He saw it. And he smiled—soft, almost shy. Pleased.

“Have I flustered you?” he asked, voice lower now. “That’s rare.”

You smiled. But only you knew the truth. Because the heat blooming across your skin wasn’t from his touch. It was from the memory of another man’s lips against your glove. And for the briefest, most unforgivable second—You imagined it was his hand brushing that strand away. The Duke’s. And your stomach turned with the ache of it.

© zaynessbeloved 2025

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next part

[emichanted]

➷ Joy Ride ft. Chuuya Nakahara

Synopsis: You were having a bad day and texted Chuuya saying you needed to get out the house, so he took you out for a motorcycle ride!

Contains: talk of fast driving on motorcycle, Gender Neutral ! Reader & fluff (that's it).

Word count: 2.9k (not proof read.)

The moon hung high in the starry sky as you stood outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You could hear the distant sounds of the city, but they faded into the background as you focused on the rumble of a motorcycle approaching. Chuuya Nakahara, with his hair (which you thought was stupid) blowing in the air behind him, pulled up beside you, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Ready for a ride?” he asked, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he patted the back seat on his motorcycle.

You nodded, feeling excited at the thought of speeding through the streets of Yokohama with him. This was the first time he offered you a ride on his motorcycle.

Earlier that day, you had texted him saying you were upset and needed to get out of the house to do something, anything. And that's how you ended up here, climbing onto his bike. You put on the spare helmet he got you and wrapped your arms around his waist as he revved the engine.

With a swift twist of the throttle, the motorcycle surged forward, the city lights blurring past you. Your grip on his waist tightened, you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little scared. But your trusted him to not drive recklessley.

Chuuya maneuvered through the streets with expert precision, the wind whipping through your hair as you felt the thrill of freedom. It was such a refreshing feeling. One you knew you'd never forget. You could hear his laughter mixed with the roar of the engine, and it sent a shiver of exhilaration down your spine.

As you rode along the waterfront, the moonlight danced on the waves, casting a silvery glow on the water. Chuuya slowed down, allowing you both to take in the breathtaking view. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, glancing back at you. You nodded, captivated not only by the scenery but also the way the moonlight and street lights illuminated his features. He was a gorgeous man.

“Let’s make this a night to remember,” he said, and with that, he sped off again, taking you on a whirlwind tour of the city. You felt alive, more than ever, every worry fading away as you embraced the thrill of the ride and the warmth of Chuuya’s presence. You always liked being around him, but this... This was better than anything you've ever experienced before.

As you drove through the city, you looked around, taking in the city's night view. All the street lights shining bright, along with all the lanterns from people's gardens, the light from apartments and the light from the moon and stars all making the city looks beautiful. You still held onto Chuuya's waist as he started slowing down.

"Where you taking me?" You chuckle.

You can't see his face but you can practically hear him smile. "Somewhere beautiful."

He stopped his bike near a lake, getting off it first and then lending you his hand to help you get down. He helped you take off your helmet, wrapping his arm around your waist after. You could feel blush threatening to creep up your cheeks.

He pulled you closer to him and started walking closer towards the lake. There was tons of cherry blossom trees around here, making the view even better. This is why spring was your favourite season.

You looked around, the moonlight illuminating the lake. You could hear Chuuya chuckle beside you as you looked around.

"Like it?"

You spent a good few hours there, talking about everything and anything all at once. Later he took you back to your home. As you walk up to your door, you turn back around and smile at him.

"Thank you."

"No problem, y/n." Giving you a smile and then driving off again, leaving you at your door.

He came to you, when you asked him to. Without asking any questions. And gave you one of the most memorable nights he could have. You will never forget this. For sure.

A/N: any bungou stray dogs fans here? I'm hoping to write more for BSD sometime soon! ><

[discomxcabre]

my first and last

viktor x gn!reader

okay so i saw this post and got some inspiration. this is titled after an nct dream song btw (i miss my kpop phase). just so you guys know, english is not my first language so grammar in this is shit.

[first kiss, oblivious vik, internalised ableism, slight angst, use of the c-word, reader wears a tie]

There were a lot of things Viktor considered himself: a genius, a loner, a cripple... But none of this things were "desirable", "beautiful" (at least since his body started to wither,) or "kissable".

He remembered meeting you - his new lab partner, a third brilliant mind to amplify his and Jayce's research. You, a mix of scientific brightness and a soft heart. Some days, you brought pastries to the lab and somehow, they were the rarities from his childhood in Zaun, flavors that reminded him of those cozy holiday nights.

He pretended he never saw those drawings of him in the margins of your notes. And somehow, these doodles captured so much beauty in their few lines he had to force himself to believe they represented him.

It was hard for him to believe in the fact that the blanket that covered his sleeping self, hunched over the table was left by you.

In the breaks you took, you were sitting on the lab couch with a romance novel, and after finishing a chapter, you excitedly told him what happened on the pages. The longing glances, requited adorations, sleeping in the same beds, lips touching lips.

These stories felt as real for him as these about heroic fights, mages and unknown lands.

These moments were in fact, weird, to say the least. The nice, warming kind of weird. But in the back, there was coldness of knowing these were a normalcy for people not like him.

This evening, you took him out to the academy garden, under the pretext to refresh your minds. He watched the moon reflecting in the pond and in your eyes.

"The moon is beautiful today, isn't it?" You said, looking up.

"It definitely is."

"You know what else is beautiful?" You brushed his cheekbone with your finger and this touch made him shiver.

"The stars?"

"They are. But I'm talking about something else..."

Two storms fought in his brain, one telling him that the answer is 'you', the other telling the first 'no, that's ridiculous.'

"The flowers."

"No. It's you". You said, meeting his eyes. Viktor leaned on the brick wall. "Can I?" You leaned your hands on the wall, his hips between them. You couldn't hide your shaking hands. "Can I kiss you?" Your cracked voice sounded at least pathetic.

"Me?"

"Yes, you." You tried to be smug, but the stuttering didn't help you.

Viktor answered by slowly hanging his cane on your back and pulling you closer to him. But his golden eyes were confused.

"From all the people in the world, you choose the unappealingly thin cripple from the Undercity. Really?"

You leaned closer. Viktor's cold, coffee-flavoured breath touched your face.

You looked in his eyes. "From all the people I choose my Viktor. I don't want anyone else."

Your lips touched the mole on his cheekbone. Quickly, barely feeling him, then pulling away.

With eyes escaping his gaze, you giggled.

Viktor touched the mole and turned pink. His trembling hand grabbed you tie and pulled you to his lips.

He tasted like sweetmilk and cream. His chapped lips nibbled on yours, slightly scratching your skin. You felt his thin arms shivering, as they wrapped around your neck. But yours just laid on the wall, with no direction of what to do, until Viktor grabbed one of them with his. It felt so delicate, like a piece of porcelain. He guided you to his waist.

"You aren't in pain now, right?" You checked, reluctant to hold him too tight.

"You don't have to ask. I'd tell you."

"Sorry, Vik... You just seem quite fragile and I don't want to..."

Before you could end the sentence, he pulled your tie to lock his lips with your again. He spreaded his legs to let you closer. You moaned in his mouth.

For a second, you pulled away with a string of saliva connecting the two of you. "Okay, I get it."

You pulled yourself back to him, squeezing your hands around his waist. Now, you tasted the mole on his neck, and sucked on the delicate, pale skin. Viktor whimpered with one hand on the back of your head and the other gripping your shoulder. The pain made it certain that grip will leave a mark on you.

You were certain your bodies can't be closer, but when he wrapped his legs around your hips, you could hear his heartbeat and feel the brace under his clothes. Viktor parted his lips, letting a whimper out of them. His neck arched, exposing his Adam's apple and long stenomastoid. Your mouth moved to the protruding muscle and traveled through it back to his lips.

And Viktor felt like he was dreaming. You were so careful, yet so fervent with him. Your lips made him more drunk than all the liquors he tasted, making him tug at your clothes, not to let you go. His body heatened, squeezing sweat out of him. But you didn't seem to mind the smell. In fact, you seemed to dine on his mouth like on a sweet, creamy cake.

Suddenly, you stopped. He whined, tugging on your shirt, but you pulled back. As he unglued his eyelids, he saw your eyes studying his face.

"Fuck, Viktor. You're so pretty like this." You panted. Your lower lip shined from his saliva.

"Please." He gasped. "Kiss me more, you taste like heaven."

You lowered your grasp to his hips and got as close as you can, with your pelvis touching his. Your hearts were rushing in sync. Viktor made the highest noise that ever left his lips, as your tongue tied with his. A string of drool streamed down his chin.

You arched back, and Viktor arched with you, as you supported him with your hands on his back. He felt so safe, despite the possibility of you dropping him an any moment.

Suddenly, he heard Jayce's voice calling your name. You abandoned his mouth and pulled him back upright. Just now, as you leaned down to get it, he realised he had dropped his cane. You gave it to him, helped him back on the ground, then left.

But in his head, Viktor was still kissing you. He looked at his hand to check if he wasn't dreaming.

He wasn't. The spit that marked his lips and the sweet taste on his tongue was real.

He just stood there. Stood, touching his wet lips, processing the recent minutes, in which he experienced the last thing he thought he'd experience.

Until he busted into tears.

dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

[kendraontmblr]

SWEET NIGHTS - B. SHELTON

────────

Pairing: Ben Shelton x Fem!Reader [FIRST PERSON POV]

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: On a cool, quiet night under the stars, you and Ben share sweet moments over ice cream. From playful banter to lingering kisses, the night unfolds in warmth and promises of something deeper.

Warnings: None. This imagine is sweet, with soft romance and playful teasing ;)

A/N: hi loves ! so this is my first ever ben shelton imagine - i hope you enjoy it. let me know what you all think ! my song inspo was moonlight by ariana grande. so it’s a soft kinda love x

────────

The night air weaves through the streets, carrying a refreshing breeze as Ben and I strolled hand in hand, our laughter soft and light like the chime of distant bells. We were both dressed in cozy, effortless casual wear, a stark contrast to our usual tennis attire. I wore an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, its softness welcomed comfort. My hair was pulled back in a loose bun, but strands escaped and fluttered around my face, framing my features. Ben liked to call it my "moonlit look," perfect for nights when stars glowed softly.

Ben kept it simple too, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, his curls falling into his eyes in that way that made him look carefree and impossibly cute. There was a gentle flush to his cheeks as he smiled, sharing the joy of the moment. Above us, the night sky stretched endlessly, the stars twinkling softly like distant diamonds. The moon hung low, bathing everything in a gentle, silver glow that seemed to wrap us in its warmth. As we walked, I felt a flutter in my chest, my heart dancing with our laughter, while Ben’s smile—the mischievous one I loved so much—mirrored the sparkling sky. In that moment, everything felt still, as if time itself had slowed to savor this quiet, perfect night.

As we approached the ice cream stand, the sweet scent of waffle cones wafted through the cool night air. I nudged Ben, my eyes sparkling. "I can already tell you're going for something classic tonight. What’s it gonna be, Mr. Predictable?"

Ben raised an eyebrow, smirking playfully as he pointed to the chocolate chip cookie dough. "Guess I'm feeling a little indulgent tonight," he said, his voice light and carefree, the grin on his face matching the playful twinkle in his eyes.

I giggled at his words. "I think I’ll go with cookies and cream," I said, enjoying the moment as the worker placed the scoop onto my cone.

As we stood waiting for our ice cream, the soft hum of conversation around us faded into the background, leaving just the two of us standing there in the quiet of the night. Ben’s gaze softened, his lips curling into a playful grin.

"C’mere," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that made my heart flutter. His fingers gently brushed the side of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as he carefully wrapped his hand around it, his touch feather-light yet reassuring.

I glanced up, breath hitching as his eyes locked onto mine. He pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me, and for a second, I forgot about everything else, the world around us faded away.

Ben leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t hurried—just sweet and full of unspoken affection, the kind of kiss that made everything feel right. I melted into it, heart racing as I savored the moment, the warmth of his touch wrap around me like a cozy blanket.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine with a quiet intensity, making my pulse quicken. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held me there with his gaze, as if making sure I was still with him.

Then, with a soft smile, he leaned in again, pressing another gentle kiss to my lips—just a sweet peck that felt like everything. I smiled into the kiss, my heart fluttering as I let the moment linger, the world fading away once again as we stood there, connected in that quiet, perfect exchange.

We pulled back slowly, the soft rhythm of our breaths lingering between us as we shared a quiet, lingering moment. I felt a warm blush creeping up my neck, and I couldn’t help but smile. Ben’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he gently released his hold on me, and I glanced up at him, feeling a flutter in my chest.

“What was that all about?” I asked, my voice soft, tinged with a shy smile. The heat in my cheeks made my heart race even faster.

Ben’s smirk widened, and he tilted his head slightly, clearly amused by my reaction. “What? Can’t I kiss my girl?” he asked, his tone playful yet sincere, the warmth in his voice making my heart flutter.

I laughed, shaking my head as I tried to compose myself, still feeling the lingering buzz of his kiss. He reached for his ice cream cone then, a playful grin never leaving his face.

After a beat, we walked over to a nearby bench, the breeze rustling the leaves and the soft glow of the streetlights creating a quiet sense of magic around us. As we sat, our ice cream in hand, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, my heart still dancing with the sweetness of the moment.

Ben handed me his cone, holding it out in offering. “Not too bad, huh?” he said, a soft smile tugging at his lips as I took the first bite. His eyes watched me closely, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the flavor. “Mmm, this is really good,” I murmured, a soft sigh escaping as I pulled away. “Classic chocolate chip cookie dough will always be a win.” I gave him a playful smile as I licked my lips.

Ben chuckled at my reaction. “Glad you approve,” he said, his voice warm and light. He took a bite of his own cone, leaning back against the counter. “I knew it’d be a hit. Can’t go wrong with the classics.”

We sat there for a moment, exchanging a few more bites of our ice cream. The night air felt fresh, and the quiet hum of the city buzzed around us as we began talking about everything and nothing at all. The conversation shifted from tennis to our favorite childhood memories, our favorite music, and even silly thoughts about the future. There was something about the simplicity of the moment—sitting there, sharing ice cream and laughter—that made everything feel effortlessly perfect.

As I indulged, I felt a drip of ice cream slip down my chin. I froze, my eyes widening in surprise as I realized the mess I had made. Ben’s soft chuckle filled the air, and before I could react, he leaned closer. His thumb brushed gently against my skin as he wiped the mess away, his touch light but leaving a trail of warmth. A shiver of excitement ran through me as I felt the warmth of his hand linger on my cheek.

He brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it off slowly, never breaking eye contact. The intensity in his gaze made my heart race, and I couldn’t help but watch him, my lips slightly parted. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, making me feel breathless, as if the whole world had narrowed down to just us in that moment.

With a small, teasing smile, Ben casually returned to his ice cream, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened, leaving the air between us thick with unspoken tension.

“Sweet,” he said, his tone playful, though the underlying edge to his voice made my pulse quicken.

I took a moment to gather myself, trying to steady my racing heart. “Nice to know you enjoy the flavor,” I teased, my cheeks flushed, my smile pulling at the corners of my lips.

“Oh, I enjoy a lot of things,” he replied, his gaze steady, the playful spark in his eyes deepening, making his words carry more weight than I expected. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me.

I took a deep breath, my heart still racing, trying to steady myself. I glanced away for a moment, gathering my thoughts, and let out a quiet exhale. My eyes fluttered back to him, my lips slightly parted as I gave a subtle, playful roll of my eyes, trying to act casual. But the warmth on my cheeks betrayed me, and my smile, soft but knowing, was all the answer he needed.

“Shut up,” I murmured playfully, my voice tinged with affection as I fought back a grin.

Ben chuckled softly as he took a bite of his ice cream, but as he did, the scoop nearly slipped off the cone. His eyes widened, and the way he quickly tried to correct it, looking almost panicked for a second, was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but laugh. The sight of him desperately saving his cone made the moment feel even lighter.

He steadied the cone with a grin, still chuckling as looked at me. I couldn't stop laughing either, the easy moment stretching between us as we shared the lightness of it all.

After finishing our ice cream, we leaned in, sharing soft kisses under the vast night sky. The cool breeze caressed our skin, and the stars twinkled above, creating a beautiful backdrop for our tender moments. Ben’s hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently against my skin. Each kiss was sweet and lingering, carrying with it the promise of something deeper, something that made my heart race.

As we walked, my hand found its way to Ben’s bicep, and I couldn’t help but smile. The warmth of his arm beneath my touch was grounding, and the simple connection between us felt natural, as though we were two halves of the same whole.

We paused in a quiet spot, the world around us fading into the background as we gazed up at the stars. The silence stretched for a moment, comfortable yet charged, before I broke it. "I love you," I murmured, my voice barely audible but carrying all the truth I felt.

Ben smiled softly, his hand finding mine, intertwining our fingers. "I love you too," he said, his voice full of quiet sincerity.

As the night drew to a close, we exchanged lingering kisses, savoring each moment like the sweetest scoop of ice cream. Beneath the blanket of stars, we both knew we were on the brink of something more. The warm breeze carried whispers of possibility, and the sweetness of our feelings hung in the air, a promise of many enchanting nights to come.

With hearts full and spirits high, we walked together under the starry sky, the soft rustle of leaves echoing our footsteps. Each step felt like it resonated with the unspoken understanding that our journey together was just beginning, filled with laughter, love, and the thrill of shared adventures ahead.

────────

with love always,

kendra

[virtualreader]

under the stars

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: somehow the night watch shifts got jumbled, resulting in a maybe-not-so-forced proximity with the married, appealing leader of the group.

word count: 2,2k.

genre: smut, and a lil' bit of angst.

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, adultery, etc. (not proofread)

a/n: this was requested by an anon, I really hope it is what you wanted, enjoy!

+18 content below, minors dni, nsfw, please do not read it if you're uncomfortable with this topic!

The night sky laid before your eyes. It was the only thing that had improved with the outbreak. There were plenty of stars that night; they had always been there, but you just couldn't see them.

Contemplating the bright stars made everything seem right as if you were still enjoying summer nights in your backyard. But you were not. You were on watch.

The silence around you was only broken by the crickets and the occasional distant howling of the wind. The moon above shone brightly, casting eerie shadows around you, and the first dewdrops settled down onto the wisps of grass.

Suddenly, you heard a twig snap, and your heart skipped a beat. You turned around and saw Rick approaching you, his brows drew together as he asked, "Whatcha doing up there, y/n?”

“Watch duty,” you spoke simply.

Rick found it strange; he could have sworn that it was his turn tonight. As a matter of fact, it was. However, Glenn had asked for you to cover his shift, as they would not return until late into the night.

"Wasn't I supposed to be on watch tonight?" he asked, shifting his weight to his right leg.

You observed him from your perch atop Dale's RV. His hands rested on his hips, and a substantial amount of blood stained his clothes. His sweat-soaked shirt clung to his torso, highlighting the physical exhaustion he must have been experiencing.

"Were you?" you rubbed your forehead. "Glenn told me you couldn't make it here in time for your shift.”

"Mind if I stay?" Rick asked. "I won't be able to sleep a wink anyway, and I think you could use someone to talk to, don't you?”

After accepting his proposal, Rick climbed up the handrails to sit beside you. With your feet hanging off the vehicle, you felt the cold breeze hit your skin, but it didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Instead, you welcomed the refreshing feeling, which provided a momentary escape from the tension and stress of everyday life in this new world.

You observed Rick as he took in the view, his expression softening as he relaxed, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the world around him.

As Rick sat beside you on top of the RV, you both found yourselves lost in a conversation that went on for hours. It was a rare moment of tranquility in a world filled with chaos, and you were grateful for it.

"You know what I miss the most from the old world?" he asked, breaking the settled silence.

You looked at him, nodding to encourage him to continue.

"Coffee," he said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "There was something about that bitter taste that just made everything better. It was like a warm hug in a cup, and it's something that you just can't replicate with anything else." He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "I remember how people used to line up for hours just to get their hands on a cup of coffee from their favorite shop. It was a social event, a way to connect with others over a shared love of caffeine. And now, it's just gone.”

You kept on talking for a while, exchanging memories from the time before the apocalypse. Although it felt like only minutes had passed since he arrived, you found yourself opening up to him, telling him about your life before the dead walked the earth.

You reminisced about renting movies every Saturday night, a ritual you followed religiously. You described dancing around the house with a broom in your hands, singing along to your favorite 80s songs. You explained how you would wander the neighborhood streets for hours with your dog, even on rainy days.

Rick's eyes drifted towards the horizon, and you could see the sadness etched onto his face. "I miss it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I miss my family, my friends, my job…everything. I miss everything."

You placed a hand on his shoulder, offering comfort. "We all do, Rick. We all do."

"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it," Rick said, his voice heavy with emotion. "All the fighting, all the pain…for what? Just to survive another day?"

You turned towards him and rested your hand on his arm. "It's worth it, Rick. We have to keep going, for ourselves and for the people we care about.”

"You know," you began, hesitating as you tried to gather your thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about the world we live in, and how chaotic and violent it can be. It's easy to feel lost and alone like we're all just struggling to survive. But then I look at you, and I realize that you make me feel safe, protected, and cared for." you said, voicing the thought that had been brooding in your mind. "And I believe I speak for all of us when I say we appreciate you as our leader.”

Your cheeks blossomed with red as Rick’s enlarged pupils bored into your soul as if he could read through you. His mere presence was enough to put you in a fight-or-flight mode, making you aware of an attraction you had not acknowledged before.

Rick Grimes was not chosen to be the group leader - it was a role that he fell into almost organically. His rise to leadership was not unexpected. He had always been a man of great integrity and his strong moral compass meant that he was a natural choice to lead the group. Rick's unwavering commitment to the group's survival and his ability to remain level-headed in times of crisis meant that he quickly gained the trust of his peers.

The graze of a hand in your tight startled you, averting your eyes from the sky that had you entranced, to Rick's face. He took advantage of the moment and reached out to gently caress your cheek. You felt a rush of emotions as your heart began to race.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as Rick leaned in closer, responding to the adulterous desire you had ignited within his heart. His breath felt hot on your skin, and you could hear the beating of your own heart as your lips met in a passionate kiss, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been brewing between you for days. Though the world may have been gone, at that moment, everything felt right.

As you embraced the married man, your heart was racing with excitement. You could feel his lips on yours and his arms tightly wrapped around you. But as you both pulled away, a sudden realization dawned on you. What were you doing? You were kissing a married man, and his wife laid just a few feet away, sound asleep. The guilt and shame crept up inside you, and you couldn't help but feel regretful for your actions. It was clear that this was anything but right.

“I-I’m sorry. I should not-” you breathed, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words. You looked down at your feet, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You had always been good at thinking on your feet, but at this moment, your thoughts were scattered and disjointed.

"Don't do that," he said, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. You tried to look away as if avoiding his gaze would excuse your immoral actions. But the hand he had on the side of your face prevented you from doing so, gently forcing you to look at him as he confessed, "Don’t apologize for something we've both obviusly wanted for a while now.”

And as if he knew what was going through your mind, he added, "Please don't worry about Lori," his voice soft and comforting. "Our relationship had decayed well before you and I met, so don't beat yourself up. If anything, that responsibility rests on me." His words were like a balm to your soul, a soothing reassurance to your worries, easing the fears that had been gnawing at you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself ogling at Rick's physical appearance. You couldn't help but notice the veins on his arms or the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the feeling of desire for him was overwhelming. You knew that your actions were wrong, but in this world, who was there to judge? You leaned in to kiss him again, but this time, something was different. This time, you knew that there was no going back.

When he turned you over onto your back, your heart raced with anticipation. You felt his hands slide down to your hips, gently but firmly holding you in place. As your lips remained locked in a passionate embrace, you couldn't help but shiver from the cool metal of the RV's roof against your skin. You felt a deep connection as he looked into your eyes, his gaze burning with desire and affection. In that moment, you knew that this was more than just physical attraction, but a true emotional bond between two people.

"Don’t make a sound," he muttered pulling away as he placed a finger over your mouth, hurriedly getting free from his dirty shirt. You had to be indeed quiet as to not be heard by the rest of the group, especially his wife.

After struggling with the zipper, you finally freed yourself from your tight-fitting pants. As you did, Rick's mischievous grin grew wider, his eyes lingering on the laced panties that you were wearing underneath. The silky fabric felt smooth against your skin, and you couldn't help but blush as Rick's gaze lingered on you. The enflaming feeling of a light gust of wind grazing your cunt sending a shiver down your spine.

"God damn it," Rick whispered. "You look so good beneath me.”

Rick began exploring your body with his hands, savoring every inch of your skin. He slowly lifted your shirt above your braless chest. You let out a soft moan as he ran his tongue over your nipple, causing your back to arch lightly at the sensation. His touch was electric and you couldn't resist the urge to pull him closer, wanting to feel more of him against your body.

Your hands whirled in the back of his head, feeling the texture of his coiled hair in your fingers as they intertwined with it. You felt a rush of passion as your lips connected once again, savoring the taste of his. Your fingers fumbled with his zipper, your eagerness growing with each passing second. His tongue met yours in a frenzied dance, both of you desperate for more.

Once you’d made your way to his hard cock you caressed his bulge, feeling it grow with each passing moment, and you looked up at his face, anticipating his reaction. A muted growl escaped his mouth as he quivered under your touch. You continued to stroke him, your movements becoming more and more deliberate as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.

“Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught.” you ordered him after he moaned loudly , smugness emanating from you.

“That’s gonna be hard if your hand stays there any longer, pretty girl.”

His hands slipped under your panties, the circling movements of his fingers over your clit delivering shockwaves through your entire body. You couldn't help but gasp as you felt your walls tighten around his fingers, and the pleasure continued to build with each passing moment.

Rick's voice was hoarse as he leaned over you, his eyes dark with desire. "You are so ready for me," he whispered, his fingertips tracing a path down your body until they reached your entrance. The anticipation was almost unbearable as he teased you, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but feel like a dirty girl as he continued his ministrations, but you didn't want it to stop.

He entered you slowly, his fingers teasing your entrance until you were begging for more. When he finally filled you completely, you gasped from the intense pleasure that coursed through your body. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, and you knew in that moment that you were completely his.

The way he moved inside you was a dance of passion, each thrust taking you higher and higher until you were flying. You clung to him, your hands running over his back as you surrendered to the rapture that he was giving you.

As you both reached the peak of ecstasy, he crushed beside you, his body slick with sweat and his chest heaving. The warmth of his skin against yours was both comforting and exhilarating, and you couldn't help but snuggle closer to him, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

As the night turned into dawn, the two of you lay entwined on the roof of the RV, the cool breeze of the night forgotten. The guilt that had been plaguing you had subsided, replaced only by a feeling of contentment and euphoria. It was a moment that you knew you would never forget, a moment that would forever be etched in your memory as a reminder of the beauty that could still be found in a world filled with chaos.

Perhaps the scintillating night sky was not the only great thing the outbreak bought into your life.

[tightjeansjavi]

aut inveniam viam aut faciam - I will either find a way or make one

🌊~ emperor geta x bipoc!mermaidf!reader ~🌊

Geta has forever lived a life in a gilded cage the same shade of gold as the laurels that rest upon his head. The weight of the crown feels like a burden, one that he cannot shake. He yearns for freedom, to live without worry or care. He seeks adventure, friendship, romance beyond his wildest dreams— but his duty to the empire, to his brother, to Rome and her people constricts his heart like a vice. As if a coiled serpent rests around his neck like a necklace, squeezing and tightening with each shaky inhale of precious breath he takes.

When the world he lives in becomes too much, too crushing and real for him to endure, he feels drawn to the sea and the realm that lives within it. He has heard tales a many of beauty from plebeians sailing to Rome in hopes for a better opportunity—stability and riches. A dream of fools, but a dream nonetheless. Stories of sightings at sea: creatures with a woman’s body, but a fishes tail instead of feet, and scales that shimmer even brighter than gold and expensive gems.

Mermaids.

Upon one evening, after the troubled emperor consumed enough wine to make his head feel fuzzy, he finds his way to the sea. The breeze upon his rouged painted cheeks is refreshing, he can taste the salty air upon his wine tainted lips as he sways like reeds of seaweed drifting in the tide. He does not see you, at first. The night is dark, but the stars are bright. The moon is like a beacon against onyx silk that is the heavens.

“Gods,” he whispers, “is this what freedom tastes like?”

He startles at the sound of fins slapping against crested waves, the sound so clear even in his drunken haze. He squints through the darkness, swaying with one ringed hand clutched over his heart. And then, he sees you, head bobbing through the gentle waves. You are one with the sea and the emperor finds himself slowly sinking to his knees, falling to the sand unceremoniously.

“I must be dreaming.” he blinks, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes, but you are there: as real as the gold that shrouds him. “Or I have consumed too much wine,” he murmurs, nodding to himself. “Too much wine that I am seeing things that aren’t there.”

He squeezes his eyes shut so tight that behind closed lids he can see stars painting his vision. When he opens them again, slower this time, you are no longer there.

He returns to the sea every evening since, hoping—yearning to see you again, to be graced with your presence, but perhaps he was dreaming, or hallucinating the very image of you.

As an emperor with the world at his very fingertips, the one thing he could not have was you. The words “aut inveniam viam aut faciam” echo in his mind, but even the most powerful man in the world cannot manifest something as beautiful and free as you. You haunt his dreams and his waking hours, reminding him constantly of what he can never have; freedom.

[zorosdimples]

CHAPPED

pairing ༄ kakashi x gn!reader

warnings ༄ slightly suggestive, reader and kakashi are in an established relationship, and there is an implied age gap. this is mostly fluffy fluff (who am i?)

word count ༄ 1129

notes ༄ happy belated birthday to the man who started it all! my first 2d love <3 dedicating this to my kakashi girlies: @honeylavendr, @strawberrystepmom, @purpleskyvenus @rookie98writes and @delirious-donna!

it’s late—too late to be up on a work night, you think as you glance out the window, curtains not yet drawn closed. the moon is suspended high in the black satin sky, countless stars twinkling in adoration, graced by her brilliance.

diffused lamplight and flickering candle flames illuminate your bedroom, their warmth bathing everything in a dusky orange. your nightstand acts as a makeshift workstation, tools at the ready: rose water spray, moisturizer, lip treatment, and a headband.

your boyfriend pads out of the bathroom shirtless, dark pajama pants slung dangerously low on his narrow hips. “all done,” kakashi announces before smoothing a large hand down your back and pressing his still-wet lips to your forehead.

“i told you to pat your skin dry after you washed your face,” you pout, wiping away the chilly droplets that prickle your skin in the wake of his kiss.

kakashi settles on the edge of your shared bed, feet firmly planted on the plush rug. when you first moved in with him, you insisted the rug would feel cozy under your feet on a cold morning—a stark contrast to the unforgiving hardwood floors of your apartment. as usual, you were correct.

your comfort is more important to kakashi than anything else; a truth he probably shouldn’t admit as hokage.

“i did my best, love,” he hums, pulling you in by the hips, lithe fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts to knead the supple flesh.

you grip kakashi’s strong shoulders to keep your balance, willing yourself not to melt into him, knees trembling as he nuzzles your neck. his day-old silvery stubble grazes your throat and sets your nerves afire.

“can’t we just go to bed?” he murmurs, chapped lips moving hotly against your skin. your pulse thrums under his heady breath.

“kashi, you promised,” you whine—overdramatic? yes, but you’re eager to pamper him. “the sooner you cooperate, the sooner this is over,” you tease, pushing yourself away from him to swipe something from the nightstand. the ninja cocks a pale eyebrow when he sees the headband: cheap and fuzzy with a pair of pink and black cat ears.

ridiculous.

“to keep your hair out of your face,” you explain with a mischievous smirk as kakashi rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, tolerating your antics. he opens his mouth to speak, but clamps it shut when you comb your fingers through his unruly hair, pushing the snowy mane out of his face. gently, you slide the headband in place. tufts of hair poke out in front of his ears, his expression that of a disgruntled cat.

your lighthearted giggle has his slate irises fixed on your carefree radiance as he prods (voice betraying his amusement), “what’s so funny?”

you shake your head and press a delicate kiss to his cheek before grabbing the rose water spray. “nothing. you just look cute.”

“i think you’re the only person who would describe me as cute,” he chuckles, sharp incisors glinting in the low light. you think of contesting his statement, but his naïveté is endearing.

at your instruction, kakashi’s eyelids flutter shut. you spritz the rose water onto his face, the refreshing mist coating his skin, beading on his ivory eyelashes and at his cupid’s bow. you then pop the lid off of your moisturizer bottle, pumping some of the product onto your fingertips.

kakashi doesn’t ask what all the steps mean, nor do you feel the need to explain. he has watched you do your skincare routine day and night more times than he can count. he knows each product you use by name, what purpose they serve, and the order in which they need to be applied. it’s not like you asked him to memorize all of this; it’s just a habit of his—soaking in every detail about you, what you care about, and what you do.

as you massage the buttery moisturizer into his skin, your boyfriend keeps his thoughtful gaze on you: the furrow of your focused brow, the way your front teeth catch your bottom lip, the slight flare of your nostrils. your touch is featherlight as you rub tender circles of the product all over his face, careful to not get too close to his eyes, taking it up to his hairline and down his neck.

satisfied with your work, you rub the remnants of the moisturizer into your hands. kakashi seizes the opportunity to pull you into his lap and guide your legs to wrap securely around his waist.

“what?” you squeak in surprise.

“what?” kakashi parrots back, drinking in the alluring metamorphosis of your features from shock to annoyance to amusement.

you cup his face—large in your soft embrace—admiring the beauty of the man you love. “your skin is perfect, it’s not fair,” you playfully huff, smoothing your fingertips across his high cheekbones and down the distinct cant of his nose.

kakashi barks out a laugh, falling on the sheets to his back. you follow his lead, leaning over him, hair framing you both in privacy. “i’m pushing forty, my love. my skin is nowhere near perfect.” one of his scarred palms cradles your head while the other traces down your bare arm to rest on your waist. “you have youth on your side,” he rumbles, uncharacteristically wistful.

he isn’t wrong. there’s the jagged scar that bisects his left eye, a sigil borne of recklessness. kakashi once lived as though he had no future; life was merely death’s antechamber—a brutal purgatory of violence and meaningless suffering. he lived with no regard of himself as a person, but rather as a vessel of retribution, a tool to be hidden in the shadows away from light and life.

now, kakashi has proof of life, etchings across his flesh to mark the passage of time: his gambles and failures, his missteps and wrongs. but as your fingers map the planes of his face—fair skin, sinuous veins, laughter lines, dappled moles—you realize that his supposed shortcomings only make him more perfect to you. he’s just a man, after all. he’s fallible and flawed but he’s yours.

“your lips are a little chapped,” you warble as you reach over to the nightstand. you open up the jar of your favorite lip treatment and scoop out some of the balm using your pinkie.

as you move toward his mouth, kakashi catches your wrist, pearly eyes ablaze. without breaking eye contact, he leads your hand to his face, guiding it so that the product on your finger spreads across his lips. when your wrist falls, he wraps you in his arms, any space between your bodies too much to bear.

“you need to rub the balm in,” you whisper.

“sure,” your lover sighs before smearing his lips against your own.

[penguinlop]

Yandere Alhaitham x Reader

/// Ignorance Is Bliss

Summary:

You discover that your new love, Alhaitham, secretly keeps a detailed knowledge capsule about you.

cw: GN reader, spoilers for alhaitham’s lore and sumeru archon quests, yandere themes, stalking, manipulation, implied not-sfw

Alhaitham knows better than anyone else that there's always a price to pay to enter the oasis of knowledge. 

Sanity is the ticket those desert sirens crave to check before you board. 

Enticing scrolls of information wrap around your waist and weary legs, dragging you toward the mirage of gilded wisdom. They dance around, heated faces burned from the whispers of sand. The glistening flow of cleansing texts and books containing forbidden, convoluted details tempts people's thirst. 

It's all for the enlightenment. An intoxicating euphoria of comprehension, to feel the ivory branches and leaves of Irminsul flood their senses. Perhaps it's the glory, that "aha!" moment people desire. They want to fatten their parched egos and satisfy that sinister appetite. They hunger to be better than everyone else by knowing and achieving more, by finding the Holy Grail first. 

Knowledge is the charmer; people are the sinful serpents. 

As with any personal research project for him, it started with discovering the topic of interest

Alhaitham prides himself on being a man with principles rooted in logic. Rationality is the key to clarity. Dreams are mere distractions. They are fanatical fantasies that the mind plays to taunt and deceive. The Sages endlessly speak of how emotions only get in the way of breaking the Samsara and reaching Nirvana. 

Perhaps the moon can only hope to achieve the greatness of the sun. 

That is why it was noon when he first laid eyes on you in the House of Daena.

You smelt of orange blossom.

How could he forget that contemplative look as you searched for yellowing books riddled with dust to pique your interest and aid your studies? It was nothing out of the ordinary, a common spectacle rather. As a fellow member of the Akademiya, you were simply another eager student to him.  

Holding onto such a meaningless encounter wouldn't be rational. He didn't even bother to gather information on you via the Akasha as a testament to his word. 

But one evening, as the lustrous moon wailed in its cage, Alhaitham found you near the beautiful Sanctuary of Surasthana. It was a clear night with a gentle breeze, the perfect time to  contemplate and relax amidst the choir of dusk birds. He was going up there to take a quick breather. There were too many annoying meetings he had to attend.  

With a telescope in hand and a notebook neatly laid on a stone bench nearby, you gazed at the glorious heavens. A faint fragrance of rose water clung to your skin. However, that's hardly what he noticed at the time. There it was again: that contemplative look. They say the scholars of the Akademiya hold the weight of Teyvat by carrying the burden of denying ignorance, the blistering desire to keep on learning. Some seek to know more and more, even as they meet their fated end. It's an addictive, maddening cycle of peeping into the elusive unknown and searching for answers. 

Yet you looked so peaceful. It was refreshing to see. 

Alhaitham couldn't help but reminisce about the words his grandmother left him with. 

"May my child Alhaitham lead a peaceful life." 

"Lovely, aren't they?" you whispered as tenderly as dancing Padisarahs when you noticed his form enter the Sanctuary's vicinity. "Many say the stars are mysterious, but I think they can be quite playful. Every day I unveil more. It's like they ask me to come and be with them" A simple glance nearly made him burn with curiosity. He suddenly felt parched. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I can often get carried away with my studies." You chuckled at the cunning man. Maybe he couldn't even hear you with his headphones on.  

Alhaitham crossed his arms and sighed. "It's fine. I should've known someone from the school of Rtawahist would be up here stargazing. I will be heading off then." Your telescope and blue robes were a telltale sign of your discipline; it was but a mere elementary-level deduction. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? I don't want you to feel like I am hogging the place." The fragrance of rose water came oh-so-slightly closer. It was too sweet and enticing. The pragmatic man couldn't help it. He discretely used his Akasha on you. 

After learning of your name and basic information, he came to the blatant conclusion that he needed to leave. Immediately. 

Once again, he thought of his grandmother. 

"You are such a smart child, but you must take care to have a clearer mind than others. You must understand that vain pursuits are but dust."

His mind was fogging up with too many eccentric yearnings. Aside from facts hastily gathered from the Akasha, he knew nothing about you. 

It needed to stay like that.

He nearly scoffed. What was this? That old tale of Layla and Majnun? The man who went insane from love. Give me a break. What use would itching love be to his aspirations? At best, this was but a fleeting attraction. It would go away eventually. 

"Look, I don't think either of us have any more time to waste." Alhaitham reviewed you once more before curtly turning around and walking away. "Now then, goodbye." 

He had made sure to study the contours of your face, your eye color, your height, your posture, how your clothes fit you, and, most of all, that scent of rose water. But, really, it was all to avoid you for future reference. Yes, understanding one's subject is critical. 

You raised your eyebrow as you saw his form grow smaller and smaller. Then, tilting your head up, you looked at the hypnotizing stars and deathly pale moon, trying to read your destiny and find the absolute truth. 

Before he could completely escape your view, you used your Akasha Terminal on him. Perhaps you were also too curious. Sumeru's ideals were fostered by you quite well.

Huh, so his name is Alhaitham…What a mysterious man.  

___

The art of coffee-making is a methodical process. 

Roast, ground, brew, and serve. 

It was akin to the process of learning that Alhaitham used: read, break down, reorganize, and question. 

Depending on the customer's order, it could be embellished with spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, or saffron. In some cases, sugar may be added. 

Alhaitham likes it dark and plain, an afternoon refreshment for the man on the go. While Puspa Café is a common place for social gatherings of people across all walks of life, ranging from lowlife sycophants to wishful merchants, he prefers to be alone. Solitude isn't as vexing as many claim. It allows him to think about his current ordeals. Moreover, it gives him time to read. 

That day, one problem had left him quite disturbed. 

The Dendro user has always been in-tune with his body. Ever since the brief confrontation that night, he had been physically and mentally agitated, with a fluctuating heartbeat, clammy hands, accelerated breathing, and racing thoughts. Coffee was a possible solution he believed could mitigate any troublesome symptoms. But, of course, in moderation. His roommate, Kaveh, could learn about the word moderation. 

Yet this afternoon's refreshment only made it worse.

There you were again. 

A ghastly deev haunting his every footstep. Spreading tendrils of nightmares across his skin to choke his throat, vivisecting his beating heart and rumbling mind to capture any essence of starry wisdom and pragmatic musings. 

Closing the book he was reading, he noticed the color of the coffee that spewed out of your brass dallah. It was so light. Just from the sight of it, he could taste the nauseating sweetness, too lightly roasted, with too much sugar, honey, and spice. Scoffing, he bets you even untraditionally added milk to lessen the bitter taste. Children are the only ones who dream in this nation, yet one quick look at you was enough to guess that you never truly grew up.

As if you wanted to solidify his observation, your eyes glowed and the corners of your lips curled up when you spotted him. You made your way over to his table and asked if he would like to join you with a spring in your step. 

Amidst the overpowering, bold scent of coffee clouding the café, he smelt it the moment you came closer.

Jasmine. 

Were your decisions rooted in spontaneity, or did you cycle through a collection of perfumes? He couldn't help but ponder the answer as you awaited his response. 

"Sure." 

He adored the way you perked up at the sound of one word. A waitress quickly helped to arrange a larger table for you two. 

This was just a way to get more information out of you. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Yes, you could be of use to him. The third time's a charm, they say. 

You quickly got comfortable, too comfortable. "Would you like to share some baklava or maamoul cookies? They are quite delicious, though I can order something else for you if you don't like them. Be my guest!" With a slight, delicate movement of your hand, you gestured to the assortment of sweets laying on a brass tray. 

"No. I'm fine. Foods with such high levels of sugar only leave me restless at night. It's a nuisance to deal with while I'm trying to work. You should know better, too. Thank you, though." 

You awkwardly glanced away. "I see…Well, that's not a problem. The offer is always there if you change your mind." Looking down at your hands nestled in your lap, you maneuvered the dying conversation elsewhere and swiftly began to ask about his job as the Akademiya's Scribe. The dreamy gleam in your eyes never faded

He couldn't get enough. His illogical thirst was growing.

His flesh began to blaze with anticipation. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to entertain this romantic fantasy for a bit. Things could be tested with you. He was never one to be enthralled with the concept of love. It was too frivolous and melodramatic, but he supposed studious scholars never limit their perspectives. 

"So, what's it like?" you chirped. 

Why must you question him? He wanted to know more about you, everything there was to know. No, he had to know in order to finally get this greedy parasite wishing to feast on every bit of you out of his mind. Such a visceral need was consuming every inch of his very being. All semblances of practicality were withering before his eyes. No amount of bitter coffee was enough to quench the anxiety that plagued his mind, nor his bouncing knees, as you persistently asked him about his work and Darshan of Haravatat. 

Of course. 

How could he be so ignorant? His approach was all wrong. 

Alhaitham graduated with top grades at the Akademiya; his professors commended him for quickly deciphering incredibly elaborate ancient runes and grasping unfathomably complex syntax and structure. 

You were like that. 

You were a puzzle waiting to be unveiled and exposed to him and him alone. The world has no need of getting to view such convoluted beauty. A rare individual you were, indeed. You managed to hold on to such childish ways of wanting to dream while still maintaining a mature air of unmatched wisdom in your research. 

Alhaitham began the next phase of his project. 

Studying the subject.  

He thanked his grandmother for the lessons she taught him. All he had to do was clear his mind, and the path to wisdom was unfolding. 

___

None of it was wrong. 

No sane student at the Akademiya would ever take their exam blindly or be unprepared for a debate. Comprehension and studying are critical components to achieving success. So why set yourself up for failure? 

Before asking if you would reciprocate his feelings, he had to know first. So many calculated scenarios were emerging through his mind as he thought of what would happen if he didn't make sure beforehand. He couldn't possibly let himself look like some idiot. He had to find out the exact percentage of success, no matter what it took. 

After all, Alhaitham's hands were never the cleanest, even if he did like a cushy life. 

That is why he felt no guilt when he asked to walk you home. It was very late at night. You were stargazing again. He just wanted to be useful.  

Each step was seared into his mind. Each item of interest you pointed out on the way left him with more questions. Upon reaching your abode, sparks of pride flooded into his veins. He had guessed you lived in this area. You often walked here during mornings and later hours; it was a straightforward conclusion. Nothing special. 

A tender smile graced your beautiful face. It was brimming with gratitude. 

He ensured you entered safely and locked the door. It was only when all the lights were out did he truly depart, though. He had to see the peaceful expression on your face as you slept. 

Once Alhaitham arrived home, he felt conflicted. Reasonably, there was no chance he could ever forget anything from today. Yet humans aren't without their respective flaws, especially involving memory. He didn't dare to ruminate on what may occur if he were to somehow forget even one piece of information you blessed him with. Every tidbit and morsel you fed him was significant in nature. 

It was all part of his investigations.  

However, he couldn't write such crucial facts in some random notebook. No, no; such things must remain strictly confidential. It was only logical. What if he misplaced it? Or even worse, what if his obnoxious roommate got to it? He rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

Summoning an empty knowledge capsule that he had obtained when he was ordered to draft more ordinances for the Sages, Alhaitham flooded it with every bit of data he had on you, from your slumbering form to your mellow smile and contemplative look. It was all there. Safe and sound, ready for him to access at any time. 

Before resting, he thought of the way you smelt of orange blossom again. 

___

You next met one morning at the Akademiya. 

You wore no fragrance today. 

Chuckling, you noticed Alhaitham stride towards you impatiently. He was clutching a small, decorative bag. After exchanging simple greetings, he handed it over to you. There was neither a frilly explanation nor a blooming blush on his handsome face. Instead, he had a sharp and clean approach. 

"Here, this is for you." 

Though not one to express his emotions so as to maintain an unreadable body language, you had picked up on a few of his habits. He seemed eager. It was charming to think about how he grew more casual and open around you. To the untrained eye, one may think he wasn't fond of you at all, but you knew. That realization was enough to keep you on your toes. 

One previous evening, the glimmering stars and bygone moon sisters breathlessly spoke of your future. It was challenging to decipher, but you stuck to your beliefs that the stars don't lie, and you were greatly rewarded.

The confirming chill that the divine gales of the night brought to you all spoke of the same fortune. 

"There is a man that treasures every bit of you." 

Despite sounding like good tidings, a hole in your stomach grew.

It started off as a tiny sapling. You suspected it to be anxiety for upcoming deadlines or the usual fatigue from nights spent stargazing. Something that could easily be brushed off. Yet branches and roots ravaged and wrapped around your organs as you heard the consistent sound of soil crunching beneath one's feet. Be it dawn or dusk, such dreadful mirages pained your spirit.

But with Alhaitham, it stopped. Perhaps it was a side effect of being in love. Being so on edge around him had taken a toll on you. Is this why the Sages warn of pursuing things such as love? You couldn't help but wonder. 

Nevertheless, it wasn't an appropriate time to have your heads in the clouds. 

You quickly tore off the patterned wrapping paper and grinned. It was exactly what you needed: more jasmine-scented perfume! Just the glass bottle itself was astonishingly exquisite, encrusted with jewels and detailed with gold. You could tell it was expensive. 

"I can't take this. This must've cost you a fortune! I really can't accept this. Though I did just run out of mine… You should return it and use the money for something more useful. Besides, I'm fine with using the cheaper one I usually purchase!"

Returning the bottle to the small bag, you tried to give it back to the man standing before you. 

Alhaitham hated the way you acted. This was just a quick gift he purchased at the Grand Bazaar. It was nothing. He knew you had run out of your usual exactly the day prior. Alhaitham simply saw an opportunity and decided to strike. Honestly, he only studies what interests him. You should know that by now. Why bother with the inessential? 

"Don't be ridiculous.” His eyes narrowed oh-so-slightly. “It was just something I thought you might like. Anyway, keep it. I have no need for such things." 

Still lacking confidence, you treaded carefully, "Well…If you say so. I will treasure it by wearing it every day! Thank you, Alhaitham." Inspecting the perfume bottle again, you couldn't help but smile. "It's almost like a miracle that you gifted me this because I just ran out of my usual. I really want to thank you somehow…."

Bullseye. 

"Hmm… Is that so? Never mind, we will get to that later." He placed his hand underneath your chin and pulled your face from side to side to inspect you. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Your eyebags are much more prominent." 

Twinges of insecurity rang through your bones as he examined your appearance. I suppose that's how he shows he cares? Looking down, you played with the strings of the gift bag and tried to awkwardly collect yourself. "Lack of sleep is common for my studies, but I have been a bit more jumpy than usual when I rest, that's all. Perhaps you were right back then…Too much sugar." Your voice grew weaker. "It's nothing, really." 

"If it's ‘nothing’ as you claim it to be, then you wouldn't be so distressed. Come on, spit it out." There was no need to sugarcoat things. Many of his former classmates gossip that he is a ruthless robot, but he doesn't mind such statements. To him, it's better to clear things away than regret it later. 

Not wanting to look into his eyes, you glanced at the other students in the Akademiya mingling with their like-minded colleagues and friends. Dejectedly, you scratched the back of your neck, then quickly gestured to the door with your head. "Let's talk outside, shall we?" 

Sitting under a pavilion, you apologized for the sudden request to head outdoors. Alhaitham remained unfazed. Rigid and cold, silently awaiting a reply. 

First, you breathed in, then shakily exhaled before speaking, "Okay, then. I think someone is stalking me. I can't give you a proper explanation as to why, but I just know. It really has left me so scared. I won't lie, the feeling disappears when I'm with you...." With a heated face, you quickly looked to Alhaitham for validation as you poured out your feelings. "But, um, of course! You are an extremely accomplished individual. Anybody would feel better with you since you're the Scribe, after all." 

He scoffed, "I think Kaveh would beg to differ about your last statement." 

You laughed. 

It was simply perfect. He just wanted to caress your face and tell you how good you were being for him. Yes, so good. So naive. 

"Let's do an experiment. Why don't you stay at my place for a day or two and see what happens?" He couldn't help but smirk at how you shrunk under his all-knowing stare. "If you don't want to, I can think of another solution. However, I believe we have become quite close, and I'm sure you would enjoy it. Besides, Kaveh is out for a bit. But in the end, it's your choice, of course." 

"Well, if you insist…." You took out the perfume bottle and daintily sprayed it on your neck and wrists; you enjoyed how his keen eyes soaked you in. "Thank you for being so kind. You know me so well, Alhaitham." 

"Yes, I really do." 

___

In Sumeru City, when it rains, it pours. 

Streets flood with incinerating kisses and sensual touches intertwined with a rich, floral fragrance. 

To many, Alhaitham is known as a lunatic. Such a name fits the man whose mind was devoured by jasmine perfume. 

He couldn't get enough. 

Every inch of you, he had to learn about. He needed to properly store and encode such mesmerizing information into the recesses of his gluttonous mind. 

That intoxicating perfume permeated Alhaitham’s room and desperately held onto disheveled sheets. It was akin to the incense that scholars use to clear their minds and focus their bodies to become one with Irminsul. Yes, it was just like that. 

You couldn't help but feel so safe in his arms. The stars really do never lie. 

He loved every bit of you.

___ 

Sunlight peeked through translucent cotton curtains and illuminated the room. 

Alhaitham kissed your forehead and greeted you with a simple "Good morning" as you moved his hair from his face and took in his features. The intense perfume still persistently laced through his sheets. 

The domesticity of it all, from changing together to preparing breakfast, swelled your heart. It had been quite a while since you were last able to unwind like this. 

Alhaitham quickly took notice of your lax movements. Good. You were enjoying yourself as planned. By the time he's done, you won't be able to tell the difference between an innocent Sumeru Rose and a vicious Venus Flytrap.

He looked you up and down again. "How do you feel? Did you sleep okay?" 

"Yes, I haven't felt this relaxed for a while. Ever since I joined my Darshan, sleep has become a luxury. It was especially bad when I was first learning the basics because I would have to stay up all night long to study the stars and keep up with other research. At one point, I developed severe insomnia, but I’m fine now. Anyway… Yes, I did sleep well. This is the first time I’ve felt safe in a long while. Thank you, Alhaitham." 

He nodded and spoke, "That's good. If we are going to continue this relationship, then maybe in the future we can discuss more complex matters, such as living together more permanently."  

Your eyes widened as you took in his statement, but you soon giggled, “A little hasty, aren’t we, Alhaitham?” You poked fun at him. “What about poor Mister Kaveh?” 

He rolled his eyes at your teasing. 

Then he shrugged and bluntly defended himself, "It's only rational to think about these things, especially with your situation. Besides, I'm only putting them on the table—" 

There was a knock at his door. 

He noticed your jaw tighten in fear. Alhaitham pulled the strings of the puppet and played along with you. He muttered into your ear to hide from the front door's view just in case.  

The Scribe loved the way you obediently followed his orders and trusted so wholeheartedly everything that he said.  

When he opened the door, he didn't expect to be greeted by the Grand Sage Azar's assistant: Setaria. 

She told him how the Akademiya lost a knowledge capsule about the divine and how the Grand Sage wished for him to gather information on a certain blonde traveler.

A divine knowledge capsule and a heroic traveler from afar. How interesting. 

He crossed his arms and unceremoniously spoke, "I'll start my assignment soon." With that, he nodded, closed the door, and went silent again. Annoyance ran through his veins as he was pulled along into the Grand Sage's plot. A peaceful life as the Scribe was all he desired. Was it really that hard for the Akademiya to provide that?  

Turning around, the reserved man called for you. Your name rolled off his tongue too well, as if he was made to be the sole person on this forsaken continent to cherish and pronounce it. You carefully popped your head out from behind his bedroom door, the corners of your kissable lips turned down, forming a slight frown. 

"Is it all good?"

"Yes, it was just someone from the Akademiya for work. Speaking of, I have a little surprise for us." Alhaitham seemed to look right through you. "Do you want to hear it?" There was an excitement bubbling deep inside of him. Your stomach began to ache as he cloaked himself in mystery. 

You felt those hawk eyes analyze you again. "Uh, sure?" 

"How would you feel about going to Port Ormos for some academic research?" 

___

Alhaitham convinced you that it would help your situation. You could see if that uneasy feeling would follow you on your journey to the port. 

While the actual job itself is mundane and uneventful, as the Scribe, he receives many benefits. One was being sponsored by the Akademiya to stay in an upscale hotel with many amenities. 

Your shared suite had a lovely balcony with a nice view of the sea. Breathing in the refreshing salty air on a balmy day was energizing after being cooped up in such a stifling city of arrogant wisdom. Mere fool's gold.  

"If you want to go and explore, I would advise you to remain within the hotel grounds or near places that are guarded or populated in case anything were to happen. 

You turned to him. "Thank you for your concern, but I will just stay here. It's a nice room. I'll enjoy the breeze and finish up my papers on the balcony. Perhaps in your free time, we can do something together?"  

He thought about it for a second. "I'll see."

You deflated a bit. "Well, when do you think you'll come back?"

"Not anytime soon."

"Oh..."

"Anyway, I should be leaving now." Alhaitham pecked your cheek before heading out.

After unpacking, you began writing rough ideas for your ongoing thesis in your worn-out leather journal. As the clock kept ticking and the hours passed, you grew bored. Small sketches of constellations were sloppily drawn on the side with little notes as you tried to jot down as much information as possible. Becoming distracted, you began to doodle Alhaitham's constellation: Vultur Volans. You wanted to unveil so much more about him. You wanted the stars to guide you in your journey. 

Yet just as you were about to finish your little doodle, your pen ran out of ink.

You scribbled a few lines and circles to test it out one last time before throwing it in a nearby trash bin. It was nothing. A simple delay. 

Before going inside, you closed your leather journal and placed it on top of the stack of scrap papers so they wouldn't fly away. Going to your side of the bed, you opened your Adhigama wood nightstand and pulled out a few spare pens. However, when you sat down and attempted to use them, they didn't work. It was fine. You just happened to bring a bad batch. That was all. 

You knew Alhaitham brought a brand new set with him. It was still in his luggage, though... He was in such a hurry to start his job here in Port Ormos that he had no time to unpack. You always admired his diligence; it's what got him so far so quickly. He was your age, but you were still far behind. Though you couldn't blame him for tuning the world out and focusing just on his studies, he lost so much at such a young age. He was brave to keep looking towards the future despite his parents being gone. Even if he would say, "It was just the most rational thing to do." 

Alhaitham is a man with principles rooted in logic. He would understand why you were rummaging through his things. It wasn't an invasion of privacy! You two were a couple now; albeit new, the love was evident already. 

You were just going to borrow his pens, anyway. 

As you unlocked his luggage and looked for his case of supplies, you stumbled upon two similar containers in appearance and weight. Ugh! Which one was it? I suppose I'll just have to open them both… 

Moving your hand towards the zipper, you noticed your hand shake. Perhaps it was just getting cold. You had left the glass balcony door open, only closing the screen. The soft sound of the breeze and smell of sea salt slithered up your spine, invading your ear canals and nostrils. 

You placed your fingers on the zipper of the bag on the left. The sound of it unzipping was akin to the rustles of leaves and branches in a dark rainforest. What you found inside was a knowledge capsule. 

The pens were in the other bag. 

That was all. Alhaitham works under the Grand Sage. Of course you were bound to find certain items only he should be privy to. 

Yet why was it calling you like the irresistible knowledge that spills from the ivory, archaic branches of Irminsul? It was most likely empty, anyway, waiting to be filled with the information he would discover in the bustling Port Ormos. Why was the hollow, ravaging feeling in your stomach and heart returning to once again suffocate your organs and dry up your blood into grains of sand? 

Your journal was waiting for you. Opening the other bag, you got what you wanted. 

His pens. 

That was what you came for. 

However, the sharp pains and shivers ringing through your body reeled you into the infested desert and the pouring rainforest. A peek wouldn't hurt. Alhaitham would understand, right? He was the one that brought you here, after all, to keep an eye out for your situation. 

Yes, he's a man who knows his morals. Besides, how would he even know? It would be alright. He said himself that he wouldn't be coming anytime soon. 

As you gripped the green and gold knowledge capsule pulsing and flowing with information, you felt so conflicted. The unease was growing, yet you felt so sure that you were meant to do this. Opposing thoughts contrasted each other like fields of flowers flourishing amidst dunes of lifeless sand. It truly nauseated you.  

After establishing a connection with it, you felt it. A flash of memories entered into the recesses of your mind. As if two consciousness were merged together to form one single entity, you felt vines and tendrils weaving through your anatomy. Nearly every bit of knowledge you gained was something you already had experienced. Yet it was from a different perspective. Your face, your body, your studies, your smiles, your slumber, your pens, even your perfume. 

It was all there, only from a different angle.

For so long, you saw life from the eyes of a feeble mouse. Now, you could see what it was like to view the world from the perspective of a hungry vulture ready to gobble up its prey. You dropped the canned knowledge. You barely heard the thud it made with the flooring, as it was drowned out by all of the thoughts racing through your mind. 

Your eyes scattered to the open glass door with the closed screen. The breeze and saltiness of the sea were still there. 

It felt so far. 

Running to the balcony, you rushed to lock the glass door and fumbled to close the cotton curtains. 

"Didn't anyone teach you to clean up after yourself?" 

Alhaitham's voice made everything cold. Sharply turning your head, you faced the man who both tormented your life and made it so beautiful. He came back so soon. Too soon. 

"Once the Matra knows about this, you will go to prison, Alhaitham, for what you did to me!" Your hands were shaking as you bunched them into fists and furrowed your eyebrows. Tears were threatening to spill at any moment. 

He merely crossed his arms. His precise, uptight composure never faltered. "You think the Matra will do anything to me? I'm the Scribe. The right hand of the Grand Sage." He stepped closer to you. “Did you know there once was a Rtawahist student who was so desperate for sleep that they went to Port Ormos and looked for knowledge capsules to help their studies and cure their insomnia? The Matra were never able to track down the culprit." Alhaitham walked closer to you. "However, I think today, that could change. The usage of canned knowledge to gain an advantage over one’s peers in the Akademiya is strictly against the rules." He was always one step ahead of you.

"Is it not?"

Cupping your face and forcing you to look at his darkening eyes, he stared into you, drinking up the way you brimmed with fear. Just how he liked it. Everything was falling into place as calculated. He whispered into your ear. "Think of this as the 'thank you' you said you would give me that day." 

Alhaitham embraced you tightly, taking in the exquisite jasmine perfume he gifted you. Trembling in his arms, you felt so small and helpless. Dreams shattered as you thought of everything that you had learned. The stars and wise moon didn't lie to you that night. There's a man who loves you with all his being. There's a man who knows everything about you.  

Seeking what is forbidden will always be the downfall of humanity. 

Perhaps ignorance truly is bliss. 

Thank you so much for reading!!!

(⺣◡⺣)♡*

[concretejunglefm]

i am not the same anon but i'm here for any and all noah x older!gf thots and blurbs you may have 🤗

Cont'd from here 💕

The age-old idea of being older and wiser applies here, and regardless of the size of the age gap, he would take that into consideration. Someone older—pushing closer to Jolly’s age, maybe even older—would be someone he deeply wants to draw experience from. The only power dynamic between you is an exchange, never an imbalance. You don’t treat him like anything less than an adult, which is, in its own way, refreshing to him.

He’d look at you like you hung the moon and the stars—and you’d joke that you were around when it happened.

Noah wouldn’t shy away from what he finds sexy about you. If anything, the age gap and your maturity only deepen his attraction. He loves that out of everyone, you’re the one who calls him on his bullshit the most. It’s true what they say: the older you get, the less tolerance you have. You keep him on his toes in the best way. You’re not afraid to bruise his ego or humble him—so many people are, and even though it stings at first, he respects it.

More than that, he respects the fact that you never pull away when he gets caught up in his own darkness. You pull him through, every time. You have your own wisdom to offer because you’ve been there too.

He would worship every inch of you—treat your body like a masterpiece. He’d kiss every stretch mark, wrinkle, and scar like they were sacred, and if you’re self-conscious, he’d soothe old wounds with his words just as much as his touch.

And if you have kids—of any age—there’s something tender in how he approaches them. At first, he’s nervous, unsure of how to fit into something so important, whether because of their age or his own, but he warms up quickly. He slips into a role you never asked him to fill, but he takes it on anyway, naturally. He’s gentle, caring, and even if he tries to deny it, there’s something quietly beautiful about the way he interacts with your kids. It’s heartwarming in a way that sneaks up on both of you.

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 79 : Happy together

Wukong take Mac on a nice lil date. The monkeys are on their second stage of courting : offerings!

Wukong carefully brushed his unruly strands of fur with the tips of his fingers, making sure they were nice and shiny. He fluffied up his fur and looked at the reflection shimmering in the mirror. He looked good. Not that it was surprising, but… he looked truly good. He hummed, satisfied. He was unglamored, he felt quite confident to go out without glamors now that he showed Macaque his true self. The mere memory of the soft kisses his moon laid on his face made him shiver in delight.

Beautiful. He said he was beautiful! Wukong's tail wagged in joy. Beautiful, huh? Wukong looked at the reflection dancing on the clear surface. Red eyes. Freckled cheeks. Scarred forehead. Perhaps, he was beautiful in some ways. His eyes were cutting but brilliant. His freckles were numerous but darling. Most of all, Macaque liked them! Beautiful. The word echoed in his head. Gods, he was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, wasn't he? Well, dignity be damned! Who said monkeys couldn't giggle and kick their feet? Whoever said this was foolish.

Wukong let his tail curl joyfully, airy giggles spilled out of his mouth, echoing in his room. Sock, who was licking her paws on Wukong's fluffy bed, looked up and mrrped at his odd chirpish mood. The golden-furred monkey looked back at her and chuckled.

“I'm handsome aren't I?” He said as he sat on the bed, Sock meowed and rolled on her back, Wukong couldn't help but pat her belly. Who could resist really? “I need to be perfect! I have a date.” He chirped, Sock closed her eyes and purred, lulled by his soft petting.

The date in itself was quite simple. He asked Macaque to wait for him outside of the water-curtain cave at midday; he wanted to take him to one of the mountain quiet spots. He prepared a basket full of fresh fruits, the best of the mountain's season, and made sure to be as handsome as he could. This wasn't their first date. They did go out in the Thousand-Wonders City, at the time named Thousand-Year City, but this one was special because it was part of his courtship. He wanted to take Macaque to a nice, shadowed spot, and offer him the earrings he made especially for him. He wondered what would Macaque reaction be?

Was he going to be surprised? Excited? Happy? The thought made Wukong giddy. He made sure that the spot he picked for their date was full of shadows, he wanted Macaque to try the earrings powers as soon as he could.

Sock moew broke him out of his musing, Wukong hopped on his feet once he saw the sun rise within the crisp sky. “It's time!” He chirped. “Thanks for reminding me.” He loudly kissed Sock on her fluffy forehead and checked himself in the mirror one last time.

For the date, he opted for simpler clothing. He removed his armor and his reddish phoenix's feathers, not wanting to bring his war regalia to his date. He picked out large golden pants embroidered with sun imagery and a sleeveless red-satin shirt. He had some discreet golden jewelry on his hips and put a shy reddish hue on his lips. He was bare-footed, as a monkey it was more comfortable this way. He didn't want to be boisterous. This date was supposed to be quiet. Relaxing. Peaceful. He picked the basket before leaving, making sure the earrings were hidden inside, before running out of his hut.

Macaque was waiting for him outside of the cave, leaning on one of the nearby trees. It seemed the warrior too opted for simpler clothing. He wasn't wearing his usual battle-worn outfit, instead he opted for something more casual. He was wearing large white pants and a loose black shirt, on top of that his shoulders and chest were wrapped in a satin purple shawl embroidered with stars and moons. He wasn't wearing his trademark red scarf, which was… odd to see, Wukong wasn't used to a scarfless Macaque, but it was refreshing. Like him, Macaque was bare-footed. The lantern was tied to his hips, and he was holding something in his hands, a wrapped scroll tied with a golden ribbon. Mn. Wukong wondered what it was.

The black-furred monkey perked up at his arrival and turned his way with a lazy smile. Wukong felt his tail wag. At this point he didn't even try to stop it. Macaque was already quite aware that he was a fool for him.

“So where are you gonna take me?” Hummed Macaque as he walked out of the tree's shade. Wukong let his eyes wander on his moon's lithe form, the shawl suited him nicely. Purple was truly his color. Macaque smirked when he caught his wandering eyes, Wukong scratched his neck with an embarrassed giggled. “Like the view?” Teased the black-furred monkey with a seductive sway of tail.

“I always do.” Proudly huffed Wukong. “And I can't tell you, it would spoil the surprise.”

Macaque rolled his eyes at his response, but he easily fell in step with Wukong, his tail swaying curiously. “What about this? What is it?” Hummed the golden-furred monkey as he pointed to Macaque's scroll.

“I can't tell you, it would spoil the surprise~” Infuriatingly repeated Macaque. Wukong raised an eyebrow, he elbowed Macaque to wipe out his lil smirk. The warrior chuckled and linked their arms together. “You look good.” Hummed Macaque.

Wukong flushed a little, he coughed to hide his embarrassment. “You too.” Smiled the golden-furred monkey. Macaque's lips twitched upward, the fool couldn't hide his joy, it made Wukong chuckle.

They both peacefully made their way to their date's location. Wukong could use his cloud, but he wanted to savor this peaceful moment. Taking a walk within the mountain's sweet scenery wasn't bad. Wukong liked feeling Macaque's arm intertwined with his, he liked to see their step synchronize, he liked to feel his moon's warmth pressed against him. A precious moment. So slow. So soft. So different from the frenzy of their everyday lives. Wukong loved it. He longed for it. Just the two of them growing old in soft greenery.

The great sage looked at his moon, at the way light was falling on his face, at the way his tail was swaying, lazily, softly, slowly. Macaque looked at peace. A knot of emotions clogged Wukong's throat, he coughed to chase it away. It was good… To see Macaque be this peaceful. After all the wars, all the blood, all the cries of vengeance, all the yells of pain. This sight, so mundane, so serene, it made his heart flutter in joy.

“You know… Just because I'm shedding my glamors doesn't mean you have to shed yours. Take all the time you need.” Mumbled Wukong, he felt like he had to say it, to make sure Macaque wasn't feeling pressured. His moon flinched, for a moment Wukong worried he stepped out of line, that he crossed a boundary he wasn't meant to, but Macaque’s hold on his arm tightened reassuringly.

“I… don't think I can shed all of them now. But maybe I can start a little.” Sighed the warrior, the glamors on his ears flickered, Macaque let it go. His six ears flared proudly. Wukong stared at them with a dreamy gaze, his eyes tracing every curve, every flutter, every color. Committing the sight to memory.

“Beautiful.” He whispered in one breath of honesty. Macaque's ears fluttered, the tips reddening.

“Flatterer.” Snorted his moon, he didn't have his scarf to hide his flustered state.

“Is it really flattery if it's the truth?” Hummed Wukong, he detached his gaze from Macaque's ears and looked ahead, he was the one leading them after all, he couldn't’ get lost. It would be embarrassing. Tearing his gaze from Macaque's ears took great efforts, he was almost breathless.

“Since when are you such a smooth-talker?” Huffed Macaque.

“Since always, I am a pro at flirting!” Proudly answered Wukong as he puffed out his chest, Macaque laughed, sweet melody.

“Are you now? A real Casanova huh?” Smirked the black-furred monkey. Macaque stopped them and raised his hand, he carefully took one of Wukong's unruly strands and tucked it back behind his ear. The act made the sage blush. “Cat got your tongue playboy?” He purred, eyes curved mischievously.

“You're unfair.” Mumbled Wukong as he turned away, cheeks red. Macaque laughed, the sound bright and loud. “Now stop being distracting or we're never gonna find the date's location!”

“Oh so it's my fault now?” Snorted the black-furred monkey.

“Yes it is, you’re too beautiful.” Smoothly answered Wukong, that got Macaque to blush. The sage counted that as a victory.

They reached their destination after a few more minutes of walking. A mellow meadow shadowed by blooming plum trees. The soft pinkish petals were dancing in the sky, drifting at the rhythm of crisp breezes. They settled in the cool shadow. The grass was tender, fresh to the touch, like a bed of soft cotton. Macaque hummed and looked around, he stretched in the fresh shadows, eyes softening contendly. Wukong smiled, ah the sight of his moon, relaxed in dancing petals, it was precious. He Engraved it in his memory. They picked fruits from Wukong's basket and began to chat about everything and nothing.

“How is your cave project going?” Curiously asked Wukong.

“It's good. I'm probably gonna build a cat tree for Sock, I think she'd like it.” Answered Macaque as he bit into a fresh plum.

Wukong chuckled. “Oh she will be delighted. This floofy ball… we spoil her.”

“Well she does deserve to be spoiled.” Snorted the warrior with an amused sway of tail. Wukong snorted. He couldn't agree more. The great sage picked one ripe peach and greedily took a bite. He saw the luxurious earrings box peeking from the fruit basket and gulped. It was time.

Wukong took a deep breath and reached for the bow, Macaque watched him curiously from the corner of his eyes. The box was simple, delicate in design. It was made of darkwood, the lines sharp yet elegant. Wukong caressed the smooth surface with his thumb before handing the bow to his moon, his tail thumping nervously.

“Will you accept my token?” He said with as much confidence as he could muster. Even if he knew Macaque loved him, courting was still so intimidating. He had never been one for romance, past or present, he never imagined it could be so daunting. Showing vulnerability took strength, he now knew that.

Macaque's eyes widened at the phrasing, he knew that was a courtship offering. “I will.” Seriously answered the black- furred monkey as he carefully took the box. He examined the simple box with curiosity before opening it, his eyes widened.

Inside the box laid six elegant earrings. One pair of glittering dark stars, sharp yet refined, almost sword-like. One pair of crescent moons, curved like a secretive smile on shy lips, soft and mystical. And one pair of dark sun, round like ripe plums, sweet and dear. Macaque eyed them intently, the tip of his finger softly brushing against them.

“They're…” He gulped, his tail swaying in excitement.

“Made right out of a Void Onyx.” Proudly stated Wukong. Macaque chirped in surprise.

“A Void Onyx!? Where did you even find that?” Macaque tail was thumping in excitement.

“I have my ways.” Chuckled Wukong, he chirped in delight at Macaque's reaction. “Want me to help you put them on?”

Macaque paused for a moment before slowly nodding. Wukong eagerly scouted closer, he took the earrings and shyly grazed his moon’s delicate ears. They fluttered under his touch, Wukong gulped. It's been so long since he was able to touch them like this. He carefully clasped the earrings in place, he made them as such that they didn't need holes to be worn. The stars on the highest pair of ears, the moons in the middle and the suns on the lowest. Wukong looked at his moon, proudly wearing the earrings he gifted, and felt his heart tighten with tenderness. He cupped his warrior's face and softly caressed the fluttering ears with his thumbs.

“You look so beautiful.” He sighed.

“You only have that word in mouth. Beautiful.” Snorted Macaque as he raised one eyebrow.

“It's true.” Wukong leaned over the ears and kissed each of them, his lips fluttering against the delicate limbs. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Macaque shuddered and closed his eyes, wisps of purrs escaping his lips at the soft kisses. Once Wukong leaned back, Macaque grabbed the scroll lying on the side.

“I have something for you too.” Hummed the warrior as he handed the scroll.

Wukong chirped curiously, he took the scroll and removed the golden ribbon. It was a painting of him. Macaque's sharp style was familiar, Wukong found it endearing. The painting was more detailed than Macaque's usual drawings, it was of Wukong smiling, unglamored. He looked sweet in this, his features softened by age, not as passionate as in his youth, yet so tender, so… serene. Most of all he looked happy. At peace. Wukong felt his eyes shine with tears.

“Thanks. I accept your token.” He mumbled as he wiped away the tears slowly gliding down his cheeks, he put away the portrait to not stain it. He will buy the prettiest frame for this drawing.

A serenade and now a portrait? Macaque was definitely doing a celestial courtship. Wukong had never been a romantic. He never dreamed of his future courtship, or what he would like to receive in a courtship. But he could easily admit that nothing could be better than this, because this… this was Macaque's. Purely and simply Macaque.

“Why the tears?” Mumbled Macaque as he cupped Wukong's face.

“I'm just… happy.” Chuckled the great sage. Macaque snorted at his answer, he put his forehead against Wukong's, gazing at him softly.

“Yeah, me too.”

Wukong smiled at his answer, they stayed like this for a moment, close, so close they could count each other's eyelashes. Wukong felt good. Safe. Serene.

“If you tell anyone I cried I'm gonna beat your ass.” Finally huffed the great sage. How embarrassing to let his emotions get the better of him.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Chuckled the black-furred monkey as he wiped the last of Wukong's tears.

They were happy. Together, at last, and happy.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[paxarsenal]

Organic Music, Organic Love

As requested by @mx-jester, I shall write another Wavewave fanfic! This time, Soundwave gets a bit tired from working...

~~~

Another solar-cycle passed into another mega-cycle. After Shockwave’s initial return, the work within the Nemesis grew tenth fold. Project Predicon as dubbed by Shockwave resumed continuation. The scientist’s underground project not only sucked numerous supplies and resources from the flying ship, but management became desperate and demanding. Not to mention draining every contributing bot’s Energon tank into oblivion. Recharged wasn’t a choice either.  No Transformer could escape this, not even the notorious workaholic communications officer among them. 

Soundwave limped through the hallways. He hadn’t had a dose of Energon since last 48 breems. His engine tank hissed and churned. The HUD visor screen flashed uncontrollably as a desperate call to restock his falling system. Megatron began countless affairs of servitude to the Decepticon cause while Starscream occupied himself with other tasks. It left Soundwave starved and meek, his chassis armor heaving in weight from exhaustion. His digits couldn’t even lift a rusting nail after he finished the final round of code. 

Fortunately, what seemed to be a “mess hall” came to view. Mess hall was an overstretched definition. A large hall with unordered stacks of random trinkets and tools laid in corners as numerous Vechicons crowded the space. Soundwave immediately begrudged his decision. He didn’t want dinner disturbance from the terrible gossips and chatters, no less the own voices of meddling lower mechs. 

Nevertheless, the violet bot turned to the supply table and took out a fresh Energon cube. Soundwave settled into a corner where the light won’t reach and opened his visor, quickly chugging at the drink before slamming the empty shell down. One wasn’t enough. Eventually, Soundwave found himself surrounded by ten high Energon between his desire and hunger. At the end of the cycle, two refreshments were left unscathed. 

Groups of Vechicons suddenly burst into shouts. It perked Soundwave’s attention, turning to the crowd where the one and only Knockout stood in glowing scarlet paint. That particular mech always had something to ‘go on about’ and this solar-cycle wouldn’t be his last. 

“Ah ha,” Knockout jolted slightly in barely controlled excitement. The sports car bot moved out of the way to reveal a small unfamiliar device sitting on the table. It was rusting and dull. A small antenna and loudspeaker stood out from its design. Soundwave titled his helm curiously, signaling Knockout to continue his discovery. 

“I found this machine that organics love to use as entertainment. It’s called a radio!” Knockout announced, “It isn’t like our own radio transmitters, but plays music or news! Listen and watch!” 

The red medic pressed a few buttons and static began to roll over the radio until a coherent tune played. A few Vechicons ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ while others clapped along to the music. Knockout even began to sway his metal hips as he hummed the melody, almost as if he knew the song by spark. Soundwave didn’t know what to say; he was speechless for once, even if he never said anything at all. Words couldn’t describe how much he wanted to convey… 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like on

A-Jupiter and Mars

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

It brought him back to Cybertron. There was a refill shack down the barren streets of Kaon; Shockwave and Soundwave idly pass around and about at the bar counter, bland conversation after the next. With diluted Energon in servo, their night held up. The hangout was a few from the first, and both mechs struggled for words. It wasn’t until Shockwave introduced him to a new discovery. 

“Organic music, have you heard of it?” Shockwave said, his voicebox rough from venting in the planet’s particles of land-waste dystopia.

“Negative: Soundwave… intrigued.” 

Shockwave went on. “For mega-cycles, our scientific team detected some wave signals in search for surplus Energon. However, unlike ours, it played organic tunes and sung songs from planet Earth.”

“… Songs,” Soundwave replayed with Shockwave’s audio. 

Shockwave shook his helm. “Exactly, a worthless find but nevertheless entertaining,” he hummed. His red lens burnt a bit bright as he looked towards the violet gladiator. “Care to listen when you’re available?”

There wasn’t a next time.

~~~

The radio continued to play as it lulled to a soft jazz. 

Between the commotion and music, Megatron strode into the crowd with Starscream behind him. The Cons immediately scattered, shifting to precarious position in the mess hall whereas Knockout straightened up his gears and bowed to the warlord. Brief exchanges of information and duties were made as the mech with a bucket for helm scorched the floor. Starscream looked unequally pleased, towards Megatron or to the various Vechicons horsing around, it didn’t matter. The trio of light and dark grey plus a hint of red set forth to the control room. Soundwave assumed he wasn’t needed; Megatron would have called him over since the two exchanged brief eye contact for one another. With the three gone and most of the Vechicons returning to their initial work, it left Soundwave to temporarily freedom. He spotted the lone radio; Knockout must had forgotten it with Megatron’s unexpected visit. 

With the bots gone, Soundwave removed himself from the seat and picked up the two remaining Energon cubes. His footsteps slowed and reached for the device before disappearing out of the exit.

Soundwave strolled down the hallways towards the end-most area of the Nemesis. Unexpressive yet knowing, he thought to himself: Did Shockwave ate today? Time seemed to have past but there were no implications to how much went on. Could be solar-cycles until now. The thought only made him squeeze the Energon cube until it pulsed with glowing blue liquid.

At last, he was outside of Shockwave’s laboratory. 

“Soundwave?” His partner said upon seeing the mech enter his chambers, “What a lovely surprise.” Soundwave nodded his helm and placed the neatly stacked Energon on the lab table and slide them towards the Empurata. Shockwave gave a quick thanks before heading back to work. However, another metal click alerted the violet bot to look the rusting item.

“Ah, a radio,” Shockwave mused, inspecting the musical machine with delicate digits. “It’s a delight to see in front of me.” Soundwave nodded to his statement. He trotted to Shockwave’s berth before sitting on it. Both had became familiar again after Shockwave’s return, and to sit on his personal recharge station was another pastime for Soundwave. The action itself stood pure among the other intimate activities they did behind closed doors. 

“I’m impressed, you remembered,” the Empurata hummed, “How long ago was that? Do you recall?” 

“Negative.”

“I’m not surprised.” Soundwave chuckled at that.

Shockwave pressed a button on the device as it played, almost like it was filled with genuine compassion. He motioned himself to Soundwave where he sat quietly and obediently. 

Fill my heart with song and let me sing forevermore

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words, I love you

Both idly listened. Their visors gazing over the other for an answer. Shockwave was the first to avert his gaze, Soundwave followed. A heavy wave of exhaustion suddenly occurred within Soundwave’s frame. His helm drooped before tiling back up. 

Shocked noticed.

“Soundwave… Comms to Soundwave,” Shockwave said softly, his large figure hovering over Soundwave’s fatigued body. A gentle sharp servo cupped his helm as Soundwave swatted it away embarrassed. Of course, Shockwave didn’t know that. 

“You seem exhausted.” 

His partner fought to say no, yet his protoform betrayed his mind as he swayed once his pedes attempted to get up. Just in time, the scientist caught him in his gun arm. Perhaps he was, Soundwave concluded.

“Rest, you can borrow my berth for tonight,” Shockwave insisted. It took a few seconds before he added: “I won’t be too nosy.” 

Soundwave measly laid on the berth as told. He listened to Shockwave work. The soft music took any tension left unscathed and that helped him rest. Soon, the mech felt at peace for the first time. No code, no war, and no annoying Starscream buzzing to keep him awake. His HUD visor turned to Shockwave, his back facing him yet the purple con recognize that silent treatment.

“Soundwave… do you think this war would end?”

“…” 

“Is that a ‘Stand By’?”

“… Affirmative.”

“How illogical of an answer, but I suppose as a scientist—not a time traveler, your answer is most definitely logical.”

Fill my heart with song

Let me sing forevermore

You are all I long for, all I worship and adore

In other words, please be true

In other words

In other words

I love you

[iwaoiness]

they meet for the first time at a nightclub in são paulo, brazil. hajime is there on a trip with his best friends, and tooru is out celebrating one of his closest friend’s bachelor party.

iwaizumi steps out onto the terrace of the nightclub. as much fun as he’s having inside seeing matsukawa and kuroo learning how to twerk under the guidance of two cheerful brazilians while bokuto and hanamaki dominate the limbo contest, his ears desperately need a break.

the music becomes muffled thumps as he shuts the door behind him and walks to the balcony. the cool breeze feels like heaven against his heated skin, bristling his bare, strong arms in a refreshing way.

his eyes trace the wide road below, the few scattered vehicles crawling through it at this hour of the night. streetlights illuminate the streets faintly, and voices echo in portuguese, a language he recognizes but barely understands, apart from bom dia, olá, boa noite, and obrigado.

it’s still surreal that he's in brazil, more than 18,000 kilometers from home, few months after makki jokingly suggested it after seeing a tiktok, bokuto called up a friend for the best city recommendations, kuroo checked flights just for fun, mattsun coordinated everyone’s free days, and hajime himself checked their passports and scheduled renewal appointments for issei and tetsuro.

chuckling to himself, hajime pulls a strawberry lollipop from the back pocket of his jeans. he unwraps it, tucks the wrapper back into his pocket, and pops the candy into his mouth.

the faint tobacco craving he's been battling slowly fades away as the taste of the strawberry sticks to his tongue.

he rolls the stick idly between his fingers as his gaze shifts to the dark sky. there're no stars tonight, but a nearly full, brilliant moon glows softly through the haze of light pollution.

the terrace door opens and closes, but hajime doesn’t really register it until he hears:

“yes, mom! don’t worry, we’ll head back to the hotel soon.”

japanese.

someone is speaking japanese at this club in são paulo, 18,000 kilometers away from japan.

hajime’s eyes widen, his head swiveling almost comically toward the voice. and there, a few steps away, he sees him.

the owner of the voice stands with one hand holding a large plastic cup, and the other pressing a phone to his ear. the terrace lighting reveals a loose, oversized camp collar shirt in a deep blue, the first four buttons undone to reveal smooth, firm skin. the shirt is tucked into wide-legged dark pants, long enough to cover his converse. a silver necklace gleams across his collarbones, matching the rings that adorn a few slender fingers.

tousled, short brown hair. large, almond-shaped eyes. high cheekbones that shimmer with glitter like stardust. a sharp nose. glossy lips that curve into a genuine smile before laughter spills from them. pretty is the first thought that barrels through hajime’s brain. he’s so fucking pretty.

the pretty boy says goodbye to his mum, hajime catches his last words “i love you too. i'll text you when i get to the hotel” before wraps up the call and slipping his phone into his back pocket. hajime quickly looks away, focusing back on the road as he shifts the lollipop to his other cheek.

he considers heading back inside to check how mattsun and makki are doing with their twerk lessons and make sure bokuto and kuroo haven’t gotten into trouble with the limbo.

but then, that voice pulls him in again, yanking his attention like gravity.

“oh my god, the moon!”

the awe in his voice is palpable, and hajime smiles softly as he watches the pretty boy stare up at the sky, mouth slightly open in wonder.

the boy fumbles for his phone, glancing around for somewhere to put down his cup before setting it on a chair.

he rushes to the railing, stopping just a couple of steps from iwa, raising his phone with an expression of adorable concentration to snap photos of the moon.

but soon he frowns, clearly frustrated, and before hajime can stop himself, his mouth moves, in japanese, “is it an iphone?”

the pretty boy flinches, as if he hadn’t even realized he wasn’t alone. he turns to hajime, wide eyes blinking like an owl’s.

“are you japanese?” he asks, a little shyly. hajime nods, and the boy smiles, holding up his phone with a case with a grey alien flashing a peace sign under the apple logo. “it is.”

the tension in hajime’s shoulders, something he hadn’t noticed until now, melts away like ice in sunlight. he pulls the lollipop from his mouth, now visibly smaller.

“switch to video mode, lower the exposure all the way, and zoom in on the moon,” he explains as pretty boy follows his instructions. "once it’s focused, adjust the exposure again until you get a clear shot. then hit the other shutter."

“wow, it works!” the boy gasps, snapping several pics, his smile spreading wide. hajime can’t help but smile too, watching him. “thanks, buffy boy!”

hajime chokes, cheeks heating up, but he tries to recover under the boy’s amused gaze.

“no problem,” he manages, clearing his throat “pretty boy.”

the boy grins, his tongue peeking between his teeth in delight.

“oikawa tooru,” he introduces himself, extending a hand. “but you can keep calling me pretty boy.”

tooru, tooru, tooru.

hajime raises an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips as he takes the offered hand. it’s warm, bit thinner than his own, with long fingers. there’s a faint roughness to his palm and fingertips, but an undeniable softness too.

“iwaizumi hajime,” he replies, their hands still joined. “and you can’t keep calling me buffy boy.”

“boo, boring!” tooru pouts, his eyes glinting with mischief. “then how about a cute nickname with your name?”

“don’t even think about it” hajime warns, though his hand gently pulls tooru’s closer, their fingers beginning to intertwine.

“oh, i already thought of one! iwa-chan!”

“what are you, four? no.”

“c’mon, be fun! we’re in brazil!”

hajime rolls his eyes, but the smile is still there, unwavering since the beginning.

“i don’t think that’s the cutest way to address someone you’ve just met,” he points out, though the latter could well be a lie.

because there’s something on tooru’s presence, like the warmth of the first ray of sunlight during bitter cold days. iwaizumi's soul hums with a quiet, solemn certainty that echoes through his chest: it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

pretty boy.

oikawa tooru.

tooru.

soulmate.

...

wish i could write a long fic about this

u can find me on my ao3, bluesky and this is my carrd!! 🍉

[pedroshotwifey]

Hungry Like The...

Pairing: Werewolf!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, oral sex (f receiving), fluff, established relationship, no use of y/n, Frankie has a monster cock, im missing stuff but I want to go to bed so...

Summary: You and Frankie decide to attend an 80s themed Halloween party. Through all of the excitement, you must have forgotten what day the full moon falls on.

A/N: I'm gonna go ahead and say that I rushed the absolute fuck out of this one, but I think it turned out pretty good. I really kind of jumped outside of my comfort zone with this, so I'm kinda proud that I did that. That being said, please feel free to call me out on anything that might not make sense or anything that I should change at all because I'm half clueless with this kind of stuff. Please consider reposting and/or liking. Thank you for reading and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! <3

***

You have no idea where Frankie snuck off too. 

He claimed he was going to get the two of you more drinks, but that was about ten minutes ago. You’re well aware that it should have taken less than half of that for him to find his way to the refreshment table, pick up some drinks, and bring them back to you. 

Right now, though, you’re too blissed out to care—not that you have much to worry about with your loving boyfriend anyway. The lights are almost blinding as you spin around beneath them, but they transform into a nice glow thanks to the buzz you’re sporting. “Mony Mony,” is blaring through the speakers and you're in your zone as you swing your hips to the beat. 

You’re glad that Frankie had suggested that you two attend this party specifically. The only requirements were that you had to dress up as an 80’s character in order to fit the era the party revolves around. 80’s costumes, 80’s music, 80’s decor. Luckily for you, the 80’s is one of your absolute favorite decades, and you’re pretty sure Frankie knew that when he signed the two of you up. 

The dance floor is packed with people to the point where you can’t stretch out all the way without bumping into someone. Usually, that would irk you, but you can’t find it in you to mind tonight. It’s not like anybody else does. 

As you snap your hips to the beat, you look around at all the different costumes in the crowd. You see a handful of Star Wars characters, a couple of Freddy Kruegers, some Ghost Busters, and—of course—a shit ton of Madonnas. The rest, for the most part, are pretty original. 

You’re pretty proud of your own costume, to be honest. You had spent a couple of weeks configuring a custom-made Storm costume. You’ve been an X-Men fan for as long as you can remember, and it made you so happy to try on your costume for the first time a few days ago. It’s pretty damn spot-on. 

Frankie, on the other hand, had insisted on being a werewolf. Like turning into one once a month wasn’t enough already. You had simply rolled your eyes and asked him what he had in mind so you could make his costume. It was worth it to see the way he lit up, even though he’s cutting it close with the party’s theme. 

After the year he had, he deserves to be happy—even if it means you have to endure his stupid jokes every now and again. When he gets tipsy, his goofy humor always makes an appearance. It’s one of your favorite parts about nights out with your boyfriend. He never fails to make you laugh. 

Just as you begin to worry that he might have gotten lost in the crowd, you feel a hand spin you around. You’re getting ready to tell someone off until you come face to face with those irresistible brown eyes. 

“Hey there, Hermosa,” he says as he cuddles up to you, swaying you to the song. “Having fun, sweetheart?” 

You giggle as he bends down and nuzzles his face into your neck. Glancing down, you almost aren’t surprised to see that he doesn’t have any drinks. 

“Frankie?” You ask casually as you throw your arms around him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you find the drinks?” 

Suddenly, he stops moving and stands up straight again, a playful smile plastered across his face. 

“Guess not,” he says. “Found something to eat, though,” he winks and you playfully roll your eyes as he throws himself back onto you. As the song changes to “When Doves Cry”, he begins to dance with you. Frankie has never been the best dancer, but it's better this way. Neither of you take anything seriously as you push and pull your bodies together, giving eachother flirty kisses every now and again. 

You laugh as you bump into someone and flash them an apologetic look. Frankie really loves to bring out your careless side. You honestly didn’t know you were capable of being so care-free until you had met him. Sometimes he makes you feel as if nothing else matters but you and him. It’s times like these that you really realize just how lucky you are to have him. 

“Alright, baby,” Frankie says after a moment, bringing you out of your thoughts. “I’m going to go get us those drinks now.” 

Instead of answering him, you get up on your tip-toes and kiss him. He begins to wrap his arms around you again, but you gently push him off, giving him a faux stern look. 

“Alright, alright, I get it, baby, I’m going!” he says over the music before turning around to scamper away.

You have to suppress a giggle when he jolts as you deliver a light slap to his ass. He turns just enough to flash you a dirty look, and you give him one of feigned innocence in return, well aware he’ll get you back for that eventually if you continue to tease. 

“Hurry up, wolfboy!” you shout after him. 

***

Alright, you’re actually about to be pissed this time. 

There’s absolutely no way he lost you—or rather, you lost him—twice. He has to be playing with you, right? Whatever, if that’s the case, two can play at that game. 

You’ll just pretend like you don’t even notice something is missing. Maybe once he sees you where he left you, completely unaffected by his absence, he’ll stop being such an ass. 

Perfect. Perfect plan. 

You shake your head and dance as the song ends. You can have fun by yourself if your boyfriend wants to be immature. 

Well, it would have been a perfect plan. 

As if he could somehow read your mind—which you almost wouldn’t doubt at this point—you spot Frankie in your vision once again. However, this time, he’s not coming over to you. 

He has a familiar dark look in his eyes that immediately soaks you, despite yourself. You stop dancing because as quick as you see him, he’s gone again. You spin in a panicked circle as the song changes to one by Duran Duran. You almost laugh at the irony as “Hungry Like the Wolf” blares through the speakers. 

Your phone buzzes in the small pocket of your bodysuit, and you pause your quick search to look at it. Your brow furrows as you see that it’s a text from Frankie. What the fuck is he playing at? Quickly, you unlock your phone and open your messages. 

“Better start running, baby,” the text reads. You look up, your eyes frantically scanning the crowd around you. Maybe the song choice isn’t so ironic after all. 

“Don’t let me catch you… feeling hungry like the wolf tonight…”

You don’t stop to think before you make a mad dash toward the exit, your heart dropping to your stomach as you go. You get some pissed looks as you shove through people, your heart hammering in your chest and your eyes darting every which way. 

You have no idea where he could be at this point. Maybe he’s somewhere inside, having missed your exit. He could be trailing right behind you, ready to grab you at any moment.

Soon enough, it is revealed that he is, once again, always one step ahead of you. As soon as you step out of the doors, a large body is engulfing yours and carrying you to a secluded spot on the patio, though there’s nobody outside anyway. 

You would scream if not for the large hand that covers your lips when he grabs you. You know it’s Frankie, of course, but the exhilaration that comes from the scare really adds to the game the two of you just started. 

You ignore the heat simmering between your legs as he sets you down on your own feet and removes his hand from your mouth. Neither of you move, you don’t look up, he doesn’t crouch down. You just stand there, breathing heavily as Frankie embraces your figure. 

You can’t help but lean back into him, letting your guard down probably isn’t the best idea right now, but you can’t find it in you to care about that fact at the moment. 

The fresh air feels nice on your heated cheeks, but Frankie's front against your back feels even better. The music continues to play faintly behind you as you sway side to side, Frankie’s arms wrapped tightly around you, his head resting on your shoulder. 

You swear you could stay here forever. Actually, you could stay anywhere, as long as you had Frankie. But right now, you can’t imagine anything more perfect than this. As long as you have your boyfriend’s arms around you, you would do anything or go anywhere he wants to. 

Your body may be his, but you decided a long time ago that your soul belongs to him as well. He can pick it up and do whatever he wishes with it, and you know he could never do anything that would cause your trust or love for him to dull.

“Look up, sweetheart,” Frankie’s soft voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you open your eyes. You hadn’t realized they had slid shut in the first place. 

The sight of the full moon high up in the night sky confirms your suspicions. Frankie’s going to turn tonight. 

Fuck, you’re screwed, your subconscious automatically screams at you. 

You can't miss the way your panties dampen as the thought crosses your mind. Your body stiffens as you fight the urge to run, the adrenaline getting the best of you.

Frankie must feel the way you tense up because his arms immediately tighten around you. 

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he whispers into your ear. “Just means we’ll have a bit more fun than usual.”

You try but fail to stifle your grin at his menacing tone. Just because you know you’re screwed doesn’t mean you don't enjoy it. 

“Probably got less than ten minutes now,” Frankie says far too casually. “Let’s pick up on our little chase, yeah?” 

He lets you out of his grasp this time, and you turn around to give him a peck on his cheek, allowing your hand to brush past his erection as you pull away. The touch is just enough for Frankie to grit his teeth as he hisses out. The warning glance he gives you makes arousal burn deep into your core, only serving to make you more excited. 

“I’ll give you a head start, sweetheart,” he says, his tone giving you a warning, “I’d take it if I were you.”

With his word, you spin on your heel, ready to plummet into the forest, but you only get about a foot before he has a large hand wrapped around your wrist. Your heart beats louder in your chest as you turn to look at him, his eyes dark with lust. 

“Don’t let me catch you this time,” he says, pulling you close enough for his lips to flutter across your ear as he speaks. “I won’t go easy on you.”

You ignore the shiver in your spine as you pull back as much as you can. 

“Maybe I don't want you to go easy on me,” you whisper back, earning a slight growl from Frankie. He lets his hand linger on you for only a moment more before letting go, this time allowing you to back away. 

“Don’t push yourself too hard then, because I’m going to fucking exaust you when I catch up.” 

You smile before turning once again, pushing yourself into the trees without looking back. 

***

The sound of your heartbeat is deafening as you run through the otherwise silent forest. The steady pitter-patter of the organ combined with your ragged breathing and your frantic footsteps make a horrifying symphony. Even those sounds seem muffled, though, with the amount of pure adrenaline that courses through your veins and drowns out your senses. 

Frankie can’t be too far behind you now. You guess you’ve been running for about fifteen minutes. There’s no doubt that he has turned at this point; he proved it with the howl you heard bellowing through the woods a couple minutes ago. 

Since then, you haven't stopped to take a breath. There is pure fear in the fact that you have a beast on your trail, but also excitement in knowing what will likely happen once he catches up. 

For now though, fear is the dominant emotion. It’s prominent enough to keep you going even as your hair gets tugged by branches and your skin gets scratched and torn by twigs and thorns. None of it seems to matter right now just as long as you can keep your distance from the monster hunting you down. 

Suddenly, you hear a snap from somewhere behind you. The noise is sharp, a twig snapping beneath heavy weight. It reverberates all around you, sending a shiver down your spine. Soon after, You pick up on the steady thumping of what sounds to be an animal hot on your tail. 

The sound gets closer and closer even as you push yourself to run faster. Your entire body is shaking and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes. You can practically feel Frankie’s breath on your neck, the sensation almost more powerful than the ache overtaking your legs and abdomen. 

“Please, leave me alone!” You cry out the plea over your shoulder, your voice bordering a sob. Your gut is curling with a mixture of panic and arousal. The responding growl makes the tears you have been holding spill over and your knees buckle. 

For a second, you’re worried that you might fall, but you’re pushed into the ground before you have the chance to do it yourself. The weight of Frankie pouncing on top of you knocks the wind out of you, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your breath is taken. 

In the time that it takes you to get your breath back, Frankie has your bodysuit torn enough to pry off of your shaking body, and your lacy panties shoved–or ripped–down your legs. Luckily, the bodysuit was the cheapest and easiest to find component of your costume. You can feel a whisper of his claws against your skin as he drags scraps away from where he needs you most.

Your arms flail wildly, your fingers trying to grasp a handful of fur from the beast atop you. Frankie sees what you’re trying to do, and with a growl, he ducks down and slides toward your feet, away from your hands. 

Before you can question what he’s doing, you feel something thick, wet, and warm against your bare, soaked cunt. 

A high pitched moan tumbles from your lips as Frankie drags his tongue across your pussy before dipping it into your core.

The hot muscle digs deep into your cunt, curling once it's in all the way. You can feel his nose bobbing up and down against your ass as he starts to work his tongue in and out of your cunt.

“F-Frankie, fuck!” You scream, feeling your orgasm building embarrassingly quickly.

The way his tongue swirls and scrapes against your walls is absolutely delicious, and that combined with the tip of the muscle prodding against your g-spot? You’re fucking done for. 

You’re writhing as Frankie brings his tongue out to swallow down the slick he’s collected, and you can feel the way a combination of your arousal and his saliva leaks out of your pulsing cunt, coming down to collect at your clit and make you shudder. You’re so close to coming, a warm feeling that can only be described as pure euphoria making a home deep in your lower abdomen. 

Almost as soon as he was gone, Frankie shoves his tongue back inside of you, meticulously prodding all the right places. You’re gasping and moaning so loud you have half the mind to feel bad for whatever critters might reside in these woods. 

That thought passes quickly, though, once you feel yourself returning to the edge. Frankie flicks his tongue one more time and you’re suddenly convulsing around him. The high seems to go on forever, your toes curling and your fingers grasping at the leafy ground in front of you. 

The beast doesn’t pull away as you come, instead, he allows you to rock your hips back and forth in order to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. You don’t even notice that you moved your arm until you feel one hand entangled in soft fur, your subconscious mind telling you to hold him to you. 

You hear Frankie whine from behind you and you have to suppress the urge to giggle. He’s always liked it when you tug at his hair, and apparently, being in this form leaves no room for exceptions. 

Your body goes limp as Frankie backs away from you, making it easy for him to nudge you to prop you up where he wants you. Hands and knees, of course. He wastes no time in getting into position behind you, crowding you in with his massive form. 

The tip of his cock feels massive against your swollen cunt, but it only takes a few swipes of the beast’s hips before he is notched into your entrance. With one more thrust, he’s pushing in all the way, making you scream as your pussy stretches to accommodate his girth. 

Frankie lets out a series of whimpers as he starts a brutal pace, not giving you a second to adjust. Your hands come up to grasp above his paws, which are positioned on either side of your head, and then up a little. 

“F-Frankie!” Your moan comes out more like a screech, the pain quickly turning into a sick pleasure as he rips you open on his cock. Each time he thrusts, it’s accompanied by a puff of breath which fans out across your cheek. 

The sound of his whines and ragged breathing mix with the squelching noises coming from your cunt and the panting coming from your lips, everything combined making the filthiest symphony you’ve ever heard. 

Your second orgasm starts to build rapidly, your cunt beginning to flutter around Frankie’s unforgiving length. With each punch, the tip of his cock touches something heavenly within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, but you find that every limb has turned to jelly, preventing you from bringing your hand up to check. If not for the monster above you impaling you on his length, you would likely be flat on the forest floor right now. 

Every thought that had previously occupied your mind is forced out of you as Frankie effortlessly pries another orgasm from you. He doesn’t slow or pause as you squeeze around his cock like a vice. If anything, it only spurs him on and gets him going faster, if that's even possible. 

With each slam of his hips, you feel your body being sent forward, only stabilized by your palms, which are somehow still firmly planted on the ground. 

‘Oh god, Frankie,” your voice sounds hazy to your own ears. “F-feels so fucking good, Francisco.”

You hear him grunt at the sound of his full name, something you usually only call him in bed—or in this case, in the middle of nowhere. 

It does feel good, his cock feels absolutely massive. You know that it is definitely bigger than when he’s in his human form—the size of which should be considered supernatural in it’s own way. Right now, though, he feels bigger than ever, thicker, longer. The only thought occupying your mind at the moment is how badly you want to suck his cock. 

How the fuck does this man fuck you so good to the point where you fantasize about giving him a blowjob while he’s already inside of you? Next time, you’ll have to get his dick in your mouth before he shoves it into your cunt. 

Your eyes droop as your second orgasm morphs into a third, your body growing weaker with each movement from Frankie. You ignore the shaking to spread your legs wider to allow him better access, which results in him getting to a deeper spot with the new angle. 

Your mouth drops open as you begin to come again, a silent scream getting stuck in your throat. This time, as you constrict around his monstrous cock, you can feel his hips stutter. He’s getting close, which is probably a good thing considering you’re about to pass out from both pleasure and exhaustion. 

“C-come on, Frankie, f-fill me up,” you command through moans. It very obviously eggs him on because before you know it, he’s stilling inside of you, howling into the trees, and blowing his massive load deep into your core. 

The feeling of his cum painting your walls is fucking heavenly. Spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you to the brim until it eventually starts to seep out around the base of his cock. If you thought you had felt full before, that was nothing compared to now. 

Frankie gives you a few minutes to calm down before he starts to lower himself to the ground, laying on his side and tugging you with him. Your body and mind are equally compliant with his request. 

As your eyes shut once again, you can feel Frankie starting to shift behind you, probably making his transformation back to his human form. Try as you might, you know you won’t have enough energy to wait for him to be done, so you make the most of it and snuggle into his soft fur. You know that you’ll wake up safe and sound in your bed, tangled with your kind, attentive, and very much human boyfriend.