#i may have to write a cafe reader post...

[thoughtsandbones]

I am in a cafe in the city trying to study, but this cafe is literally got Simon 'Ghost' Riley written all over it. And by that I mean all the skulls and gothic drawings...

[eli-com]

need me some more judd pretty pls

୧ *·˚ — JUDD BIRCH

୨୧ includes — fem!reader, afab!reader, mature content, p in v, oral (f! receiving), jealousy, fingering, ooc!judd, terrible writing, MDNI

a continuation of my other 2 Judd posts with innocent!shy!reader. not in the same order as the og scene in the show just for the purpose of the fic.

please have some grace. I stayed awake all night writing this whilst trying to fix my sleep schedule for my lecture monday x

— Judd loves his younger siblings, as hard as that may be to believe. He’s always been protective over Leah and Nick; only he got to make fun of them. However, a lot of the time, they do things that really piss him off. Whether it be Nick hitting on you, or Leah throwing a slumber party with her overly loud and clingy friends, as she was doing now, his brother and sister really knew how to annoy him.

Currently, he was laid on his bed, a pillow shoved over his face as he did his best to drown out the excessive giggling coming from Leah’s room. If there was one thing that really got to him, it was overly loud people. Why couldn’t they just speak at a normal volume? They wouldn’t speak at all if it were up to Judd, but he’d accept anything lower than the volume they were at right now. He despised his sister’s peppy attitude and overly-optimistic way of thinking, which, unluckily for him considering the situation, she shared with a lot of her friends.

You were supposed to be coming over tonight, so at least that gave him one thing to look forward to. The two of you had been ‘seeing each other’ for a three or four months by now, and in all honesty, Judd was loving it. He couldn’t get enough of you, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He was all over you, every second he could be. Whether it was at his house, at school, when you were getting lunch at your favourite cafe, he didn’t care. If he wanted you, he was gonna have you. In all honesty, Judd considered you his girlfriend by now, even though he’d never actually used the word.

He’d never been in a real relationship before, only ever having a few girls he’d sleep with when he needed the relief. But it was different with you, he wanted to be around you, enjoyed your company. He’d never experienced that with anybody before. He was used to the comfortable routine of sleeping with someone and completely blanking them the next day. He could never do that to you, he wouldn't even dream of it. Maybe it was laughable, the fact he was known throughout school for his rebellious attitude, yet he'd wound up falling for one of the best behaved girls in town. He didn't care enough to think about it that much, though. All he knew was that he liked you, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep you around.

It wasn't long before he heard a familiar ring tone from his phone, a small grin gracing his lips as he grabbed it and saw your name on the screen, along with a photo he'd taken of you asleep in his bed. He'd been tempted to change it, especially when Leah and Nick had first seen it and relentlessly teased him for 'being a sap', but the sight of that sleepy smile on your face stopped him every time. He'd answer the call without second thought, already knowing you were outside.

"How many times do I need to tell you to just use the doorbell like a normal person?" He'd growl down the phone, doing his best to act annoyed, though you knew he was anything but. In fact, he was actually extremely excited at the prospect of getting to spend time with you.

"I don't wanna disturb your family." You'd argue back, sweet, gentle voice coming through somewhat robotic on his phones speaker. He could only scoff, shaking his head as he all but ran down the stairs and opened the door. The moment his eyes met yours, he was pulling you inside, wrapping an arm over your shoulders and beginning to guide you towards the stairs that led to his bedroom. Though, he'd never been the luckiest person in the world, and the two of you were spotted before he could whisk you away.

"(y/n)!" Elliot would exclaim, throwing his arms up into the air as he made his way over, Diane close behind. The older couple would give you the same welcoming smiles that they always did, pulling you into a warm hug and asking how you'd been. Judd was unsure how he felt about the fact you got along so well with his family. On one hand, it was frustrating. He'd do anything to just be able to rush you upstairs and have his way with you without any interruption. But on the other, he couldn't deny the way his heart ached at the sight of you laughing with his sister and mother, or helping his dad out in the kitchen. You seemed to slot yourself into their dynamic with such ease, as if you belonged. The idea was sweet. Not that he'd dare voice that thought aloud. At least, not this early in the relationship.

"Judd didn't tell us you were coming over." Diane would hum, eyeing her eldest child with a look of annoyance. His mother wasn't a fan of how he tried to hide you away. It wasn't like he was ashamed of being with you, the mere idea of that was laughable. He simply wasn't a fan of his entire family knowing what he was getting up to in his spare time. Especially when it came to his activities in the bedroom. Besides, he wanted to save you at least some of your dignity.

"Oh, it was kind of a last minute decision." You'd explain, though that wasn't true at all. Every time you left Judd's company, he'd make sure to create plans for when you'd next hang out. He didn't like last minute decisions, and he wanted to ensure there would always be a definite time for him to see you. He craved your company in a way he'd never experienced, and so, he didn't like the idea of going without it for too long.

"That's no problem. We'll set a place for you at dinner right next to Judd-y." Elliot would nod, smiling down at you. Though, Judd was quick to intervene.

"No need. We'll eat in my room. I don't need Leah and her friends sending (y/n) deaf." He'd roll his eyes, tightening his grip around your shoulder, hand running along your arm affectionately. He'd never imagined himself to be a physically affectionate person until he met you, but he just couldn't seem to get enough.

"Don't be rude, Judd." Diane would chastise, despite the small smirk that rested on her lips. Even she had to admit that her daughters friends spoke in a tone too high pitched to be natural. "You know how important family dinner is to your father." Elliot would simply shake his head, patting his wife's back.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure these two just want as much time together as they can get. I remember when we were like that. I couldn't keep my hands off of you when we first got together." The older man would sigh lovingly as he stared at his wife, bringing her closer by the waist. Diane would chuckle under her breathe, grinning.

"You're still like that now." She'd note, causing Judd to hold himself back from gagging. He was used to his parents open-nature when it came to anything surrounding the subject of sex and physical intimacy, but he'd rather they didn't freak you out with it.

"Right, well, we'll be going." He'd grumble, successfully guiding you up the stairs this time. He was quick to shove you into his room, shutting the door once he was inside with you.

"I think it's sweet how your parents are still so in love, I mean-" You were cut off by Judd slamming your back against the bedroom door and practically shoving his tongue down your throat. He didn't want to talk about his parents right now. He'd been thinking about you all day, ever since he'd first woken up to a painful hard on with nothing but the thought of you on his mind.

"Stop talking about them." He'd grumble against your lips, his knee moving to slot between your legs and rub against your crotch. Instantly, a breathless moan escaped you, causing him to grin. He'd never get used to just how reactive you were to his touch. Just the pretty noises you made were enough to have him straining against his pants.

One of his hands would move to rest against the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair and guiding your head ever so slightly back. Slowly pulling back from the kiss, a thin strand of saliva would form between your lips, a smug grin pulling at his mouth. Those wide doe eyes of yours would never fail to make his heart thump in his chest.

"You miss me?" He'd ask, nosing at your cheek before beginning to trail kisses along your jaw. Maybe the question made him sound needy, pathetic even, but he couldn't help it. "I missed you." He'd admit, kisses moving down to your neck now, quickly finding that one spot that had your head leaning back and hips gliding over his leg. His tongue would run over the skin, before he bit down gently, humming at your salty taste. "Know how many times I fucked my fist thinking 'bout you this morning?" He'd all but growl.

"Judd..." You'd sigh, tilting your head to the side as if to offer up more skin for his mouth to attach to. Though, you quickly froze up when you heard the loud laughter coming from the direction of Leah's room. Judd could only groan, continuing to bury his face into your neck and assault your soft skin with his mouth. "They're g'nna hear us." You'd whimper, his hips rolling against your lower belly.

"Don't give a shit." He'd huff out, shaking his head as his hands began to slide under your shirt, thumbs running under the wire of your bra. Instinctively, you'd press your chest further into his touch, arching your back in the process. He'd grin to himself. "Let them hear." He really couldn't care less if Leah and her little friends heard him fucking you. They were allowed to be as loud as they wanted and disturb his peace, so now he'd disturb theirs.

"But-" You'd choke out the singular word, cut off by how his hands slid beneath your bra and cupped your breasts. He'd quickly get to work, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his fingers and thumbs. God, he could play with your pretty tits all day if you let him. He'd worship every part of your body for as long as possible.

"Just shut up." He'd bite out, pulling back to glare down at you. It wasn't a mean glare, but one of lust and need. He craved you, needed you in every possible way he could have you. "Don't you wanna make me feel good, huh? Just ignore them and focus on me. Gonna make us both feel so good, baby." He'd mumble into the curve of your jaw, hands sliding down to your waist and beginning to undo the button of your jeans. You seemed to finally give in, nodding and helping him pull down the offending clothing.

As he yanked them down your legs, he'd sink onto his knees, staring up at you as he did so. His lips would travel over your thighs, pressing gentle kisses to the soft skin every now and then. He'd help you step out of the jeans, leaving you in a pair of pretty navy panties. His fingers would trail affectionately over the lacy material, groaning under his breath as he toyed with the edges.

"So pretty like this, baby." He'd murmur into your skin, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh, hearing you whimper in response. His hands would move back to cup your ass, groping at the flesh as his kisses moved up to your heat. He'd press a gentle kiss to the front of your panties, grinning when your hips jolted forward, chasing him as he pulled away. You were so damn desperate, no matter how many times he had his way with you. Every time was like the first.

"Judd." You'd groan out, one of your hands moving through his hair this time, yanking on it so that his gaze met yours once again. You were frustrated, that much was obvious. "Just want you. Now." You'd whisper.

He wasted no time in rising to his feet again, pulling down his own pyjama pants as he did so. He never wore underwear underneath; that was something you'd learnt pretty early on. You'd almost moan at the sight of his length, a bead of pre already leaking from the pink tip. You couldn't stop yourself from running your thumb over it and bringing it up to your lips, causing Judd to groan in response. You were so damn hot without even trying to be.

With that, his hands would grab at the back of your thighs, arms working to lift you up into his hold and wrap your legs around his waist. Your back remained pressed into the door, and his fingers would waste no time in pushing your panties to the side. A low hum rumbled at the back of his throat as he ran his shaft through your folds a couple of times, lubing himself up with your arousal. Then, as if the two of you were running out of time, he'd press himself into you to the hilt, groaning as he rested there. You'd cry and claw at him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, one hand lost in his hair.

You'd breathe in slow unison, both doing your best to catch your breath and relax. It wasn't often you went straight into it like this, Judd always preferred to play about with you a bit first. But, who was he to deny you when you sounded all whiny and looked at him with those big, pleading eyes of yours? He was weak for you, and he made no attempt to hide it. He'd give you a few moments to get used to the size of him, feeling your velvety walls clench around him and holding himself back from just pounding into you.

Soft hands would play with his hair, and your lips would press to his cheek. He took that as a sign to move, and so, he did. His hips would roll up into yours, making sure to go slowly at first, allowing you to feel just how deep he could reach at this angle. You'd whine and mewl in his ear, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck, breathless pants escaping him. You were so tight, so warm, so perfect. His hands remained resting on your ass, fingers flexing as he groaned into your skin.

"That's it... That's all you wanted, huh? All you ever want, hm? Such a slut for me." He'd murmur, feeling you nod in response, eyes squeezed shut. Slowly, his hips were beginning to pick up the pace, his own need to feel you overwhelming him. "You like that? Like feeling how deep I can go?" He'd continue to ramble, slowly moving to push one of your legs up to your chest until it hooked over his shoulder. You'd whine out, throwing your head back. He was even deeper now.

"God, Judd, feels good... So full." You'd moan weakly, head tilting to the side, jaw hanging open. All kinds of small sounds continued to pour from your lips, and he'd do his best to memorise every single one. His forehead would press against yours, gaze never daring to glance away from your own. He loved watching you fall apart for him, loved seeing just how much he affected you.

"Yeah? You like that?" He'd hum, grinning sadistically as he once again picked up the pace. He was practically slamming into you now, his own body keeping you pressed to the door as his hips pounded into your own. The door would creak with each movement, and he was sure just about anybody in the house would be able to hear your loud moans now, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. The only thing on his mind was feeling you cum around him, and so, that was what he continued to work towards.

"Judd..." You'd stutter out between sob-like moans, tears appearing in the corners of your eyes, hands travelling up to cup either side of his face. He'd turn to press a quick kiss to the palm of your hand before going back to focusing on his ruthless pace. That familiar coil was forming in your belly, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Your head was spinning, and you could feel hot tears of pleasure cascading down your cheeks. He was pounding into you so deeply, hitting all the right spots that made your toes curl and back arch. "Fuck, Judd." You'd babble, glancing down at where your bodies connected, seeing how he moved in and out of you with such ease.

Though, he was quick to steal your attention, nudging his forehead against your own and huffing out. "Eyes on me." He'd murmur. "Wanna see your eyes when I make you cum." You could only whimper in response, brows furrowing as he chased your orgasm. With just a few more harsh strokes, your legs would begin to shake, and that familiar feeling of white, hot, pleasure would come down upon you. You'd let out a loud cry, and he'd gasp, picking up his pace yet again. It wasn't long until he was reaching his own breaking point, feeling himself spill inside of you, eyes still holding your gaze. There was something so intimate and loving about the way he stared at you, the way he handled you with such gentleness.

The two of you would stay in place for a while, continuing to stare at one another, breath mingling together as one. He'd lean into your touch on his face, momentarily allowing his eyes to close now as he regained his strength. His hands would slowly massage your trembling thighs, helping you to calm down, relax. A low sigh would escape him before he began to pull himself out of you, moaning as he did. With that, he'd carry you over to the bed, placing you into it with gentle care.

"You okay?" He'd hum, leaning down to brush some hair from your face. His eyes held nothing but care and affection in them, his touch tender. You'd nod, panting and chasing his touch, causing him to grin. "Let me get a cloth for you." He'd grumble, reluctantly pulling away to begin cleaning you up.

The process wasn't long, and he was in bed with you in no time, arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest. He loved being able to just hold you and relax with you like this, the two of you simply existing with one another, appreciating each others company. These were his favourite moments, the ones where all he could hear was the sound of your light breathing, and all he could feel was your body against his. Of course, the moment couldn't last, and before long it was interrupted by his brother opening his bedroom door.

"Judd, mum says you need to come down for dinner-" Nick was cut off by the sight of the you laid across Judd's chest. His face would grow a deep shade of red, eyes wide. Soon enough, his pervy little friend was stood behind him, also taking in the view. The two boys would simply freeze, eyeing up the sleeping girl in his bed.

He was quick to act, grabbing hold of a pillow and throwing it in their direction, pulling up the blankets so that no part of you was on view to them. He'd die before he let Nick and his freaky friend get a look at any part of you belonging to him. Those kinds of views were for his eyes only.

"Get the fuck out!" He'd yell, pushing you gently off of his chest and sitting up to cover you with his own body. The boys would yelp and run away when they saw Judd sit up, slamming the door shut as they left. Though he was glad they were gone, he could feel you beginning to stir beside him. He'd kill them later for waking you up.

"What is it?" You'd huff out, rubbing at your eyes and leaning up. Judd would run a hand over your arm, smiling at the sight of you so groggy from your power nap.

"Dinner." He'd huff out. "I'll go down and get you a plate, yeah? You stay here." He'd insist, though you seemed to have other plans, shaking your head and slowly moving to sit up.

"No, we should eat with your family, don't wanna be rude." You'd mumble, fixing your hair and slowly crawling out of his bed on shaky legs. He'd groan, not only at the idea of having to sit through dinner with his family, but also at the thought of not being able to just lay in bed with you for a little while longer.

He'd helped you get dressed into a pair of his jogging bottoms and an oversized shirt, before beginning to guide you downstairs. He'd grin proudly to himself when he noticed the shake in your legs as you came down the stairs, but you were quick to slap at his chest, causing him to huff.

His parents would give him knowing looks as the two of you entered the dining room and he pulled out a chair for you, but he'd choose to ignore them, focusing on you instead. You gave him that sweet smile that never failed to make his heart flutter, before taking a seat and allowing him to push you in. As he moved to his seat beside you, he'd finally notice Leah's friends who were sat at the table, greeting him and completely disregarding your presence.

"Hey Judd.."

"Hi..."

"Wanna watch me eat a sausage?"

Judd could feel bile raise in his throat, but he did well to just roll his eyes and ignore them, biting back an insult that he knew both you and his mum would tell him off for. Leah would glare at her friends and give them a look of warning, which they seemed to completely ignore.

You, on the other hand, didn't find it so easy to ignore their flirtatious tones. It was uncomfortable to hear other girls openly flirt with the guy you were sleeping with, of course it was. And, to make matters worse, it wasn't exactly a secret that you were sleeping with him; you were in his house, wearing his clothes and eating a meal his parents had made (not to mention the fact they'd most definitely heard him having his way with you less than an hour ago). Yet, despite all of that, they continued to flirt with him like you weren't even in the room.

Neither you or Judd had brought up the topic of a relationship in the last few months. Things were good as they were, and the two of you were comfortable in the little routine you'd created. You had no idea what his thoughts were, but you'd most definitely begun to fall for him. Your heart slammed against your ribcage every-time you caught him so much as look in your direction at school, cheeks growing hot whenever his shoulder grazed yours in the halls. The sex was great, no doubt, but you wanted more than just that. You enjoyed his company, craved it. You wanted to be able to spend time with him without using the excuse of wanting a good fuck. Not that you'd ever bring it up to him. As far as you knew, you were nothing but a way to get off for him. Sure, he spoke to you sweetly and gave you better treatment than you ever thought he was capable of, but what if that was just how he was with every girl he slept with? He could be a gentleman and still keep his reputation of an asshole.

Whilst you zoned out, Judd would take it upon himself to grab hold of your plate and begin to place food onto it. As he did so, he could feel Leah's stare on him, causing his natural frown to grow deeper. He already knew she had something to ask.

"Um, hey, Judd..." She'd say as sweetly as possible, staring at her older brother with a look of hope. He was already bored of whatever this was.

"Whatever it is, fuck off." He didn't even glance in her direction, making sure to give you an extra scoop of the potatoes he knew you loved. Then, he was sliding the plate in front of you, grabbing his own plate and scooping on just about the same thing he'd given you.

"Oh, come on! I just want you to text your hook-up in the city and, like, buy us some mushrooms tomorrow." She'd plead, holding her hands to her chest as if to look somewhat innocent. It was ironic, considering she'd just asked for drugs.

"Yeah, we wanna get high and figure out if we're actually friends." One of her friends would chime in, writhing in her seat in an attempt to look cute. Judd didn't even bother glancing in their direction.

"Please? We'll pay you double." Leah would add on, which seemed to finally convince him.

"Fine. I'm saving up for a pressure cooker." He'd grumble, placing his own plate in front of himself and shoving some chicken into his mouth.

The group of girls seemed to light up upon hearing his agreement, cheering amongst themselves and smiling brightly at him like he was God's greatest gift. Just the way they ogled him was enough to have you shuffling in your seat, feeling a strange possessiveness build up inside of you. You weren't used to this; you'd never been jealous over a person. Were you being pathetic? Would he laugh at you if he knew you were feeling this way? Probably.

"You're our hero, Judd." A brunette girl would sigh.

"I love you, like, for real." Another would chime in, sending Judd a look of pure adoration.

"Gabrielle!" Leah would exclaim, sending her friend a look of disapproval.

"What? Your brother's hot!" The girl would defend herself, causing your face to scrunch up as you did your best to focus on the food in front of you rather than their conversation. Judd seemed to ignore them with such ease, why couldn't you?

"Seriously, he's such a badass." Another would murmur, eyeing him up like a piece of meat. It just didn't sit right with you. Everyone at school was always too scared of Judd to approach him, you'd never expected girls to fawn over him like this.

As if noticing your distress, Judd would glance at you out of the corner of his eyes, taking in the way you stabbed at the meat on your plate. His hand would move to run along your leg, before he affectionately squeezed your thigh, brows ever so slightly raised, silently asking if you were alright.

You couldn't tell him that the way they spoke about him upset you. He'd probably panic about the fact you were clearly growing feelings for him and kick you out. So, you just smiled and continued to eat, leaving him to watch you in confusion.

"Exciting, the Birch house, isn't it?" Nick's barely moustached friend, Andrew, would sigh, eyes trained on you. Judd's gaze would sharpen when he saw how the two boys were looking at you, knuckles turning white from how tightly he clutched at his knife and fork.

"Don't talk to her, you little shit." He'd grunt out, giving Andrew a deadly stare that had the smaller boy shrinking back in his seat. You'd turn to Judd, shaking your head as if to tell him to stop scaring the kid. He'd huff, subtly moving his chair closer to yours, knee brushing your own. He had no doubt the creepy teen would be having wet dreams about you later, and that made his stomach turn.

"You wanna come with me tomorrow?" Judd would hum as he ate, tone low, eyes glancing at you every now and then, trying to gauge your reaction. You'd freeze for a moment, turning to him. He'd never really asked you to hang out like that. At least, not anywhere that wasn't at school or his house. Going out with him like that would be new. "To get the 'shrooms for Leah and her pack of crows." He'd nod his head over to the lively girls, as if you'd been confused by what he meant.

"Yeah, 'course." You'd smile in return, nodding. Though, you still felt a slight discomfort in your stomach. The flirty glances Leah's friends continued to send Judd didn't go unnoticed by you, and you weren't sure how much longer you could put up with it.

Dinner didn't last too long after that, and by the end of it, you'd only managed to finish about half of what Judd had put on your plate. Clearly, the continuous comments and looks from Leah's friends had ruined your appetite.

Now, you found yourself back in Judd's room, sat in his bed scrolling through your phone as he sat on the side lifting some weights and watching you. He'd noticed how off you'd been at dinner, and the urge to find out what was bothering you gnawed at him. You always finished whatever his parents had made you for dinner, not only because you thought they'd hate you if you didn't, but because you genuinely enjoyed his father's cooking. After a while, it was clear you weren't going to say anything, so he took it upon himself, placing the weight to the side and moving to rest a hand at your ankle.

"What's up with you?" He'd grunt, brows narrowed in question. You looked sad, uncomfortable, and he hated it. He was so used to you being giggly and playful around him, so to see you like this was unsettling. It didn't feel right.

"Nothing." You'd glance up, meeting his gaze and shrugging your shoulders. Then, you went back to your phone like nothing was wrong. No, he wasn't having that. You weren't going to just shrug this off like you weren't pouting and feeling sorry for yourself. He could read you like a book by now, and that frown on your lips was telling him you were anything but fine. So, his hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you further down the bed so that he could climb on top of you.

"Talk to me." He'd huff, snatching your phone from your hands and placing it to the side, ignoring how you whined in protest. He was practically straddling you by now, hands either side of your head. It took all of his willpower to ignore the rise and fall of your chest.

"'S nothing, I already told you." You'd huff out, resting beneath him with a defiant look in your eyes.

"Stop being such a fucking brat and tell me." He'd demand, hand travelling down to slide beneath the sweatpants he'd given you and glide over your folds. Your entire body would jolt, eyes growing hooded as you bit your bottom lip. "I'm not stupid, can tell something's bothering you."

"Never said you were stupid." You'd whine, hips rolling up to chase his fingers, which he quickly pulled away. A noise of upset left you, which made him grin.

"Tell me what you're thinking about." He'd encourage, thumb moving to draw slow circles over your clit, eliciting a breathless moan from you. You looked conflicted, as if debating whether or not to really tell him what was on your mind. A part of you wanted to, wanted to just confess your jealousy and hope he'd comfort and reassure you. But, another part of you was screaming not to, telling you that it would be stupid to even mention the thought to him, that he'd just shrug it off and call you an idiot. Finally, after a few more strokes of his thumb, you'd break, gaze tracing over anything but him as you let out a shaky breath of air.

"I don't like how Leah's friends look at you." You'd whisper, head turning to the side to look at the wall. Judd's movements would pause as he hovered over you, a look of confusion overcoming his features.

"How they look at me?" He'd repeat. You'd nod.

"How they look at you. How they speak about you." You'd add on, moving to brush away some hair that had fallen into your face, nervously fiddling with the strands. Judd would take a few moments to think about your words, before a small grin settled on his features. "Like you're a piece of meat."

"Yeah?" He'd hum. "You sure you're not just jealous?" He'd grumble, leaning down to press a kiss to the love bite he'd left on your neck earlier. A shiver would run down your spine, back arching off of the bed as you chased his lips.

"No." You're respond quickly, lips pulling into a pout. You knew this would happen, knew he'd just make fun of you. You shouldn't have said anything. His hand would move back to your cunt, fingers gliding ever so gently through your folds, causing you to whine and gasp.

"You're not?" He'd hum. "Not jealous of how they were trying to flirt with me? Of how they look at me?" He'd ask, collecting your arousal on his fingers before bringing them up to his lips and taking them into his mouth, allowing himself a taste of you. A low hum escaped him, and he was quick to move his fingers from his mouth to yours, allowing you a taste as well. "'S not a bad thing, baby. It's kind of cute." He'd shrug, making you whine around his fingers as they stuffed your mouth full. A low chuckle left him.

"You worried I enjoy it? Worried I like 'em?" He'd ask, gaze never breaking from your own. You seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when his fingers moved from your mouth and back down to your crotch, you'd quickly find yourself nodding. Judd would coo mockingly, tutting under his breath. "Poor thing." He'd mumble, hand moving again.

Slowly, he'd begin to sink down on the bed, until he was face to face with your heat, lips ghosting over the material of the sweats you wore. His gaze was heavy on your face, hands smoothing over your clothed thighs as he continued to rile you up.

"Did you see me look at them? Even once?" He'd ask, moving forward to press a soft kiss to the material. "When did I ever even glance in their direction, huh?" He'd practically growl. "Didn't, did I?" You shook your head in response.

"No." You'd mewl, staring down at him, using your forearms to hold you up so you could watch him.

"So what makes you think I like 'em? In what world would I give them even a moment of my time, huh? Acting like I wasn't up here fucking you an hour before dinner." He'd hum, slowly pulling the sweatpants down, grinning as you lifted your hips to help him. You were always so damn eager and willing. Such a good girl for him. He'd take your panties along with them, wanting to just get to your skin. "Such a greedy little thing, huh? Don't even want other girls looking at me?"

"Yeah." You'd admit breathlessly, nodding like an idiot. You didn't care how pathetic you looked right about now, all you could think about was having his mouth on your cunt. He'd chuckle when he heard your agreement, shaking his head and pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

"Those annoying shits don't stand a chance with me, sweet thing." He'd murmur, pressing more kisses over your inner thighs. "Not when I've got you." He'd grin.

With that, he was leaning down, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to your heat, causing you to gasp and lift your hips from the bed. He was quick to react, wrapping his arms around your thighs and taking hold of your hips, holding you down so that you couldn't move. His tongue would flick out to move in tight circles over your clit, lips pulling into a smug smirk when you cried out a moan.

"Such a pretty girl. All mine, right?" He'd murmur into your pussy, licking a long stripe through your folds and humming as your arousal collected on his tongue. You were so sweet.

"Yeah." You'd squeak out, making him chuckle.

"Mhm, and I'm all yours, yeah?" He'd continue to ask, knowing you weren't really in the right mind to be answering questions right now. His mouth was attacking your heat, and he expected you to respond to every word he asked.

"Uh-huh." You'd sigh, nodding deliriously.

"Smart girl. My smart girl." He'd praise, moving his thumb up to rub circles over your bundle of nerves, tongue moving down to kitten-lick over your hole, leaving your walls to clench around nothing. Breathless gasps and whimpers would continue to pour from you, going straight to his head.

"Judd." You'd sigh out, head thrashing from one side to the other as you did your best to contain the sheer need you felt for the man between your legs. He'd just continue to chuckle to himself as he heard your whines, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

"Mm? My jealous girl need something? What d'you need, baby?" He'd coo almost sadistically, evil eyes staring up at you as he leaned away from your heat. You'd sob at the loss of contact, attempting to roll your hips but failing due to his grip on them.

"Wanna cum." You'd huff, one hand moving to rest on his head, attempting to guide his mouth back down. He'd refuse, remaining where he was and grinning.

"You g'nna be good? G'nna tell me when you're upset next time instead of being a little brat and ignoring me?" He'd ask, causing you to immediately nod along. You'd agree to anything if it meant he'd finish what he'd started. "Need your words, baby. C'mon." He'd encourage, causing you to sob.

"Yes, Judd, do what ever you want." You'd whine.

"Don't cry, baby." He'd hum, leaning back down and moving his hand away from your clit, fingers circling around your entrance now. His tongue would move to take over the job his thumb had been doing, kitten-licking at your bundle of nerves. "Been so good for me." He'd mumble.

With that, two fingers slowly slid into you, immediately beginning to pump in and out. He was practically making out with your cunt by now, fingers curling and hurling you towards your orgasm. Your own fingers would yank on his hair desperately, anchoring his face to you as you continued to try rolling your hips, still failing.

He was relentless in his movements now, giving you exactly what you'd asked for, though it was somewhat overwhelming. The pleasure was building quickly, not allowing your mind to keep up with your body. Before you could even register it, you were coming undone, chest heaving and moans vibrating in your throat as you felt yourself release. Judd would groan, lapping up whatever he could get, nose bumping with your clit every now and then, causing you to whine.

His lips continued to kiss at your cunt until you finally began to calm down, pussy growing sensitive and hips attempting to escape his touch as it grew too much. He'd hum, moving back up to lean over you until his lips met yours in a sweet kiss. It was slow and gentle, as if he was deliberately being soft with you.

"Meant what I said." He'd whisper against your lips, clean hand moving up to run over the side of your face, stroking your cheek tenderly with his thumb. "'M all yours, don't want anybody else like I want you, especially not Leah's bitchy friends." He'd grumble with a huff from his nose.

"Haven't wanted anybody else since we started... Only ever crave you, crave havin' you near me, crave your company." He'd explain, tongue momentarily sliding into your mouth, causing you to hum when you tasted yourself on it. Then, he'd pause, as if silently debating over something.

"I don't normally do the whole relationship thing, never thought I'd be any good at it." He'd admit quietly, leaning back to look at you beneath him. "But I want that with you. Want to know that you're mine, want everyone to know that you're mine and I'm yours." He'd confess almost shyly. You'd go silent for a while, causing him to frown and huff. "You don't have to say anything-"

You'd cut him off by pulling him down into another kiss, this one faster, more excited and passionate. "Yeah." You'd sigh. "I'd like that." You could feel him smile, genuinely smile, against your lips, causing your heart to flutter.

"Good." He'd growl. "Was gonna have to kill you if you said no."

[heartsiebyul]

Hiii 😁😁😁, are your requests open? If it is, can I request all characters of TWST x Famous Author of many genres reader? Reader is a girl in this, she's famous but she's shy whenever some of her fans come up to her in public, but she tries to be confident. The TWST characters are big fans of her books. If you can't do all the characters, it's okay! You can just choose whoever character you want. Thank you beh! 🥳

જ⁀➴ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

Twisted Wonderland characters paired with a Famous Multi-Genre Author Reader who is renowned for writing across genres like fantasy, horror, romance, and mystery. Each character is a genuine fan of your work and has their own unique reactions.

featuring — Rook : Idia : Azul : Leona : Vil : Jamil : Riddle.

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Rook Hunt

Rook had always believed that beauty could be found in all things, and your words were his latest obsession. He'd devoured your fantasy novels, lingered over your tragic romance, and even praised your horror stories for how they stirred his "âme artistique." When he spotted you at a cafe, casually flipping through a gardening magazine, his gasp of delight drew the attention of half the store. “Auteur extraordinaire!” he cried, approaching you with such dramatic flair that you nearly dropped your coffee. You tried to put on a cool smile, but your flushed cheeks betrayed your nerves. Rook, of course, found it "ravissant."

When you stammered through your thanks and tried to regain composure, Rook leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “You do not need to pretend with me, monsieur auteur. I have seen your soul on paper—it is bold, honest, and magnifique!” You were so startled by his sincerity that you laughed awkwardly, covering your face. Rook simply beamed, already pulling out a copy of your latest thriller for you to sign. “May I request a personalized dedication for the hunter of beauty?” he asked, and despite your embarrassment, you wrote a message that made his heart flutter more than any poem.

Idia Shroud

Idia had known about you before you were famous. He’d followed your early blog posts, your serialized horror chapters on underground forums, and even coded a private fan wiki dedicated to analyzing your worldbuilding. When your romantic sci-fi series became mainstream, he nearly combusted with conflicting emotions: pride that his favorite author was getting the attention you deserved, and terror that other people might talk to you in public. He never dreamed he’d actually see you at a game launch event, let alone find himself standing next to you in line.

You didn’t notice him at first—too busy shrinking into your hoodie as fans approached for autographs. But then Idia blurted out a line from one of your darker fantasy books—a line only a real fan would know—and your eyes lit up. “You… read that one?” you asked, visibly surprised. Idia nearly short-circuited, mumbling something about being a long-time supporter. When you offered him a signed copy of your newest book, he hesitated, then pulled out a dog-eared, annotated edition of your debut novel. "This one… means a lot," he said quietly. You smiled warmly, and it took every ounce of his will not to scream.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was first drawn to your books because of the meticulous structure of your mysteries. As a tactician and businessman, he admired how you constructed plots like deals—layered, calculated, and sharp. When he hosted a private reading club at Mostro Lounge, he made sure your work was always on the menu. He finally met you after sponsoring a literary charity event, where you were a guest speaker. You arrived looking nervous despite your fame, eyes flickering with panic when cameras flashed. Azul, ever the gentleman, offered you his arm and led you inside with a charming smile.

“Confidence is like ink, isn’t it?” he said smoothly once you were seated. “Even if you feel like you're running out, you can always dip the pen again.” You laughed shakily, clearly trying to hold it together as another group of fans approached. Azul shooed them away politely, giving you a moment to breathe. “I must confess,” he added, “I keep a signed copy of The Merchant’s Veil in my office. That negotiation scene? Inspirational.” His praise was so earnest that you couldn’t help but grin, blush and all. He offered to collaborate on a new themed drink menu for your next fantasy release—and how could you say no?

Leona Kingscholar

Leona wasn’t a reader—not until one of your high fantasy books was left in the lounge and he picked it up out of boredom. One chapter in, and he was hooked. The warring kingdoms, the morally gray antiheroes, the sharp political intrigue? It reminded him of home. Now, he secretly waits for every new installment, claiming he’s “too lazy” to get excited but tearing through your books in one sitting. When he caught sight of you at a rare book fair in Sunset Savannah, trying to sign autographs while avoiding the crowd’s full attention, he raised a brow and approached with his usual swagger.

“You don’t look like the confident genius your books make you out to be,” he drawled, slouching next to your table. You chuckled nervously, muttering that you weren’t good with people. “That so?” he smirked. “Could’ve fooled me. Your war scenes feel like you’ve lived ’em.” You blushed, trying to downplay it, but he just leaned closer. “Don’t worry. I won’t let the hyenas swarm you. Just sign my copy and you can hide behind me for the next hour.” You laughed in relief, and Leona shrugged. “Least I can do. You got me hooked on reading, after all.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was skeptical at first. A celebrity author writing romance and fantasy? He assumed it was another trend-rider. But when he read Silver Ash and Crimson Vows, he was stunned by your elegant prose, your nuanced characters, and your themes of self-worth beneath fame’s glittering surface. He became a devoted reader—though he’d never fangirl publicly. When he met you backstage at a charity fashion gala, you looked lost and overwhelmed by the attention, gripping your phone like a lifeline. Vil noticed instantly, striding over with composed grace.

“Deep breaths,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “They admire your brilliance, but don’t let them drown your voice.” You recognized him immediately and fumbled a compliment, flustered. Vil only smiled. “You don’t need to perform for me. I know authenticity when I see it—on stage and on paper.” He asked you thoughtful questions about character symbolism in your romance books, subtly shielding you from cameras with his poise. “Art deserves to be nurtured,” he added, and you realized that behind his perfectionism was a kindred spirit who truly respected your work.

Jamil Viper

Jamil grew up craving escape—so when he discovered your stories, he devoured them in secret. Your psychological thrillers and complex protagonists spoke to him in ways he couldn’t voice. He hid your books under his mattress, annotating them late at night while pretending to sleep. One day, while chaperoning Kalim to a public festival, he spotted you trying to deflect a swarm of fans with an obviously forced smile. Jamil, sighing, pushed Kalim away and approached you with a calm, protective presence.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he murmured, handing you a cold drink without asking. “I’ve read your interviews. You hate crowds.” You blinked at him in surprise, touched by his quiet perceptiveness. He didn’t gush or ask for a photo. He just said, “Your words helped me breathe when I couldn’t. Thanks for that.” You nodded, too moved to reply. Before leaving, he offered you a worn paperback of your earliest novel—scarred with years of re-reading. “This one? It saved me more than once.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle discovered your work through your historical fantasy novel, The Hollow Prince, and was immediately enthralled by the richly layered themes of legacy, loyalty, and rebellion against unjust systems. It mirrored his own personal journey so closely that he read it three times over and annotated every page. He admired your sharp prose and the way your protagonists questioned traditions without discarding honor. So when he heard you were attending a literary symposium, he made immediate arrangements to attend—under the guise of “academic enrichment.”

You were visibly flustered in the crowded hall, trying to smile for fans while glancing longingly toward the exit. Riddle, noticing your discomfort, approached with precise steps and an empathetic gaze. “You don’t have to force a brave face,” he said gently, offering you a glass of water. “Your books already show your strength. You don’t need to prove it in front of strangers.” You blinked, stunned by his unexpected kindness. When he pulled out his well-worn copy of The Hollow Prince, marked with color-coded tabs and notes in elegant script, your smile turned genuine. “You helped me understand myself better,” he said quietly, cheeks tinged pink. “So let me return the favor by making this moment easier for you.”

📚 Books Credited to Original Authors (Pretending Reader Wrote Them):

1. The Hollow Prince (inspired by “The Bear and the Nightingale” by Katherine Arden)

2. Silver Ash and Crimson Vows (inspired by “The Cruel Prince” by Holly Black)

3. The Merchant’s Veil (inspired by “Six of Crows” by Leigh Bardugo)

4. The Kingdom’s Debt (inspired by “A Song of Ice and Fire” by George R.R. Martin)

5. Whispers in the Fog (inspired by “Rebecca” by Daphne du Maurier)

6. Starcrossed in Dystopia (inspired by “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins)

7. Fractured Wings (inspired by “If We Were Villains” by M.L. Rio)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[heeology]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑡˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ | p.sh

synopsis → after a not-so-well interview for a nearby coffee shop you applied to, you were surprised to see you got the job offer. despite what you may have expected, being a barista isn’t as easy going as you initially thought it would be. your manager isn’t really one to be enthusiastic when lending a helping hand, and no matter how many times you try to get on his good side, you can tell he would much rather sketch in his sketchbook (or even mop the floors) than engage in a conversation with you. one of the only times he does interact with you is to help you not make horrible latte art, but little did you know, being so bad at something could end up paying off so well.

feat. → liz (ive), hyunwoo (xikers)

genre → romance, college au, strangers (and a hint of enemies) to lovers

pairing → barista&artmajor!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings → none!!

w.c. → 12.7k

a/n → ik it’s been a while since i’ve posted smth, but it’s been hard getting inspiration to actually write. i started this fic a while ago (a little over a month ago) and i planned on having it finished in maybe a week and then i just…gave up. I only got the motivation to finish it today and i’m rlly glad i did. thx for reading and i hope you enjoy(ed) !!

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

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Do people still bring resumes to interviews? You weren’t exactly sure, but nonetheless, you printed yours out and bought one of those folders with the clear plastic page in the front to put it in. It may be a bit formal, but this coffee shop is quite nice. A mix of a rustic and modern aesthetic, loomed with plants, and open sunlight through big windows; almost as if it was a botanical garden turned into a cafe. Your foot tapped softly against the wood floor, a failed attempt to try and calm your nerves as you look around while in your seat by one of the windows. The smell of coffee brewing, caramel, and pastries serves as a great distraction to your racing mind until you see–who you presume—to be the manager from his professional and stoic demeanor. 

You stand up, thinking he would take you somewhere else for the interview, but are surprised when he just sits in front of you, not even shaking your hand. You slowly sit back down, clearing your throat as he looks at you with one of the most uninterested expressions you’ve ever seen on a person. However, you won’t lie: he’s stunning. Fair skin, moles looking as though they were intricately placed by an angel themself, broad shoulders, even his facial proportions are perfect; is he even real? He crosses his arms, his gaze not wavering.

“Are you here for the interview?” he asks in a tone that sounds as though you are inconveniencing him.

“Yes- Yes, I am.” you say as you sit up straighter, snapping out of your daze. You look away a bit, trying not to get too embarrassed, and you pass him your resume on the table with a smile.

He eyes the resume, looking down at it for a split second before looking back at you. No expression changes whatsoever, which is starting to unsettle you. You shift a bit in your seat, and if it wasn’t for the soft noise of the chair moving a bit, you could have sworn you heard him sigh. He uncrosses his arms, sitting up a bit more in his chair. He pushes your resume back towards you before resting his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together, the sleeves of his white button up pushed up and past his forearms. 

“You didn’t need to bring a copy of your resume, I have it on file. That’s what online applications are for.” he says in the same tone with a hint of scrutiny.

You swallow and laugh nervously, trying to relieve the tension of the atmosphere, while also trying not to let yourself want to curl up and die. “Oh, um…right, of course.” you say, softly.

This time, you do hear his sigh as he takes a pen from his apron and grabs the clipboard that you had failed to notice was on the table. “Your resume says you have customer service experience and that your past job was in retail; how do you plan to adjust to the shift in environments? Or better yet, how will your experience in retail help you with this job in the food industry?” he asks, and you can’t quite tell if he’s just being professional or simply doesn’t care.

“Well, I know the two have different sets of responsibility, but-”

“Yes, which is why I asked the question.”

You sit there for a second, stunned. You haven’t done an interview in a while, but is this how they’re conducted now or is this guy just an ass? You try not to let it bother you as you swallow again. “As I was saying, experience in customer experience-”

“Experience in customer experience?” he raises an eyebrow and clicks his pen as he starts writing. “Not exactly a coherent or well-thought sentence.”

“Regardless,” you say in the most cheerful tone you can manage, “I believe I will be able to apply my knowledge on customer experience to this job, even with the change in responsibilities. I know what is to be expected of the position and have been able to handle tasks, and meet goals, as well as expectations at my previous job wonderfully; my references listed can attest to that. Customer experience is universal, and I am confident that I will be able to provide and accommodate a pleasant experience for the customers here.”

He continues writing, as if he wasn’t even listening in the first place. He is quiet for a moment and then clicks his pen, flipping the page on the clipboard. You sit there awkwardly as you wait for him to ask another question. “Shall I…tell you about myself, perhaps?” you offer, hoping he’ll see this as a sign of initiative or something.

“I don’t believe in asking that question. Or asking what your strengths and weaknesses are. This isn’t your first job, so there’s no need to coddle you with those types of questions, what I would rather know is what your work ethic is like since you have experience. Why are you leaving your previous job?”

You aren’t sure how to respond. Well, you know the answer, but you aren’t sure how to respond to him. Did you do something wrong on your application? Did you sit at the wrong table or something else absolutely mundane to tick him off? Clearly not since this was the one that had the clipboard. “Truthfully, I want to work in a different environment; I want to gain experience from different jobs, and this one is one that I felt I would be able to do well after going over the job description.”

“Doesn’t exactly paint you as a reliable employee.” you hear him mutter. You actually have to hold back from scoffing as he keeps writing on his stupid clipboard. “This position requires you to work behind the register, serving and making some of the pastries, making drinks–of course–, as well as cleaning the tables, displays, floors, etc. Besides working behind the register, what aspects would you say you are confident in or could properly execute?”

You give him a sarcastic smile, trying not to make it too obvious, “I was expected to clean up displays and racks at my previous job; organizing the product, dusting–”

“This isn’t a custodial job, any experience with baking? Drink making? Even if it was volunteer work, as a hobby, anything?�� he says without sparing you a glance, reading his clipboard.

Did he not just talk about cleaning as one of the expectations? Seriously, what is his problem? “I’ve made boxed cake, brownies, and cookies from a mix. And when I was in High School, I made coffee from the coffee pot in my kitchen.” you reply, curtly. 

He doesn’t respond, writing some more on his paper. “Reliability?” is all he asks.

“Like, what days I can work?” you ask, not sure what he is specifically asking.

“No.” he says flatly, ��How was your reliability at your old job?”

“I wasn’t ever late, I clocked in around ten minutes before my shift, I gave at least a month’s notice on days I would not be able to work, I rarely called out, I always worked my scheduled days, I-”

He holds up his pen, cutting you off, and then continues writing. He doesn’t say anything and you frown, taking a guess that he only did that to stop you from talking. “Your resume says you’re in college, how will this affect your reliability?”

“Well, I only have a year left, and my schedule remains consistent. I will give ample notice on any changes that may be made, but relatively, I like to keep my class schedule the same.”

He doesn’t interrupt or say anything, he just keeps writing. He clicks his pen, tapping it against the clipboard for a second before flipping the page again. Maybe a minute passes before he speaks again, “Do you prefer tasks with teamwork or completing them independently?”

You think for a moment, “Both. I mean that honestly. I know there are going to be certain tasks that are expected to be done independently to show what I am capable of doing, what responsibilities I can handle that way you can determine if I could take on any other challenges–”

“I don’t need you explaining why I ask certain questions, I know why.”

You feel your smile twitch, just slightly, in annoyance. “I don’t mind either. If I feel I can handle a project or assignment on my own, I will complete it. If not, then I have the resources to work with a team and complete the project with help as well as have the opportunity to learn from others.”

He writes, in a much shorter span of time, before clicking his pen and finally looking up at you. “Thank you for coming in.” he says, almost as if he was forced to say it, before standing up and walking away, pushing the chair in before he does. You sit there for a moment, dumbfounded, looking around a bit, wondering if anyone else just bared witness to this fiasco of an interview. You get up, pushing the chair in, taking your resume and walking to the door, throwing it in the trash before you leave.

-

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭, 

𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫! 𝐖𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝟏𝟎 𝐚.𝐦. 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐮𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: 

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠!

You had to re-read the email again because you couldn’t believe it the first three times you’ve looked it over. You could’ve sworn the interview was a disaster and now this? You weren’t entirely sure if you were going to accept, afterall, the manager seemed like a dick. But, this job pays four dollars more than your current job, which would honestly help a lot. So, in the end, you decide to give it a try. You respond to the email, accepting the offer and soon enough, Wednesday rolls around.

You step back into the coffee shop, it surprisingly not being too busy, before walking over to the counter. You smile a bit at the girl behind the counter and she smiles back.

“Hi, welcome in, what can I get for you today? We have a new lavender tea and latte with lavender foam art if you are interested in trying either of those this morning.” she greets.

“I’m actually here for training?” you say, not meaning to sound uncertain, “It starts at ten, but I came in a bit early anyway.”

“Oh!” she smiles a bit more, genuinely looking happy to see you. “Sunghoon told us someone new would be starting today. I’m Liz,” she says, pointing to her name tag and laughing softly, “But let me take you to his office.” Liz says as she steps out from behind the counter.

“Thank you.” you say, softly, happy that there is someone so nice here. She leads you towards the back and then stops in front of a door that reads: 𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿 | 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸

“Good luck. He can be a little tough” she whispers before walking away.

You let out a soft sigh, mentally preparing for having to deal with someone so difficult so early in the morning, and then knock on his door. You don’t hear anything, so you knock again, and a long moment of silence passes, so you raise your hand to knock again.

“Are you coming in or just going to continue to knock?” you hear him say from behind the door.

You roll your eyes and open the door, “May I come in?” you ask as you peer inside.

“Obviously.” he says in that same tone. You put on the best smile you can before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. You walk over to take a seat in front of his desk and he looks at you like you have something on your face. “I suppose we should review the dress code first.” he says as though he expected you to know the handbook cover to cover. 

You look down at your outfit, which you thought was appropriate: a nice sweater with some jeans and clean sneakers. This was a barista gig, afterall, so you assumed this was okay. “Is this not appropriate–?”

“The dress code is either button ups or blouses in: white, black, or beige. Slacks or fitted jeans in the same colors. You may wear skirts, in the same colors, and they must be knee length or no shorter than an inch from your knee. Black shoes of any kind; no open toe shoes, however. Hair must be tied up and gloves must be worn when handling or preparing food. I will give you a pass this time since it is your first day, but next time, you will be expected to dress accordingly.” he says as he shuffles through some papers on his desk.

“That is…wow…” you say, kind of surprised by the strictness of the dress code at a coffee shop, well, besides the gloves, of course. 

“Is that going to be a problem?” he peers up at you.

“No– no, not at all.” you say quickly.

“Good. You’ll have to go through the training on the computer, fill out and sign some forms electronically, and then if you finish with some time to spare, we will start some basic training. I will also give you paper copies of the forms to take home as well as your name tag and a copy of the handbook.”

You nod a bit, staying quiet; honestly not wanting to somehow tick him off in any way. He stops rummaging through the papers on his desk and looks at you. He just…stares at you for a long moment. Not looking you up and down, just looking into your eyes, meeting your gaze. Surprisingly, you don’t find yourself shifting uncomfortably in your seat. It helps a little that he’s attractive and his eyes are pretty, but still, you can feel how cold his gaze is despite it.

“Nothing to add?” he asks.

You open your mouth a bit to answer, but then find yourself stumped. “I look forward to it.” is what you feel is most appropriate to say. 

Silence and a stern gaze, that’s all he responds with. Then, he gives a short nod and looks back at his papers. “Aprons are also a part of the uniform, we don’t have specific ones, you just grab one and use it, but I know the others have their preferences.” he says, the last part somewhat under his breath.

You nod in response. “I’ve talked to Liz, she seems sweet.”

“She’s often late.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. “Oh…” is all you say in response.

He pauses, “But, yes, the customers like her.” he says, sounding as though he isn’t even sure he wants to admit that he knows that (or acknowledges it). He rummages some more and then finally looks up before standing from his seat. “Alright, I’ll take you to the computer in the backroom and you can fill out the forms there.” And to your surprise, you see him extend his hand, “Welcome.” he says plainly.

You smile a bit, maybe starting to think he’s warming up to you, and you take his hand in yours, shaking it. His hand is soft despite the calluses on his upper palm. He continues to look you in the eye, and yet somehow, this time it looks a bit softer, as if having your hand in his allowed a wave of calm to wash over him. But, it’s gone just as quickly as it comes, almost like once he realized how he felt, he had to stop it. He lets go of your hand and clears his throat.

“Happy to be here.” you say, softly.

He only nods in response, and you swear you see the tips of his ears turn a light shade of pink, but you brush it off, figuring that maybe it’s just the lighting making it look that way.

-

It hasn’t exactly been an easy adjustment, to say the least. You mainly do closings on the days you can work, since Sunghoon has said that the openings are full. You don’t mind, but he has used this as an opportunity to criticize you on your cleaning techniques. To be fair, he trained you on what was expected, and yet, you can never seem to do it right. You warm the scones wrong, you make the matcha too strong, you burn the coffee beans, you don’t clean the utensils properly, you don’t mop the floors correctly. Anything and everything. 

You keep asking him how to do it correctly, and when he shows you (begrudgingly), you always have a confused look on your face because you could’ve sworn that’s how you were doing it in the first place. “Don’t act so surprised.” is all he would say whenever he saw you with that expression each and every time he would correct you. Which, to your dismay, was every single one of your shifts since he’s had to work closings with you to make sure you are fitting in just fine.

“He’s just like that,” one of your co-workers–Hyunwoo–says to you whenever Sunghoon has particularly been on your ass (which is almost every shift). “Although, I will say, you’ve gotten the hang of a lot of it so far. Just don’t take it to heart, it’s only been a month since you started.” he tries to reassure you while he steams some milk for a customer’s order.

You scoff softly, “And a long month it’s been.” you mutter as you put a lid on a tea, calling out the customer’s name at the counter, and telling them to have a good day. You go back to the register, him finishing the order with a soft laugh at your comment.

“He’s not a terrible boss.” he says before calling out the order and handing the cup and saucer to the customer with a smile.

“He’s just a terrible person.” you mumble under your breath.

He just smiles a bit and goes to stand at the register next to you. He shrugs, “He’s just that type of person, you know, tough exterior.”

“I think he’s just a douche–”

“Anyone in particular you’re talking about?” you hear Sunghoon ask behind you. You close your eyes, hoping you were just hearing things or maybe even that he’ll just go away if you pretend he’s not there. “Since you want to have ‘potty language’ on the floor, maybe you could take it to the actual restroom.” he says before rolling over a mop and bucket to you. 

You look at him, kind of an almost pleading look, but he just crosses his arms and looks back at you with that same unamused expression. You sigh, taking the handle of the mop and turning to roll it over to the bathroom. Hyunwoo looks at you sympathetically with a small smile as you walk away.

“She was talking about this guy in her class–” Hyunwoo tries to say to him.

“I know who she was talking about.” Sunghoon cuts him off before starting to walk back to his office, telling another employee to fill your spot while you clean the bathrooms.

-

The soft slosh of the mop and occasional sound of you ringing it out in the bucket fills the empty space of the coffee shop. The lights are dimmed and the usual bustle of customers and sounds of the coffee maker are done for the night as you and Sunghoon close. You can’t help but look at him occasionally; you feel you should apologize, but you’re not sure how. Afterall, it doesn’t always bode well when your manager overhears you calling them a douche. 

You slide the mop back and forth on the floor, just watching him sit at one of the tables with his sketchbook on the table as he scribbles with his pencil. So, each time you stop mopping to try and say something, you instead hear the scratch of his pencil against the paper, disrupting your thoughts entirely. That’s all he’s been doing since the shop closed and he’s left you to do all of the cleaning thus far. You finish mopping, putting it away in the storage closet before wiping down the tables. You were two tables away from where he was sitting before he closed his sketchbook and stood up; as if your nearby presence is more than enough to annoy him. You watch him as you wipe down the table and he looks at the floor before pointing to a spot.

“You need to make sure you’re mopping under the tables entirely; customers sometimes spill or leave crumbs on the floor and ants are the last thing we need.” he critiques.

You look at the spot he was pointing to. “I did mop under all of the tables–”

“And I’m telling you to do it again.” he says before going to sit back at the table and continuing to sketch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, mumbling a string of insults as quietly as you can, while you go to the storage closet to get the mop. You mop the floor, again, before putting it back. Meanwhile, he wasn’t even paying attention to make sure you were doing what he said, just simply working on whatever he was doing in his sketchbook.

“Better?” you ask, trying not to sound as annoyed as you were.

He doesn’t even glance up at you, “Much.” he replies shortly while closing his sketchbook. He gets up to finish wiping down the other tables you didn’t get to.

You start taking the chairs and flipping them upside down before resting them on the tabletops. He starts to do the same until you both meet in the middle. You want to say something, an apology might be the way to go, and you figure this is your only chance to possibly have him listen to you.

“You draw a lot.” is what you end up saying. Not exactly what you had in mind, but maybe some casual conversation is a good way to start out and then you can work your way up to an apology once the mood lightens.

He doesn’t answer at first. “How perceptive.” is all he mutters back.

You bite your tongue, “Is that your major? Art? Or maybe Art History–?”

“Yes.” is all he says back, cutting your questions short.

You nod a bit and he quickly finishes his side of cleaning up the chairs. “My major is English.” you say, trying to get him to say something more back. He just grunts in response. “Some people say it’s boring or a major that doesn’t lead to anything, but I love some of the courses I take. Like, World Literature, for example. I loved reading some of Li Po’s poetry and some Epics, like the Odyssey–”

“Did you make sure to clean the dishes in the sink? Did you clean out the pastry warmer?” he asks as though you weren’t saying anything in the first place. “Any excess crumbs could just heat up and smoke during the next use.”

“Yes, I cleaned it.” you reply in the same astute tone he uses, sighing softly as you finish putting the chairs on the tables. You walk to the registers, starting to close one of them. He says to leave the registers for last since he considers it to be the easiest task to finish. As you count the money, you figure he went back to his office–like usual–and you would be closing both registers yourself. You finish closing them after a short while and then go to his office to turn in the money. 

He checks your count, writing it down and putting the money into a locked box. “You may clock out.” is all he says before sitting at his desk.

You don’t need to be told twice before leaving his office, taking off your apron, and hanging it in the backroom where the others are. You grab your stuff and hesitate while walking towards the door. You decide to walk back to his office, knocking twice, before opening the door. He doesn’t look up at you.

“Goodnight.” you say quietly, not wanting to startle him or anything.

“Is that what you came to say?” he asks, not paying any attention.

“Yes.” you say as if it was obvious. He stops and looks up at you. It’s quiet, and you feel like his gaze is on you for hours, as if he has you trapped. “And I want to say I’m sorry.” you add, wondering if that is what he was waiting to hear from you.

“Ah.” he says before looking back at whatever he was doing on his desk. “So that is what you really came to do; clear your conscience. Well, no need to worry, I’ve heard some former employees call me worse.”

“Former?” you ask, suddenly a little worried about the future of your job (if he lets you keep it).

“Yes, former. As in: people who used to work here. Past tense–”

“I know.” you say, this time, cutting him off. This makes him look up at you, and you swear you can see the tiniest flicker of surprise cross his face. “I wanted to apologize because I felt bad. Yes, it was incredibly unprofessional of me to say that, especially while on the floor, and I apologize for that. But I also wanted to apologize because I didn’t want to upset you; I didn’t mean to. I was just upset and I let it get the better of me. So, sure, I came here to clear my conscience if that’s the pessimistic way you want to look at it, but at least I can say I tried. And I also came to say goodnight because of common courtesy.” you say before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. As you walk towards the front door, you expect him to maybe come out and say something, but to no surprise at all: he doesn’t.

-

“Why do you keep doing it like that?” Sunghoon asks as though he is genuinely dumbfounded by your actions. 

He’s teaching you the basics on latte art since that’s the area you’ve been struggling with the most since you’ve started. You figured each time a customer asks for a latte with one of the specific designs the baristas are supposed to learn, that you could just bribe Hyunwoo to do it with the promise of sneaking him some chocolate chips from the kitchen. You knew that couldn’t last forever, but you were hoping. You try again, moving the pitcher to try and aerate the milk with the steam wand.

“No. Not like that.” he comes over to you and takes the pitcher from you, pouring the failed attempt down the drain. He pours more milk into the pitcher and hands it back to you. “Don’t submerge the wand first, you need to introduce the heat to the milk and create a thin layer of foam, first.” 

You take the pitcher, doing as he says, but the wand has gotten too hot, making a hissing sound, startling you. Before you can, he reacts quickly, taking your hand with the pitcher in his as he moves it away from the machine. You look at him, but his focus is on the machine, letting go of your hand as he tries to fix it. It was short-lived, but you felt the tingle of excitement in your stomach from his touch. You feel a small smile creep onto your lips as you chuckle softly. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes before finishing with the machine.

“You find this funny?” he asks, sounding a bit exasperated.

You shrug as you dump out the milk. “I guess I’m just trying to find the joy in making mistakes.”

“What a ridiculous mindset.” he mutters. “The milk needs to reach around one hundred and fifty degrees fahrenheit and expands about twenty to thirty percent–”

“Am I supposed to figure out how to measure that off of the top of my head? Is there a chart with a frowny face to a smiley face on what the milk should look like that I need to follow?”

He turns to look at you, utterly unamused. You smile a bit, slightly laughing at your own joke, and he turns to look away from you. “Yes,” he mutters quietly, “It’s actually a coffee cup.” he says, sounding as though he wasn’t even making a joke at all. This makes you smile wider.

“Oh, okay, got it.” you say, trying to contain your excitement that he even responded to your joke with a joke. He hands you another pitcher and you take it, following through with the instructions he gave you. You try to create a thin layer of foam as you carefully watch the pitcher. “Am I doing it right? Is this good enough?” you ask, still watching the milk.

He doesn’t respond at first, which doesn’t seem off to you, you figure he’s just coming up with another critique to give you. Instead, however, he is lost in watching you concentrate. The way your gaze flicks a little between the wand and the milk, how you grip and hold the pitcher, just the way you seem so interested in what you’re doing; it captivates him entirely. You feel his hand softly move over yours, your breath hitching softly, while he guides the pitcher up a bit, submerging the wand. You can’t help but simply stare at his hand on top of yours, how he softly grips it, delicately directing your movements, and you swear, his thumb gently rubs back and forth over the side of your hand.

“You usually want to wait three to five seconds for the milk to aerate. That’s usually for lattes. Five to ten seconds for a cappuccino. Then, eight seconds for the milk to steam, like so.” he says softly, his body close beside you while he moves your hand just a bit more before letting go, his touch lingering on your hand. He clears his throat and you take the milk away from the wand. “Then,” he grabs the cup with the latte ready and you hand him the pitcher, “hold it just slightly above the latte at a slightly elevated position,” you watch as he demonstrates each action following what he is saying, “lowering it slightly while it starts to fill and be sure to keep the tip close, making sure it remains smooth and…there.” he finishes the design of the leaf. You nod your head. “Understand?” he asks as he sets the cup and pitcher down.

“I’ll definitely have to practice, but yes, I think I understand the basic concept.”

“Okay,” he motions to the machine, “Practice.” he crosses his arm and leans against the counter behind him.

You let out a short breath and start, making sure to remember his instructions. Once he doesn’t make any comments about the way you prepare the milk, you take that as a good sign. You try to make a tulip, having seen Hyunwoo do it, you felt it might be the easiest for you to try. You bite the bottom corner of your cheek as you concentrate, your eyebrows knitting together just slightly. The warm glow from the lights above the register casts down upon you delicately, almost as if it’s a spotlight, mimicking your soft and careful movements. He finds himself knitting his eyebrows together a bit, as well, confused as to what he should be focusing on: your work or you. It doesn’t turn out how you expect, not even close, and you set down the pitcher and the cup, looking up at him.

“Done?” you say, not sounding sure considering it’s not very good.

He comes over to look at it more closely. “It’s not a completely terrible leaf.” he says.

This, you will gladly take considering it is the nicest thing he’s said to you since you’ve started working here. “Yes, a leaf.” you say, trying to convince yourself (and him) that it was the choice of design you were going for.

“We can work on this more some other time; we’re out of this milk.” he says as he rinses and recycles the milk jug. You nod a bit, grateful he gave you this lesson anyway, which he said was only because your latte art skills were ‘below adequate’ and that the milk was expiring tomorrow, anyway. “You may go, I will close the registers.”

Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. “Really?” you ask, a small smile on your face.

He glances at you before clearing his throat and looking back at the register. He gives a soft hum in response and you go to grab your stuff. You walk over to the door and open it a bit before looking back at him. “Thank you, for the lessons and letting me go…” you look at the clock, “Three minutes early.”

He just hums again. You nod a bit and open the door more to leave.

“Goodnight.” he says in a flat tone.

You smile, “Goodnight.” you say back before leaving, the bell above the door chiming on your way out.

-

“Does he always come in on his days off?” you whisper to Liz as you both wash some of the mugs while the morning rush subsides. 

Today was one of the rare days he schedules you to work the opening shift, which you were happy about because now you can work a shift with Liz, who you’ve become close to. She shrugs her shoulders.

“Is he sitting in the right corner table by the flowers?” she whispers back.

You quickly peer over your shoulder and then turn back to the sink. “Yeah.”

“He’s probably just working on something for his art school, he sometimes comes here to do that. And so he can keep an eye on everyone.”

“Why not work on it at home or something?”

She shrugs, “I guess he likes to take the opportunity to get his free drink and pastry. He’s just been doing that since before I started working here, so don’t worry if you think he’s doing it to watch you.” You nod and finish washing the mugs and other utensils, drying your hands. “Although, I will say, he usually comes later when it’s less busy, so I was a little surprised to see he was here during the rush.”

You hum softly in response. “What does he usually order?”

“Just an iced americano and croissant. He’s quite plain–” she starts, but you don’t pay much attention, already preparing his order. She dries her hands and laughs softly, a hint of nervousness in her tone. “Um, I know you might be wanting to get on his good side, but trust me when I say: he doesn’t like to be disturbed, especially when he’s working on his art.”

“It’s not disturbing if I bring him something he’s going to get.” Possibly.

“Well, maybe, but–” she starts, but you already make your way over to him with the coffee and the croissant on a plate.

You set the coffee and plate down gently onto the table, accidentally peeking to see what he’s drawing. You barely make out what could possibly be a portrait of someone before he closes his sketchbook.

“What are you doing?” he asks, irritated.

“Oh, I just came to bring you your coffee and croissant. Liz told me what you usually get–”

“Did she also tell you I don’t like being bothered? I figured that would come across as something you would have picked up on by now, but perhaps I was too generous with what to assume in regards to what you can and can’t figure out.”

You just look at him, “I made it so you wouldn’t have to stop working and just have it readily available, but I forgot, you’re allergic to acts of kindness.”

He glances at the coffee and croissant, then back up at you. He’s quiet for a long moment and you worry you may have been too snarky with your boss. “Thank you.” he mumbles before taking a sip of his coffee.

You beam proudly, a bit. “You’re welcome.” you say as your eye catches the flowers around where he sits. “Are these marigolds?”

“Yes.” he mutters, “May I continue my work or are there more questions you would like to waste my time with?”

“How come you always sit here? Liz says you do.”

He sighs, “I suppose you have more questions to bother me with.” he mutters, annoyed. “It’s private and quiet. That’s why. And if you have more unnecessary questions to ask me, consider this eating into your break.”

“Right, well, good luck with your work.” you say before turning to head back towards the registers. He’s quiet for the few steps you take, and then you hear him sigh.

“The color suggests they represent creativity.” he says quickly, not wanting to say anything at all.

You turn around to look at the flowers and him, but he’s already focused on working in his sketchbook again. “Superstitious?”

“Not in the slightest.” he says in his usual tone, his pencil scratching against the paper.

“And yet you sit in the corner with the flowers that represent creativity?” you say with a hint of teasing.

“Among other things.” he mumbles, but you notice the tips of his ears turning pink, and you smile softly.

“Well, hopefully it works.” you say before going back over to Liz. She looks at you in complete shock.

“You still work here?” she asks, and you know she’s joking, but a part of her sounds actually surprised.

“Ha, ha.” you say as you stand behind the register, her next to you.

“No, no, seriously. He never talks to anyone, especially when he’s working on his art.”

You shrug, “To be honest, I’m surprised, too. Although, he did insult my intelligence.”

“Well, he does that to everyone.” she says, laughing softly, and you laugh as well.

As you laugh, you glance over at him, thinking maybe you saw him already looking at you. But, he just sits up straighter, and continues to draw.

-

“This is the third customer today that has wanted their latte remade because the art ‘didn’t look good’. You’ve been here for three months, you honestly mean to tell me you haven’t improved on any of the designs?” Sunghoon asks, crossing his arms as he watches you working on the decorations for some of the Belgium waffles.

You sigh and continue to dip a corner of the waffles into the chocolate. “I’ve been practicing. I’ve even had Hyunwoo help me–”

“You’ve been bothering a co-worker to help you with something you should be at least decent at by now?”

“Well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to approach for help.” you mumble.

He doesn’t say anything before letting out a sigh. “Are there any designs in particular you’re not confident in? Are there any that you are?”

“Not…particularly.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You think you hear him mutter the word ‘hopeless’ before you feel him ushering you over to the latte machine.

“Alright, I am going to teach you some of the basic designs: a leaf, a heart, and a tulip.”

“Sure, seems easy enough.” you say, somewhat sarcastic.

“If you prefer, you can find another job if this one is too complicated for you.” he replies, and you can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Your eyes widen a bit and you stand a bit straighter.

“Alright, fine, message received.”

He lets out a hum and starts making a latte and steaming milk. “A leaf: This one is probably the easiest one to master first; a good base design. Once you learn how this one works, you can apply it to the other designs.” You walk over to watch as he holds the pitcher over the cup. “You’re going to start with making a circle near the base of the latte, just slowly pouring the crema. Then bring the spout a little closer as you gently zig-zag the design towards the top, and then,” he trails off as you watch him bring the spout down in a line, finishing the leaf. “Done.” he says simply.

You nod a bit and watch him scoop out the design with a spoon. “There’s still enough milk left in the pitcher, so you may try.” he says as he hands it to you.

You take the pitcher and do as he said. You pour enough to make a circle, following by doing a zig-zag motion going up to the top of the cup. He watches closely, gently placing his hand over yours as he slows your zig-zag motion.

“A little slower, and,” he gently pushes your hand to lower the spout a bit. “Just a little lower.” he keeps his hand over yours to make sure you’re doing it right, but he stops applying pressure, his hand simply resting on top of yours. You make the line down the middle, and the leaf is a little awkward, but it’s much better than any of your previous attempts. You look up a bit, seeing a small smile on his face and your hand suddenly feels warm from his touch.

“Better?” you ask and watch the smile disappear before he looks up at you, taking away his hand.

“To an extent, yes.” he replies, taking the cup and pitcher. He prepares another latte and some more milk in order to show you the other design. “So, the heart,” he clears his throat a bit as he hands you the pitcher once he steams the milk. “This one is a little trickier and will be much easier if I just help you directly.”

You nod and he places hand over yours that holds the cup and his other hand over yours that holds the pitcher. Your breath hitches softly, and he hears it, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So…what, um, what do we do?” you ask softly.

“First, you’ll start pouring in the crema until the cup becomes fuller. Then,” he tips your hand with the cup a bit while he brings the spout a bit closer to the cup. “It will naturally start to move the crema once you tip the cup at an angle and once it circulates enough while the cup becomes fuller, just pull the spout away a bit to thin the stream and pull it down.” he says as he moves your hands gently, his grip firm yet delicate. His touch lingers as he continues to hold your hands and you look up at him, just realizing you weren’t entirely paying attention to what he was saying.

“Mhm.” is all you manage to reply with and he nods a bit, letting go.

A customer comes over to order and Sunghoon turns to them before looking over his shoulder. “Practice that one and I’ll see how you do after I help them.” he says before walking away. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and try your best to focus on practicing what he just taught you. Well, what you were at least paying attention to. He glances at you every so often while making the customer’s order, watching as you concentrate and work carefully. He looks away, poking his tongue in the side of his cheek to stop himself from smiling, before returning to his usual demeanor and giving the customer their drink. He walks back over to you and you look up at him, smiling proudly.

“It looks good, right?” you ask. 

Your heart was decent, not a terrible first attempt (but not great), and he was about to say so. However, your smile makes him hesitate and he swallows before nodding. “Yes. …good.” he chokes out the compliment, but you’re too proud to notice. “Alright, last design: the tulip.” he says, shaking his head before taking the cup and pitcher from your hands and preparing to teach you the last design.

“This one isn’t too hard, it’s just a few circles on top of each other. So,” he holds the latte and pitcher, filling it with the milk before bringing the spout closer to the lip of the cup that he tilts. “Just make one circle, pull back slightly and make another on top of it, this thins the previous circle, and do this a few more times, making the next one smaller and then pull through it to make the tulips.” he says before setting them down. “Easy enough, yes?”

“Actually, yes.” you say with a slight nod. Before he can tell you to, you start prepping in order to practice the design, but as you make your first circle, he softly puts his hands over yours again.

“Tilt the cup a little more and make sure both hands are steady; you’re shaking a bit.” he says softly, almost like a whisper.

You suddenly become aware of how close he’s standing to you. You try to focus on making the design, but as you become hyper aware of his proximity, it’s almost as if you can feel his soft breath scatter along your face.

“These latte art lessons kind of feel like an excuse for you to hold my hands.” you say, trying to ease your racing heart by making a light-hearted joke (even if you aren’t currently aware of who you’re making the joke to). His hands tense before letting go of yours. You finish the design and set the cup down. “Is it okay…?” you ask, looking up at him and realizing he has a slight flush over his cheeks.

It was actually the best design you’ve done thus far, but his mind is too occupied with what you said and it shows. 

“I’m sorry, I was making a joke. I didn’t mean to misinterpret you helping me. I was just…It was a stupid thing to say.”

He clears his throat, his cheeks turning a bit pinker. “This is the best design you’ve done out of the three.” he says, acting as if you didn’t make the joke at all.

You look at him, slightly stunned. “Oh…great.”

He nods a bit. “Right. Well. Hopefully this has helped.” he says before making his way back to his office, moving quickly as his face flushes even more.

-

You’ve become used to the quiet during closings with Sunghoon, but this time, it felt different. He hasn’t made an effort to talk to you since the joke you made, and although he never really went out of his way to talk to you at all, this time seemed off. He still sat at one of the tables, working in his sketchbook, while you mopped the floor. As you mop, you try to think of something to say, and every time you look up at him, he looks back down at his sketchbook. 

“You’re not sitting at the table with the marigolds.” you say, trying to at least break the ice.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, but he doesn’t look annoyed by you talking like he normally does, he looks as though he doesn’t want to reveal something. “It’s dark in that corner, so, I can’t really see my work.” he replies nonchalantly.

You nod a bit and then raise an eyebrow. “Couldn’t you just turn on the lights over the table in the back?”

“That would be a waste of electricity.”

Well, you couldn’t really argue with that. “But, you don’t pay the electricity bill, would the owner really notice?”

He stops drawing. “Are you really suggesting I turn on the light at the table with the marigolds for my own selfish benefit simply because you assume that it would go unnoticed?”

You shrug. “I mean, I know it’s not a big deal–”

“That it is not.”

“But I was just curious as to why you sit there during the day and then at that table,” you say as you point at the one he is currently sitting at–the one you just realized he sits at every night during closing–right in the center of the shop, “During closing?”

“Are you telling me you pay attention to where I sit?”

“I’m telling you I’ve noticed where you’ve sat.”

He grins a bit, but then quickly hides it. He goes back to drawing. “I told you: I’m not superstitious.”

“And yet you sit at the two same tables.”

He lets out a scoff, which almost sounds like it was about to be a laugh, before looking back up at you. “I am just sitting at a table, working on pieces for my class exhibit.”

“A class exhibit?” you ask with intrigue. “Like, an art showing at your school or just specifically your class?”

“It’s just for our class, but it’s being held at my school.” he quickly stops talking and goes back to drawing. “It’s not important.” he clears his throat. “Finish mopping.”

“Woah, woah, wait. You’re having a school event, which I’m assuming you’ve been working on since I’ve started here, and you’re not promoting it?”

“What exactly is there to promote?” he looks up at you. “It’s an event that my class is expected to invite friends or family to, not some charity event.”

“Have you invited any of your friends?”

He looks away. “It’s not important.”

“The event’s not important or the fact that you may or may not have invited your friends is not important?”

“Would you like the answer to that question or would you like to keep your job?”

You go back to mopping. “Point taken.”

-

“Shit.” you mutter to yourself. Liz offered to give you a ride home tonight since the bus gave notice that it was going to be having last stops earlier this week. Unfortunately, she just texted you that she won’t be able to make it tonight. It was almost ten, and even though you lived a few minutes away (if traveling in a vehicle), the nights during fall were starting to get cooler and you didn’t prepare for a walk home. You sigh, grabbing your bag, and as you walk to the door: you see the few drops of rain fall against the windows of the coffee shop. “No fucking wa-”, but you’re cut off by the sudden downpour of rain. You groan, an instant frown appearing on your face.

“You’re still here?” he asks in a tone that doesn’t sound as though he actually cares.

“It’s raining.” you reply solemnly.

“What gave that away?” he asks sarcastically as he grabs his things, slinging his backpack over his back and grabbing his umbrella.

You glare back at him and sigh. “Well, I wish I was given a heads up that the universe hates me, that way, I could’ve brought an umbrella.” 

“Is Liz not picking you up?” he asks, genuinely sounding curious this time.

“No.” you answer, slightly wondering how he knew she has been picking you up this week since he typically leaves after you. “She said she couldn’t make it tonight. And the last bus left at eight.”

“How unfortunate. Well, after you.” he says as he opens the door.

You roll your eyes, walking outside, shoving your bag under your shirt so it won’t get as wet from the rain. You hear him lock the door and you let out another annoyed sigh before stepping out from under the awning. To your surprise, no rain was falling onto you. You look up, confused considering it was still pouring and you see the rain instead falling onto a clear umbrella. You turn your head, seeing Sunghoon standing under the umbrella beside you. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I’m not letting you walk home alone in the rain.” he says simply.

You feel your breath hitch softly as you swallow a lump in your throat, your gaze lingering on him. He was standing close, considering the umbrella wasn’t that big, and you felt his knuckles brush against your shoulder. Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you wondered if he could hear it over the rain hitting the umbrella and sidewalk. He was standing there as though your proximity didn’t matter, but truthfully, he was wondering the same thing as you all while holding his breath.

“You don’t have to.” you say so softly, you almost barely hear yourself say it. 

His jaw clenches, knees almost buckling at your tone. “Uh-huh.” he chokes out. He clears his throat, facing forward. “Lead the way.” he says quickly.

You nod and start walking, him following beside you. Neither of you speak for a while, not sure what to say. 

“Do you live nearby?” you both end up asking at the same time. You laugh softly and he grips the handle of the umbrella tighter.

“I live about fifteen blocks away. Not too far, but–”

“Not exactly close.” he mutters. “So, around a thirty minute walk ahead of us?”

“It takes about seven minutes for a bus ride.”

“Are we on a bus?” he asks rhetorically.

You keep your mouth shut. Then, you let out a huff and cross your arms. “I never asked you to walk with me.” you (slightly) snap. A part of you was annoyed with him. Annoyed he made you close this week even though you explained the situation with the bus schedule. Annoyed he was throwing a fit about walking you home when you didn’t ask him to. Annoyed that he was being so annoying and you kind of wanted to kiss him. What?! “You know what? I’ll walk home by myself.” you mutter, walking faster and stepping out from under the umbrella, the rain falling harshly onto you, starting to soak your clothes and hair. 

You feel him tug you back to him, back under the safety of the umbrella, and you look up at him. Your wet self pressed against his chest, his hand on the small of your back, and he meets your gaze, looking down at you. His nose barely brushes against yours as he stands quiet, however, his gaze says it all. You don’t speak, worried that if you do, then the moment will end. You aren’t sure how much time passes before he finally speaks.

“I’ll walk with you.” he says simply, as if he isn’t holding back the urge to pull you just a bit closer for his lips to meet yours.

“Okay.” you say, giving in easily.

He swallows and you move a bit, standing beside him again as you both continue the walk to your home. It grows quiet again, the rain letting up only slightly. You shiver a bit, the cold from the rain that soaked you feeling as though it’s seeping into your bones, he notices, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Hold this.” he says, handing you the umbrella. You raise an eyebrow and he maneuvers his backpack so he can take off his jacket. He drapes his jacket over your shoulders and takes back the umbrella as he puts back on his backpack. “Put it on.” he directs.

You were about to protest, but oblige nonetheless, enjoying the warmth it instantly brings. You hear him sigh and he hands you the umbrella again before zipping up the jacket for you. You become flustered and unable to meet his gaze.

“Thanks.” you say softly, but he doesn’t look at you, him knowing if he does, he won’t be able to stop from kissing you. He nods curtly and takes back the umbrella before you both continue walking.

The rest of the walk is silent, but not the typical silence that normally occurs between the two of you. This felt different, more comforting. As you approach your apartment building after the somewhat pleasant thirty minute walk, you step under the awning, him closing the umbrella and standing under it with you.

“Thank you.” you say again.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, and if you weren’t paying such close attention, you wouldn’t have noticed his eyes flitting softly over the features of your face. The way your hair curves over your face, barely dried from being soaked by the rain earlier. How you look in his jacket.

“I don’t regret it.” he says.

You’re taken aback a bit from his response, expecting a ‘you’re welcome’ or a sarcastic ‘no problem’ before him walking away and leaving at that. You nod a bit in response and give him a small smile.

“Goodnight.” you whisper.

He shivers, and you can’t tell if it’s from the way you said it or the cold.

“Goodnight.” he replies, softly. He doesn’t say any more, turning and opening his umbrella before walking away.

You forgot about giving him back his jacket or even bringing up when he wants you to give it back to him. And lucky for him, you forgot he owns a car.

-

“Were you able to get home okay? I am so sorry, I didn’t know it was going to rain last night.” Liz says apologetically as she puts on her apron after clocking in.

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. And yes, I did.”

“That’s good, and I’m still really sorry.” she says apologetically, gently touching your arm.

“Really, Liz, it’s okay. I…had an umbrella.”

“Oh, that’s good. At least you were prepared.” You nodded in response, finishing an order before calling out the customer’s name at the counter. “Oh, and Sunghoon wanted you to go to the kitchen and finish prepping the next batch of croissants.” she says as she takes over your spot at the register. 

You walk back into the kitchen, re-tying back your hair before putting on your gloves. You grab the slabs of croissant dough from the refrigerator, it now being ready to cut and shape. As you unwrap the plastic covering the dough, you hear the door open. You glance up, seeing Sunghoon walk in. He doesn’t say anything, putting on gloves and walking over to the counter you are working on, grabbing a slab of the dough and unwrapping it as well.

“Good afternoon.” he says before he starts cutting the dough, not glancing at you at all.

“Good…afternoon.” you reply, looking at his hands. Not because they’re pretty (which you would be a fool to deny), but rather because you wanted to mimic what he was doing. You cut the dough like he does, albeit, much slower than him. He takes a piece, holding it in the air as his other hand softly stretches it by dragging the piece down, the dough becoming longer. He sets it back down once satisfied and starts to roll it into a croissant. “You make it look easy.” you say, holding the dough up, trying to stretch it.

He finally glances at you, watching how you work the dough. “You get used to it.” he says, keeping focus on what you’re doing. You hear him let out a tut before he stands behind you, wrapping his arms around for his hand to meet yours. “You have to work a little quickly while being gentle. You don’t want the butter to melt from the dough, and even the heat from your hands, no matter if they’re warm or not, all works against you.” He engulfs your hands in his, one hand helping you keep the dough steady in the air, the other slowly guiding your hand to gently stretch the dough.

He’s quiet, his breath softly grazing along your ear. “See? It is easy.” he whispers, sending chills down your spine. He moves away, grabbing the other slabs you got from the fridge, putting them back inside. “And don’t take out any that you aren’t currently working on. They’ll melt and ruin all of the preparation that went into kneading and folding the butter into the dough.” he says in a somewhat strict tone, completely contrasting from his gentle whispers just moments before. He continues to work on his pieces and you work on yours in silence for a bit.

“Do they look okay?” you ask, finishing your first batch. He glances at it, before grabbing another slab from a fridge and then placing the trays with the ones you just shaped into the oven.

“They weren’t exponentially terrible.” he mutters with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“They were that good?” you ask, excitedly. “How sweet.”

He laughs softly and cuts the next slab. “Here, stretch this piece like I showed you and then I can help you shape it.”

You nod, working the dough like he demonstrated before. The lingering feeling of his hands on yours sending tingles along your fingers and skin. You set the piece down, and look over at him. He tries to hide the smile that creeps onto his face, looking down as pink softly tints his ears. He walks to be behind you, taking your hands in his again.

“Just roll the dough tightly from this end, not the pointed end first, like this,” he says softly, moving your hands with his as he speaks. “Then, make sure you tuck the tip under, curve the ends a bit so it makes a crescent. That’s optional, it’s okay not to do that every time, but just for the sake of showing you, that’s how you do it.” Or, for the sake of holding your hands more. “Done. See?” he lets go and steps back a bit. “Finish the rest of that one and I’ll work on a different one.”

“Thanks.” you say with a small smile as you look at him over your shoulder before placing the finished croissant on the baking tray and moving on to shape the next one. He smiles back, although you don’t notice, as he sets another slab on the counter. “Do you…teach everyone like that?” you ask, hesitantly.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, a small smirk on his face, “If it’s helpful and produces the proper result, maybe I will.” he replies.

“So I’m just the guinea pig?”

He laughs softly and shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone will be as good a student as you.”

You smile at that, feeling somewhat proud. “So, you haven’t taught anyone like this?”

He looks up at you and you turn your head to look back at him. “Only you.”

-

Closing with Sunghoon hasn’t been miserable since he walked you home that night. He still tends to quietly sketch at the same table each night, but he hasn’t made you do mundane tasks each night like he used to. Besides, he was quieter than usual, and Hyunwoo said it was because his class exhibit was coming up. You wondered why he didn’t tell you, but he was taking the next few days off, so instead, you were closing with another co-worker, to which Sunghoon (begrudgingly) left you in charge.

However, on one of the nights you were supposed to close, Liz switched her shift with you so you could open. You asked her why, to which she responded with: “You deserve a break”. As odd as you may have found it, you didn’t want to pass up a free night off.

“Later!” you call out to Hyunwoo, who was finishing warming a pastry for a customer.

“Enjoy your night!” he calls back, taking the pastry out and putting it on a plate. “Have fun!” he says before walking to the counter, out of earshot. 

You furrow your eyebrows a bit, assuming he most likely just meant have fun with the rest of your night. You take off your apron, hanging it up, before grabbing your things from your cubby. A slip of paper falls to the floor and you crouch down to pick it, flipping it over to read: Art Exhibition: Wednesday November 3rd @ 5 p.m. | Academy of Arts Lecture Hall D, Classroom 502 on a sheet of crumpled pale yellow paper. 

Originally, you were planning on simply staying in, just watching mindless content as you lazily lounged around, but you found yourself on the bus heading downtown to the college campus to attend an art exhibition. As you stepped off of the bus and walked the block to the school, you walked in circles for about the first fifteen minutes after five, then asked for directions, got lost a little more, and finally, twenty-five minutes later, you found the lecture hall and classroom. 

You walked inside, expecting it to be fairly empty, but saw many (who you presumed to be) friends and family of the students in the class. It looked much more professional than you originally thought it would be: light classical music playing in the background to set the mood, food catered and being passed out to the guests, works of art littering the classroom on nice displays, hands holding champagne flutes as people discuss and share their work. Your eyes scan the room until they land on Sunghoon who is dressed nicely with a black ribbed knit half-zip sweater, black slacks, and black dress shoes to match. It even seems he trimmed his hair, it styled with a small part that exposes his forehead, him smiling and laughing softly as he pushes his rimless glasses up the bridge of his nose a bit. 

You feel yourself shiver, his voice sounding rich and deep as he talks, even if he is across the room from you. You make your way over to him, feeling underdressed in your work clothes, it not occurring to you to go home and change into something nicer; the only thought running through your mind at the time that you had to be here. He sees you, his eyes lingering on you as if you aren’t wearing a white blouse, black pants, and black flats. Your hair may be down, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you wear something like this a hundred times since you started working at the coffee shop almost a year ago. And yet, to him, you were the best dressed person there.

“Hi.” he whispers.

“Hey.” you whisper back with a small smile.

“How did you…?” You hold out the flyer that was in your cubby. He takes it, his fingers brushing against your knuckles (possibly on purpose) as he takes the paper. He smiles a bit and sets it on the desk behind him. “I didn’t leave this for you.”

“I didn’t figure that you did.” you reply, not once your gaze wavering from each other.

“I scheduled you to close.”

“Did you not want me to come?”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Is that why you didn’t invite me?”

“That’s not why.”

“How come?”

“Is anyone at the shop?”

“Liz switched shifts with me.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to show me what you’ve been working on since I started working there?”

“Did you come straight from work?”

“Sunghoon.” 

“Fine.”

He lets out a reluctant sigh before turning to the side a bit. You look at the wall, seeing a few paintings hanging from the wall along with some sketches hanging beside them. The collection is titled Heliotrope with a scripture below it: My eyes follow no matter where you lead, body turned towards you like a heliotrope in the sun; at first afraid to touch, expecting to burn, yet brave enough to endure the pain just to feel you beneath my fingertips; instead, I was met with warmth and softness unlike any other; you, my sun, may I be doomed to an eternity of bathing in your warmth, prepared to gaze at nothing more, damned for all eternity; I shall except it with open arms.

As you look up at his work, you see heliotropes, varying in vibrant purples, shaped as a person, highlights adorning the silhouette, making it seem as though the figure glows. One sketch includes a hand shape made from heliotropes intertwining fingers with a thick and rough hand colored in with charcoal. You gaze at them all, smiling to yourself as you see one with the heliotrope figure holding a leaf, another of it being watered by rain, and another of it sitting across a table with the rest of the background in complete darkness with something resting on the table.

“Heliotropes?” you ask, still looking at his art.

“Yes.” he replies, not exactly answering your question, but knowing he understands what you’re asking, just choosing not to answer it.

“How come?” you ask, trying to coax a more specific answer from him.

“Did you read the scripture?”

“I did.”

“Then you should know.” he replies directly.

His hands are behind his back as he looks at his work with you, occasionally glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Beautiful.” you say, simply, honestly meaning it.

“Thank you.” he accepts the compliment.

“What inspired you?” you ask, finally turning to look at him.

He looks at his work for a moment longer before finally turning to face you. “My sun.” he replies softly.

“Your sun?”

“In Greek mythology, a water nymph–whose name was Clytie–fell in love with the Sun God, Helios. She loved him passionately, but he fell in love with a princess, thus not reciprocating her feelings. Rejected and envious, Clytie informed Leucothoe’s, the princess’s, father and enraged by the information, he buried the princess alive. Clytie was now hopeful that with Leucothoe gone, Helios would reciprocate her love, but her actions only drove him further away. She spent her last days, sitting on the ground, gazing up at the sun until she withered away. The Gods pitied her, reincarnating her into a heliotrope, a flower that always faces towards the sun, letting her always gaze upon her love, no matter him not loving her back.”

“So, you used heliotropes to symbolize your ‘sun’?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel she doesn’t reciprocate your love?”

“She?”

“He?”

“She.” he corrects.

You nudge his shoulder, laughing softly. “She doesn’t feel the same?”

“I doubt she does.”

“Do you love her?”

“It’s not about whether or not I love her or whether or not she loves me back.”

“Why is she always seen from a distance in your paintings and sketches?”

“That is how I see her.”

“You feel she is unattainable.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then why are you never with her?”

“I am, just from afar.”

“Stalker?”

He laughs softly, “No. I don’t need to be close to her to feel happy.”

“She just needs to be nearby?”

“As long as I face her, no matter how far from me she is, I feel her warmth; like a sun.”

“That’s why she’s your sun? Because she makes you feel warm, not because you feel she doesn’t reciprocate your love?”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not I love her or whether or not she loves me back.”

“You’ve said that twice: ‘whether or not she loves me back’. So, you do love her.”

He grins a bit and looks back at his work. “It’s too early to tell.”

“You feel this strongly for her that you based such important work on her.”

“It’s not about the grade I receive on my work for this project.” he turns to face you, “I was in a rut, I couldn’t think of what to do for this assignment. I felt an immense amount of pressure that I unnecessarily put on myself that I almost wanted to quit; I was more afraid of failing than trying at all. But then, she inspired me. From the moment I saw her, she made all of that go away. So, any chance I got, I would sketch her, and then the idea came to me and so,” he gestures to his work, “I made these.”

“I thought it wasn’t about the grade.”

“It’s not.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Figuring out how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“The same.”

“The same as…?”

He faces you again. “The first day I saw her.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Has she seen it yet?”

“I didn’t plan for her to.”

“Has she?”

“Perhaps.”

“Is she here tonight?”

“I didn’t invite her.”

“So, she hasn’t seen it.”

“She has.”

Silence.

“And?”

Silence.

“And?” you repeat.

Silence.

“And…I want to kiss her.”

Silence.

“Does she want to kiss me?”

“Perhaps.” you whisper.

Silence.

“Are you going to?”

“Perhaps.” he whispers.

You didn’t even notice his hand softly caressing your cheek with his knuckles, gently brushing over your skin, sending tingles down your neck through your chest, erupting butterflies in your stomach. He leans in, parting his lips just barely, his eyes flitting between your own slightly parted lips and your half-lidded eyes. His thumb tenderly strokes your cheek and as you part your lips more to speak, he gently presses his lips to yours.

Your bottom lip slots between his, him tugging you closer, his grip on your cheek tightening just a bit while his lips move with yours. Your fingers find their way to his sweater, tugging and gripping it softly while you suck and release his top lip and he does the same with your bottom one. He tilts his head to the side, his breath scattering over your lips as he exhales a gentle breath before latching his lips to yours again. You both move in tandem, slowly, taking your time to let your lips linger on each other before barely parting them and connecting them together again. 

He breaks the kiss slowly, letting your bottom lip stay between his for a moment as both of your eyes flutter open. His glasses are fogged a bit and you laugh. His cheeks blush pink as he wipes them clean and adjusts them on the bridge of his nose.

“So…heliotropes represent unrequited love?”

He laughs a bit at your change in topic. “Eternal love and devotion.”

“For a girl you’ve known for almost a year?”

“For a girl I’ve known for almost a year.”

-

Normally, sitting by the window on a particularly sunny day wouldn’t be your first choice for when taking your break. However, for some reason, it didn’t bother you as much anymore. Having the light shining softly on your face, it warming your body slightly, enveloping you in a rich softness. You feel a presence beside you, turning your head to see Sunghoon. He sets a book on the table. You look at it and smile.

“The Odyssey?”

“You mentioned you liked it.”

“Yeah, around the time I first started here.”

“So?”

“So, you remembered?”

“Of course.”

‘Of course.’ You smile at that. You hear him set something else on the table and you look to see what it is.

“A latte?” you ask, looking at the cup, smiling with your gaze locked on the foam heart on the top.

“For you to drink while you read on your break.”

You look back at him. “Thank you.” you whisper.

He leans in, just about to kiss your lips, looking down at them with such temptation before his eyelashes flutter and he meets your gaze just as you look up from his lips yourself.

“See you in fifteen.” he says with a wink as he pulls away and walks back over to the counter. Jerk, you think as you open your book, inside: a pressed heliotrope along with a written message saying ‘For my sun: to an eternity of looking’. You try to hold back a lovesick smile, glancing over your shoulder to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you, the same lovesick smile proudly on his face.

[harumasa-wifey]

➹Happy New Year»———>

✖Asaba Harumasa x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers of chap 5(nothing major) Not proofread

Category: fluff

Note:i was inspired by the new official art and wrote this I was supposed to post it last night but I fell asleep while writing,Sorry for the wait.i cannot picture the accurate spot of this pic but I saw one in game I'll post a pic of it later for reference!

“Meet me behind the cafe in lumina square”

This was the last text you had received from him as you left Random play after meeting with the siblings to return the movie you had rented and wishing them a happy New year in advance.

It was New year's eve and thankfully to the deputy chief you all were out and about today. No fighting hollows , No overload paperwork and some extra which asaba adds to you sneakily because he is too lazy to do them.You love him a lot but you wish sometimes he would Stop adding his paperwork on your desk. It can be a great hassle to finish them in time.

Lumina square always makes every New Year a grand one and a beautiful one to look forward to. You made your way to the metro station hurriedly taking the last train of the hour to the lumina square after talking with Nicole and the others in the cunning hares. The metro was full of people like the elderly, the people with their family, the young highschool students and the couples.

The thought of how this year went passes through your mind. The whole incident with the vision cooperation and the chase in the hollow was stressful. Although it hasn't been completely disposed of, you all can rest easy for the holidays. It was thanks to all of the background support everyone made it safely in the end.

Your thoughts came to an end as the mic on the train announced its stop , you got off the train heading out the metro station into the bustling city of New Eridu. There were lights everywhere and it was more crowded than usual, but there was still one place left to visit before you went to meet him.

Meeting the person you love on new year's eve without a gift doesn't sound right to you so here you are.Standing outside the shop while having second thoughts on what to get him. You had made up your mind to feed him some delicious sweets that are being sold around this time of year even though he likes the bitterness now and is not bothered by it.Having something sweet every once a while would definitely not harm him.

As you look around and yellowish star keychain catches your eye with a little Clover inside. There was something that attracted you to it, so without thinking further you had made the purchase and had it warped in a box.

And your next stop was The cafe.

You had made your way over to the cafe with a little pubsec bangboo to help you cross the road. You re-read his message and made your way to the back of the cafe.

There he was standing while leaning against the palisade while holding a small wrapped box in his hand, his attention over to you as he heard your footsteps coming closer.

“Well look who finally decided to grace me with their presence.Took you long enough”

He spoke with a gentle smile on his face as you rushed over to him.

“I am sorry! I was at the Sixth street when I got your message”

He chuckled at her worries about being late.

“Calm down baby, I was just teasing. No need to rush i just got in myself”

You could hear the crowd hushed as the first firework arched into the velvety night sky as he extended his hand holding the gift box his yellow eyes shining in the lights whispering in a soft tone.

“Happy new year”

Your instinct told you to go and hug him so that's what you did, wrapping your arms around his neck particularly throwing yourself over him not to worry he will always there to catch you.

“Happy new year asaba,may we be together in the next one too”

“Don't worry I'll live long” He said locking his lips with yours into a kiss.

[wafflefries13]

Murder on the Mr. Bluebird Express (TWST x Reader)

Summary:

It's your birthday! To celebrate, Malleus has scored you and all your friends tickets on the famous Mr. Bluebird Express. As you all board the train, isolated with no cell service, the night can only go well, right? ... Right?

Warnings: Slight depictions of blood and gore (?), character injury, happy ending (I promise, guys, I can't follow through with angst to save my life), can be read as platonic or romantic, afab reader with she/her pronouns

Cross posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Author's note: I've always loved mysteries, so this is my first try at actually writing one. Not sure how good it actually is, but if you never practice you'll never get any better at it. I got the idea from an episode of Detective Academy Q, if anyone has ever seen that anime. Thanks for reading!

“Your birthday is soon, isn’t it?” Malleus asked as if he hadn’t marked the date on his calendar months ahead of time. “You must tell me what you would like for a present. No object is out of reach.”

(Y/N) waved her hand at him. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s on a weekend, which is good. Having the day off is pretty much all I really want. Well, you know, as much a day off as I can get. I’m sure Crowley will find something else for me to do.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Ooh, maybe we can go into town. I wouldn’t mind if you get me lunch from that one cafe in Foothill Town.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” He said, putting a hand to his chest and bowing regally. (Y/N) laughed, shoving him playfully. Green fireflies swirled around them, the only light accompanying the stars on the moonless night. Although it was late, Malleus and (Y/N) had become more than accustomed to their late night walks at this point that they were both wide away at this time of night no matter what.

“Oh, don’t let me forget,” (Y/N) said suddenly. “Sebek lent me a book the other day. Would you be able to give it back to him for me? We don’t have any classes together tomorrow.”

“Of course. What book was it?”

(Y/N) spread her hands wide in front of them, as if displaying the title. “Midnight Rose. It’s a murder mystery about the bookworm daughter of a crazy professor. There’s a bunch of mysterious, animal attack-like deaths in their small country village, and her father is blamed, so she has to find the real murderer while teaming up with a local nobel with a dark secret. Apparently it’s a classic here. I used to love reading mysteries back in my world. My favorite classic author was Agatha Christie. She had amazing stories and I loved trying to guess the end.”

“Do tell,” Malleus said.

“Let’s see. She had a bunch of really famous ones. And Then There Were None is about a bunch of seemingly unrelated people being invited to an isolated island before mysteriously dying off one by one. Murder on the Nile is a locked room mystery on a boat during a newlywed party. Crooked House has this big sprawling mansion and a ton of suspects. Oh, one of my favorites is Murder on the Orient Express. That one’s on a train and it’s really cool because the culprit is-” She cut herself off with a sly smile. “Well, spoilers for a book that came out, like, a hundred years ago and you’ll probably never be able to read, but still.”

“It sounds like a thrilling experience.”

“Oh, yeah. I think that one’s my favorite because it all takes place on a train. A lot of other countries in my world have these really extensive train networks with all these fancy cars, but it’s not too common in my country. I guess I like to romanticize something like that. Even with the murder.”

Malleus’ eyes twinkled. “Ah, I see. Unfortunately, my dear child of man, we may have to reschedule dining at the cafe. I believe you’ve given me a much better idea of how to celebrate your birthday.”

And that was how a gaggle of Night Raven College students found themselves waiting in a train station, late evening light casting long shadows across the marble floor. The station was almost empty this time of day, only open for the specialty train they were waiting for. (Y/N) looked around her group of friends, giddy that they had all agreed to come on such short notice. Even Leona and Idia, who she knew would rather avoid most responsibility or social situations, had somehow been wrapped up in attending.

Everyone had dressed up for the occasion, as based on the proposed dress code that had been attached to the ornate invitation Malleus had sent out earlier that week. To (Y/N), it reminded her of old Roaring 20’s glamor, suits with detailed beadwork, fancy hats, suspenders, glittering accessories, and slicked styled hair. (Y/N) had found her own flapper-style dress in one of the many abandoned rooms of Ramshackle. A doting Professor Crewel had volunteered to revive the painted silk dress for her special day, including lending her an elegant strand of pearls she looped several times around her neck. Apparently, the style was to reminisce about when the train first came into service during the golden age of non-magical transportation. Whatever the reason, it made (Y/N) feel daring and fancy, like she was a secret princess about to escape into an elegant speakeasy.

“(Y/N)!” Ace called her. She walked over to the Heartslabuyl group standing in front of a large mural depicting their train and the route it would take.

“The Mr. Bluebird Express,” Grim read out. “What a weird name for a train.”

“Is it?” (Y/N) asked. “I always thought trains were like race horses, they always have crazy names. The California Zephyr, the Twilight Limited, the Flying Pussyfoot.”

“I think it’s cute,” Cater said, catching the last of the dying light to get the perfect selfie. “It’s a really famous luxury line. My sisters were super jealous when I told them we were coming. Happy birthday, (Y/N)!” He pulled her into another picture and she smiled and waved.

“Of course, we’ll only be on part of the line tonight,” Riddle said, tracing his finger along the diagram for the scenic ride they were taking for dinner. “Thank you for including us on your birthday.”

“Of course! I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else!”

“I’m impressed we were able to get so many tickets last minute,” Trey said. “But, well, I guess Malleus is Malleus.”

“Who cares about scenery!” Grim said, jumping off (Y/N)’s shoulder to hover in the air. “A fancy ride like this probably has super fancy food! When do we get to eat?”

(Y/N) laughed, reaching forward to readjust Grim’s new bow. “The train should get here soon. You won’t starve.”

“Says you. Ugh, I’m fading already. Head, fuzzy, everything going dark.” He dramatically put a paw to his forehead, rolling his eyes and drooping in the air. (Y/N) caught him, holding him close and scratching behind his ears until he perked back up and purred.

They all looked up as a train whistle sounded off in the distance, rapidly approaching. Each dorm group made their way out to the platform, necks craning down the track to watch the train pull into the station. It was a beautiful almost pearlescent dark blue with gold filigree swirling and dancing around the engine and cars. A tall smoke stack on the engine car blew out white steam that twinkle with starburst sparks. Mr. Bluebird Express was written in elegant, swooping golden script along the side of the train. The train hissed to a stop at the platform, a side door clicking open.

Malleus stepped forward, dark and elegant in his black and forest green suit. He held out a black glove clad hand. “Happy birthday, dearest (Y/N).” He said. “After you.”

Kalim whooped behind them. “Happy birthday, (Y/N)!” That started up a round of applause and well wishes from the crowd, even the more reluctant and serious members.

(Y/N) smiled at her friends, heart swelling. She couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky she felt at this moment. The people who mattered most to her in this world, who she had been through so many trials and tribulations with, who she had seen grow and change and had grown and changed with them. Even in this strange world, she knew she wouldn’t want to be or with anyone else. She blinked back happy tears, turning back to Malleus and taking his hand, stepping up the small stairs into the train car.

Her feet immediately sunk into the plush maroon carpet of the train car. She spun around to take in the beautiful interior. The dining car had large rectangular windows, dark wood booths along one side with elegant white dishes and sparkling silverware. There was a bar curving along one end of the car, stocked with crystal glasses and all manner of bottles. A three-tiered blue and white birthday cake sat on top, sparklers fizzing from each tier.

“Wow,” (Y/N) breathed. Malleus stood next to her, eyes sparkling and smiling so wide his fangs were visible. “Hornton, you really pulled out all the stops.”

“I’ll admit,” Leona said, sounding reluctant as he fell into one of the overstuffed leather chairs, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. “It’s not too bad.” (Y/N) thought he looked like a prohibition mob boss.

“I haven’t even been able to secure tickets for the Mr. Bluebird Express before,” Vil said, admiring the detailed work on the wainscotting. His hair was swept to the side, dressed in an elegant dark purple suit that went from fitted around his chest and arms to sweeping, almost skirt-like, around his legs.

“So this is what it feels like to be rich,” Ruggie smirked, standing next to the bar that seemed to have one fewer expensive bottles of bourbon than it did before. “I can see how you can get used to it.” He readjusted his fedora, ears poking out to twitch at the sides. As everyone filed into the dining car, the door clicked shut behind them.

After a moment, they felt the movement of the massive wheels below them, the train pulling away from the station with another whisted from the engine.

“Should there be staff?” Jamil asked. “A conductor or ticket taker?”

“We have the entire train reserved for ourselves,” Malleus said. “While the usual route has staff to attend to guests, as this is a shorter trip the train is limited to only the necessary attendants in the engine. Anything else we would need is supplemented by magic.”

As if waiting for his cue, sparkles swirled around the plates, food appearing and glasses filling out of nowhere.

(Y/N) slid into a booth at the far end next to the bar with Grim, Ace, and Deuce. Each booth was occupied by another group of four. Next was Riddle, Trey, Jamil, and Leona. Second was Kalim, Cater, Lilia, and Ruggie. Past them was Malleus, Sebek, Vil, and Rook. Fifth was Idia, Ortho, Floyd, and Epel. In the last booth were Azul, Jack, and Silver. The car filled with conversation and laughter, people frequently leaning over other booths to talk to the different groups. At one point, Floyd and Ortho started confiscating everyone’s salad forks to build a complicated tower by linking all their tines. Once everyone had finished each course, the remnants would be magically whisked away and replaced with the next, much to the annoyance of Grim who kept trying to lick his plate clean.

Finally, it was time for the centerpiece dessert. Both Jack and Rook held up the cake on its round silver platter, bringing it from the bar to (Y/N)’s table. Some of them slid out from their booths to crowd around (Y/N)’s table, the others standing or watching from their own. “Happy birthday to you~” Everyone started singing.

The train whistled, sharp and loud, reverberating down the train.

“Happy birthday to you!”

Outside the train, the twilight scenery went black as the train entered a tunnel, the only light the glow from the magical floating lamps and sconces in the car.

“Happy birthday, dear (Y/N)~”

The lights flickered, a few voices faltering to look up at the quivering illumination.

“Happy birthday to-”

The dining car plunged into darkness. Every light snuffed out at once, even the flares on the cake fizzling out at the same time. There were a few gasps of surprise, low murmurs of confusion.

“Hang on!” Cater called out. He already had his phone out, filming the song. With a quick swipe and tap, his phone light was on, sweeping it around the room. “I got it… huh?”

The train barreled out of the tunnel, blue evening light flooding back in through the windows at the same time the interior lights clicked back to life. There was a collective sigh of relief, the terror of uncertainty in the dark banished once again.

“That was weird,” (Y/N) said.

“Who cares?” Grim said, eyeing the cake. “Let’s eat!”

“Easy,” Deuce said. “(Y/N) gets the first sli-”

Kalim screamed. Everyone spun around to look at their booth. Kalim was half way standing in his seat, back pressed against the glass. His eyes were wide, locked in place on something next to him (Y/N) couldn’t see as it was blocked by the back of the booth. Jamil immediately darted forward, vaulting himself over the chair of his own booth to practically tackle Kalim out of the way and onto the floor. Jamil forced Kalim to look away, the latter's eyes bubbling with tears and he started sobbing into the formers’ dress shirt. Ruggie yelped, tripping over his own feet as he tried to quickly back away. He fell on his back, hat flying off his head.

“What?” (Y/N) said, panicked, standing. “What happened?”

Malleus turned to her, hand out and eyes wide, already pale face even paler. “(Y/N),” He said, and she could feel the seriousness of the situation from his use of her real name. “Don’t-”

But it was too late. A jerk of the train caused her to stumble closer to the far booth. Her arms pinwheeled out, trying to regain her balance. Still, she stumbled and fell on her knees in front of the booth. With the sound of Kalim crying behind her, and the gasps, strangled screams, and yells of the others in the group, (Y/N) looked up, straight into the cold ruby red dead eyes of Lilia Vanrouge.

The clatter of screams, shouting, and horrified rationalization dulled to an incoherent roar in her ears. She stared up at Lilia, brain slowing down, trying to rationalize what she was seeing. He was slumped over in his seat, face turned to the side to stare out unseeing, arms dangling limply at his sides. A silvery thin round disk protruded from just below his neck, lodged in his spine, blood dripping down the back of his white dress shirt. Shaking, her hand reached out, almost without her own volition. Just before her fingertips could tap Lilia’s hand, arms wrapped around her from behind, hauling her up and away. Deuce lugged her dead weight down the train car, depositing her back in a far booth facing away from Lilia’s body.

Lilia’s body. Lilia’s body. (Y/N) suddenly jerked up, head whipping around. “Where’s Silver?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck and pointed with his chin. Silver was sitting in his booth, head tilted back and eyes closed, asleep. (Y/N) wasn’t sure when his narcolepsy had taken over, but she hoped it was before they went through the tunnel. Ortho was sitting next to him, holding his hand. Idia stood between Ortho and Lilia’s booth, blocking his little brother’s line of sight, although he kept casting worried looks over his shoulder, whipping his head back down immediately after. Grim practically threw himself into (Y/N)’s stomach, burying his head into her middle. She clutched him tightly.

Leona came up to her booth, Ruggie close at his heels. “(Y/N),” Leona said. “Stay close to me, okay?”

“Okay.” She almost didn’t recognize her own trembling voice. Malleus was standing nearby, his back to her, staring out the window at the passing scenery. His shoulders were back, tense, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

“Hornton?” (Y/N) asked, hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you-?” Are you what? Are you okay? Of course not, no one was. Her mind zipped through a thousand possibilities of what to say, what might possibly be the right thing, but everything fizzled on her tongue. He looked at her, once, expression unreasonable, before turning to walk farther into the car.

“We need to call the engineer,” Malleus said, voice breaking through the icy tension in the room. “We’ll need to stop at the nearest station and contact the authorities.”

“I’ve got it,” Azul said, tugging his gloves down farther on his trembling hands. He cleared his throat before reaching for an old fashioned corded phone on the wall by the door to the next car. Everyone’s eyes were locked on him as he waited for the other end to pick up. After a moment, Azul’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. He looked down at the phone, then pressed the dial flip a few times, phone back to his ear. “The line is dead.” He winced at the phrase.

“What?” Sebek snapped. His eyes were red. Beads of blood dotted his lower lip from where he was biting it to keep from wobbling. He marched forward and shoved Azul out of the way, jerking the phone up to his ear. After a frustrated second, he snarled, slamming the phone back on the receiver. “Then we’ll just have to go tell them in person!”

“Are we able to go up through the train?” Riddle asked.

“There are fewer cars than normal,” Malleus said. “But we do have access to the entire train. I’m sure the engineer wouldn’t be expecting us, but I believe they’ll understand our circumstances.”

“This car is at the very end,” Jade said. “I believe there were three others between us and the engine.”

“We don’t all need to go,” Jamil said. He still had an arm around Kalim, who had tears silently tracking down his face. “There’s too many of us to move quickly. And some of us should stay with…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Two groups, then,” Jade said. “Enough to stay here and make sure the crime scene is preserved, and another to go to the front. That way we’ll have plenty of extra eyes watching our backs.”

“Crime scene?” Riddle echoed. “You’re not suggesting that we - that one of us is responsible for-”

“Who else? Razor sharp plates don’t just appear in people of their own accord.”

“I think,” Trey said. “It’s from the cake.”

“The cake?” Ruggie balked.

“It’s to separate the tiers, I think.” Trey nervously adjusted his glasses, falling back into something familiar to ground himself. “Bakers use them to keep the tiers from sinking into each other. Usually they’re not made of metal like that, of course. Look, the middle tier is already going down.”

They all looked over to the bar where the cake had been abandoned. Sure enough, the middle tier was leaning on one side, falling further into the bottom. There was a smear of frosting from where the separator plate had been yanked free.

“You didn’t make the cake?” Deuce asked.

“No,” Malleus answered for Trey. “I had it ordered to be delivered on board before we arrived. It was made by a local bakery near the station. I didn’t mean it as a slight, Clover. I didn’t want to distract anyone with work.” Trey lifted his hand, brushing away the concern.

The group quickly decided who would go up to the engine and who would stay behind. Malleus, Sebek, Vil, Jade, and Jack would go through the three other train cars up to the front, battering down the engine room door if they had too, while the rest of the group stayed.

“I don’t like this,” Ace said in a quiet voice to (Y/N). “Splitting up, I mean. It’s like no one’s ever seen a horror movie before.” Still, the group headed out in a solemn mood.

Someone had draped Lilia’s dark blue and lime green pinstripe suit jacket over him. It bulged awkwardly over the plate stuck in his spine. (Y/N) swallowed hard at a sudden wave of nausea.

The dining car was quiet, filled with the sounds of the wheels chugging underneath them and the whispered conversations of those left behind. Every once and a while there would be a muffled cry and sniff. No one really seemed to know what to do with themselves, ever switching before sitting stone still, fidgeting, or pacing around the car.

(Y/N) spotted Cater sitting on the floor near the door where they had entered, legs spread out in front of him, eyes locked on his phone. His forehead was creased in concentration, teeth worrying his lower lip. She tapped Leona’s arm so he could let her slide out of the booth and walked over to him.

“Cater?” (Y/N) asked.

Cater didn’t look up from his phone. He kept tapping it, dragging his finger to restart a video, watching, then rewinding it again.

“Cater?” She said again. This time he startled, looking up.

He flashed a warm smile that felt out of place in such a dour setting. “Hey, yeah, what’s up?”

‘What’s up?’ (Y/N) thought. Out loud, she said, “What are you watching?”

He showed her the screen as she sat next to him. “It’s the video I was taking earlier, when we were singing to you.”

(Y/N) felt a lump form in her throat. She watched everyone’s happy faces on the tiny screen, dread sloshing in her stomach in anticipation of what she knew was coming. The flickering lights, the black out, a murder in the dark. Right on cue, the screen turned black. She almost felt like she could see movement from the camera swinging around in confusion, the lens rapidly trying to adjust to the new lack of light. She closed her eyes hard, fighting back a lightheaded feeling.

Cater drew his phone back. “Sorry, I get that you wouldn’t want to see that.”

“I don’t understand,” She said, voice cracking. She sat down hard next to him. “Who would do this? How, even? He’s on the same level as Hornton, magic wise, I can’t imagine anyone sneaking up on him. And why?” Hot tears bubbled along her lashes. Cater put an arm around her and pulled her close. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Cater said. “That’s why I was watching this. When I had my flashlight on, I thought I saw something weird. I’ve been trying to find it again. Maybe it could be a clue. Do you…Want to see?”

She pressed her lips together hard. Finally, she gave a stern nod. Cater shuffled closer, holding the phone back up to play the video from the beginning.

The camera swung up as the video started. It swept over the car, showing everyone smiling and jovial. A few of them stood, taking their positions as Jack and Rook collected the cake. (Y/N) saw Lilia catch the eye of the camera, giving a wink and waving. She gulped hard. Their singing came out in low, tinny volume from the phone speakers. (Y/N) felt strange as she watched the lights flicker, knowing what was about to happen, watching her own face blink and look up in confusion. Even though she knew it was coming, she still startled a little as the screen suddenly went black. The camera swung around in the dark, black shapes against a black background. Cater’s phone light turned on, sweeping across the room to briefly illuminate blurred figures. Shortly after, the lights came back on. Cater had focused back on (Y/N)’s table. She could see the smear on the cake frosting already, even though it was still being held up. Her heart dropped in her stomach as she heard Kalim’s scream. The camera whipped around to Lilia’s booth, just in time to catch Jamil leaping across to drag Kalim to safety. She saw herself fall in front of the booth, looking up at Lila. The camera focused on the scene for a handful of chilling seconds, before dropping down to the floor and cutting out.

“Did you see something?” She asked. She pointed at the screen, just after the phone light came on.

“Maybe? I think so, that’s why I was watching it back. I just can’t figure it out.”

“Well, two pairs of eyes are better than one, right? Play it again.” Cater pulled back on the recording. The video played out the same two more times. On the third, (Y/N) stopped him.

“Wait!” She said suddenly. “Go back! Just a few seconds.” Cater slowly pulled back the replay, the dark scene reversing frame by frame. “There! See?” She jabbed a finger at the screen.

Cater squinted. “I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly! That’s Lilia’s seat! He was there before the lights went out, and he was there when they came back on, but he’s not there when it’s dark!”

“Oh!” Cater said, excited. His face fell again. “What does that mean?”

“I… Have no idea. But it has to be important right? Was he still sitting at the booth before he was…” ‘Say it,’ (Y/N) thought. ‘If you’re going to have any chance of finding out what happened, you have to say it.’ “Before he was killed? Does that mean that someone moved him?”

Cater looked back down at the screen. “The lights were only off for-” He checked the video timeline. “Eleven seconds. I turned my flashlight on after about 6 seconds, here, see?”

“So not a very big window of time. And look, Kalim is sitting next to Lilia by the window and Epel is standing on the outside next to him. How would they have not noticed if he was moved?”

Cater bit his lip again. “You know,” He said slowly. “There’s something else that I-”

“Did I miss eating cake?” Silver said. He was rubbing his eyes, blinking at everyone’s shocked stares.

“Silver,” (Y/N) started, after several moments of tense silence. She felt responsible, somehow. That because it was her birthday party, she was the reason Lilia had been put into the exact right, or wrong, circumstances that lead to his death. She stood, holding her hands up as if she was going to confront a terrified animal. “It’s… I’m sorry, Lila is…”

“Father?” Silver asked. He stood, looking around the room. “Is he with everyone else? Where did they go?”

“No, Silver, I don’t know how to say this, but, but he-”

“(Y/N)!” Cater hissed, jumping up, fingers digging into her arm. She turned to him, Cater pointing frantically to the booth where Lilia’s body was. Or, rather, where Lilia’s body had been.

The seat was empty. Lila was gone.

Everyone immediately started looking around. (Y/N) knew it was useless from the beginning, but joined in anyway. What else were you meant to do when your recently deceased friend disappeared from a small room with only one door out?

“It’s just like the video!” She said. “Maybe this is the way he was moved during the blackout.”

“What video?” Jamil asked. (Y/N) and Cater told everyone about Lilia disappearing before, everyone crowding around the phone to see the video.

Silver gasped at the end, showing Lila’s body. “That…” He started. He shook his head. “No, that’s not real, it can’t be. Father wouldn’t-” He started blinking fast, looking around. “I need to find him.” Silver pushed his way out and barrelled through the door to the next car.

“We should go find the others anyway,” Riddle said. “To let them know about Lilia.”

“I’ll go,” (Y/N) volunteered.

“I’m coming with you,” Leona said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t want you or anyone else alone.” Ace, Deuce, Cater, and Epel also volunteered.

The next car was a viewing car. The entire upper half was made of glass with a series of swiveling round backed chairs lining the sides. It would have been a beautiful place to spend the evening counting stars and watching the moon rise. The dark night outside seemed to encroach on their group and they rushed through the car to the next. The next car was a luggage car, stuffed with packages and cases from previous voyages. The lights were off. Leona flipped the switch several times, clicking uselessly.

“Watch your step,” He said.

The luggage car was stuffed with crates and pallets among other suitcases and hat boxes. A rough path had been cut through the center, and they had to walk single file. The light was hazy, only filtering in through the small windows in the doors at the front and back of the car.

“So,” Ace started, trying to break the unnerving silence. “Any idea how Lila could have been moved?”

“Maybe there’s some sort of hidden hallway?” Deuce theorized. “Or like a service entrance?”

“Isn’t that kind of a trope?” Epel said. “Secret passages?”

“That feels more like an old mansion sort of thing than a train, like Ramshackle,” Deuce said, “I can’t imagine there’d be any room.”

“I’ve found a couple, actually, in Ramshackle” (Y/N) said. “There’s one behind the bookcase in the guest room that leads upstairs. I think I might make it a second guest room, too, since it-” (Y/N) was cut off as she tripped. She caught herself just before she tumbled down. “Careful,” She said, looking back and aiming her phone flashlight to see what she had tripped over. “There’s something-”

She stopped short, words withering in her mouth. Her light trailed up a shoe, leading to a leg that ended abruptly at a crate. She took a sharp step backward, crashing into a luggage cart. It rattled behind her, something heavy and warm falling against her arm. Her heart already thundering, she turned to push it off. Only to be met by Jade’s face, lips going blue, eyes frozen open in shock, cut off at the waist in a pool of dark red, placed precariously on top of a suitcase.

She screamed, throwing herself backward, Epel clumsily catching her as they both stumbled away from the corpse. Panic quickly overtook the group as, between yelps and thundering hearts, they sped through the rest of the car, throwing open the door at the other end and launching themselves across the divide and into the next car. Ace pressed his back tightly against the door of the car, as if he could physically bar the image of Jade’s bifurcated body from their minds.

“(Y/N)?” Vil said, looking over the blundering group. The rest of the first team that had left to find the engineer looked back at them, confused. Vil took in their smaller group, the wide eyes and gasping mouths. His expression flitted between a mix of frustration, concern, and terror. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s- It’s Jade!” (Y/N) said, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as her voice scratched her throat. “We found his body!”

“What?” Jack said, ears going flat. “He just left. Are you sure?”

“Yes, we’re sure!” Ace snapped. “He was cut in half!”

Malleus’s hand on (Y/N)’s tightened as he helped her stand. “That’s not possible. We only sent him back to you all a minute ago.”

“The engine is empty,” Sebek said gravely, waving his hand at the door at the other end of the car to the engine room. “Jade was going to go back to the dining car and let you all know.”

“What did I say?” Ace said. “You can’t let people split up like this.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) said, looking around. “Where’s Silver?”

“He’s not still asleep in the dining car?” Sebek asked.

“He woke up and we told him what was going on,” Epel said. “He, you know, didn’t take it well. He ran out of the car this way to try and find you guys and we came after him.”

“It’s not like there’s anywhere else to go,” Deuce said. “He couldn’t have vanished into thin air between the dining car and here.”

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ace said. “Where are Cater and Leona?”

“Maybe they went the other way out of the car? Back the way we came in?” (Y/N) said.

“I told you!” Epel said. “There has to be some kind of secret passage! Maybe they went the same way whoever took Lilia went.”

“Who took Lilia?” Malleus asked.

(Y/N) tried to quickly summarize what had happened after the first group left, from Cater’s video, to Lilia’s body vanishing, to Silver charging ahead, to detailing finding Jade’s body in the luggage car.

Vil sighed sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “As much as I hate to admit it, Ace is right-”

“Hey!”

“We shouldn’t stay split up. Let’s regroup in the dining car. The train has to stop eventually. Either we can contact the police when we stop at the next station or if we pass through an area with cell service.”

(Y/N) clutched Grim to her chest at the idea of going back through the luggage car. She felt oddly ridiculous, like a child with a well loved stuffed animal asking their parents to check the closet for monsters. But how could she not feel the rising panic bubble in her chest at the thought of seeing one of her friend’s bodies again?

She jumped as Malleus brushed his fingers against her shoulder. He gave her a small smile, offering his arm. “Close your eyes and we’ll go through quickly,” He said in a low voice.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, threading her arm through his and pulling close, Grim clasped so close the heat from the blue fire in his ears warmed her face.

Whatever quiet conversation there was ceased immediately as they stepped back in the dark car. Phone lights came out, casting ghostly search lights across the car, bouncing on and over the clutter of bags and boxes. (Y/N) closed her eyes tight, pressing her face in Malleus’s arm.

“Jade’s not here,” Jack said.

(Y/N)’s eyes snapped open. “What?” She looked around the dark and cramped space. Sure enough, every body inside was breathing. She let go of Malleus’s arm and took a step forward. “No, wait, he was right here. He was like, half way though, right? I tripped over his legs right here.” She pointed to the floor where Jade’s legs had been splayed out. Only… No, wait, was that the same crate she had seen before? She scanned along the narrow walkway through the car, trying to find the familiar box, but she couldn’t find anything that matched the morbid memory in her head. The cogs in her brain churned. It was dark, but had these boxes been moved? Was this the same path they had taken through the car the first time? She turned back to the other first years. “You guys saw him too, right? I’m not just imagining things?”

“No, he was definitely here,” Deuce confirmed. “And besides, you still have some, uh, blood, right here.” He tapped his shoulder.

(Y/N) lifted her hand, touching the spot Deuce had indicated. Her fingers came away sticky, a sheen of red coating them in the low light. Jade’s blood must have dripped when his upper body fell against her. She felt her stomach clench and flip.

“Jade wouldn't be the first person to disappear tonight,” Epel said.

As they made their way through the observation car, with still no sign of Cater or Leona, (Y/N) felt her panic rise in anticipation of what might greet them in the dining car. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, muting any other sound. She felt clammy, breaking out in a cold sweat as Sebek reached for the door to the next car.

“There you all are,” Azul said in a relieved sigh. “What did the engineer say?”

No one said anything, the group who had stayed staring at the group who returned until the silence stretched and stretched, taught and uncomfortable.

Floyd’s head poked out from a booth, where he had been playing a card game with Riddle, Ortho, and Idia. “Where’s Jade?” No one answered. Several of them started shifting uncomfortably. Floyd frowned, eyebrows coming together. He stood. “Where’s Jade?”

“He-” (Y/N) started. She felt like she had a responsibility to break the news.

“We don’t know that,” Sebek interrupted. “He wasn’t there.”

“Lilia’s not here either,” Ace snapped. “But we’re pretty sure he’s dead, too.”

Azul stumbled back, going green, Floyd jumping up, teeth gnashing. The car exploded in a cacophony of raised voices, panicked questions and sharp words flying around. With a sinking feeling, (Y/N) realized Cater, Leona, and Silver weren’t present. They had vanished, too. And, if the only other ones who had disappeared were dead, what did that mean for them?

“I need some fresh air,” She murmured. She let go of Malleus, stumbling to the door at the back of the car. She pushed it open, standing on the tiny balcony as the rushing wind pulled at her hair and dress. She gripped the intricate wrought iron fence around the balcony until her knuckles went bloodless. She took deep, gulping breaths of the cold night air until her lungs hurt. She slumped forward, pressing her sweaty forehead against the cool metal.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a hand touched her back. She whipped around to see Ace holding his hands up.

“Sorry, sorry,” He said. “Should have said something first.” Deuce stepped out behind him, sliding the door closed.

“It’s okay,” She sighed. “I just… needed a second.” The two of them stood on either side of her, quiet as they stared out at the rushing landscape, train tracks blurring together into a solid road beneath them.

“Here,” Deuce said, offering her a handkerchief from his blazer pocket. “For the… blood.”

“Right, thanks.” She dabbed at the spot, trying to think of a way to explain to Professor Crewel how the dress he had worked so hard on had been stained. Even if it was able to be cleaned, she wasn’t sure she would ever want to wear it again. Her mind wandered for a second, until her hand froze, pressed against the damp spot on her shoulder. She pulled the handkerchief back, staring at the red stain. And then licked it.

“Whoa!” Deuce exclaimed.

“(Y/N)! Gross!” Ace cringed.

“It’s not blood,” (Y/N) said. She shoved the handkerchief at them. “See? It smells and tastes sweet. It’s like some kind of syrup colored red.”

Ace cautiously leaned forward and sniffed. “I’m not going to pretend I know a ton about merfolk biology, but I don’t think they have corn syrup for blood.”

“Did you lean against anything else?” Deuce asked.

“Not that I noticed.” She groaned, head falling into her hands.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Ace muttered.

(Y/N) drummed her fingers against the railing. She stared down at the tracks rushing below them. Her eyes unfocused, trying to make her mind go blank instead of having every body and disappearance and unusual circumstance bounce around her head. Dirt and dust clouded behind the train, kicked up by the heavy wheels. Except… Suddenly, she jolted up so fast both Ace and Deuce jumped. “I need to check something,” She said. She spun around marching back into the dining car, the two boys close behind.

There were a couple of curious glances as she knelt by Lilia’s booth, everyone else keeping a wide berth from it. She looked underneath, running her hand along the bottom of the table, then across the booth seat, checking for any seams or latches. Her hand brushed along something soft on the edge of the table, where there was a smear of blue frosting.

“There was something in the video…” She said to herself. The idea itched in her mind. There was something missing, something she knew Cater must have noticed. Is that why he had been spirited away? But she had watched the same video with him multiple times. Wouldn't she have seen whatever clue she was sure was there?

Unless… The ideas crashed together all at once, almost too cluttered for her to organize them. Cater had been the only one with a light, the only one able to see around the darkened car. So, what if he saw something in the dark, something that wouldn’t show up on camera? Then, watching it back, the discrepancy would have subconsciously stuck out.

She pulled herself out from under the table, chewing on her bottom lip. She scanned the room. Her eyes passed over then jerked back to Jamil, setting down an empty glass on a side table. Tiny white sparkles flitted around the glass as it magically refilled.

Her hip jammed into the table as she whirled around, pulling her phone out of her bedazzled clutch. She grabbed a discarded glass from the table and drained it in two gulps. As she set it back on the table, she hit the record button on her phone, holding it close to the glass. The sparkling magic swirled around the glass, just as it had been doing all night.

“(Y/N)?” Riddle asked, confused.

She replayed the video, only a few seconds long. Sure enough, she watched the glass refill, but the magic around it was invisible.

Without a word, she whirled around and marched to the door to the observation car.

“Wait!” Ace called at her retreating back. “Come on, what have I been saying about splitting up?”

He, Deuce, and Grim followed behind her as she quickly moved through the next car to the luggage car.

“Epel was right,” (Y/N) called over her shoulder to them. “People don’t just vanish.”

“So you think there are secret passages?” Grim asked.

“Not exactly.” She pulled her phone out as they stepped into the luggage car, tapping her light on. She swept it around the room, dust motes floating in the air. “Back in my world, movies use a lot of cgi for special effects. But there are some older ones that use practical effects, puppets and makeup and stunts. They take a lot more work, but audiences also really like them, and they generally look better since they’re tangible, really there with the actors. Recently, some movies have been combining the two, computer generated images with physical props.”

“So?” Ace asked, confused.

“So,” She said. She stopped in front of a pile of luggage. She pushed them aside, not caring as they clattered in an untidy heap on the floor. Behind them was a wooden crate, a thin line of sticky red smeared along the bottom. “I think we’ve been thinking about this the wrong way. Whoever has been doing this is using a combination of methods, both magic and non-magic.”

“Magical murders?” Deuce said. “That’s like what the Arcane Special Defense Unit investigates.”

“But if they’re using magic to commit the murders,” Ace said. “Why use non-magic, too?”

(Y/N) crouched down, turning the crate around. Her heart clenched in her chest as she revealed a hole cut into the cut just above the bottom. “I think I might have an idea, but…” But she didn’t want to say it out loud. She didn’t want to admit she was suspecting one of her friends. She didn’t want to admit that one of them might, in fact, be capable of something like this.

Grim groaned. “Why does this kind of stuff always happen to us?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Ace said.

“I mean,” Deuce said, rubbing the back of his head. “He’s kind of right. There’s Overblots, that monster in the mines, kidnappings, that one Halloween in the Spectral Realm, that other Halloween in Fleur City where our magic got eaten, the VDC, that one time there was a magical virus and we all got turned into kids, not to mention all the potion accidents in alechemy class-”

“Wait!” (Y/N) shouted. “Say that again!”

Deuce looked confused. “Uhh, that we kind of seem to attract trouble everywhere?”

“No, about Halloween! That’s it! I’ve got it!”

“You know who the murderer is?” Grim asked.

(Y/N) was grinning way too big for such a morose topic. “Yes! And I think I know where everyone who disappeared is. But I need help from you guys. Have you ever heard of a parlor scene?”

(Y/N) explained her revelation to the boys, quickly giving them instructions to meet back with her in the dining car later. Separating, (Y/N) stopped in the observation car, taking a deep breath. Then, she flung the door open, striding into the room.

“Alright, everyone!” (Y/N) said sternly. “It’s time we wrap this whole thing up!”

“You know who killed Jade and Lilia?” Azul asked, eyes red.

“In a way,” (Y/N) said. She clasped her hands behind her back, walking through the room. “Let’s start from the beginning of the night. First, we all board a train with no conductor. The cake is made with a dangerous metallic disk, brought on board before all of us arrived. The lights just so happen to all go out at the exact moment we enter a dark tunnel, giving the murderer the perfect opportunity to strike. The crime, then, must have been planned ahead of time by someone who knew the exact route, timing it perfectly to when the cake would have been closest. Then we’re separated, leading to a locked room where Jade is murdered. Not just that, but cut in half and placed in such a way that should have taken way longer than the brief time he was unaccounted for. And none of that accounts for the disappearances, of both the deceased and the theorized living. We’re on a moving train, the only entrance and exit carefully monitored by those in the car, so it would, or should, be pretty obvious if anyone were trying to sneak out, especially if they were carrying someone.

“Our culprit, then, is someone who has had complete and perfect control of the train and those on board the entire time we’ve been here. Someone who not only smuggled the murder weapon in, who knew we were isolated, who knew when the train would enter the tunnel, who purposefully separated us to orchestrate the second murder, and who has the ability to make multiple people vanish into thin air.”

Everyone was getting restless, shuffling and looking around, casting suspicious looks at the only person (Y/N) could be referring to. (Y/N) took one more steadying breath. Facing the culprit straight on, she lifted an accusing finger. “The only possibility is you, Malleus Draconia!”

There was a collective gasp as Sebek jumped up, inserting himself between (Y/N)’s allegation and his prince. “How dare you!” He shouted.

Malleus’s eyes were steely cool as he looked down at her. “Oh?” He said. “That’s quite the accusation, child of man. I do hope you have evidence to support your theory.”

(Y/N) looked at Malleus with a scowl, hands on her hips. Before long, her lips twitched as she started to laugh. She whipped away a stray tear with the heel of her hand. “Hornton, you really have a twisted sense of humor, you know that?”

Sebek’s head whipped back and forth between the two, Malleus joining in with her laugh. “Wait, what? My lord, you, did you really…?”

“It might seem pretty complicated on the surface, but it’s actually pretty simple, just like a lot of old fashioned murder mysteries,” (Y/N) said. She turned, shouting out, “Okay, come on in, boys!”

Through the door that led to the end of the train, Ace, Deuce, and Grim burst in, dragging Lilia, Jade, Cater, Silver, and Leona with them.

“Hello, everyone!” Lilia said jovially. “I do hope you haven’t been having too much fun without me.”

There was a blur of teal and black as Floyd launched himself across the car, tackling Jade in a squeezing hug. He started sobbing, fat, dramatic tears now freely flowing down his face.

“My,” Jade said, eyes touched with compassion, petting his brother’s hair. “I wasn’t expecting such a welcome.”

“Jade,” Azul said, trying to sound stern despite the crack in his voice. “If you ever do something like that again, I’ll fry you up and add unadon to the menu.”

Jade placed a hand to his chest. “Aww, you do care.”

Kalim was jumping between Cater and Lilia, hugging them close, holding their faces to double and triple check they were unharmed, and babbling through tears.

“So,” Leona said, carelessly dropping into a booth, hands behind his head, a smug smile on his face. “I guess everything went according to plan?”

“Does anyone want to fill us in on what is going on?” Idia asked desperately.

“Gladly,” (Y/N) said. “That’s the point of a parlor scene, after all, pointing out the culprit and explaining exactly how they committed the crime. First, we need to establish that almost everyone who disappeared was an accomplice.”

“Almost everyone?” Jack asked.

Cater shyly raised his hand as (Y/N) said, “Cater was the odd one out, but I’ll get to that in a second. Before we even got to the train station, Malleus had recruited Lilia, Leona, Silver, and Jade to his plan. He’s the one who had the metal disk brought in with the cake, a cake he specifically ordered. And speaking of the disk, Lilia, do you still have it?”

With a smirk and a flourish, Lilia produced the silver disk, bloody colored corn syrup cutting across it in a gorey line. He ran his finger along the edge before pressing an almost invisible button in the middle. The side of the disk suddenly compacted, retreating in so the disk became a half circle.

“I’m guessing it’s some kind of stage prop,” (Y/N) continued. “It looks perfectly solid and deadly until you activate the hidden mechanism. Lilia himself was the one who retrieved the disk from the cake, since he has amazing night vision. There was a smear of frosting under the table where you must have brushed your hand after getting the disk, Lilia. But, this was also the reason Cater got involved.” (Y/N) held out her hand and Cater handed her his phone, the incriminating video already pulled up. (Y/N) held the phone up, panning it around the room so everyone was able to see. “Lilia wouldn’t have been able to simply walk over to the cake, he was boxed in by Kalim and Epel, not to mention everyone else standing around. So, he teleported. But there’s a problem. When Lilia or Hornton teleport, there’s these magic green sparks. Since Cater was already looking around to film, he would have seen these sparks. But he wasn’t paying close attention to such a small detail while we were all in a panic with the lights going out. When he watched the video back, they would have stuck out subconsciously in his mind and it would have been confusing as to why the video didn’t perfectly match up with his memory. And that’s because those kind of magic sparks don’t show up on camera. Eventually, Cater would have connected the discrepancy, possibly revealing the whole plot early, which is why he had to go.”

Cater shrugged. “I literally figured it out as soon as we got in the luggage car. Too bad Leona here tackled me out of the way.”

“I can’t believe you went along with one of Malleus’s plans,” Ruggie grumbled, casting a strong side eye at Leona.

Leona shrugged nonchalantly. “It gave me a chance to get a nap between everything. And I thought it would be really funny.” He grinned at Ruggie’s glare.

“If you’ll remember,” (Y/N) continued. “It was Hornton who suggested we separate and go try and find the engineer, an engineer he knew from the beginning wasn’t on the train. The whole point of splitting up was to get the next murder ready. Back in the dining car with the rest of us, Silver ‘woke up,’ when in reality he had been awake this whole time. He was meant to serve as a distraction, giving Lilia a chance to teleport away and set up Silver storming out to find the other group. At the front of the train, when everyone realized we were the only ones aboard, Jade would volunteer to go back. He and Silver would meet up in the luggage car and stage the next scene for us to find. There were boxes with holes cut out. Silver hid in one with his legs sticking out, exactly in the middle of the path so we would trip over them, and Jade stood in one so only his upper half was visible. The lights had been tampered with beforehand so it would be too dark for us to pay close attention, not to mention the added panic of thinking we had just found another one of our friends dead.”

Azul smacked Jade’s arm. “Why in the deep blue sea would you agree to something like that?”

“Oh, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be dead,” Jade said with a smile.

“Ace, Deuce, Grim, Epel, and I all ran one way,” (Y/N) continued.

“While I’m guessing Leona grabbed Cater and went the other. As for how they disappeared, I’m guessing Lila had something to do with it, too.”

Lilia clapped his hands. “I did! I was waiting in the luggage car for you all. You wouldn’t have seen me hanging from the ceiling. Once you all had left, I grabbed the others and we teleported out to our hiding spot!” He stretched his back. “I had to make a few trips, though. These old bones aren’t as spry as they used to be.”

“But,” Ortho asked. “Where did you all go?”

“That’s the last secret,” (Y/N) said. “There’s a secret caboose car! When I was out on the balcony outside this car, I noticed that the dust jumping around was behaving oddly. If you paid close attention, you could see the dust and dirt swept up by the train bouncing off something invisible. My guess is there was a secret 5th car added to the end of the train that everyone was waiting in. That’s where I sent these guys,” She waved to Ace, Deuce, and Grim. “To find everyone.”

“You’re lucky we like you so much,” Ace said. “It was insane jumping off the back of the dining car when I couldn’t see where I was landing.”

“But…Why?” Vil asked, perfect mouth pulled into a perfect frown. “Why do all this? Why put us through all this stress? Why make us think we were trapped with a murderer?”

(Y/N) snapped her fingers. “That’s what I kept getting caught up on, too. When I started figuring everything out, that was the only part that didn’t fit. I couldn't, wouldn’t, believe that Hornton would intentionally hurt any of us. But then Deuce said something that made it all click.”

“Yeah!” Deuce said proudly. “What did I say, again?”

“Halloween! More specifically, the first Halloween I was at NRC. After we got rid of the Magicam Monsters, do you remember what happened?”

“We all went to the Spectral Realm,” Sebek said slowly. “Where we thought people had been kidnapped and possessed by ghosts.”

“Which turned out to be Malleus pretending to be possessed to gather us all together for a Halloween party,” Riddle finished.

“LIke I said,” (Y/N) said. “A twisted sense of humor.”

“But a murder?” Trey said, fiddling with his glasses. “That’s still pretty extreme.”

(Y/N) sighed. “And that’s the last part. This whole thing might be my fault. I’m guessing I gave you the idea, Hornton, when I was talking about that mystery novel from my world, Murder on the Orient Express?”

He smiled wide, eyes glittering in pleasure. “I thought it would be a fine surprise. Anyone can read a mystery. It’s another matter entirely to be in the middle of one. But there is one more thing you didn’t catch.” Malleus snapped his fingers. The blurring scenery outside warped and spun, like sand being shaken in an hourglass, before settling back down. He opened the door, revealing the train station they had all boarded from. “We never actually left the station.”

Everyone clambered out of the train, some much more quickly than others to put as much distance between themselves and it as fast as possible. Inside the atrium, there was a new cake, sans trick metal disks, with candles flickering gently. The cake was quickly sliced up and served as Malleus directed everyone back to the train platform. As the group ate cake, fireworks burst in the sky, casting glorious multicolored lights across their faces.

“Thank you, Hornton,” (Y/N) said. “This is beautiful. But-” She suddenly punched his arm, her face as serious as she could make it. “If you ever make me think that my friends are hurt or in danger again, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Of course, dear child of man.”

“Don’t ‘of course’ me. I’m threatening you. Be threatened.”

“Of course. Happy birthday, (Y/N), and many more besides.”

[milkhoon]

Freak — L. Heeseung

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Pairing: Nerd!Heeseung (Evan) x AFAB!Reader

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Synopsis: You’ve heard a rumour about the university freak, but is he a freak when all he ever do is just existing? Well, maybe he is. In another term.

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Content warning: Heeseung as Evan. Nerd and shy Hee, afab readear, mention of bullying a bit (Heeseung or Evan being called freak and people not really befriending him), smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, cream pie, slow porn plotting and weird details, mild choking, name calling (doll, princess, good girl, slut). Let me know if I miss any.

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Word count: 4k

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Okay, this is obviously my very first post here and it’s a special one cause I write this for my best friend, my baby sister. She asked for this so I hope I won’t disappoint her. Pardon me and my typos or grammatical error too, not beta read yet and English is not my first language. Happiest birthday, A! We all love you so much. May your days get even better after this. XOXO.

© deepblue for the pic. | Minors do not interact.

You have often heard whispers about a “freak” on your campus, but the identity of this figure remained elusive amidst the sea of eccentric individuals inhabiting this quaint little community. It wasn’t until a group project assignment from your professor that you were thrust into an unexpected partnership with a certain Evan.

“Wow, he’s utterly heartless! How could he match you with a freak?” your closest friends exclaimed, perplexed by the professor’s choice.

“A freak?” you queried, raising an inquisitive brow at your friend’s assertion.

“Yes, a freak. Evan is infamous for his weirdness,” your friend continued. "Just observe his attire! Exceptionally dated with thick-rimmed glasses framing his face. And let’s not forget his near-silent demeanor! He rarely engages with anyone!” she elucidated, noting the perplexity on your face.

Was that enough justification for everyone to label Evan as a freak? Who’s to say that the man isn’t simply reserved? Or perhaps he struggles with mental health issues that remain enigmatic to others? You found the rumor weird instead.

“Perhaps he’s just shy. That’s all," you attempted to brush off your friend’s remarks, bidding farewell politely and veering towards a different corridor.

Your destination was to seek out Evan. Absent from the class for undisclosed reasons, your intuition guided you to the library, rumored to be the sanctuary for the misfits and intellectuals alike.

“Hi… you are Evan, right?” you ventured, addressing the figure that resembled your friend’s description. Clad in an old fashioned clothes — an oversized woolen sweater paired with threadbare denims, complemented by circular spectacles framing his slender frame.

Your outstretched hand hesitated momentarily as Evan stood frozen in place, a bewildered and startled expression etched across his features. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, I’m sorry. I am (Y/N). We were meant to attend the same class earlier, yet you were absent. Our professor assigned us a collaborative project. I propose we talk about AI and its impact on artists. Though it may sound cliché, the subject matter is currently hot and widely discussed, right?”

Evan’s ears rang with a deafening silence that drowned out your words, his body tensed in an icy grip. His gaze remained fixed upon your countenance, a figure that had often pervaded his reveries with its ethereal allure.

“Yeah, hot and widely discussed,” he echoed, not in concurrence but to describe the allure you exuded. Hot. Sexy and attractive. Unbeknownst to you, Evan’s subconscious prompted him to discreetly graze his inner cheek, restraining a stray droplet of saliva.

“Great! Let’s meet at Cafe XX this afternoon since we agreed on our project’s topic then!" you said — or rather, not realizing what the man in front of you was thinking. You reached into your bag for a moment and handed him your card, “My number is written here. Call me if you need anything!”

Accepting the card timidly, Evan nodded meekly, he didn’t want you to think he looked stupid.

“Bye, Evan!” you waved a final farewell, departing the library’s confines.

Evan held the business card you gave him. Y/N. Y/F/N. He brought the card closer to his nose and breathed in your lingering scent. Sweet.

You were supposed to meet with Evan this afternoon as per your agreement, but suddenly, a heavy rain shower engulfed the earth without any warning. The sky, previously serene, now bore the burden of heavy rain, casting a pall of uncertainty over the horizon and your heart.

The task needed to be completed within a week, yet you found yourself a day behind the seven-day deadline. You nervously nibbled on your nails, not truly biting, just place the tips of your teeth to your finger. A hint of worry lingered. With one hand holding your phone, you messaged Evan.

You: It seems like we can't work on the task right now. The rain is pouring heavily here. How about tomorrow?

Evan: Oh… Evan: Don't worry. Evan: I can come to your place.

You: My place?

Evan: Don't get me wrong. Evan: I know you can't go out now, so let me. I don't mind the rain. Evan: I mean for us to finish the task quickly.

You: Okay. You: Here's my address. Just come up to the second floor. It's the farthest room. Knock when you arrive.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Evan’s idea wasn’t so bad. If you could finalize the concept today, the next six days wouldn’t pose any problem at all.

YY Street. Heeseung was familiar with the address you had sent. No, do not accuse him of being a stalker! He had never stalked anyone. He just happened to have seen you on that street, entering a three-story building.

Heeseung couldn’t fathom where all the sudden courage had come from that led him to offer the idea of coming to your place. It seemed like he had gone mad; you were driving him further into madness. An anxious restlessness consumed him as he made his way towards your place.

Nothing strange would happen. Yes, nothing would happen.

Repeatedly reassuring himself with those words like mantra, he suddenly found himself standing in front of the building where you lived. The taxi he had ordered departed a minute ago. His feet felt heavy, stepping one by one like a fool.

His hand timidly knocked on the door after successfully passing through the lobby guarded by a vigilant security, which only added to his nervousness. It felt akin to meeting a stern future in-law.

He could hear you shouting from inside, not too loudly, before the brown door creaked open slightly, revealing you peering out.

“Hey, Evan!” you greeted him cheerfully, opening the door wider and welcoming him inside.

Nothing strange would happen. Yes, nothing would happen.

Evan followed behind you like a duckling, then opted to sit on the floor instead of the sofa, perhaps because it was closer to the table. You offered him a drink, and in his shy manner, he left the choice to you. So, you made him a cup of hot chocolate. He must have been cold from braving the rain. Afterwards, you sat by his side, unaware of the palpable tension in his breath.

One hour. Two hours. Five hours passed by quickly for you. Evan was undeniably a shy man. He didn’t speak much, and when he tried, his voice came out squeaky and timid. Unconsciously, you giggled along with your cup of hot chocolate. He was adorable. The rumors about him were truly unfounded.

Oh, at least, that’s what you thought until you realized that the rain showed no signs of subsiding. In fact, it intensified, and you noticed that your room heater wasn’t working properly. You should have complained to the management and requested a maintenance visit. The chilly night air seeping in through the window crevices began to make you shiver. The crop top you wore clearly wasn’t helping, but you felt too lazy to change into warmer clothing, especially with a guest present.

Evan glanced in your direction as you hugged yourself, arms crossed and rubbing your sides. Summoning his courage once more, he asked, “Are you cold?”

Your head automatically turned towards him, lips rounding briefly after hearing Evan’s question. His voice didn’t waver like before. You simply nodded. The rain persisted, the room heater wasn’t functioning properly, and your attire wasn’t providing much warmth. Of course, you were cold.

Approaching you, not too closely, he reached for your hand, his much larger hand enveloping yours. You jumped in surprise but allowed him to hold your hand. You were confident he had good intentions, right?

For a few minutes, everything was quiet, but his hand continued to grip yours and stroke it, providing warmth.

His earnest and genuine demeanor touched you, although it was just a simple gesture. Unconsciously, you leaned in, closing the gap between you. He averted his gaze, now looking at you as if asking if you needed something. In a shy gesture, you unexpectedly kissed his cheek.

He froze, you froze. After a soft exhale, you said, “Um… thank you? You’re so sweet. I couldn’t resist, sorry.”

For a moment, he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, “Thank you?” was all that came out. You nodded.

“Because you helped me feel warmer,” you explained with a smile. He looked down, his ears turning red, a sign of his embarrassment.

“I can help you feel warmer if you want,” Evan offered in a very soft voice, almost inaudible if you weren’t the only two present in the room. If you hadn’t been paying attention or if you hadn’t been unconsciously focused on him all this time.

“How would you warm me up?” you inquired, prompting him to lift his head again. His round eyes sparkled in the light, truly endearing. It was as if he was questioning you and seeking permission. You nodded faintly.

Still with his hands clasped together, Evan cut the distance between you before one hand came under your chin; bringing you into a small kiss. He kissed your lips, then opened his eyes to reveal his round eyes again. Seeing no resistance from you, he continued. Sucking your lips, kissing them gently before his tongue taps your row of teeth—asking permission to enter. You were happy to welcome his tongue, buying it with yours. Fight for dominance for a while until you finally give in. He explores your entire oral cavity. Then you take more until your saliva drips down, until you run out of breath and slap his chest slowly. That’s when he broke the kiss. But it didn’t stop there, he didn’t let you breathe properly because next, he placed small kisses on the side of your jaw, then down to your neck. Giving you the same small kisses but with fewer sucks and nibbles, you couldn’t help but moan. Damn, he’s really good.

He enjoys every inch of your body, not leaving a single inch without being gently touched. Then, he took you onto his lap. His arms are wrapped intimately around your waist while he himself is busy giving licks to your nipples which are starting to perk up because of the cold air and of course because of arousal. He moved his tongue up and down, not finding the fibers of the clothes still wrapped around your body bothering. He only lifted your crop top a little afterward to do the same to the other nipple. This continues until he feels satisfied licking and sucking your nipples. His other hand suddenly slipped into the mini skirt you were wearing, rubbing your thigh gently but moving upwards. Getting closer to the center of your body. Playing with the hem of your panties, moving to the middle and pressing your lips. He could feel the cotton cloth was wet, he smiled crookedly.

You couldn’t open your eyes properly, not with all Evan’s touches everywhere. When you opened your eyes, it was clear that he was looking at you, writhing in amusement. With a charming smile. He would definitely look better without glasses, you thought. Taking off the glasses that framed his face. Choked up when you saw that his face was even more handsome like this, up close. You moved forward, taking him into a deep, hot kiss as you moved back and forth. Grinding on his thighs.

“Slow down, doll. The night is still young,” he insited while restraining your movements by locking your waist. “I will make sure you are ready first, okay?” he continued the activities that were previously disrupted.

This time he didn’t just rub the outside of your underwear but forced his way inside. Play with your clitoris before inserting a finger. Your eyes rolled, a suppressed moan finally coming out. Tears almost coming out.

“Hurts...” you moaned softly, he stroked your hair gently. Trying to calm you down.

“Shhhh... it’s going to hurt more if I don’t do this, you know it well, princess.” that’s what happened before he moved his fingers forward and back, slowly, slowly and then faster with each passing second. He also added two more fingers into your vagina, making scissor-like movements to prepare you. This continues until the walls of your vagina, which at first were very tight and sucked his fingers, making him wince and think about what would happen if he entered you directly, finally twitch.

“I'm close!” you squealed.

“Take it out, doll. Be a good girl and let it out for me.” he murmurs, still continuing to pound your pussy rapidly with his slender fingers. Not long after, the white liquid came out, soaking your panties which weren’t completely removed as well as Evan’s pants which he was still wearing.

With a satisfied smile, Evan pulled out his fingers from your twisted love tunnel, causing you to whimper with the loss of stimulation. You were drenched in your juices and the scent was intoxicating. He cleaned your thighs with a quick sweep of his thumb, savoring the taste before licking it off.

“Good girl,” he praised affectionately while maintaining eye contact, pushing the hair off your face. He leaned in, giving you another sensual, lust-filled kiss, and then positioned his thick, pulsating cock at your entrance.

The hand that had previously clutching your nape now slid up to cup your cheek. He pushed your panties aside and lower his pants. With a practiced ease, he then forced into you with a slick pop, your walls encircling his member. There was a moment of breathlessness, your eyes locking as he began to move within. In and out, filling you with each stroke as your legs gripped him, keeping him close.

The rhythm steadily built, a counterpoint to your growing sounds of delight. Your nails raked at his shoulders, leaving red trails as you clung to him. Then, the pressure within you seemed to reach the breaking point, a build-up of a storm threatening to burst.

Gasping for breath, you cried out, “Evan, I’m going to… I’m going to...”

Evan responded by increasing the pace, pounding into you mercilessly, his own climax beckoning. “Cum for me, doll,” he growled raggedly, the provocative words adding fuel to the fire that burned within.

The storm broke, the walls of yours being constricted violently, your orgasm crashing through. Keened, your nails digging into his skin, body bucking wildly matched his frenzied tempo, giving everything you had. The sheets beneath began to move, twisted and tangled as you chased the pinnacle of pleasure.

With a deep groan, he stiffened, his own culmination arrived, bathing both of you in his hot seed. He remained inside, holding you tightly as he rode the aftershocks.

Evan suddenly flipped you, making your hair spilling across the bed in a disheveled mess. He pulled out of you slowly, leaving you slick and wanting. As he did, you shifted, your hips still twitching with the lingering sensation of pleasure.

“Don’t be such a greedy slut, stop moving! I’m not done yet,” Evan warned you in a husky voice you never thought would heard before. He gripped your neck, not tight enough to cut off air but close enough to make you aware of his grip. It was a stark contrast to the tender moments, but his desire for control and intimacy was intertwined.

You shivered, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. You nodded, indicating your consent. Evan shifted behind you, positioning himself at you entrance once more. “Ready for more, princess?” He murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned her response, your body aching for the promised fulfillment. Evan thrust back into you, his grip on your neck steady and firm. The dual sensation of the tight hold and his penetration built a crescendo of arousal within your again. Your mind swam in a hazy mix of trust, risk, and lust.

His movements were rougher this time, the echo of their sounds in the bedroom sharp and animalistic. Evan’s grunts filled the room, mingling with your whimpers and moans, punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

You clawed at the bed, nails leaving crescent marks in desperation to find purchase. The friction of his sinful length against your inner walls whipped you closer.

“Evan... I’m close... again,” you gasped, feeling him swell inside. Evan pounded into you even relentlessly, his thrusts unyielding as he guided you to the edge. In a final surge, his release tore through, spilling into you once more.

He then pulled you into his arms after, both of you sprawled on the rumpled sheets. His fingers tangled in your hair, rubbing the tension from your scalp.

You cradled against him, your body still shivering from the intensity of the lovemaking. “You did a great job, princess,” Evan cooed, tugging the strands of your hair playfully, a small smile forming on his lips. He kissed your temple repeatedly as if saying sorry for the brief rude moment before.

Well, maybe your friend was right. He is indeed a freak. But in different term, only for you to notice.

[bloodyymaryyy]

Gossip girl xoxo ~

F1 grid x driver! Reader

Side note : I don't know why it took me so long to write this but here we go

The reader is a driver on red bull at checo's place

Request : no

Part 2 /part 3 / part 4 / masterlist

It all started when y/n a young talented woman joined the f1 in red bull racing, having won 2 World titles at f2 finally getting the recognition she deserved.

When she was younger she looked up on a lot of drivers that had retired by the time she joined at 2019 like Sebastian Vettle, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, Michel Schumacher, Niki lauda and a few others.

Having her room filled with posters, signed photos, cups, shirts, pictures of her and her idols, paddock passes and everything.

Her childhood crush on Jenson Button was a best kept secret,. Very few knew about her crush and she preferred it that way because it was going to be awkward because if it got out, because come on they work together in a sense, he had interviewed her multiple times.

Driving along side max both at 17 had both good days and bad, with competition racing against your idols, your friends was a bit of a struggle in the beginning but as the months passed they all learned to not take whatever happens on the track outside of it and then she and a few others like Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Pierre and some other people getting more serious with the races.

The fans favourite moments were when before they race they waving at one other from inside of their cockpits, or traditions they did before the race, or even when they gathered around gossiping when and if they could whenever they were. Outside at a cafe? Yes!, at their hang outs? Yes!, at their grid walks? Yep! And the fan favs at press conference and before the races. Twitter going crazy about that.

There are so many talks.

When you spend almost half of your time on a place With so many people, either loud or whispers you Will learn so many things and hear so many things which you probably shouldn't hear or know but it's hard to not acknowledge them like an engineer from Mercedes fucked someone from redbull in hopes of learning information about the car so Mercedes could be better.

Or that a redbull engineer got his wife little sister and best friend pregnant the same month that he got his wife pregnant With his second child.

Some times you hear rumor regardless of whether that may be true or not....

Christian horner talking and fucking a girl from his team which when you learned that you didn't know what to do because Christian was a father figure to you and Max having shity fathers. Be cautious when you were around him? Desapointed? Sad? Or disgusted? You didn't know for sure either way and you went to max first with the information you had. At first he was just like you. A wave of emotions washed over him like it did to you, then you both discuss and decided on what to do and that was to wait and see if it's true or not, to not tell anyone nor his wife which you were close to or anyone for that matter and never mentioned it again... Verbally anyway when you saw him texting someone in the presence of his wife you exchanged looks, knowing looks or side eyeing each other when you saw them together talking a few meters from everyone else whispering . Which a few months later the texts of them were linked and you learned that a week or so from the first race of the season when you were tagged in a post about it

(Side note: I took actual tweets of that because I can't be bothered to make fake ones but also I am trying to edit it to have her be mentioned in them)

Hey I am gonna do a part 2 because it doesn't let me put more than 10 so.... Sorry

[couragemydearheart]

៚⋆˙⟡ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬.

# 01 — nanami kento x fem! reader # 02 — cw: fluff, soft soft nanami and soft soft reader because that man deserves all the happiness he can get # 03 — wc: 0.63k # 04 — an: so jujutsu kaisen is my latest obsession because i finished watching it just recently, and i just loved nanami so much, he didn't deserve what he got (like so many other favs T-T GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE) so i decided to shower him with some loveee

and since i obviously needed a push, i came across this post and i loved the prompts so much, so thanks to @urfriendlywriter (i was in desperate need of writing prompts and finding your post on my dashboard was a fucking blessing) this one-shot will be based off no. 7! the prompt for reference is: "that gaze— tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you"."

anyways, apologies for the long ass author's note, hope y'all enjoy <3

"is that your favourite bread?"

those were your first words to nanami. and you found yourself repeating them quite often as your relationship with him evolved.

starting off as co-workers when you moved into town, you and nanami hadn't spoken a word to each other, or rather had never had a need to converse with the other until then. your co-workers were all friendly enough, but nearly all of them were older and had their own lives to be busy in. so you took it upon yourself to roam the new city on your own, finding and trying out new places, cute cafes, and of course your personal favourite: bakeries. a lover of all things sweet and savoury, you were nearly sure that you would open your own bakery after college were it not for this banking job you found. it was a shame you couldn't open your own place, but your new job paid you well enough to let you try out all the bakeries you wanted in peace. that was exactly how you came across this quaint little place a bit across town selling the most delicious bread.

so after spying the similar bread wrapping by his work desk nearly every week, you just hadn't been able to stop the words from leaving your mouth, especially since it was at the sight of a mutual interest.

it was however nanami's response that wasn't the same from the first time, and you were glad for it. when you asked him the question the very first time, he was rather indifferent, a bit surprised that someone had initiated conversation with him and slightly miffed about it interrupting his work. and now, nanami smiled at you fondly from the entrance of your shared kitchen where he leaned against the doorframe, before he took the bread from its place under his arm and placed it on the counter. "and yours, my love," he hums in reply to your question.

you couldn't help the giggle that slipped your lips at his reply as you turned the stove off and moved towards him. "mhmm." standing mere inches away from him now, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up until your fingers deftly undid the knot of his tie as they'd done countless times before. "that it is. a favourite just as much as you are, kento."

you could have predicted his response to your corny line in your sleep, the shaking of his shoulders with his throaty chuckle paired with the slightest eye roll. your smile widened at the light in his eyes, and you gripped his now unknotted tie and pulled him closer to you until you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips as he spoke. "really? just as much as the bread, but not more?"

he was teasing you, and you clicked your tongue at him, eyes full of mirth looking up at him. "don't get ahead of yourself now darling, we may be married but that doesn't-"

your voice dissolved into shrieks and giggles as nanami's fingers tickled and teased at your sides and his teeth nipped at your neck. "okay, okay, kento!" another little bite. "ken- okay i was kidding!," you whined at your husband, making him finally relent.

"what was it you were saying just now?" he mocked. "wanna repeat it for me, darling?"

“nooo, ken you know you’re my favourite.” you smiled up at him, eyes shining with so much love for the man before you. “more than anything else.”

and that gaze— tired, soft, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an "i love you" before he presses a slow kiss to your lips and leans his forehead against yours. then he speaks.

"you're my favourite too, over everything else."

taglist

@luvhkit (hi, you'd asked to be tagged on a reiner fic i wrote ages ago and im writing after so long so idk if you meant just aot/reiner fics, but i tagged you just in case, so i hope this is okay and feel free to let me know otherwise <3) @nerdyfuntheorist (im backkkkk)

i hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as i loved writingg! feedback is always appreciated and feel free to send in requests <3

— © property of couragemydearheart. do not copy or post on any other site without permission.

[irisintheafterglow]

heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: sabrina carpenter - "please please please"

summary: a school assignment leads you to team bofurin. a chance meeting in the cafe leads you to umemiya. where else will furin high lead you over the course of 5 days?

wc: 7.5k (lord have mercy)

cw/tags: umemiya hajime x gn journalist!reader, strangers to lovers, swearing/explicit language, brief canon-typical violence, blood, and peril, angst/fluff and injury hurt/comfort, ume's a gentleman but that gets tested lol

note: friends this is the longest thing i have ever posted here and i was really debating not posting it because i didn't like how it was turning out, but then i just pushed through the rest of it...and it became 7 thousand words.....ANYWAY really hope you enjoy !

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <33

— Day 1 of 5: “Please, please, please // Don’t prove I’m right” 

A glass bottle shatters on the sidewalk below you, shadowy figures scattering into dark alleyways like rats. You grimace at their sadistic laughter and silently thank your host for not living on the ground-level. The sound of a shaking spray paint can echoes in the empty street and you watch a messy hot pink insignia appear as it's drawn on a shop window. Damn. This was going to be a long five days. 

“Wait, you want me to do what?” 

“You’ll be staying with a high school friend of mine who owns a store in the area,” your journalism teacher continues, quickly scanning over a student’s document and grading it without blinking. She swipes to the next document, mechanically repeating the same process of grading it and moving on. She doesn’t stop to see the shock on your face.

“Ma’am, I don’t know–”

“You’ll be fine, just stick to the populated areas and don’t go out at night. If you want to, you could even befriend some of those Furin kids,” she says as she absentmindedly clicks away at her keyboard. “It’ll be good for you to report on something other than the mathletes team, for once.” At least the mathletes are safe, you think to yourself. A little awkward, but nowhere near the delinquents at Furin.

“Hold on, may I ask why I’m the one doing this?” You wring your hands nervously, glancing at the afternoon sun sinking outside the classroom window. “I don’t understand why you’re asking me–” 

“You want the full-ride scholarship, don’t you?” Her eyes are beady through the thin rims of her glasses. You fight the urge to shrink away from her piercing gaze, one that you never become accustomed to no matter how many times you’re subject to it. “Trust me when I tell you that the judges will not care how many times the mathletes lost, no matter how eloquently you write about it.” You let your skepticism show on your face. 

“But they’ll care about a bunch of boys that get into fights every day?” If she cares about your deadpanned comment, she doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“My friend told me once or twice that there’s more to those Furin boys than meets the eye,” she says before turning back to her screen. Your confusion is still obvious, but the only help your teacher gives you is an indifferent shrug. “It’s up to you. But if you want a competitive edge, you need to take more risks.” You exhale, weighing your options and ultimately deciding that your career was more important. 

“When do I start?” 

You begin your morning early on your first day in Makochi. After leaving your host’s apartment and staring at the graffiti-covered high school that was drowning in plant overgrowth, you abruptly turned on your heel and decided to observe the people on the busiest street. You had no interest in exploring Furin High School itself, only the effects of crime and constant fighting on the uninvolved citizens. You catch a group of boys wearing black jackets heading in the same direction as you and duck into the nearest cafe, hoping to wait them out and watch how they interact with the town. Across the street, the owners of the shop that was vandalized with the pink insignia scrub the paint from the glass. 

“Good morning.” A girl with short brown hair greets you behind the counter, gesturing for you to take a seat on one of the stools. You thank her and set your notebook down next to you, flipping through the menu when you feel her staring at you. “Are you new here?” 

“I’m in town for a few days,” you reply. Her demeanor is friendlier than you would expect from an area that sees so much violence. “I’m from one of the neighboring high schools.” The girl nods, placing a cup of water in front of you, along with a set of chopsticks. 

“Are you visiting family? We don’t get many visitors here, so I’m just wondering what a new face is doing in town,” she says, nodding when you point at the menu item you want for breakfast. 

“No family here; I’m actually studying the town for an assignment. My teacher thinks that if I write about this town, it’ll help me get a scholarship.” Her mouth opens in an ah of understanding and she ducks into the refrigerator to retrieve some eggs. An idea pops into your brain and you open your notebook. “While I’m here, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Furin High?”

“Sure. Bofurin members eat here all the time.” Your eyebrows draw together and, unlike your journalism teacher, she understands and addresses your lack of knowledge. “Bofurin is the team that protects this town. It’s made up entirely of students at Furin High School. Actually, it’s a little funny that you stopped into here today, of all places, since–” 

“Kotoha!” The door flies open and the same group of boys that were behind you on the sidewalk corral into the cafe, the space suddenly too small for the number of people present. The source of the voice, a tall guy with bright white hair and coattails attached to his jacket, approaches the girl behind the counter with a blinding smile. “Did you miss me?” 

“No,” Kotoha deadpans, sending you a sympathetic look as more boys file into the cafe. “I was gonna say that you chose the one day Umemiya treats all his underclassmen to breakfast. Umemiya’s the leader, the tall idiot I was just talking to.” You grimace and begin to jot down what little information you’d learned about Furin, covering the side of your face with your hand and hoping none of the students question why you were there. It’s wishful thinking, unfortunately. 

“Oi.” You’re snapped from your brainstorming daze by a boy whose hair and eyes were two different colors. He was watching you write like you were plotting how to demolish the high school and you curse your luck for the millionth time that you picked the one cafe the Bofurin team frequented. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“Sakura, you can’t just say that to strangers. Tell them you’re sorry,” Kotoha, the girl behind the counter, chides. The boy’s cheeks turn pink and he turns away, muttering what sounds like a half-assed apology to you. “Don’t mind him,” she says to you with a warm smile. “He’s terrible around new people.” Sakura’s face twists into indignation. 

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. You got into a fight on your first day here, and school hadn’t even started yet,” points out another student with blonde hair sitting next to a boy wearing dangling earrings and an eyepatch. You’re quick to write down anything and everything you were hearing, picking up pieces of conversation from the tables around you. “Hey, what are you writing?” The question doesn’t come off as accusatory, but you shut your notebook anyways and guard it like a treasure chest. 

“It’s nothing. Just homework,” you force out. 

“Homework,” the boy with the eyepatch echoes. “So, you live around here?”

“They go to a neighboring highschool,” Kotoha explains before you have the chance to speak. “They’re actually here to study Bofurin.” All three boys turn to you expectantly, as if you were going to interview them on the spot. 

“I’m just here to observe,” you say quickly, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’m not here to interfere or get in your way or anything.” 

“Who said you would be getting in the way? I’m sure Umemiya wouldn’t mind–” 

“I wouldn’t mind what?” You jump, the same guy that called Kotoha’s name upon entering the cafe appearing like a ghost between you and the boys you were conversing with. “Have you three ordered yet? You need to eat! We have a big day today,” the person you assume is Umemiya instructs the boys. To your surprise, they’re quick to nod their assent and place their orders. “Good. Now, what was it I wasn’t going to mind?” 

“There’s someone here to study us,” the half-and-half haired kid mutters, pointing in your direction. Like before, the two other students scold him for his brashness. 

“Don’t say it like that, Sakura.” 

“It makes it sound like we’re animals in a documentary.” 

“Study us?” Umemiya ignores them and turns to you with a curious look. “Why?” Your face heats and you hastily close your notebook again, hoping that Kotoha would be done with your food soon so you could vacate the cafe and avoid it for the rest of your stay. 

“It’s for an assignment for school,” you reply hesitantly. 

“You don’t need to be so humble,” Kotoha calls over her shoulder from the stove. “You can tell them it’s for a scholarship.” The three boys next to Umemiya gape at you in awe, but you can’t help feeling the slightest bit embarrassed that you drew so much attention to yourself on your first day in town. You didn’t know much about the Furin boys except for their reputation as fighters, and you expected Umemiya to turn you away and kick you out on the spot. 

“I’ll be out of town in a few days, so you don’t need to–”

“You can shadow us.” What the hell did he just say? You blink at him, unsure if you hallucinated his words or if he actually said them. Umemiya’s face suddenly turns a shade redder and he turns to his three underclassmen, whispering uneasily, “That is the term for it, right?”

“I think so,” the blonde one whispers back. “Suo, you’re better with words. What does it–”

“You want them to follow you around and see how you guys work,” Kotoha says as she brings you your meal in a to-go container. “That’s what ‘shadowing’ means.” Umemiya thanks her with a thumbs-up before turning back to you. 

“What she said. Come with us as we go through our daily routines so you really understand what we do.” You start to stutter out a list of fake reasons why you couldn’t, something along the lines of getting in their way and needing to take a fish to the veterinarian. Umemiya doesn’t budge and sees through your nerves like glass. “You won’t be inconveniencing us at all, I promise. If anything, it’ll be good for more people to have an understanding of Bofurin.” 

“Yeah. If you just watch us from the outside, your writing’s not gonna be any good,” Sakura says bluntly. The two boys next to him flinch and cover their faces. 

“You should stop saying things like that, Sakura,” the boy with the eye-patch warns. 

“Like I said,” Kotoha mumbles in passing. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just like that.”

“So, what do you say?” Umemiya grins at you in a way that unwillingly makes your heart rate increase and, before your mind knows it, you’re nodding in agreement and he settles on the stool next to you. “Great! Before we start, do you mind if I ask you about yourself?”

—  Day 2 of 5: “I know I have good judgment // I know I have good taste”

It’s 7:00 am when Umemiya appears outside your door. 

“Good morning! Did you sleep well? I know yesterday was a lot, so hopefully we didn’t scare you too badly.” You rub your eyes and manage to give him a sleepy ‘good morning,’ trying to shake off the exhaustion after running around the previous day with Bofurin. The moon was hanging high by the time Umemiya dropped you off at your host’s apartment and you thought you were hearing things when he said he’d be back in the morning to pick you up. “We’re not gonna have time to stop by the cafe, so I picked up something for you to eat.” You open the small paper bag he hands you to find a pastry wrapped in a napkin, slightly squashed from the walk. “Do you have everything?” 

“Yes, I do. This is really nice of you Umemiya,” you say as you fall into step next to him. He shrugs and waves you off, but you catch the self-confident upturn at the corner of his mouth. Why you were staring at his mouth in the first place could not be waterboarded out of you. 

“Don’t mention it. What’d you think of yesterday? Oh, wait. Let me take this from you so you can eat.” Before you can stop him, he reaches over and carefully slides the strap of your bag from your shoulder and hoists it onto his. Surprised, you thank him again, something that you found yourself doing a lot since you met him. It wasn’t like you were trying to overstate your gratitude, Umemiya just kept doing things for you; on your first day, he did everything from crouching down to tie your shoe to herding you toward the side of the sidewalk, away from the busy street. So far, Bofurin was nothing like you’d previously imagined. 

“There’s a lot more structure in place than I thought there would be,” you answer, taking a few bites of the pastry. After Umemiya gave you a proper introduction to first-year class captain (and your self-proclaimed #1 skeptic) Sakura, he also introduced you to Suo and Nirei, the two boys that were with him. The rest of your first day was a flurry of meetings and broadcast announcements from the top of the school, mixed with an unexpected amount of pot transplanting on the roof. “I didn’t realize there would be such a clear hierarchy of power…or a community garden.”

“You thought we were just a bunch of kids who got into fights every day?”

“Yes–wait, no!” Your face burns while you backtrack and try to explain yourself. Umemiya doesn’t hear it and simply chuckles at your slip. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did think you were a bunch of kids that got into fights every day. But,” you pause, taking a look at the pastry in your hand. “There’s obviously more I need to learn.” 

“That’s alright,” Umemiya beams. The sun starts to peek over the roofs of the little stores and houses, painting Furin High golden as you approach. “That's why I’m here. Oh, and before I forget, give me your phone.” You watch as he dials his contact information in, even taking a picture of himself for the contact photo. “What do you think?” 

“Wow, you look great. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Of course. Now you have a direct line to me in case you ever need anything!” He has a cute smile, speaks an unprompted voice in your head that you’re quick to silence. You’re about to tease him about being so friendly with strangers when you catch sight of a smear of hot pink running across the bricks beside you. Umemiya’s smile fades as you walk past the metal garage door of a food vendor, it too becoming the victim of the same pink marking you saw on your first night. 

“That’s the second one I’ve seen now.” His eyes are narrowed when you turn to him. He’s not focusing on what you’re saying; you can tell by the way the muscle in his jaw clenches that he’s running analyses like a supercomputer. “Do you have any idea who’s doing this?”

“There hasn’t been word of a pink team in ages, let alone one that has the audacity to come on Bofurin territory and claim it,” he says quietly.  

“They’re trying to take it from you?”

“Keyword ‘trying.’ Doesn’t mean they’ll be successful.” The darkness of his expression disappears in a blink and you’re met with a self-assured grin. “Ah, well don’t worry about it. We handle this kind of stuff all the time,” he reassures you, readjusting your bag over his shoulder and starting again down the sidewalk.  

“How often do you deal with stuff like this?” 

“Weekly, probably,” he shrugs and you make a mental reminder to write it in your notebook. 

“Are people just looking for a fight because you’re the strongest team, or is it something else?” Your mind momentarily brings you back to sitting across from the mathletes team in the school library, giving them food for thought and jotting down their responses. It was a little different, asking questions of Umemiya, but the familiar feeling of seeking answers is comforting muscle memory. 

“I don’t have a concrete answer for you, honestly,” he admits. “But, my theory is that people don’t like what we do here. We protect the town and discourage people from doing unethical things. People simply don’t like being told what they can’t do.” You nod, trying your best to remember everything he’s saying. It made sense why smaller teams would want to take down the most powerful team in the area, but the morality side and restricting the actions of others because they harm the townspeople was something you didn’t expect to also play into the situation. “Are you going to interview any other teams here?” You shake your head.

“I wasn’t planning on it. The answers that you’re giving me now are more than I could have hoped for,” you answer and you catch his satisfied smirk out of the corner of your eye. “Do you think I should study other teams?” 

“You don’t need to. You fit in better with us, anyway.” 

— Day 3 of 5: “Whatever devil’s inside you // Don’t let him out tonight”

Reports of the hot pink marking become more frequent the longer you stay with Bofurin, both for sightings on shop windows and shadows sneaking around alleyways just out of patroller’s lines of sight. The more teams Umemiya sent out to paint over the vandalism, the more sightings increased. To you, it was an indicator of growing tensions between Bofurin and surrounding, envious teams. 

To Umemiya, it was Wednesday. 

“We have a collaborative meeting with another team, Shishitoren, today,” he informs you on the walk from your host’s apartment to the school, your bag swinging weightlessly on his shoulder. “I’d like for you to join us, but it’s ultimately up to you.” 

“Do you have a history with them?” The team leader’s eyes space out and he blinks once, then twice, before coming back to the present. 

“Yeah…you could say that,” he chuckles. “Just don’t ask Sakura about his first one-on-one with them. He gets defensive.” You stifle a grin.

“Oh, did he lose?”

“He won, actually,” Umemiya corrects, equally as amused as you, “Which is the part he gets mad about, so you should probably steer clear of the subject all together.” You nod, interviewing Sakura being nowhere in your plans. “Suo and Nirei will be able to give you all the info you need, though,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for discontent. “And of course, you could always ask me too.” He smiles at you and something in your brain short-circuits. 

Ever the professional, you try not to think about how nice Umemiya’s been to you when you arrive at the Ori, headquarters of Shishitoren. Steering away from the run-down screening room, you and Umemiya’s team climb up to the roof, where a group of guys wearing orange baseball jackets are waiting. 

“What took you so long? Breakfast is getting cold!” The team’s leader, Tomiyama, leaps from his seat on the ledge and bounds over to Umemiya. “Oh?” He pauses, looking you up and down before smiling brightly at you. “You brought your new friend, Ume!” You wave politely and introduce yourself, a little more relaxed with Umemiya at your side. 

“Smart,” comments whom you assume to be the second-in-command, Togame. He moves at a leisurely pace, barely even blinking as he lifts Tomiyama by the collar of his jacket and sets him at the other end of the meeting’s circle. “Our guys have caught at least three of their guys running surveillance on your side. Who knows what would’ve happened if you left your guest at the school alone.”

“Surveillance?” You frown, but Umemiya doesn’t look surprised. “And what do you mean, something could have happened?” 

“Rival members follow others around, learning their ins and outs,” Togame tells you. “Essentially what you’ve been doing, but uninvited. They’ve been getting pretty pissy about Bofurin lately, so they might’ve tried to use you as some kind of collateral if they knew Umemiya would be out.” The thought makes you gag, and the same discontent expressions can be found on all the occupants of the roof. 

“They’re not very nice, those guys,” Tomiyama pouts. “The ones we’ve questioned wanna take over your side, Ume.” So other teams want to take over Bofurin’s territory more often than Umemiya lets on, you think to yourself. Maybe not even on a weekly basis, but daily. 

“Did you let the guys you’ve questioned off the hook? Or you still have ‘em here?” Hiragi asks. 

“We don’t have any of them here, no,” Togame replies. “But we have a general idea of how they make their rounds and can probably catch a team or two when they start following Bofurin guys.” 

“Great,” Umemiya concludes with a single decisive clap. “Let’s go get ‘em.” 

“Alright, field trip time!” Tomiyama’s energy sends him practically bouncing off the walls. You pack up what little things you brought with you to the meeting and are ready to fall into step behind the guys, but Umemiya stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Yo, Kaji.” The lollipop-mouthed second-year pulls down his headphones to listen. “Take them back to the school. Don’t want them there in case things get ugly.” You open your mouth to protest, ready to fire off why it’s important that you see the good, bad, and ugly of Bofurin, but Umemiya silences you with a shake of his head. “Please go. I’m not changing my mind.” 

“Why don’t you want me to be there?”

“Like I said, things could get ugly–” 

“And,” you cut in, “I’m capable enough to run if I need to. You can trust me to get out of there on my own.” The tone of his reply is soft and patient, like it was for your own good that you didn’t go. 

“Maybe next time, okay?” You frown, disappointment twisting in your gut. “I don’t doubt that you can handle your own if things get bad. I just…don’t want you to see it if things get bad.” He runs a hand through his hair and the flex of his large bicep suddenly clicks the pieces of understanding into place. There was a reason why he was the head of Bofurin and respected by all these rowdy team members, whether they were on his team or not. Though you hadn’t seen him fight yet, there was a more dangerous side to Umemiya that existed with the kindness he’d shown you. He didn’t want you there in case things got ugly because of him. 

“I–I see.” He nods with a sigh of relief and turns to leave; you pull your arms close to your body at the sudden chill as he walks away. “Umemiya?” He pauses at the doorway, his hand hovering over the handle as he looks over his shoulder at you expectantly. Several things occurred to you to say to them, all of them borderline condescending if he took it the wrong way. Don’t do anything brash. Make sure you come back. You shouldn’t need to use your fists for this. 

“Be safe, please,” is what you settle for. 

— Day 4 of 5: “Everyone makes mistakes // But just don’t”

You’re past the halfway point of studying Furin High and team Bofurin when Hiragi storms into the broadcast room, grumbling about being out of supplies. Umemiya isn’t worried and reassures his friend that they would have what they were missing by the end of the day. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin was having a significant effect on you, since you volunteer to do the run before anyone else does. 

To be fair, you did need to run back to your host’s apartment–who had so graciously started letting Umemiya in while he waited for you to get ready in the morning–because you’d forgotten to drop your notebook in your bag before rushing out the door. The list wasn’t huge, either, and you figured you could do the whole trip in about an hour: painkillers (Nirei misjudged his spacing and accidentally got kicked in the crotch), small bandages (Sakura, self-explanatory), wet wipes (Suo noted how dirty the desks became because of everyone’s shoes), and a few packages of plant food (Umemiya insisted on buying some potted flowers from the vendor on your street).

“Are you sure? One of the patrol teams can pick the stuff up,” Umemiya offers, eyeing you oddly. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin meant you also caught the team’s head staring when he thought you weren’t looking, and then quickly turning away when you looked back. “Or, if you go, let me send one of the class captains with you, just in case. Sakura should be on patrol in the area.” You shake your head and stand up to leave. 

“I’ll be fine, Ume, I promise.” The nickname slips out before you can stop it, but he doesn’t seem to notice, eyebrows drawn in concern as he watches the floor. You lightly rest your hand on his shoulder and he snaps out of it, exhaling through his nose before nodding, reluctantly. 

“Call if anything happens,” Hiragi grunts before turning to Umemiya. “Hey, weren’t you talking about giving them a–”

“Hiragi, you’re a genius,” Umemiya cuts in and moves to dig through a box at the corner of the room. “Hey, wait,” he says, gently catching your wrist before you’re out the door and pressing a jacket into your hand. Four days of immersing yourself in Bofurin, and you would know the jacket’s green collar and the insignia anywhere. “No one should bother you if you’re wearing it.” 

Ironically, absolutely nothing happens until you’re on your way back from the convenience store. Your host was waiting for you in the living area to give you your notebook, and the store was barely a block away from her apartment. You find the needed items easily, placing a bag of mixed hard candies and a box of new chalk into your basket because you noticed they were running out. It’s a perfect day as you walk back to Furin, all cloudless skies and cool breezes and smooth sidewalks. The Furin jacket fits snugly on your torso, sturdy enough to protect you from the chill in the shade but light enough that you don’t overheat from the sun. It’s nice, something you could get used to. 

You don’t realize they’re behind you until it’s too late. 

“So, you’re Bofurin’s bitch, huh? Nice to see you in the light.” You stop in your tracks and look behind you to see a dozen guys in hot pink team uniforms you don’t recognize. There shouldn’t be that many of a rival team on Bofurin grounds, right? What the hell were they doing here? 

“You gonna say something, or are you stupid as you are ugly?” 

“Aww, look at them. They’re shaking and they don’t even know why,” one of the guys in the front sneers. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll give you something to be scared of.” The group starts to approach you and your vision slows like everything was moving through syrup. You catch the symbol on their uniforms, the same one that’s been spray painted on the town’s buildings for the past few days. The encroaching team was trying to take you to get leverage over Bofurin. Not good. Definitely not good. 

“Umemiya’s gonna think twice about messing with us after they see how we mess up his little pet!” Umemiya. You need to get to Umemiya. Your senses come back to you like a freight train and you have half the mind to dig your shoes into the street and run. 

The rival team shouts after you and the sound of pursuing footsteps thunder down the road. With one hand gripping the plastic bag of supplies, you yank your phone from the jacket pocket and frantically swipe to his contact. Your assailants draw closer and you force more energy into your legs, barely outrunning them by a few seconds. You cut through an alleyway and round a corner, but a dip in the road simultaneously makes you trip, pain shooting through your ankle. Shit! Your finger misses the ‘call’ button on your phone and you tap the ‘send location’ button instead. It’s not what you were going for, but your only options were to stop to properly call for help and get caught or keep running on your tweaked ankle. With the group of guys racing around the corner to catch you, you have no choice but to keep running. 

“Get the hell away from me!” You skid to a halt and turn to face the team head-on, your voice unsteady and breathless. You were finally starting to recognize the buildings around you; at the same time, your lungs were aching unbearably. Your pursuers slow to a halt and you’re stuck in a standoff in the middle of the street, the townspeople shutting themselves away in their stores to minimize damage to their own livelihoods. You stumble backward when the team leader steps forward, a cruel grin covering his entire face. 

“C’mon now, we just wanna have a little chat with you, you being Bofurin’s newest addition and all.” The men behind him leer at you, swinging their bats and crowbars up onto their shoulders. 

“Take one step closer and all of Bofurin comes running,” you snarl, shoving your phone forward, your finger hovering over the ‘send location’ button.

“That’s a whole lotta bullshit spewing out of your mouth, sweetie.”

“Why don’t you shut yours, asshole?” You spit. Sure the phone was a bluff, a last-ditch effort to stall for time.

It didn’t matter.

You knew how quickly Bofurin organized. 

As the hot pink leader lunges the remaining distance between you two, he’s knocked to the side by a blur of black, green, and white. Sakura stands up straight, rolls his shoulders, and scowls at you. 

“Why didn’t you call us sooner, dumbass?” 

“What, you think I wanted to get chased down today?” You meet his attitude with your own irritation and exhaustion. “Why didn’t you get here sooner?”

“Just go somewhere safe, idiot,” he yells, slamming his fist into an attacker’s face. “Your boyfriend’ll be here soon, but we were closer when he messaged everyone!” You don’t have time to think about the idea of Umemiya texting all of Bofurin to descend upon your location.Your glare fades quickly into relief and you step backward as Suo and Kiryu launch themselves into the fight.  Kaji and Hiragi rush in within a minute, and you’re spun to face Umemiya before you register that he’s there. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” He searches your face, his anxiety evident. “What did they do to you?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. They didn’t get me.” Your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your injured ankle, and it panics Umemiya even more. Other Bofurin members enthusiastically join the brawl, but all Umemiya can do is take your hands and scan your body, letting you use him to balance on your good foot. 

“They were chasing you? I knew I should have–” You give him a tired smile and pull his face up to meet your eyes. 

“I didn’t let them catch me. I’m safe, I promise.” He inhales like he’s about to say something, but his attention snaps behind you, his expression hardening in an instant. He slips in front of you like a shield and brings his forearm up to block the hand that was meant to grab you while you were distracted. He throws the attacker to the ground and it lies still, completely unconscious. 

“Hey!” The sound of Umemiya’s voice echoes in the street. The chaos stills, fists suspended in mid air. His eyes that looked so kindly on you darken into shadows, shutting out the sunlight and sending chills down the backs of everyone present. “Not enough to kill…” he orders, securing an arm around your waist and turning you away from the fighting, leaving his underclassmen to finish the job. “But enough.”

You’re a sweating mess and barely able to put weight on your ankle by the time you make it through the doors of Bofurin headquarters. You fall away from his supportive body and your shoulder hits the wall, stars scattering in your vision. Any attempt to drag yourself further, with or without Umemiya’s help, earns you nothing but a hiss and a white-hot flash of pain. Umemiya looks distraught, reaching forward and pulling back with indecisive uncertainty. 

“What do you need me to do? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” he pleads with you. “Please, tell me what you need.” 

“Water,” you croak, your voice hoarse and tired. “I just–I can’t–I can’t walk well–” Your feet leave the ground before you can comprehend that you’re in the air, Umemiya’s arms effortlessly lifting you and beginning the ascent up the school’s stairs. His body is steady and he barely breaks a sweat, stone-cold determination his only expression. Your decreasing heart rate pounds in your forehead and you squint against the light once he climbs to the roof. He sets you gently on a chair in the shade before retrieving a bottle of water, watching as you take a few sips before kneeling in front of you. 

“May I?” You blink, regaining your senses, and realize he’s asking if he can inspect your ankle. You hum, settling into the chair while he carefully rolls up the cuff of your pants. His fingers brushing your bare skin momentarily makes you forget any pain, a shock of lightning shooting up your spine as he swipes his thumb over the front of your ankle. He turns your leg over gently in his hands before deeming it okay. “It’s not swelling, thankfully, so it’s probably just a bad sprain at most.” He exhales, deeply relieved, but continues to run his fingers carefully over the tender area. 

“You couldn’t have predicted they would be there,” you say, his thoughts painted all over his face. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles, more irritated than you expected. He’s just mad at himself, not at you, you need to remind yourself.  

“You didn’t need to.” Your hand reaches itself out on its own accord, turning his face so you could meet his eyes. “I didn’t get hurt because of you.” 

“But you did get hurt,” he mutters, eyebrows drawn the same way as when he was analyzing the pink symbol a few days prior. The cogs in his brain were turning, you could see, but this time there was a lingering sense of shame. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?” He shrugs, but you catch the muscle in his jaw relax as his eyes soften. “If that’s not safe, then I don’t know what is.” 

“You’re not angry that I wasn’t there sooner?”

“I’m safest when I’m with you,” you state simply, “and you found me at just the right moment. So no, of course I’m not angry with you.” Words slip out of Umemiya’s mouth before he’s able to register that they’re leaving, but he has half the mind to change the middle part of the sentence before he comes off as too overbearing. 

“I…care about you, deeply.” You smile, letting him take your hand into his own and press his lips to the inside of your palm. 

— Day 5 of 5: “We could live so happily // If no one knows that you’re with me”

It’s 7:00 am and Umemiya isn’t outside your door. 

You curl up on your bed and stare out the window, the street below milling with its usual morning business. After he dropped you off the previous night with a curt ‘sleep well’ and a reminder to ice your ankle, you were left in an eerily quiet bedroom while you tossed and turned thinking about the day’s events. A ring of the doorbell sends you hobbling down the stairs and throwing open the front door, only to be met with a very pink Sakura, flanked by Suo and Nirei. 

“Don’t go outside today,” Sakura says bluntly. Nirei flinches and Suo’s smile becomes slightly strained, both of them eyeing their class captain warily. 

“What he means,” Suo says before Sakura can say anything else, “is that you don’t need to come study Bofurin today.” Your heart sinks. This must have been because of the day prior. He was really mad that you got yourself hurt, huh? 

“Don’t look so sad about it,” Sakura mutters, his cheeks turning a slightly darker shade of red. “It’s annoying.” You stutter an unexpected apology and suddenly have the urge to hide back in your room until your train the next day. 

“I get it,” you say quietly. “He’s angry with me. Please give him my thanks for the hospitality he’s shown me this week. I’ll be gone by 8:00 tomorrow.” You move to close the door when all three boys practically throw themselves in the way. 

“Wait, that’s not what we meant!” Nirei’s eyes are the size of basketballs. 

“Please don’t listen to anything Sakura is saying; he has a hard time empathizing with others.” Nirei nods enthusiastically in agreement with Suo, slapping a hand over Sakura’s mouth to prevent the boy from speaking. “Really, that’s not what we mean by saying you don’t need to study us anymore.” 

“Umemiya wants you to take the day to rest,” Nirei explains quickly. “He doesn’t think you should be walking to and from the school on your injured ankle.” Your sadness is replaced with indignancy and you cross your arms over your chest. 

“He couldn’t have told me this himself?” 

“He would, but…” Nirei’s voice trails off and you catch Suo biting the inside of his cheek. Sakura’s the first to break the silence, peeling Nirei’s hand from his face. 

“Umemiya and the upperclassmen have been beating the shit out of those hot pink assholes since last night.” 

“It must’ve been pretty serious, since he didn’t even allow Suo or Sakura to go with them,” Nirei adds, “And they’re some of the best fighters in our class.” 

“How long has he been out?” 

“Hiragi said he called them late last night and a small team raided the hot pink team’s base.” That would mean Bofurin raided the base immediately after dropping you off. Why would he hide that from you? “Technically, he said not to tell you because he knew you’d panic,” Sakura continues. “So he sent us to tell you to take it easy. Don’t stab the messengers.”

“It’s ‘don’t shoot the messengers,’ Sakura,” Suo corrects and Sakura shrugs, indifferent. 

“And we’re already as good as dead anyway,” Nirei says, his expression dropping. “We weren’t supposed to tell you that he’s been fighting those guys that hurt you.” 

“It’s Sakura’s fault for yapping–”

“You wanna fight?”

“What’s done is done, little brothers.” You stiffen, blinking against the morning sun as Umemiya trudges into your vision. His handsome face has seen better days, small cuts and bruises littered all over his skin. He tossed his jacket over his shoulder, revealing the dirtied white shirt that wasn’t stained the previous evening. He rolls a broad shoulder and stretches his neck from side to side, his underclassmen scurrying away as he steps onto the welcome mat. “G’morning,” he greets in a tired voice. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Better late than never,” you deadpan, taking his hand and guiding him inside. “Thanks boys,” you call over your shoulder at the sheepish underclassmen. “I’ll take it from here,” you finish before shutting the door. 

“Gotta say, this place looks better when my vision isn’t blurry,” Umemiya jokes with a wince, collapsing into a chair at the dining table. You ignore his attempt at humor, retrieving the first aid kit from the closet along with a rag that you soak with warm water. His eyes are on you as you move about; you feel his gaze burn into the back of your neck. 

“If you weren’t already beaten to a pulp, I’d slap you,” you mumble, sitting across from him and gently patting the dried blood from his face. 

“And I’d let you,” he manages to smile, never taking his attention away from you. You can’t tell if your face is hot from his intense stare or from the anger bubbling in your stomach. Scooting closer, you start work on the cut above his lip, just missing his nose. “You smell nice.” 

“You need to stop talking.” His smile fades only slightly, his eyes ever watchful while you take care of his wounds. You hope he can’t tell how badly your hands are shaking as you tap antibiotic ointment onto his skin and cover it with a bandage. 

“You’re upset with me,” he says carefully, observing the way you’re conveniently avoiding eye contact. 

“You just figured that out?”

“You gonna tell me why, or are you just gonna keep scowling?”

“This is not how you usually do things,” you say through gritted teeth, gesturing to the evidence of fights all over his body. “You’re diplomatic. You’re understanding. You’re empathetic. You don’t…You don’t solve problems like this!” You don’t realize how loud your voice has become until you register the echo from the empty walls, nor do you realize that you were standing until his eyes were looking up at you. 

“How do you know that I don’t do this?”

“Because I watched you this week and I know how you work.” You swallow thickly. “I don’t know why you’d break all of that just because of some hot pink bastards running around your–”

“I did it because of you,” he says. “I did it because they hurt you.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Hajime.” It’s the first time you’d used his first name and something flutters in Umemiya’s stomach. He can’t do anything but stare at you in awe, watching as your emotions start to escape down your face in wet streaks. His body moves on its own, reaching out to wipe your tears to the side and standing so that your chests are nearly touching. His voice is barely a murmur, reserved only for you to hear. 

“You didn’t want me to do it?” Both your hearts are racing, slamming against your rib cages. 

“If it meant you getting hurt like this, then no.”

“I’d put myself through much worse if it meant you were safe,” he whispers. In this proximity, your anger flies out the window, along with your good judgment. He was so close, you could just–

“What else would you do for me?” His eyelashes flutter against yours. 

“Anything.” Umemiya thinks he has a broken rib from how little he can breathe. 

“Show me.” It’s like a rubber band snaps between your bodies as he finally leans down to kiss you, molding himself so that you could perfectly melt against him. His grip on your waist is rock-solid, holding you close enough that you feel him shudder when you scratch against his undercut. The sound you make when he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip makes his head go completely empty, the same feeling happening for you when his fingers graze the spot where your neck meets your chin. He kisses you feverishly, refusing to let you breathe until you’re forced to pull away lest you completely lose consciousness. 

“Do you always kiss the people you write about?” He winks at you and you roll your eyes, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“Only the ones I fall for,” you whisper back. “I’m still mad at you for ditching me this morning, though.” 

“I sent your three favorite underclassmen instead,” he argues but you shake your head, a smile teasing your mouth. “Fine. How can I make it up to you?” You hum thoughtfully, blinking at him in a way that sent Umemiya’s mind into a frenzy. 

“Kiss me again and we’ll call it even.” 

“Whatever you say.” 

— Day [???] of [???]: 

He’s waiting for you when you step off the train, a dazzling smile on his face that grows when he sees the certificate awarded to you with your scholarship funds. A dozen captains dot the platform, diligently watching the back of their leader as he brings down every guard he has and catches you in his arms. After enduring Umemiya talking their ears off, the silence that falls over the area as you bask in each other’s presence is enough of a reason to switch formations, allowing you time alone with the one man who would put himself through hell if it meant you were still his. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[momolady]

Commissions Are Open!

I'll be accepting a few a month so send an email to get into the queue.

The Spiel:

Include a genre or theme if you so wish. Such as horror, romance, angst, fluff, etc.

If you want one of my universes, please include it as well. Ruby Empire, Hearthway Hollow, the Carnival, etc.

If you have a story idea, please include a few sentences of plot for me to work with. The more details the better

If you wish to include your OC please provide references so I can do them justice.

All characters must be 18+ for nsfw content.

All payments must be made in USD, & invoices will be sent upfront.

I have the right to refuse commissions

Discussion will take place via email or through discord if requested.

You will receive commissions through email unless requested otherwise.

Changes can be made, but there is a limit of 2 revisions. (I’m soft though so who knows if I’ll keep this up.)

All stories will be posted to my Patreon, Tumblr, and maybe ko-fi. OC can be changed upon request for public stories. You will always have the original story.

My stories can not be posted anywhere else.

Longer stories may receive an increase in price. (Under 10k words is usually fine. I enjoy longer works personally.)

Stories take anywhere from one to three weeks to complete once started depending on length, detail, etc. Feel free to ask for updates, previews, etc.

East Commission Form:

What is your budget (or desired word count):

Genre/Universe/Theme:

Reader Character Gender:

Reader Character Description:

Monster Character:

Monster Character Description:

Is this NSFW or SFW?

Any kinks, tropes, or specifics?

Story Outline:

Other thoughts or comments:

What You can Commission:

All monsters and creatures from media, folklore, myth, crytozoology, etc. (Within the bounds of cultural sensitivity.)

Horror stories. This can be straight horror, romance, smut, etc. Slasher, Lovecraftian, weird, etc.

Magical girl stories. Heroes as well.

Original Characters are always welcome.

Legally distinct characters are okay. I don’t write fanfic, but I’m happy to build your dream character with an existing character as reference.

If you need an idea for character or plot, I will brainstorm with you. I also will do free reign stories for a small discount.

Continuing stories from my masterlist is also accepted! I enjoy revisiting beloved characters.

Plotting help for your own stories such as outlines, character bios, etc. (This is new dunno where it’ll go.)

Moodboard can be requested upon story completion if wanted. Otherwise it will be seen on Patreon first.

Themes:

Smut of course. Other NSFW themes can be done upon approval. (No under 18 or dub-con themes.)

All romance of course. Ranging from slow burn, enemies to lovers, one bed, etc.

LGBTQIA+ themes are always welcome.

Classic tropes:forbidden love, fake dating, friends to enemies, hurt-comfort, stuck together, cafe au, etc.

Horror stories, romantic or not. The weirder the better.

Fantasy: can include anything from DnD themed, urban fantasy, future, past, other worlds, etc.

Fluff: domestic bliss, confessions, dates, proposals, etc.

Platonic stories.

Plot heavy.

PWP

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Previous weeks Masterlist

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

A little late in the day this week, I've got an assignment due in on Monday, and I'm procrastinating so badly. Why do I do this to myself?!

This week I've added some new chapters to Strategic Interests, I'm having so much fun with this one. The tension and banter is just... 🤌. There's more chapters scheduled for Friday and Monday, and I'm working on Chapter 7 atm.

Now for the reading...

Bucky Barnes

on command by @buckyseternaldoll - the beginning had me sniggering so much, but then Elle turns up the heat and phew! 🥵

Elle then killed me even more with Suffocate Me Sweetly - her sub!Bucky is insanely good - crazy good!

I Thought We Were Already Dating? by @danysdaughter was so much FUN! I adored the unhinged reader - a gal after my own heart!

Our First Time by my love @soelstress was so, so gorgeous 🥰

Bitter Sweet Cafe by @kiba-uwuzuka was ADORABLE!!

I can see you by @solanastark was super cute - love a song fic and this song definitely makes me think of Bucky!

a midnight appetite by @swordgrace was so quietly lovely and super hot!

mi cielo and the winter soldier by @cursedheartsclub - featuring the gorgeous and wonderful Joaquin Torres as chief meddler! I loved this one!

Collateral Hearts by @pixiexdusts-world was so great, with some amazing Thunderbolts dynamics!

@buckysleftbicep is magical - all the little moments was so perfect with the most gorgeous, beautiful moments of joy 🥹

Pressure Points by @cheekybarnes was really, really so good! 🙌

All the parts you hide by @luciemggio - as a curvy girl, I feel seen. This was so sweet 🥰

Too Nice to Stay Inside by @societyfolklore - wheeee it's sundress season! Let's get railed!!

Leave You Breathless by @navybrat817 - Navy literally waited at the airport and thought, let's bust out a super cute fic. What a boss move 🙌

Needy by @mrs-elsie-barnes - so hot, so cute and sweet!!

Kiss Me Softly by @witchywithwhiskey gorgeously sweet and very, very hot! 🔥

The Bet by @drabblesandsnippets - I think I saw god reading this one. It was INCREDIBLE!!!

John Walker

skin on skin and hide n seek by @john-ny-walker - turning me into a John lover, not just a hate-fucker!

Come right on me … I mean camaraderie by @starktonyx - legit amazing 👏

under my skin by @flowersforbucky - so very, very good!

Carter Baizen

You know I've got it bad when I read about a character I don't even know in a show I didn't even watch 🫣 Jealousy is a Hot Look on You by @sergeantbarnessdoll 🙌 Shannon made me do it because she's EXCELLENT!!

[stormyelliotwritez]

Hey, I discovered your blog like yesterday, and I love it, so I was wondering if I could put in a request about Loki or Wolverine (I love them both) and they (whoever you choose) find out about trans!reader's old romantic partner and how badly their partner treated reader?

It's fine if you don't want to. It was just an idea that came to mind.

Thank you for considering. -🐌

Yeah, I can! I’m gonna do Loki coz i haven’t written for him and I may come back and write one for wolverine as well!!!

MISCHIEF NOT HARM

It had been a long day and you’d finally collapsed on the couch. You sat there for a moment before a loud slam came from the front of the house. It was the door. You tensed instinctively and gripped the couch.

Loki walked in with a curious look on his face. He leaned against the wall.

“You’re tense. Did you think I was mad?”

You shook your head and tried to calm down.

“No, that’d be silly.”

His eyes narrowed and then he shrugged it off and walked over to the hallway.

“I’ll order pizza, darling,” he said before walking off.

You slowly peeled your fingers off the couch and stretched them out. Okay so maybe you weren’t doing as well but as long as he didn’t know, everything would be fine and you wouldn’t have to think about your past.

A few minutes later, Loki walked back into the room and leaned in the doorway. You could feel his stare on your back, like his glare was heated.

“I bumped into someone at the cafe today,” he said calmly.

You went tense and glanced over at him. Was he talking about… no…

“He said he recognized me from a photo on your friend’s Face…Book? Apparently he dated you and then he said some not very polite things after that,” he said without a change in tone.

You gripped the couch and stared down at the floor. How was this happening? You’d left and your friends knew to block him or not post you. How? How had this happened?

Without you noticing, Loki sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Gently, his thumb stroked your shoulder. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, preferring to let you collect yourself.

“He will be going home to a very angry phone call from his boss. Turns out his boss doesn’t appreciate his employees being raging transphobes. And you will not have to worry about him again, my prince,” Loki said smoothly, his voice like syrup.

You nodded slowly and leaned your head against his shoulder. You didn’t know why you’d been freaking out. This was Loki after all, he was mischievous but he would never harm you. You were his prince. You were the light of his life and it had never mattered to him that you were trans.

The doorbell rang and he hopped up to grab the pizza. It was set on the table and then he walked off to grab you a blanket. You needed comfort and he was going to give it to you. Your favourite show was turned on and soon enough, you were cuddling on the couch, eating yummy pizza.

[theshipsong]

the stars have all gone | iii

crocodile x f!reader, explicit oral (f receiving) and penetrative sex, can be skipped if you watch for the large ♂. part three of a series. mentions of past basil hawkins x reader. selfship-coded; reader is an astrologer, hawkins' former navigator, and a different race from both of them. post-timeskip canon au, 5.4k words.

You left the cafe through the front at your insistence, to assure the owner and few afternoon customers that the former Warlord was leaving the premises. Daz Bones leaned against the wall, and Crocodile only had to nod for the man to leave, waving a nonchalant hand.

"Your associate?" you asked.

"One of them," he said, which was more information than he strictly had to share, considering the secrecy you knew shrouded Baroque Works. Somehow you didn't think his old subordinate was who he meant, though you came up blank on who he might consider more of an equal. As if hearing your thoughts, Crocodile added, "We're meeting later. After I finish here."

You felt a pang of disappointment that he was leaving again, but quickly realized his idea of unfinished business was you, collecting you, and you bit your lip and focused on matching his strides that he already shortened to accommodate you. "I can't exactly host you or anything. I know a good sandwich stand, though."

"I'm a pirate," he reminded you.

"And how many pirates dine and dress like you?" You batted at the lapel of his fur coat.

"You could, too," he said.

"I'm not a pirate."

He ignored that. "Anything is better than Impel Down."

You stopped. "Okay, first: you were there for a few months, at most. Second: this stand gets their rolls from us at bakery. It's more than a notch above prison food."

Crocodile looked down at you, glancing, oddly, at your boot-clad feet, and offered his left arm. "You walk slow."

"I'm not eight feet tall," you grumbled as you reached up to clutch his forearm. It wouldn't be at a height that made sense for you without him squatting.

"Even six feet would make a difference," he groused, looking at your hand by his hook.

"Is that your normal height limit?"

"My partner was six two."

Partner. The upper ranks of Baroque Works operated in pairs, you learned when their mugshots were published two years ago. But what did he just say? It's poor form to sleep with subordinates. Did a partner count? His counterpart was the only one at large, now a bona fide pirate. Did he—?

You made yourself relax your hold on him. You had no business being possessive over someone you meant to turn down.

You led him downtown, sometimes pointing out landmarks, and noticed people who'd normally give you a wave or a polite smile didn't meet your gaze because of your company. Damn. He'd done awful things, but so had you. So did anyone whose business wasn't splashed across the World Economic Journal. Crocodile and Daz were known quantities around here, so you wondered at the chillier reception until you passed a newsstand, all Reverie coverage. His gaze also drifted that way.

"The dissolution doesn't affect you, does it?"

"Not directly."

Vague.

The pair of you had something of a walking dinner through public parks on the way to your flat, the silhouette of the hotel where you apparently slept together receding in the skyline. It felt a little ridiculous to explain to a pirate that your boardinghouse was quite conservative, strictly for unmarried women who had to be employed or enrolled in training of some sort, so you hoped he'd be out of there by midnight once you gently but firmly declined his offer and sent him on his way after a nightcap of bottom-shelf whiskey. You only had a small dining table and a writing desk, and he elected to sit at the latter while you hunted down your tumblers.

"You drink brown liquor but can't handle wine?"

"Wine's like juice," you defended. Especially port. You didn't forget his sweet tooth.

But he wasn't looking your way anymore, instead peering at the topmost page on your desk. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

He held it to the lamplight, and you recognized it as your own progressed chart, done more for practice than predicting your future.

"You write prettily," he said. "Prettier than you speak."

"Thank you," you said with an eyeroll. You sat at the edge of your bed behind him and moved to set his tumbler on the coaster by your ephemerides, and Crocodile grabbed the glass from your hand before you could land, his broad fingertips dwarfing yours. He took a sip and made a face at the taste, and you giggled, earning a warning glare.

He scratched at the back of his head with the side of his hook, the ice cubes in his glass clinking as he gestured. "These almost look like Poneglyphs."

"You've seen one?"

"In Alabasta."

You tilted your head. "They predate the Void Century, so they're probably simpler than Poneglyphs, or components of their characters."

"Have you seen one?"

"In the paper, so not any detail. The Big Mom Pirates found it." You chewed your lip, debating whether to continue. "We know the astronomers who named the seven visible planets, but not the outer ones. Symbols for Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto just appeared 800 years ago."

"Dangerous talk," he said.

With a dangerous man. Your last captain wasn't even interested in the history of his own tools. The first deck he used was yours, discarded once you realized tarot lacked the structure that kept astrology interesting even in your skepticism, and you'd never seen him use the second, less showy deck you gave him.

"Well, I imagine you won't sell me out. I think pointing out a gaping epistemological hole doesn't make treason."

"And you're not a pirate?"

"Every scientist and scholar should be one, by that logic."

Crocodile picked up the page again. "Pluto..."

"Uh, it's—" You scooted to the edge of your bed and grabbed a pen to point out the ♇. "It looks like that—kind of stupid, just a P and an L—but you also see—" You stood and snatched it from his hand, bending over the desk to draw a ⯔ and a ⯓ next to it. "Depends on where you are."

To your further surprise, he laughed. "Oh, Nico Robin. You liar."

You froze. "What?"

"I'm not stupid," Crocodile said, not really to you, it seemed. "I looked at that stone the whole time she 'translated' it. That was the very first character." He pointed at the third symbol.

"That one's really not widely used," you said, though you were quite lost. "It's regional to some parts of the Grand Line, maybe."

"Or it was suppressed," he challenged, weirdly animated. "Because it's the name of an ancient weapon."

"Hmm." There was more to Alabasta than he claimed. "If you think I can read at an archaeologist's level, I'll have to disappoint you," you said primly, trying not to feel hurt.

You moved to sit back down on your bed, and almost yelped when he pulled you into his lap instead, his left arm going around your waist and his hand gripping your hip. "Witch," he muttered near your temple, "I'm content with your skills."

"Well, I can't do witchcraft..." you said faintly. "And we haven't sailed together." What alarmed you more than his forwardness was that you wanted to melt backwards, to feel his body caging yours. "Crocodile..." you started.

"Sir."

"Is this really a good idea?"

"Hmm?" he grunted, faux-innocent. "I wanted to hear more about these glyphs."

"From here?"

He studied your profile slyly, his right elbow resting on your desk. "It's an absurdly small room. How else am I supposed to see?"

"This is hardly navigation, sir."

"But you use them for navigation."

"Yes, but my notes are my business."

"Would you sail with an observatory?" He nodded at your telescope by the window. You knew he didn't make empty promises; it was a very real offer.

"The crow's nest is fine."

"But this is quite an office you have here."

You had a library of ephemerides, all difficult to source since they came from small presses if not from Mary Geoise. Besides a bulky globe useful only for coordinates, you had various instruments: an abacus, a drafting compass, sextants and telescopes of different size, your old single-dial log pose, and a conventional magnetic compass, both useless in the New World. On the Grudge Dolph, you had some privacy as the only woman, but that meant Hawkins had to come to your bedroom with navigation questions, which was always treacherous. Not unlike Crocodile, one foot from your bed now.

"Beggars can't be choosers," you sniffed.

"And where is this ship of yours now?"

"Not mine," you said too quickly. "And I don't know. We don't keep in touch. Last I heard they formed an alliance." Which you hardly agreed with. "When did you dock here? What's your ship like?"

"It's a loan. Once I repossess some funds, I'm hiring a shipwright." You winced. Poor bastard, whoever it was owed him. "What day is it... Been here two weeks."

"Seems a little long, for you." He only lingered in one place for days at time.

His arm around your waist grew heavier. "You're quite elusive."

No. You were the only reason he was here? You assumed you were just a detour from tasks at hand.

"Seriously?" you said softly.

"I asked." It felt like he spoke to the crown of your head. "At the restaurant, the hotel. You could've left a number with the front desk. The damn host wouldn't tell me who was there that night..." The same confidentiality that benefited him, both of you. "...and I only had your first name. If Daz hadn't overheard one of your clients, I would have hunted your Magician."

Hunted. Crocodiles never did so without reason, your grandmother said when she spun tales of the old country. And it was forbidden to hunt them first.

"I can't serve someone I'm attracted to," you said finally. "And you don't sleep with subordinates."

"It's poor form." His breath whistled across your hair. "So why should I care?" With that, he brushed your hair aside and kissed the back of your neck, pulling a gasp from your lips. "Aren't we pirates?" You shivered, and he kissed the shell of your ear. "Make sure you remember this time," he muttered lowly.

♂

You leaned into his warmth, the solid wall of his chest making you feel strangely safe even with a sharp hook holding you to him. He exhaled through his nose as your ass settled against the growing bulge in his trousers. You turned your head so you could only see his jaw in your periphery, how tall he was. "Make it memorable, then."

"Minx."

You smiled as you reached up to pull his face down to yours by his nape. He tasted like whiskey and tobacco and heat, and you surprised yourself how fearlessly you butted your tongue into his mouth all while grinding backwards in his lap. His right hand found the inside of your knee and spread your legs open, his warm palm bunching your silk skirt up.

You whined as cold air hit your damp panties, which he quickly amended by rubbing at you over the thin fabric. "Ah—!"

"This wet, bird?" he breathed by the side of your head. "Just from a little conversation..."

"You too, old man," you challenged with a wiggle, to which he swatted at the inside of your thigh. "Ow!"

He promptly soothed it with a flat palm. "That's not what you call me."

"Sir," you drew out, singsong and annoying, and his eyes narrowed. The next thing you knew, he tossed you onto your bed, and the sheer size of him knocked the breath from your lungs as he rolled your panties and holster down your legs, the knife your last captain gave you clattering to the floor as Crocodile yanked you to the edge of the mattress.

"Quiet," he ordered lowly, sinking to his knees.

He laid his hook flat on the inside of your right thigh, and you shivered at the cold metal and how carefully and heavily it rested with the sharp tip closer to your anterior, away from the soft skin he massaged and kissed on your opposite leg at as he groped his way up, up, finally pressing his face to your slick folds and breathing deep.

"Sir—!"

"...hide from me." You caught the end of his murmur into the juncture of your thigh, and one of his thick fingers dipped into your entrance just as he licked at your clit, earning a throaty moan from you you hardly recognized. You only grew more slippery with his attentions, and the sound of not just your arousal but his spit mixing with it, licking and kissing around his own finger, was lewd and humiliating as your body adjusted, welcomed him back. Because it was familiar, the breadth of him between your legs, the spices and tobacco on his skin, the weight of his hook splaying your leg open to the side. One limb free, you traced your left sole down his back, feeling his shoulder blade move under the skin there, and it stimulated nerves you forgot you had. "Oh, sir—" Your voice came out breathy, and you futilely covered your mouth with your hand to suppress your noises, your other hand tangling in his hair.

He hissed at the sting, but didn't warn you off, instead lapping more insistently. Curious, you tugged with more intention, and he groaned before lifting his head. "Do that again."

You obliged, grinning up at the ceiling at the quiet whimper he made against you. Yes, sir.

But after that, he scissored a second finger into you, and the stretch burned sweetly, not painfully. You petted at his scalp to let him know you were okay, and he rolled your clit with his tongue with a satisfied hum. Smug bastard, you would've said out loud if you didn't feel the beginnings of an orgasm at how patiently and ruthlessly he prepared you. Your grip on his roots tightened along with your walls around his digits, and he kissed at your lips, pulling away some to watch his fingers moving, the stones of his rings glinting in the candlelight.

"Sir, can I please—?"

"So polite," he said dryly, like his face didn't glisten with your shared mess. "Yes, bird, come."

Like it was an order (it was), your body tumbled over the edge before you realized. Your would have flailed wildly if it weren't for his holding you down, his sticky fingers landing on the knee thrown over his shoulder. He watched you fall apart almost like he couldn't do anything else, and you moved to cover your face with your hands at his scrutiny when he snarled, "Don't hide from me again."

"Wasn't hiding..." you protested, and you didn't know if you meant now or the weeks he spent looking for you.

You managed to choke your surprised squeal to a whisper when he kept going. He coaxed his middle and ring fingers back in gently with a would-be chaste kiss to your puffy, throbbing clit. "Didn't get to see," he grumbled against your skin, and took up that slow, torturous pace again.

He's insane, you thought. Not for how he held you down and devoured you like prey, but how methodical this was, like he both knew you and just how much loosening you needed to take him. You only felt him through his clothes when he pulled you into his lap earlier, and you swallowed, unable to fathom him bare. You came a second time with the addition of his index finger and, to your embarrassment, your asshole fluttering against his tongue, and you felt him smirk at how your hips jerked with enough force to jostle him.

"Please, no more, sir, I want—"

"Not yet."

"It's too—" Tears were trickling out your yes. "S'too much, I don't need—"

"Yes you do." He pressed his hook into your leg, and somehow you knew it was more of a caress, how occupied his hand was now with massaging you open.

"Aren't you—don't you—?" There was no way he was doing this unbothered.

"This is for both of us," he said simply, kissing your knee. "Be patient."

Shakily, you nodded, and didn't know if you pushed his head down or simply followed him. You grabbed around for a pillow to muffle yourself, making sure to pull it away when you were close so he could see, whatever he meant by that. You weren't sure how many orgasms he'd pulled from you when he joined you on the bed at last, finally loosening his cravat and losing some layers. You watched him undress, hazy in your current state, and would have whistled at the sight. Noticing your look, he raised one cocky eyebrow.

"Not fair," you mumbled.

"What isn't, bird?" That pet name again as he crawled beside you, testing the limits of the double bed.

"You can't look like that and be one of the strongest men alive."

Crocodile laughed, truly laughed at that, and it was a lovely, rich resonance against your chest that surely traveled down the hall if your animal whining didn't. "Flattery?"

"You asked." And you meant it. He wasn't as trim as pirates your age who walked around with their shirts open—if anything he was softer than in his wanted posters, all the fine food and wine evident—but still so clearly strong, how he manipulated your body with both ease and care. And there was the thick, long cock that only made sense for his stature, proud and hard, that you couldn't believe ever fit inside you.

"Well," he said lowly, pulling you over him. "Who said you can be intelligent and charming all at once?" He looked ready to take it back at your snort of laughter. "You know I don't go out of way like this for anyone."

You had nothing to say to that, so you cast off your rumpled dress off and pretended not to notice his heated perusal. "Um," you started. "How did we—?"

He easily wrapped his left arm around you and propped himself up in your pillows, leaving you straddling his abdomen. His large hand skimmed down to your hip, his hook resting above your ass as he smirked up at you.

"Oh."

With a man of more average height, his face would be much closer, but you were simultaneously far from his lips and his lap. Feeling lost, you elected to scoot up his torso and plant a kiss to his jaw, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His brow quirked in amusement, but you could tell he was surprised at the gesture.

"Help me?" you asked shyly.

"Demanding thing." But he obligingly held your hips, guiding you down his body. "Slow." An order, like he was telling a pet to chew their food. Now sat splayed across his thighs, you reached for him, and lord. He was heavy in your hand, more thick than long, and you swore you felt him twitch as your fingertips traced the velvet of his skin.

"Pretty," you said unthinkingly.

You gave his cock a few experimental pumps, and he grunted. "I thought you couldn't wait anymore." His voice was tight.

"You don't get to be the only tease."

"Fuck."

"Language. Sir." Despite your threat, you lifted yourself slightly, and guided him where you were desperate for contact. You only meant to gather some lubrication by rubbing your pussy along his length, but his weighty tip knocking against your clit had you falling over his body. "Oh shit," you panted, your cheek planted on his sternum. He grunted at the friction. This position made you less self-conscious, somehow, your breasts squishing against his hard chest, your hands planted on either side of him, and you rolled, spreading your lips around his girth.

"Witch," he hissed.

"Not a—witch—" you corrected, like you weren't rocking against him, feeling his precum trickle between the two of you. "I'm a sci—scientist, it's just—observation—"

"Shut up," he growled, and you only picked up the pace. His hook pushed you more firmly against him, and you moaned at the increased pressure. "This really enough, bird? Just humping like—"

"Shut up," you whined, chasing something you couldn't see. At that, he moved his hand from your hip to your front, reaching for his cock like he could somehow take back control, but you sat yourself more upright and batted him away, widening your stance and finally, finally sinking onto him.

He grunted out a slow exhale watching you, and you bit your lip, the discomfort present even with his diligence. "Take your time," he murmured, the base of his hook rubbing at your back. You just sat there for a moment, still keeping some weight to your knees because if you took any more of his considerable length you'd surely hurt yourself. Your breath was coming short and shallow, and to your surprise, his large, jeweled hand came up to hold your chin and jaw. "That's it, bird." His thumb collected tears you didn't realize were falling. "Do you need—?"

"Nnnhmm." Whatever the hell you whined was in the negative, not even knowing what he was going to say. To stop? Never. A break? No. Help? Maybe. All you knew was you were probably ruined for other men for a long, long time after this, how perfectly overwhelming he was in every way. The smell of his sweat, the infernal pitch of his laugh, the taste of his skin, and the cruel size of him all threatened to make you fall like you never had, and oh no. You intended to send him off, didn't you? But how could you now that you'd found your bearings, with the perfect drag of his cock through you, just how much you spread for him?

His eyes were somehow darker as he looked up at you, wandering from what you were sure was an ugly, pinched expression on your face to the bounce of your tits, and his hand moved from your hip to thumb your clit lazily, not particularly helping but teasing. Frustrated, you pitched forward slightly to chase that pressure, and the dark chuckle at your desperation died in his throat when you purposely squeezed around him. "God, woman," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, sir?" You sounded delirious in your own ears, your hands finding some purchase on his broad chest, and you teased lightly across one of his nipples.

"You weren't so..." He grunted at another evil little squeeze you were quite proud of. "...maddening last time."

"How was I?" You slowed to a grind.

"Not quite pliant. Didn't seem drunk to me. Still—you—" How was he so sure who that was? "—but you didn't go out of your way to torture me."

"Torture? Hah—" He started fucking up into you shallowly, and you stuttered. "F-from an ex-con?"

"I don't exaggerate," he said lowly as he sat up, pulling you with him with his hook on your back and his hand in your hair, his movements becoming sharper, deeper at this angle. Your eyes widened when he prodded at your lips with his fingers, which you happily slurped into your mouth. Just two of them were thick, stretching your lips obscenely, and you wondered if you'd ever suck his cock like this. No, this is it. No more. You needed this gag, him pressing down by your soft palate as he took over, bouncing your tired body in his lap like a doll while your moans blended into sobs. You were aware your spit must be pooling in his palm, trickling past his wrist, so you latched onto his forearm with both your hands as if to spare him, but more to feel even closer, closer than this.

"Look at me."

You were so full of him that the thought of seeing him was almost too much, but you complied as he slowed to a halt. Blinking back tears, you saw some strands of his hair escaped its styling to fall across his brow, which was crinkled with exertion and restraint, and you could have fallen in love with the concern and hunger in his eyes. You pulled his fingers from your mouth and kissed at the tips, meeting his gaze all the while.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

"Wan' more." You sounded like and idiot, but he smiled down at you indulgently.

"Do you?"

You nodded.

"Are you close?"

"Uh-huh."

"Come with me."

He started moving again, cradling your head in his hand and pulling you tight to his front with his arm, but in your state of bliss, you answered a different question, a few beats too late. "Yes, sir."

"Hmm?"

"I'll—shit—I’ll c-come to sea with you." You splayed your hands on his back and met his strokes, riding in earnest.

He didn't so much as pause. "I knew you would."

"How?" Wildly, you thought your progression had a 9th house midheaven, maybe he could read it, maybe—

"Because who else is there to fuck you like this, hmm?"

Oh.

"Shut up!" Your voice had a wobbly whine to it the closer you got. "'M not becoming a pirate again for sex."

"Really? Tell—" He grunted, and your ego had never been bigger, hearing how you affected him in turn. "Tell yourself that—in my cabin—every—night—" He punctuated it lewdly, a sharper thrust at each word, but you squealed into his pectoral at how deep he reached.

"Fuck, sir, shit. There—"

"Here, bird?" Repeating the motion, strain in his voice.

"Yes, yes—ooh, thank you—sir—I'm—"

You saw white behind your eyes as you went limp in the crook of his arm, and you dimly registered his hand gripping your jaw, him murmuring somewhere close to your forehead, and god, if only he could kiss you.

"So pretty like this," he was saying, and you nipped at his fingers, sucking his thumb into your mouth, and he chuckled at that. "Let me—"

"Mhmhm!" You released him. "Yes, sir, you too."

He really gripped you, pressing the cuff of his hook to your right hip, his fingers digging into your ass, as he chased his own pleasure, threatening to reignite yours, too. You were just along for the ride, falling over him, your arms looped under his and your hands on his shoulder blades as he moved in and out of you, slow and deep. You were almost sleepy, silly enough to try to tease him. "Do I feel good, sir?" you cooed, your cheek on his chest.

"Yes, witch," he bit out.

"You said 'every night'? I'm not sure you can keep that up." You knew he was glaring down at you without looking. "You're a busy man, is all, sir."

You felt his dick twitch inside you, and you wondered if it was the teasing or the title that got to him, but his breathing became shallower, and a low whine sounded in the back of his throat, only legible to you with your ear on his ribcage. His movements became a little more frantic, his hand creeping between the two of you to pull out with a 'pop', and you felt warm liquid land on your back as he pumped his heavy cock of its last drops.

"Woman..." he said lowly as you rolled off of him, taking care not to get his cum on your bedding. "I think you're evil."

"And what does that mean, really?" You padded off to your pitiful ensuite to clean yourself up, only for him to follow moment later.

"This is tiny," Crocodile said in distaste, looking from the top of your shower curtain to the sink.

"Even by my standards," you conceded.

♂

Considering where his mouth had been, it wasn't wild to use a bathroom concurrently, and really about the intimacy that shipmates would share. Still, Crocodile wiped your back and your inner thighs carefully with a damp washcloth, his large fingers ghosting over where he'd gripped you, with you sat on the counter so he wouldn't have to crouch. "Sorry," he grunted.

"It's okay," you said, looking over your shoulder at the pair of you in the mirror. You'd always wondered how couples your sizes worked, and now you had an answer. Couples. You shook your head. "I like it." He hadn't held you that tightly the first night, since you didn't wake with any marks, and none developed the following days. "Did I really ride you already?"

"No," he said simply.

"What?"

He shrugged, dragging the comb he borrowed from you through his hair. "Just wanted to see you like that."

You hopped down and glared at him. "So you babied me back then." And it can't have been as satisfying as tonight.

"I didn't know what you could handle," he defended.

You scoffed and turned on your heel, back to the studio's bedroom area. It was a damn mess, your silk dress strewn over your desk and chair and possibly torn, yet his clothes were folded neatly in a pile. How he managed that bewildered you. You whipped the sheets up to straighten them and replaced a quilt, and became slightly wistful at the thought of leaving this place.

Crocodile emerged from the bathroom to your woolgathering. "What is it, bird?"

"I'm probably getting kicked out tomorrow."

"I told you to quiet down."

"Not just that. Men aren't allowed in here after sundown."

He looked around himself, blinking. "Is this a convent?"

"No, Crocodile. This is what it's like being a woman who isn't a noble. You've worked with some before, clearly."

"Sleeping with them is new."

Your heart fluttered, and you internally slapped that part of you that wanted him all to yourself. "Seriously? Nico Robin's new wanted poster is—"

"She was practically a teenager when we met," he said.

"Oh." You were going to say gorgeous. "We're about the same age."

"You're younger."

"Have a type?"

You could tell he didn't enjoy this line of questioning, but he played along. "Dark haired, scholarly... you could wear more heels, I suppose."

"You've only seen me in heels."

"Taller ones."

You plopped onto your bed, not quite freshly made but innocent-looking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "'Bird'."

Then you heard his footsteps, and his sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's a, uh, legend in my homeland." Oh. He was embarrassed. "There's supposedly a bird species that lives with crocodiles. Helps clean their teeth."

"You called me a toothpick."

He laid back beside you, and it was utterly boyish how he covered his eyes with his hook in embarrassment. "Can we not?"

Smiling, you laid on your side to enjoy the sight of him, and you luckily had some reprieve. "You know, there's crocodiles where I'm from. Here in the New World."

"How do you know if you've never been?"

"My grandparents call politicians buwaya and marines baboy."

"Sounds like wani."

"Crocodiles and pigs," you translated.

"This is awful pillow talk." He mirrored your position, making you eye-to-eye for the first time, and his irises were so pale you could almost see your own reflection in them.

"Aren't you a politician, Desert King?"

He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "No one's been quite so... opinionated about it."

"About?"

"Utopia."

"I've hardly said anything."

"Today. Let's see if you still feel the same way as before."

You had no idea what you said then, but you knew where your beliefs aligned, so, "Well, it sounds impossible, for one. If my understanding of Baroque Works is correct, they all thought of themselves as early investors, no?" He grunted affirmatively. "So show me a document or something. What your utopia is. Is it a monarchy? Are you really trying to be king? What's the future look like without you? Does that matter to you? Is the military purely defensive, or do you plan to conquer?"

"God, woman. Does your brain never stop?"

"Only during really, really good sex."

"During? So I need to keep you happy to have any peace."

"Sounds like marriage." He glanced over your way, and whatever you read in his expression terrified you a little. What does he think of— "I mean it. If you really want me involved, let me know what it is, buwaya."

"And if you fucked a Marine, would you call them a pig in bed, too?"

"They might like it too much."

Crocodile laughed at that, and drew you into his chest, and you thought you were in real danger of feeling at home there.

[missbluez]

Love looks pretty on you

A König x plus size female reader fic

the title is based on this song

I am still figuring out how to post on here. I posted it yesterday on my ao3 feel free to go there as well.

No warning besides a few instances of crude language.

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The bell above the door chimed softly as König stepped into the cosy cafe, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around him like a warm hug. It was his favourite spot in the city, a little safe haven tucked away from the bustling streets outside. A place where he could spend a few hours evading the responsibilities that constantly plague his mind.

As he approached the counter, his eyes fell upon you, the barista— a girl he had never seen before– he would definitely remember you if he had. You are a vision of warmth and comfort, something König deeply craved. Your beautiful hair framed a face that seemed to glow with kindness, your eyes twinkling with a playful light that surely made everyone around you feel at ease. Your smile wide and genuine as you spoke to the customer in front of him.

“Okay, so your drink will be ready in a few minutes…My colleague over there will call out your name when it's done…Okay, next!”

He barely registered your words, frozen as his eyes analysed your beautiful visage. 

“Sir, are you okay?” You ask after a few lapses of silence, slightly unnerved at his fixated stare. He shakes himself out of his stupor as he nods repeatedly.

” Ja, sorry. I’ll just have a black coffee to go.” he says avoiding your eyes, his anxiety getting the best of him once again. He usually sits inside the cafè, people-watching for a while. Watching civilians go about their lives takes his mind off of his own worries. He doesn`t know what exactly about you is making him react like this. It’s not like you are the first pretty girl he’s seen. And yes, your full and voluptuous figure is exactly what he likes in a woman. But he’s a trained assassin for fuck’s sake. He should be able to school his expression and not act like a teenager with a crush.

“Ooookay, your name is?” you ask, marker in hand. Your lips curved in an amuse d smile.

“König..” he replies quickly, watching you nod softly as you write his name in t he paper cup,

“German huh?...cute” you mumble that last part to yourself but he still mana ges to catch it. His cheeks heat up as his mind registers the complim ent.

“Ja, I’m Au strian…”. It comes out of his mouth before he even has the chance to think about all the reasons he shouldn’t be disclosing such personal information to a literal stranger, no matter how attracted he may be t o said stranger.

“Oh that’s a long way home, what brings you here?” the question makes him l ook back at you, your lips in a bright smile, one of those smiles that reaches your beautiful eyes, and it’s directed at him. König feels like he might pass out under the intensity of such a beautiful s mile. But he doesn’t get the chance to answer, he doesn’t even know what his answer would be but he doesn’t have to think about it. T he customer behind him complained about the wait – it had barel y been three minutes, but the way he was dressed indicated that he w as probably on his way to work and didn’t want to wait.

 König just s tepped away from the counter and walked to where he should pick up his drink. He doesn’t want to seem like a creep but his eyes cann ot seem to leave your form as you greet customers and take their orders. Your fingers are quick on the touchpad, you barely have to lo ok at it as you tap away.

The sound of his name distracts him from his thoughts and he walks forward to pick up his drink. The to-go cup is warm in his big hand, he doesn’t wan t to leave but he thinks that staying when he ordered it to go might be a bit weird. He looks outside, it’s raining. That might be a good exc use, even though no one will question why he’s staying his mind is alr eady looking for excuses, anxiety isn’t really a logical thing. He doe sn’t have to think about it long because just when he is about to sit d own in his usual seat the sound of your distressed voice makes him l ook your way. A customer is standing really close to you, even with the counter between you his body is too close as he screams ab out something, König doesn’t really pay attention to whatever t he bald guy is spewing. The only thing on his mind is you, and how t hat bright beautiful smile is gone, now replaced with a panicked look.

“ S-sir, I t old you when you ordered that we are out of oat milk at the moment, you agreed to almond milk. I even rechecked w-with you,” you say t rying to be as respectful as possible.

“Listen h ere you fat bitch, I told you I wanted oat milk. What part of that didn ’t you understand, you dumb cunt” the angry customer spits out . As soon as those words are out of his mouth König stands up from his seat, quickly making his way towards the counter, but before he has the chance to say or do anything he is surprised by seeing you grab a cup and throw its contents at the irate man’s face. König reacts quickly grabbing the man by the hood of his jacket as he attempts to lunge at you.

“Call me a bitch or a cunt again and the next cup will be boiling hot” you spit out, your hands shaking.

“ I want her fired! I want this stupid cunt fired!” the man screams. 

“ That’s enough!” says König shaking the sputtering man. “ Apologize to the lady and never show your face here again or I’ll chop off your balls and feed them to your sorry ass,” König says menacingly, lowering himself to be face-to-face with the guy, who at the mere sight of König’s hunkering form started stuttering out apologies.

“ Now, scram” König says as he lets him go the guy all but runs to the exit.

When yo u see that the guy is gone you take a few deep breaths trying to control yourself, you don’t want to start crying, especially not in front of the hottest guy you have ever seen, But you can’t help it as a few tears manage to roll down your cheeks.

The people that had gathered were starting to disperse after the guy had left. Your boss who is also your best friend gives you a quick hug.

“ Hey girl, don’t mind that asshole…you should take a break now okay? And if you’re still not feeling okay after you can leave. I can make do on my own.” she says after leaving a kiss on your temple, you just nod as you wipe away the tears.

“ Are you okay, Liebling? “ König asks, not even noticing how the nickname just slips out of him, too busy watching your tear-stricken face. Your eyes are red from rubbing them, and your eyeliner is completely smudged. But you still look gorgeous, he thinks.

“ Yes, thank you König. I can’t believe he was actually going to attack me… I guess I shouldn’t have covered him in milk…” you say with a bitter laugh. Your eyes going to his. This time he doesn’t look away.

“ Nein, listen to me. Schatz. He deserved it. If it were up to me, much worse would have happened to him”

“ Oh yeaah, the whole chopping off his balls and feeding them to him, thing. I must admit that is much more imaginative than what I would have gone with” you recall with an airy laugh, it makes his heart flutter and he can’t help but smile at you.

“Yeah, that. Um…I heard you’re going on break now…would you like to join me?” He doesn’t even know where he gathered the courage to ask you from but he’s going to take it. 

Your brows shoot up, your mouth slightly open, clearly in shock. For a second there he is scared you will reject him and he is already chastising himself for even asking.

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Let me just get the apron off, grab my phone and I´ll be right there.” You reply beaming at him.

He can’t contain his smile as he watches you step back, and whisper something to your friend, who immediately looks at him so he just awkwardly waves at her. You let out a laugh when you see her narrow her eyes at him before you walk into a staff room.

A few minutes later you show up, sans apron. Oh god, he might just die. The apron hid a lot of you from him and it might be crazy but he has declared war on the stupid piece of fabric. Because even though it’s raining outside, it’s still summer so you’re wearing a short-sleeved shirt in a shade of blue that looks wonderful with your skintone. You are wearing it with a white skirt that falls slightly above your knees, exposing your deliciously wide thighs. He has to make himself look back at your face or he might just embarrass himself in front of you and all the people in the cafè.

You sit down in front of him, he hadn’t noticed but you had brought your lunch with you. He was elated, you wanted to spend time with him and didn’t just say yes to spending time with him just out of obligation because he had come to your aid.

“Oh, your coffee must be cold by now! Let me get you another one!” You don’t give him the chance to refuse as you quickly stand up and go behind the counter. He can’t help but watch your back as you go, the skirt moving side to side with every step you take.

It doesn’ t take you long to make his order, it’s a simple black coffee after all.

You come back with the coffee in hand and a smile on your face. Before sit ting down you place the cup right in front of him, you are leaning s o close that he can get a whiff of your perfume, something warm an d sweet, just like you.

“So… you didn’t get a chance to reply earlier, what brings you here?” you ask, a voiding his gaze while you open the takeout container that has your lunch in,

After a fe w moments of silence, you look back at him

“ You don’t really have to answer you know” you said with a soft smile.

“ No no, Schatz. It’s not that…I came here because of work, I am in the military. And after finishing up with…our business here I decided to stay. I have been here for about three weeks and found this place on the second day. I have come every day but this is the first time I have seen you.”

Your eyes are wide open as you take in everything he says, it’s the most you have heard him speak and you can’t help but be completely captivated by his deep soothing voice. You blink slowly as you nod.

“Oh, that’s because I was away for a month! I went to Italy with a friend. I got back yesterday.”  You say excitedly as you unwrap your sandwich. It was cut in half so with a warm smile you offer him a half. He just shakes his head.

“No, thank you, Liebling.” he watches you take a bite of the veggie sandwich, your tongue slowly going over your lips, licking off the crumbs.

“Oh mein gott” he mumbles under his breath, feeling all flustered at the sight.

“I’m guessing it’s German… but what do those things you call me mean? Yo u aren’t insulting me are you?” you huff a laugh.

“Oh no, absolutely not! They’re… how do you say….um oh, yes. Pet name. They aren’t insults” he corrects quickly with a growing blush on his face.

“Oh, okay,” you say, suddenly shy, and flustered.

“ So what were you doing in Italy?” he asks trying to change the topic.

“ Oh, a friend’s friend commissioned a few works from me, and it was easier to be there while I finished the projects… I should have probably started by saying that I am an artist,” you say before taking another bite of your sandwich.

It fits you, he thinks. Someone as beautiful as you definitely should be out there creating more beauty

“ With the sort of work you do you must travel a lot, although I’m guessing that it doesn’t involve much sightseeing,” you say as you slowly wrap the other part of your sandwich, already done with your lunch.

“Yeah, it usually involves a lot of M.R.E’s and sleepless hours in undisclosed locations. “ he says with a laugh. The mere sound of it sends shivers down your spine.

“How long do you have until you get back?” you ask, your eyes fixed on his, the way the light coming from the fixtures hits his face makes them seem even bluer if that’s even possible, the colour reminded you of the crystalline waters of your favourite beach. For some reason, your mind started picturing you and König on that beach, both enjoying the bright sun as you share a fruity cocktail. You shake yourself out of your daydream right before it takes a riskier turn.

“ I technically have a few months off, but you never know. They might call me in tomorrow if something comes up. Officially I’m on leave though.” He says with a huff. “ How about you? Are you working here part-time or…?” He didn’t know how to ask. He knows that being an artist sometimes isn’t the most lucrative endeavour, and he didn’t want to offend you. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with it if you suddenly decide you don’t want his company. He internally acknowledges that it might be a bit insane to feel like that after a whopping thirty minutes of knowing each other. But he already knows he’s gone. Getting to know you will only intensify those feelings. He is sure of it.

“Oh, nooo. Even though I spend a lot of time here I don’t actually work here. I usually just help out when Willow’s understaffed. I used to work here when the whole artist thing didn’t pay much.” you reply after taking a sip of your drink.

“Willow’s my best friend, she owns this place. That guy wasn’t going to get far with trying to have me fired” you squeak out a laugh. König has already decided that it might be his favourite sound ever.

“He was just pissed off and decided to take it out on you. Even if you were an employee and not my best friend I wouldn’t fire you “Your head snaps back at the sound of your best friend’s voice. She’s standing behind you with two plates in her hand. “On the house, for having to deal with that asshole.” She says with a smile while setting the plates between you on the table. It was your favourite dessert.

“Thank you, Willow, you can stop eavesdropping now” you tell her narrowing your eyes.

“Thank you,” König says looking at her, she just gives him a knowing smile before walking back to behind the counter.

“What kind of art do you do?” He asks, his eyes not leaving you as you pick up a fork and dig into the delicious sweet.

“Oh, I like to dabble in a bit of everything. But what I love doing is sculptures! Although I also love painting. I generally do realistic stuff, the last job I had, the Italy one, was a fresco of a reimagining of The Birth of Venus. I was given creative liberty so I really liked it. I obviously took inspiration from Botticelli but I pretty much had free will and it turned out pretty great in my humble opinion.” you reach for your phone, unlocking it and going through your gallery as you continue talking. “ I want to sculpt something again, It’s been a while.”

He hasn’t said a word yet but he thinks that he can listen to you passionately talking about anything until the end of times.

You turn your phone around and he can barely hide his shock.

“Wow, Liebling. That is absolutely beautiful, you are really talented” He says reaching for the phone so he can have a better look at the picture, his fingers brush against yours and you both feel a jolt of electricity at the touch. You watch him as he carefully looks at the picture. Nothing but deep honest admiration in his eyes and you smile at the pride bubbling in your chest. You know you are good at what you do but sometimes that self-assurance can waver. Praise coming from a man who looks like he might have walked out of one of those paintings is doing wonders for your confidence. As you watch his face, even littered with all those scars you appreciate how attractive he is. But he is not only handsome, there’s a beauty to him that reminds you of the gods and magical creatures in many of the paintings you admire, a beauty that will surely transcend time. While you watch him go through your gallery you can’t help but think about what would be like to have him pose for you.

“ I would absolutely love to draw him” you think as you watch his brows go up when he finds a picture he particularly likes.

“Draw who?” he asks looking away from the phone and back at you. His bright eyes completely focused on you. You feel heat climbing up your face, oh god you had said that aloud.

“Um…you, I like your face” Oh wow, that makes you sound so articulate, you have to stop yourself from facepalming as you stammer out an excuse. “ I mean… you’re….uh, no yeah I’ve got nothing. I just would like to paint you sometime” you laugh nervously.

“I’d be honoured,” he says with a shy smile, and he seems honest. Which might be insane considering you barely know each other but neither of you can be bothered to care about that. He wants to though, he really wants to get to know you, he wants to know every little thing about you. 

The sound of a big group walking into the cafe distracts the both of you, you look up and realise that it’s the lunch rush, you don’t want to part from him but you promised Willow that you would help her, two of her employees called in sick.

“ I probably should go back to… work” You make air quotes at the word work letting out a short laugh.

“I would love to take you out sometime,” he asks looking at you with a nervous smile, he knows that if he doesn’t ask you now he will regret it later.

“Yes absolutely” You give him a wide smile as you stand up. He is not even gone yet but you want to see him as soon as possible “I get out from here at five “ you quickly say making your way towards the counter, it might be a but desperate but he doesn’t seem to notice and you don’t really care.

“I’ll see you at five then, Liebling. “ König says before waving goodbye.

You wave back, a flustered smile on your face while you start greeting customers.

[busycloudy]

The Love Potion

 *Sigh* Here we are, once again. This is the 3rd and FINAL part, hurray! 

 ft: The rest of NRC students

Tw: None, but if I need to add any please inform me!

 A fluff and crack fanfic

The reader is MC and goes by they/them pronouns. The reader is already in a relationship with these characters.

 Characters may or may not be ooc 

Hope you enjoy!

Ace Trappola

Bro really asked Crewel "So, do I have to attend my classes still, or...?" He used you as and excuse to skip classes, and somehow it worked. He brought you back to Heartslabyul with a big grin on his face. When Riddle stopped him and asked why he wasn't at class he just said "I gotta take care of my dear MC here" And Riddle just stormed off to ask a teacher about it. Ace brought you back to his room to hangout and chill since he had the joy of not having to go to classes. He was just casually going through his phone when you plopped your head on his lap. He gave you a quick peck on the lips, well was going to, until you cupped his face and smothered him in kisses. He was a bit taken aback but quickly recovers and a small grin grew on his face. He kisses you a few times all over your face, then returning back to his phone. Lovesick you was a teensy bit upset his phone was getting more attention than you, but you let it slide, for now. Jokes on him, he had 10x more homework than he did before. That's what he gets for using you as an excuse to skip class.

Deuce Spade

Why is he even surprised? It's just more trouble caused by Ace and Grim. He brought you back to his room and went to his classes, before doing so he gave you a peck on the forehead. After all his classes were done he went back to his room and started on his homework. You were wanting his attention so you walked over to behind him and put your arms over his shoulders. "Hm? Do you need something MC?" He raised a brow. "No, just wanted to cuddle" You innocently smiled. "Has anyone ever told you how cute you are? Your smile is brighter than the sun!" You said. Deuce blushed "T-thanks..." He mumbled. Once he was finished with his homework he cuddled you for the rest of the day.

(Deuce deserves more writing and love but I do NOT know what to write)

Cater Diamond

Cater was walking around the halls, scrolling on magicam, his finger gliding across the screen as he scrolled down. He saw some cute pictures of a cafe that had recently opened. Maybe he would take you there sometime-"Cater!!!" A familiar voice interrupted Cater's thoughts. It was Ace, and Grim, and Deuce holding you over his shoulder-Wait...Deuce holding you over his shoulder?!"What'd you freshies do this time?" Cater asked as Deuce put you in Cater's arms, trying to not seem so worried. Then Cater saw the hearts in your eyes, and he immediately knew. "How did you get prefect to drink a love potion??" Cater questioned. "It wasn't our fault! They was the one that drank the water!" Ace defended. Cater looked confused. "It's a long ish story" Grim shrugged. Cater felt a sudden warmth to his cheeks as something cupped his face. "Well, we're gonna go" Grim announced, the three then leaving."Aww, your cheeks are so squishy.." You said with a droopy smile. Cater blushed. "W-well..." "I could take so much pictures of you and show em off. You deserve to be seen my everyone" You cut Cater off. Cater felt the heat on his face grow. Ok, you're a bit good at making him flustered...If you continued he was gonna turn out like Riddle when he's mad."Instead of staying in the hallways we should go back to my room.." Cater mentioned. The time you were under the influence of that love potion Cater took many pictures of you, and some videos too. You was just too cammable! How could he not? Don't worry, he won't post anything without your permission! (The pictures were mainly for him to look back at and smile...)

Jack Howl

His ears twitch at the sound of 3 freshmans voices. "JACKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!" they yelled, to which he simply sighed in return. "What is it this time!? Wait, why does prefect have hearts in their eyes???" Jack was puzzled as Ace quickly gave you to him. "Perfect drank a love potion, which was totally NOT my fault, it was all Grim's," Grim groaned in the backround "So yeah anyways goodluck taking care of them the potion doesn't wear off until tomorrow!!!!" Then he ran of with the other freshman. Jack was confused, to say the least, but alas took you to Savanaclaw.When he walked in he got some strange looks while you was being carried over his shoulder, but simply ignored them as it wasn't a big deal."Jack, Why ya carryin' MC over ya shoulder?" Ruggie questioned as he walked oast Jack."Ace, Grim, and Deuce somehow got them to drink a love potion, so now I gotta be with them" Jack shrugged."Oh, well good luck with that" Ruggie chuckled, then going his own way.Jack had finally let you down after you got to his dorm, then he got started on his homework while he let you hug him from behind. Offly enough, he was much more comfortable this way and it kinda helped him focus.

Soon enough it was 9pm, and he was drowsy, so he went to sleep, ans joined him so he wrapped his arm around you, placing a kiss on your neck.

Floyd Leech

He was walking around the hallways, upset because he hasn't seen his shrimpy all day! Where in the world could they be??? People moved out of his way, noticing he wasn't the happiest at this moment. He then felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around with a frown, which faded away when he saw you. "Aw~ Shrimpy where have you been?" He smiled as he took you from the troublemakers. Meanwhile Ace and Grim were fighting over which one should tell him, but Grim got shoved forward "Nya! No fair! You owe me tuna after this!" Grim angrily said to Ace. Ace rolled his eyes in response "What is it Baby Seal?" Floyd raised a brow. "MC drank a love potion..." Grim said. "Myah! Run!" Grim, Ace, and Duece then ran. Floyd huffed "How do you get in this much trouble so often shrimpy? Whatever, this may be a bit fun" Floyd smiled, then taking you to his room. He was supposed to be at monstro lounge, but Azul wouldn't mind. "Floyd, has anyone mentioned how adorable you are?" You brought up. "Eh?~ Thank you shrimpy, but I'd say you more adorable yourself, ehe~" He said in return with a toothy grin. You two had comments like this for practically all day, and cuddled when the day ended.

Epel Felmeir

Epel was in the Botanical Garden. Why? Probably for something in potions. He had a basket of things for his potions assignment and began to walk back on his merry way but heard a familiar voice.Grim entered the garden as you were being carried by Deuce and Ace. "Epel, MC drank a love potion!!!!" Grim squealed out of breath. "H...huh?! How??? Y'all troublemakers always causin' a problem for MC huh..." Epel saw you, hearts in your eyes, and was worried but also noticed how adorable you was. "Take your partner instead of admiring them all day long, would ya?" Epel put down the basket and took you in his arms, well, more like let you lean against his shoulder as he helped you walk back to pomefiore, but you get the point!Epel let you take a seat, then beginning to work on his homework. You and the other freshman were supposed to all study together today, but because of the love potion you obviously won't be able to.You walked up behind Epel, as you was beginning to get bored, and quite lonely at that, wrapping your arms around him and looking at his homework.You could practically feel the heat radiating off of Epel when you did this, which made you have a small grin.You had seen Epel get stuck on some questions, so you had graciously helped him, to which he thanked you for.Epel said it was starting to get dark and that you should get sleep, and you had gone to the bed, hut said "Hurry up and cuddle with me soon though..." in a drowsy tone, so Epel wrote his letter to his meemaw about this whole thing and you quickly, then cuddling up next to you with a small blush.

Silver

Silver was startled awake from his sleep with a yell. "SILVER!!!!!!!!!" Ace yelled.Silver jumped awake with a questionable look on his face. "Hm? What exactly is it you need, Ace?" Then he saw the look on your face. And your eyes.Silver had heard about a love potion from his father, and from potionoligy, and how anyone who drank one would have hearts in there eyes, and you certainly did."Take your significant other!! I ain't taking care of them all day!" Ace quickly gave you to Silver, then going off with Deuce and Grim.Silver was still a bit drowsy, but he needed to ask Lilia if there was any way to cure this.Silver walked into Diasomnia, you clinging onto his arm."Boo! Oh? Is that your little partner clinging into you?~" Lilia chuckled.Silver didn't have much of a reaction to Lilia's scare, as he was used to it at this point, but nodded his head yes, then saying "They had drank a love potion, considering the look in their eyes. I'm not sure how, but do you know if there's a cure?" "No, there's no cure that I'm aware of, so good luck with your clingy partner" Lilia said, then smiling cheekily.Silver walked off to his room, and you just continued clinging onto him. "Silver, your eyes are so beautiful... I could get lost in them" You smiled. "Being with you doesn't feel real, it feels like a dream" You continued to ramble on.

Silver chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. Your warmth made him get more and more drowsy, causing the two of you to soon fall asleep.

Oh, Lilia will DEFINITELY take a picture of this.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was on his way to Diasomnia since he had finished all his classes and wanted to check if Malleus was fine, and there he happened to see 3 freshmans and his significant other being carried at the end of the hall. "MC!" Sebek ran to the part of the hall you were at and immediately took you in his arms. It was silent for a moment, then Deuce spoke "MC, somehow," Deuce looked at Grim amd Ace, "drank some of a love potion. Crewel said the effects will only be around for about 24 hours" Ace bit his lip, expected loud enough yelling to make him go deaf, but instead it was silent. So silent you could almost hear crickets as Sebek had a look of confusion, anger, and, most of all, worry.The freshman slowly backed up, then ran away.You played with Sebek's hair, booped his nose, and kissed him so much on the way to Diasomnia Sebek couldn't help but blush. He entered the dorm and continued walking to his room until a Lilia appeared. "Ah? Why's MC here?"Sebek looked frozen. "Those idiot humans somehow got them to drink love potion" Sebek answered, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Malleus's voice came about "They'll be just fine Sebek, there's no need to worry." Lilia interrupted "That's only if they had a tadge bit. Did they have a tadge bit?" Sebek responded, saying Deuce said it would only last 24 hours according to Crewel. "Excellent! Well get on your merry way then" Lilia chuckled as he went to get tomato juice. "Thank you Waka-sama and Lilia-Sama" Sebek did a half bow and left.Sebek couldn't really focus on his work. No matter how much he wanted to. All the complements, kisses, hugs from behind, everything you did just out him in a different thought process."MC, I need silence and complete focus to work on this homework" Sebek stated. "My soldier, you've been working on that foreverrrr, can't I just get a bit of attention? Please?" You had a look on your face Sebek found hard to say no to. "...Fine, but only for a few minutes!" Sebek slightly frowned, but wasnt the slightest bit upset.Unfortunately, Sebek had fallen asleep in your arms as you brushed his hair with your fingers.

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AHHHH IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!! IT'S BEEN MONTHSSSSSS BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT!

Anyways, I hope you lovelies enjoyed! I will be writing more every so often, but I got this for now!