#might write snippets this year as well but there's not much to write for this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tacobacoyeet · 2 months ago

Note

Could I request a fic about George x Muggle!reader? Like she stays and works in the little village near the Burrow. Could either be snippets of them throughout the years having little flirty talks and slowly turns into a George feeling protective/scared for her safety kinda thing. Fluff/smut/angst/maybe happyending? That I'll leave up to you if this isn't too much of a ask!

Absolutely love your work!

flour and flowers | george weasley x reader

a/n: writing a bunch today to distract myself from the day's events. thank you for the request and your kindness! hope you like it :)

warnings: a cross between implied smut and actual smut, mentions of grief, not proofread

The first time George Weasley saw you, you were balancing a tray of teacups in one hand and flicking a disobedient curl out of your eyes with the other. Your fingers moved with the practiced grace of someone who knew how to carry comfort in porcelain. The sunlight caught the edges of your hair and made your smile look warmer than the tea you were serving. You stood outside the village café—chipped pastel paint, a hand-drawn chalkboard sign still smudged with yesterday’s specials, and the smell of something sweet curling through the air like it was trying to lure people inside.

He’d just popped down from the Burrow to run an errand for Molly, not expecting anything more exciting than a loaf of bread and a scolding for forgetting the milk last time. But then he saw you—sunlight on your shoulders, shoes scuffed from too much walking, your laugh spilling out like it belonged in the air.

You didn’t notice him at first. Just another stranger with freckled hands and storm-worn eyes. But when your gazes met—something in your chest fluttered. Like the world paused to see what you’d say first.

He slowed down, just slightly. Told himself it was curiosity.

Told himself a lot of things that day.

You noticed him, of course. Tall, red-haired, freckled all over with that vaguely chaotic glint in his eyes—the kind of man who didn’t exactly blend in. You offered him a smile out of politeness. He blinked like he hadn’t expected it.

“Tea?” you asked, voice light. “Or are you more of a coffee and chaos type?”

He huffed a laugh. “What gave me away?”

You shrugged. “The hair. The grin. The air of impending mischief.”

He took a step closer, nodding toward the tray. “Those for customers or is one of them a peace offering?”

“Depends,” you said. “You planning to stay a while or just here for the bread and doom?”

George smiled. Fully. The kind that showed teeth and softened him around the edges.

“Maybe both,” he said. “But if I’m going to be doomed, might as well be with a cup of something sweet.”

From that moment on, George only ever stopped at one place to pick up bread.

Didn’t matter if the other shop was closer. Or cheaper. Or didn’t make him feel like his chest might cave in every time you smiled at him from behind the counter. He came back anyway.

Sometimes he bought things he didn’t need—an extra croissant, a jar of local jam, a scone you said turned out too flat but still tasted fine. But mostly, he came for the way your voice smoothed out the sharp edges in his head. The way your laughter cut through the fog he still lived in, even years later. Sometimes he didn’t buy anything at all. Just sat out front with a cup of tea and let you talk to him about things that had nothing to do with magic or war or anything that had broken him before. He listened closely. Memorized the shape of your sentences, the way you tapped your fingers when you were excited, the soft hum you made when you stirred your drink. And with every word, every passing moment, something unnamed began to stitch itself back together inside him.

You didn’t know who he was. Not really. And he liked it that way.

Still, there were things you noticed.

He always stood with one shoulder tilted just slightly forward, like he was shielding something—or had once been forced to. There was a soft scar tucked behind the mess of curls on the right side of his head, where one ear should’ve been. You never asked about it.

The air around him always felt... different. Like it held a memory you couldn’t name. Like the warmth of his smile came from somewhere far away, carried on something heavier than it looked.

He laughed with you. Teased you. Rolled his eyes dramatically when you forgot his favorite muffin. But behind every grin, there was a flicker of something else. Grief, maybe. Or guilt. Or the echo of a name he hadn’t spoken out loud in a long time.

He came in more often as the weeks went by. Never said why. Just appeared like the wind—one minute the café was quiet, the next, the bell above the door chimed and there he was with a smirk and a sarcastic comment about your apron.

Sometimes you’d catch him staring out the window with a far-off look, like the village wasn’t quite real to him yet. Like he was still waiting for something—or someone—to tug him back into the storm.

Once, when it rained and no one else came in, you let him linger long after closing. You talked about stupid things: the worst thing you’d ever baked, his distaste for mint in desserts, a goat from the next village over who kept escaping. He laughed, really laughed, and then went quiet, like it surprised him.

Another time, he brought you a flower he swore he didn’t pick on purpose. It was crushed, a little muddy, and stuffed inside a napkin.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said.

But you kept it anyway. Pressed it between the pages of your recipe book. Every time you caught a glimpse of the browned, brittle petals, you smiled. Your fingers would sometimes linger on the page longer than necessary, tracing the soft edges as if they still held the warmth of his hand. It made your stomach twist, in that way beginnings always do—nervous and hopeful and quietly sweet.

The more he came around, the more he softened. Not all at once. Not loudly. But in small, steady ways.

He started fixing things—your sticky back door hinge, the café’s squeaky chalkboard sign, the wobbly stool by the window he always claimed as his. He never asked. Just noticed. Just did. And when you caught him at it, sleeves rolled to the elbows, wand tucked out of sight but clearly used, he’d shrug like it didn’t matter—like it hadn’t taken him an hour and a half to charm the latch back into place just right. Once, you found a small stack of napkins folded to level the back table leg. On one, he’d doodled a tiny magpie.

He started asking things, too. Quietly, like it cost him something. If you’d always lived here. If you ever wanted to leave. If you were scared to be alone at night. What your favorite song was. What your worst day looked like.

You caught him humming once. Under his breath, half-conscious of it. A melody that didn’t belong to the radio or the street—just something he was keeping close. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t want to scare it away. But something about the sound of it—gentle, aimless, half-happy—stayed with you. It echoed in your chest long after he left that evening, like the warmth of it had threaded into your ribs and settled there. You wondered what memory it belonged to. Or if maybe… it had something to do with you.

And slowly, you became part of the way he healed. Not by doing anything big, not by demanding he be different—but just by being there. Being warm. Being constant.

He stopped bracing when you touched his arm. He started remembering how you took your tea. He stayed longer. Looked lighter.

You weren’t magic. Not like him. But you felt like a kind of spell anyway.

---

He realized it on a Tuesday.

He’d been walking down the main lane into town, already half-smiling at the thought of seeing you, maybe teasing you for your questionable muffin-of-the-day choice—when he saw it.

The café was dark.

The lights were off. The chairs inside still up on tables. The chalkboard sign outside had been knocked over, lying face-down in the dirt.

Something in his chest snapped to attention.

He picked up his pace without thinking, scanning the windows, checking for movement. Nothing. No soft music, no scent of baking, no warm hum in the air that usually buzzed with your presence.

Then he heard it—from a passerby at the grocer’s doorstep.

“Shame about the café. Robbed last night, I heard. Poor girl must’ve been scared out of her mind.”

He didn’t hear the rest. Not really.

His hands were already shaking.

Because he didn’t know where you were.

Didn’t know if you’d been hurt. If you’d cried. If you were alone when it happened. If you were still alone now.

And that helpless, breathless ache clawed its way back through him.

Because the last time he’d loved someone enough to fear losing them, he had.

He didn’t think. Didn’t stop. Just moved.

Through the square. Past the post. His boots hit the pavement too hard, his breath shallow, heart thudding loud enough it might as well have been shouting your name.

The baker saw him and called something out—he didn’t hear it.

He rounded the corner toward your flat above the café, his hand already on the railing of the steps before his brain caught up. One breath. Two. Then he knocked.

And when you opened the door, eyes puffy, sweater too big, hair undone from what must’ve been a long and sleepless night—he couldn’t speak.

You blinked at him, then tried to smile. “Hi.”

He swallowed hard. “You’re okay.”

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

And then he was pulling you in, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, his face buried in your neck like the world had stopped spinning and he needed to feel gravity again.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to.

Not yet.

Inside, the flat is dim—curtains drawn, a half-finished cup of tea gone cold on the table. You close the door behind him, the latch clicking into place like a sigh. Neither of you speaks at first.

He doesn’t let go.

Not until your hands come up to rest on his back, and even then, only enough to pull away and look at you—really look.

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, low. Rough.

You shake your head. “No. Just broke a window. Took the till. Some stock. I wasn’t here.”

Relief floods him so fast it feels like weakness. He sinks onto the edge of your couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

You watch him for a moment. Then sit beside him. “George?”

He looks up. His eyes are too bright.

“I—I didn’t know where you were,” he says, and it’s like the words rip something open.

“I thought—God, I thought I was going to lose you, and I didn’t even—”

He stops himself. But his hands find yours. Threaded. Tight.

“I don’t think I can do that again,” he admits. “Lose someone I—”

You squeeze his fingers.

“I'm here,” you whisper.

And this time, when he leans in, it’s not with panic. It’s with promise.

His lips brush yours like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. Gentle. Testing. But once you respond, his restraint slips, just a little—your mouths part, meet again, deeper this time. His fingers knot themselves in your hair, and your hands find the edge of his shirt, anchoring him to you.

The kiss turns hungry in a heartbeat, built from everything unspoken and aching. Your bodies shift closer, knees bumping, breath warm and shared, and when he moans softly into your mouth, it sends a bolt of heat down your spine. You gasp against him, fingers curling at the hem of his shirt, dragging it up, needing more—needing him.

His thumb grazes the underside of your jaw as he pulls back for only a second, eyes searching yours, glazed with want. “Is this going to be okay?” he murmurs.

You’ve wanted him for so long it feels like it’s woven into your blood. Like every soft glance and crooked grin and half-step closer was a stitch, and now you’re coming apart to make room for him. Your body aches for him, not just with need—but with something fuller. Something that feels dangerously close to love.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

And you kiss him like it’s the answer to every question he never dared to ask.

You’re not sure who exhales first, but the sigh between you is shared, warm, heavy with everything you haven’t said aloud.

When he pulls back, it’s barely an inch. His forehead rests against yours. His thumb still moves in slow circles at your side.

“Tell me this isn’t nothing,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, barely breathing. “It’s everything.”

He kisses you again.

Not tentative this time—there’s a hunger to it now, an ache that’s been building under every laugh, every shared cup of tea, every moment you made him feel like someone whole. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweater, slow and reverent, like he’s asking permission. Like he’s afraid if he rushes, it’ll all disappear.

You nod before he even says a word.

That night is soft. You take your time, like the two of you are learning a new language written in breath and bare skin. He kisses the slope of your shoulder, the bend of your knee, murmurs something indecipherable against your stomach that sounds like worship. You drag your fingers through his hair, pull him back to your mouth, feel his weight press into you like he’s trying to be rewritten by your body alone. The rhythm you find together is slow, reverent—like memory, like healing. He touches you like he doesn’t believe he’s allowed.

You let him.

You tell him he is.

And in the morning, the sun paints gold across your floorboards, catching on the curls at the base of his neck where he sleeps, half-tangled in your sheets.

You wake before him. Watch his chest rise and fall, slow and steady, one hand curled loosely beneath his chin. He looks younger in the light—unguarded, almost boyish, like the weight he carries has finally been set down for a while.

Something in your chest swells. You press a kiss to his shoulder, light as air, and whisper his name just to be sure it’s real.

He stirs. Wakes slowly. Stretches. Blinks at you like he’s still dreaming.

“I want to try something,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Try what?”

He doesn’t answer. Just slips out of bed, bare feet padding over wood, and reaches for his wand from where it rests on the windowsill. You sit up, blanket clutched to your chest, watching as he steps into the patch of sunlight by your window.

He closes his eyes. Breathes.

He thinks about the way you looked at him last night. About your hands in his hair. The sound you made when he whispered that you mattered. The way it felt to finally, finally be held without fear.

When he opens his eyes, he lifts the wand and speaks—clear, quiet, certain.

“Expecto Patronum.”

And for the first time since Fred, something silver and stunning bursts from the tip—light and wild and alive.

It takes the shape of a magpie.

He turns to you, eyes glassy, smile trembling.

You don’t say anything. Just reach for him.

And he comes home to you all over again.

-----

tagging: @hanneh69 @jamespotteraliveversion @glennussy

#a writes #ava's asks #george weasley #harry potter #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #harry potter x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #george weasley angst

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cosmalumi · 3 months ago

Text

A summary of the rest of the story:

This is late, but better late than never I suppose. I've been asked a couple of times over the years to post the rest of the story, but I never knew how to go about writing it up, so here we go Chapter 3

This was the last one I had a proper script for. I guess partially 4? There was a snippet with Twilight and Spike figuring out how to find element bearers but I dunno if it made much sense. The script here is a bit rough and probably needed some refinement, but it gets the point across. The following are the last pages I worked on, two of which were never posted.

[START SCRIPT] He gives a short laugh. “Sorry about that! Nice to meet’cha. Name’s Nox. I hope those restraints aren’t too tight. You might be a prisoner, but there’s no need for you to be uncomfortable here.”

“…” Fluttershy glares at him.

Wow that’s actually a really great impression of my boss… You’re not related to Brass are you?

I guess you’re not the talkative type huh? That's alright, I can do it for you. How’s about we start with a name?

"Says here you’re Fluttershy. Only child of Cloud Cover and Posey who were prominent figures of the Velvet Carnation Movement until their untimely deaths ten years ago during the Ponyville fire, leading to you dropping out of Cloudsdale flight school. Currently you live in a cottage on the outskirts of New Ponyville and run an animal caretaking service.” Fluttershy is shocked, and he’s grinning “Pretty spooky, huh? The crown’s got eyes and ears everywhere… But it looks like few places are escaping us… saaay… the hiding places of your Red Sun friends?”

Fluttershy raises an eyebrow.

“Look, I get it. You don’t trust me or anypony in the castle for that matter, but you’re here on charges of attempted regicide and that means you’re on a fast track to a short rope. But I know you’re just another pony that’s been twisted by the Red Sun. If you work with us-

“I’ll never work for Nightmare Moon!” She blurts out angrily.

“But you’ll follow the Red Sun? Do you even know what kind of things they do? Because they certainly aren’t the heroes some ponies make them out to be.

“All they want is an Equestria where ponies can live in peace-” “Peace?”He places several photos on the table. ”Blood rituals, bombings of public gathering places, foalnapping and ransoming ponies to fund their activities.” Fluttershy's face is concerned. “Remember the wild weather that destroyed the harvest in Tall Tale last fall? Well the Red Sun’s goons stole the relief supplies our Queen sent. They were alright with leaving thousands to starve.

“Even if that were the case, I didn’t want to do what I did, but someone had to stand up to her. She’s nothing more than a big bully and I couldn’t sit around anymore and watch her hurt more innocent ponies. I had to try, and If that means this is my last day on Gaia, then so be it. New Fluttershy isn’t a coward!” “That’s quite noble of you. Ponies that selfless are hard to come by… which is why I don’t want to see you go down for this. Tell me who helped plan the attack and the Crown won’t press charges. I’ll make it so you never stepped hoof in Canterlot. You could go on with your life… Go back to your cottage… back to your pet.” Slides forward picture of angel. [PAGE BREAK] Fluttershy is thinking of Angel and other animals from back home. "I can’t do that. They helped put my life back together. I won’t let you hurt them. “Would they do the same for you though? I mean… they didn’t come for you when you got captured. They don’t care about YOU, they cared about what you could do FOR them.” “What and you care?” “Fluttershy, I just want to give you your life back. The way I see it, a cult took advantage of a young troubled mare and made you do things you'd never think to do otherwise. If the Red Sun was willing to sacrifice someone as kind as you, who else would they be willing to throw away for their selfish goals?” “They’re not like that…” She looks a bit more unsure this time. [PAGE BREAK] All I ask in return for your freedom is a name. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the ones that care for you and would like to see you again. Take some time to think about it. He gets up and leaves. Fluttershy looks down pensively. [PAGE BREAK]

Nox exits. “That went well! Wanna grab a bite, Sabre? I’m thinking sandwiches-- Something with peanut butter. Crunchy, obviously. Crystal Sabre is there, looking at Nox, exasperated. She points at him accusingly. “I told you that wasn’t going to go anywhere. You should have let me interrogate her. “Look, until Brass gets back, I have to fill in for her, and that means I’m stuck with a mountain of paperwork. I even had to get up for that emergency meeting this morning! Let me have a little fun! Besides, I have a feeling it wasn’t all for nothing. “The Red Sun’s never been this bold before…What do you think changed?” Fluttershy says through the intercom window thingy “I want to talk to Rainbow Dash!” “…Who?”

[END SCRIPT]

In the end, I got too scared of the idea of backlash from one of my OCs being mean to Fluttershy ^^;; I recognize that it may not have been the case, but after how much hate I got for killing off a random guard, younger me got too scared to stick to this script and I flip flopped between redoing it or leaving it. I came to love the characters I had originally made for the sole purpose of filling cabinet roles. I struggled bring myself to make one of them the antagonist in an interaction with someone as beloved as Fluttershy. I ended up putting off the decision long enough that I lost interest in continuing the story though. This script was not the main reason I lost interest in the story, but it was a factor. My original points stand, and I don't regret deciding to let this comic go so I could branch out.

A chunk I wrote with Twilight: Sunset shimmer was a failed magician that was previously in Night's employ Twilight actually would have talked about here in this chunk: [START SCRIPT] “We know the elements are all part of a system. If they’re inactive, the bond is still there, it’s just faint, like how on a map you might not see a road between a town and Canterlot, but there has to be one because duh, all roads lead to Canterlot. We have pieces of the system and if we can isolate that link between the pieces, we could follow the link from one element back to the others. All we need to do is fine tune Rarity’s gem finding spell so instead of the beacon being any old gem, it’s whatever is on the other side of the link. Spike: “Wouldn’t the mages before you already have tried something like that? Twi: “Well the last one, Sunset or something, (Frowny scrunchy face), destroyed all of the notes from previous experiments so we’re pretty much starting from scratch, but even if they did, we have something they didn’t! A working element!” [END SCRIPT]

Night burned through so many young and eager mages trying to get what she wanted. Once they weren't useful, they got dumped.

Rest of it:

The big bad evil was going to be the guard Fenix who is actually a body hopping spirit of an alicorn from the ancient alicorn empire before it got decimated in the Alicorn-Draconequus wars. The alicorns had purged themselves of their "darkness" and went on a crusade to bring greatness and order to the rest of Gaia. The last of the Draconequus sacrificed themselves to break the alicorns into the three/four pony tribes--essentially exterminating both races. One of the newly minted unicorns had been in the Empress's inner council and refused to die quietly like the others. Since then, he's been taking over other unicorns' bodies as a way of living forever because he's scared of death (Unicorns because he wasn't sure if non-unicorns could do the necessary magic to prolong his life). That's why Fenix's personality changed when his buddy died in the flashback told by his cousin (The hopping usually kills original person. The original Fenix is gone, there's just the rogue soul now. The previous body was going to die, so he jumped ship before it did). The changeling comment by his cousin was meant to be a diversion.

The entity in Fenix's body had been around for thousands of years, just living a regular life. Ever since the rise of the two sisters, he attached himself to their leadership, usually hanging around as a soldier/guard of some kind, because he still believes in the Alicorns' right to rule and wants to help with bringing glory to Equestria and serve the greater good--the Alicorns and the ideals they choose to rule by.

Fenix had been fine living as just a guard, even under Nightmare Moon. Witnessing her uncertainty and paranoia--how the country was being divided by Night's poor leadership in recent years (especially after the whole assassin and Quake dying)--he became disillusioned by Night's rule and would go on to lead a rebellion against her by plotting to take the Elements of Harmony for himself, hopping into the body of the Red Sun Rebellion's Leader- Sunset Shimmer, then eventually hopping into Celestia to become Solar Flare/Daybreaker or Evil Celestia or whatever. The Elements of Harmony were actually ancient alicorn weapons of mass destruction. The enchantment that made them had mutated over the millennia, becoming something completely new, but contact with the soul of an alicorn of old would have ignited something. Not exactly a reset, but they would have recognized one of their original users and their original purpose.

Night is actually the darkness (a shade) that had been purged from the Alicorn Empress in the old days. It gained a will of it's own over years and forged a pact with Luna to help her take over the kingdom. She didn't remember who she was, only fragments because she was all the parts of the Empress that were deemed impure/bad. They were fine being partner rulers for a while, but then an offhanded comment led to Ponyville being burned to the ground by zealots in the Queen's name 15 or so years ago --this had been to destroy the Velvet Carnation Movement which had been a peaceful group advocating for democracy instead of monarchies--and they'd been feuding ever since and only recently made up in the comic.

Night would have freed Celestia from the Sun of her own volition to try to appease the population and show that she is a good ruler and stop all the talk of rebellion. She wanted to use her as a political puppet. Celestia would have been on a short leash.

Night would have died at the end of the comic, sacrificing herself to put an end to the old empire once and for all by holding down evil Celestia as they both get blasted by the Friendship Elements beam. The old ways were wrong, it was time to stop clinging onto the past--Celestia and Luna are left to make up and rebuild Equestria.

There was definitely a lot of middle stuff that I never figured out, but I did like the story. It just grew increasingly clear that it wasn't something I could ever finish.

Here are some of the alicorn designs I never got around to showing:

I feels quite nice to finally have it all out there.

#askqueenmoon #announcement #mlp #fim #c3 #archive 2

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1uvtae · 1 year ago

Text

i think i just saw my ex. | jeon jungkook

★ word count: 10k- yay!

★ genre: classic exes to lovers,,,with slightly suggestive smut,,,and fluff...and the typical mutual pinning that may be a tad (a lot) angst... also TENSION. SOO MUCH TENSION!!!!! and both y/n and jungkook are trying to play hard to get which might be a bit crack up!!!

★ summary/snippet: jeon jungkook is your ex from many years ago, and you think you might've just seen him in a bar…and a part of you is definitely craving him.

★ kae's little chat: playing the typical kae exes to lovers theme, cos all i write about is exes to lovers micro-fics!! (this might be the only thing i'm good at writing) I recently just bought this glazed donut lanolips lip balm and it is what I religiously used while writing this fic for a whole ass week and I hope this fic tastes and smells like glazed donuts to you guys too ;) also a quick tag for @cassies-cookies!!! the fic has arrived!!!

enjoy a little teaser before you start!! can i consider this as an appetizer??

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

this is my masterlist and drabble list for more of my works!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you are 99.9% sure you just saw your ex.

you can't add that 0.1% on because 1) it is so darn dark in this bar, the annoying flashing lights poking through your eyes and into your soul, and 2), you are drunkenly intoxicated right now.

but gosh, that side profile looks almost identical to him. you've tried to follow him with your gaze, but all you got to closely view was the back of his head. (the very familiar back of his head, may you add.)

this isn’t something you expected on a nice friday evening.

when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, you realised you typed quite some texts and paragraphs to that familiar number of his, but it seemed like you were way too drunk to hit “send”. thank god.

blank-eyed, staring at the unsent texts, you felt a stinging pain in your chest.

you’re not the type to go back to any of your exes, and all your break-ups have been straightforward and savage. plus, you dumped him first!!!

you sit up on your bed, finger tracing over the floral details of your quilt cover. maybe it was because your partners after him have all been so lame, yes definitely that. additionally, you’ve been very single and lonely for the past few months, that’s exactly why you are missing him.

he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, you remember how childish he was, and was quite protective over you- which was one of the reasons you two didn’t end well.

but on the other hand…

he was a really good sex partner. you two mended flawlessly together. not to boost his ego or something, but that boy definitely can fuck.

you sighed loudly, pulling the covers over your head. the night is still so long, but you do not have any of the calmness to fall back into sleep.

oh, the long, dark night.

after a whole day of debating and contemplating, you ended up hanging out with a few of your friends back at that specific bar. tonight, you needed someone to get your mind off your ex that you saw yesterday.

when excusing yourself to the bathrooms, you brushed past someone's shoulder in the hallways while scrolling through your instagram feed; he had a broad and tall frame, and his vividly tattooed hand holding a glass cup, and you felt the urge to jerk your head back to see his face.

thinking “this is someone to take my mind off him!!”, you turn your head and your wild imagination completely halts. you feel your eyes widen and your pupils might as well fall onto the ground - it’s your ex.

thank god you just got your hair done a few days back and you were head down, focusing on your phone the whole time, so he didn’t even glance at you. your heart completely dropped and skipped a beat, and you rushed into the bathroom to freshen up.

after you walked out of the restroom, you carefully scanned every table for his silhouette, after locating the target, you walked a good lap around his booth to eye him out. fairly, he wasn’t hard to look for, judging by his clean undercut under those dark brown locks, and his perfect complexions, everyone seemed to notice him the way you did. you spot two girls walking up to him, offering him drinks in exchange for his number.

you were now more than certain that this was your ex… and you’re also certain that you’ll never get over how attractive he is.

once you’ve fallen for jeon jungkook, you’ll never fall out.

on the way home you remembered how hard you worked to get him to date you, it was almost rejection after rejection. and then you dumped him?! gosh, now it will be even more difficult to get his attention.

you feel like giving up instantly at that thought, but you cannot help yourself texting your mutual friend yerin: “did jungkook come back?”

your friend did not respond, which leads to whatever you’re doing right now - sitting on your couch, stalking through social media accounts. it was not under his old username, which made it difficult to find. but you remembered his dog’s name.

after typing bam’s name into the search bar, it only took a few scrolls to find a decent amount of photos and videos of the brown doberman. after clicking into his account, you sigh. he never posts himself, just some more dog posts and a few random scenery shots.

continuing to watch every single video of bam, you see that the newest video of the cute dog was taken in another location that didn’t look like the place from the video from before. clicking on the comments, one from his friend reads “you moved?” he replied: “yeah”

you moved, or did you come back?

just realizing what you’ve been doing stupidly for the last 20 minutes, you lock your screen and toss your phone onto the coffee table. your friend responded right after the phone dropped onto the surface.

“yeah, he quit his job last month, he probably came back”

did he quit his job?

although he moved to a different city after the breakup, he still worked for the same company you worked for - that could’ve been a reason to reconnect. but now that he has quit that job, it makes it impossible for you to even have an excuse to hit him up.

yerin double-texted, “what’s up abt jungkook?”

you: i think i saw him recently

you: he’s still so fine

yerin understood your tone extremely well, responding immediately: do you want me to plan a group dinner or something this week

you: yes please, i’m free every night this week

yerin: y/n, i meant ONLY group dinner…nothing else.

you: of course just dinner…what were you thinking?

yerin: i know you way too well

yerin: you obviously don’t only want dinner

you: hm

yerin was very speedy with her planning skills, the dinner was booked to be this friday night, it wasn’t weird at all since you and jungkook did have the same social circle for years, and considering he just came back, it was just more of a couple of friends and coworkers gathering together to celebrate. but yerin did not hint to him that you were also going to attend this dinner at all.

you stood in front of the mirror, your outfit was carefully picked out, and you spent almost 2 hours doing your makeup- in these years, your style has changed drastically, but you still wore the same fragrance he gifted you.

to create your ‘grand entrance’, you decided to show up late by 20 minutes, just so you can look casual and not too prepared to see jungkook. when you were on the road, you received a speedy text from yerin: be mentally prepared for what’s coming.

huh? be prepared for what?

when you were led to the table of the reservation, you realized what she meant.

you recognised every single face, except one. there was an unfamiliar girl seated right next to jungkook. jungkook wore a casual black hoodie, his hair slightly fluffing out. looking almost too soft to touch. you tried very hard not to lay your eyes on him for too long - since you already got a very personal look from the girl that was seated next to him.

yerin mutters under her breath when you seat yourself next to her, which is right across him. “he brought that random girl over.”

you keep that in mind, starting to greet your friends, then shooting a look back at yerin, then whispering “if you told me this was gonna happen i would’ve turned around on the spot and sprinted back home!!!”

(yerin did tell you after the meal that the second you walked into the room, there were almost no expressions on his face. you don’t know if he was already expecting you, or if he just did not care about you whatsoever.)

you hope it’s not the second option.

the dinner was french cuisine, everyone had already ordered some sort of grilled steak while you decided to order sole fish fillets. sipping your chardonnay, you oversee the girl nudge jungkook’s arm, softly asking, gesturing at your transparent drink: “kook, what did that girl order?” he puts his glass down, responding with a gentle tone: “white wine. you pair white wine with fish. wine with red meats.” “so that's why you ordered red wine for me?” she nods before asking again.

“mhm.” he nods in response, taking a sip of water, with his very charming and endearing smile.

you almost knock over your wine glass when slamming it back down on the table with aggression, suddenly this chardonnay tastes like fucking ass.

you listen quietly to everyone talking about careers and how they’ve been doing recently, jungkook occasionally opens his mouth to input or say something. you realize how mature he has grown over these years, he speaks like a logical, grown man, and is completely not the person you were with a while back. you remember the old gatherings when you and he were dating - he barely says a word during the whole meal. not going to lie, this well-spoken jungkook is super attractive.

the main course came very fast after the drinks. you gasp at the fancy plating. the girl in front of you takes her knife and fork, struggling to slice the red meat. she slowly glances over to jungkook, and he notices her stare, speedily finishing up cutting up his plate, and offering her his already perfectly sliced steak, taking her uncut serving for himself.

after that, you put down the knife and fork, containing yourself to not roll your eyes.

that was an eyeful. might as well just not eat this shitty meal.

after that awful meal, they all planned to go for a second round, but jungkook said that he couldn’t go because he had to drive the girl home. after hearing that, you lost every interest you had in going for shots, which caused you to head straight home on a friday evening at 9 pm. how eventful.

taking a thoughtful and steamy shower, you decided to put a face mask on. a notification from no other than yerin broke the night’s silence.

yerin: jungkook’s here

you bounced up from your bed, replying within a millisecond.

y/n: huh? why is he there?

yerin: he’s sitting on the table next to ours

yerin: u coming?

you close your eyes, every single imagination you had got crushed today when you saw the girl that he brought. it was almost hurtful now that you think about it.

yerin continued to add: he didn't bring the girl, if that’s what you’re wondering

hm…you hesitated for a while, but gave up. you can’t be interested in someone with a girlfriend-

yerin: and!! tae was being nosy so he asked him

yerin: turns out that the girl was just a blind date his mum arranged

yerin: not his gf

yerin: u still have a chance yk!!

you yanked the face mask off, rushing to redo your makeup again. you didn’t even bother to drive there, calling an uber instead. before entering the bar, you ensured yerin grabbed jungkook to sit at the same table.

just when everything was planned beautifully and you were ready to make your grand entrance pt2, you bumped into a client who was by the bar table. how can you reject a business client? quick answer: you can’t. it’s a business client.

having to sit with a stranger by the bar table, but unable to walk to that table with your friends (and your ex) might be the biggest struggle you’ve ever gotten yourself into. by the time you and the client had finished chatting and drinking, jungkook had left not only the table but the entire nightclub.

oh my gosh, you are going to lose your mind! a whole full stomach of alcohol and yet you still haven’t gotten to use your flirting tactics on your ex that you’ve been missing. you did not feel like staying at all, dragging yerin to get out of this hellhole.

but who knew you’d see him again in the parking lot?

every cloud has a silver lining.

and there jungkook stood, leaning against his flashy black mercedes, phone to his ear. the second you saw him, you knew what to do. you were going to fake being drunk. you link arms with yerin, stumbling your steps and attempting to slur your words. yerin has to straighten you up manually when she goes over to jungkook. “hey jungkook! i thought you already left.” jungkook puts the phone back into his pocket. “i was just about to.”

yerin wasn’t hesitant at all, almost shoving you at him, thinking he’d help grab onto you, but he did not move a single muscle. her last resort was to lean you against the car. “perfect! can you drive y/n home? the girls are still waiting for me so…”

he opened his mouth to speak, you figured he was going to reject yerin. before a single sound came out of his mouth, yerin quickly interrupted him, “amazing! thanks so much, dude!! okayimjustgonnago-!” from your peripheral vision, you could see her almost sprint from the parking lot back into the front door of the club.

all that was left was you, who was faking drunk, and jungkook, with his brows, knitted, looking down at you.

judging from how rapidly yerin ran away from you, jungkook knows he can’t do anything else other than drive you home. he sighed and held open the passenger’s door for you. he raised his chin, gesturing you to hop in.“get in yourself.” he heard you chuckle at his words, turning to him and giving him a judging glance, then getting into the seat.

jungkook was extremely confused, and only realized the reason when he got into the driver's seat.

you seemed to not let that joke go, “i’m in, what now?” jungkook keeps a straight face while starting the engine. “seatbelt.”

he drove out of the parking lot, and he immediately hit a left turn, driving towards the direction of your house. after a few moments, he turned his head towards her at a red light. “where do you live?” your eyes were shut, leaning back on the seat, not wanting to respond to him.

jungkook does not want you to know that he still remembers your address off by heart like an idiot, so he turns into a random street on his right and keeps on driving. after feeling the car stopping, you open your eyes, peeking out the window.

the hotel?? he drove you to a hotel?? you kept your eyes shut, as a silent protest to not get out of the car. you knew jungkook too well, he probably wanted to just leave your ass in the hotel, and you won’t get to ever see him again if you went with that.

jungkook nudges you with a finger hesitantly. you didn’t even budge. after a deep sigh from the man in the driver's seat, you hear the engine start again.

he always drove at a perfect steady pace. you swear you almost dozed off when you felt the car stop in the underground parking garage.

jungkook gently held onto you up the elevator, you heard the sound of a door unlocking, and your ears perked up when the sound of the door opening was followed by a loud bark from bam.

he brought you back to his place. that perfectly goes with your plan!!

you behaved the entire way home just for this moment. all that acting led up to this moment. he locked the front door, then squatted in front of you to help you take off your black heels. you were going to be using the moment wisely- when jungkook carried you over to the couch to put you down, you scratched his lower torso aggressively with your right hand.

it was a strong scratch, causing the person carrying you to let a harsh hiss under his breath. he looked down at your sharply shaped nails, then at the girl in his hands right now, your eyes were shut, lashes slightly fluttering.

he always liked working out and had an almost daily streak of hitting up the gym, resulting in his body being super in shape. he had the perfect model figure- abs, pecs, shoulders, you name it. he has it. you look back on how great he was at using his strength advantage in bed, gosh, he was perfect.

even being able to leave a little scratch on his skin could do something to you right now.

jungkook goes straight into the kitchen to pour you a cup of water. the first thing he did though, was lift up his hoodie and inspect the scratch. and under the hoodie, lay two vivid red scratch marks on his lower abdomen. the bright marks went from his veins into his spank bank, the vivid images of you under his control, he reminisces how you always loved scratching his back, his neck, and his shoulders when he hit your soft spots. jungkook’s skin was always very sensitive, making it effortless to leave marks and bruises for days. he recalls his friends making fun of the scratch marks you left on his back ever so often during the few summers when you and he were dating.

by the time he recollected himself and brought you the glass of water, you were already fast asleep on his leather couch. he watches you for a while and realizes you still look the same after this many years. more mature, but still the appearance he could never forget, even in his dreams. his eyes fall on your delicate ears before he puts a stop to his mind.

he clears his throat. “go sleep in the bedroom.”

your eyelashes flutter as you turn to face the other side of the couch, mumbling something inaudible to yourself before getting back into your dreamland.

jungkook: “y/n?”

his ears catching a delicate airy whine leave your mouth.

jungkook isn’t too fond of whatever game you are playing, but he knows what you want to do to him. he’s matured and grown now, not the loverboy that was wrapped around your pinky finger anymore. he can read expressions off your face very accurately. considering the fact that it has been years since the breakup, and you had never broken the non-contact thing.

and suddenly after he got back into town, a reuniting dinner was planned, you showed up to the clubs, and whatever yerin was trying to do, and now- you are in his house, on his couch. he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.

this is exactly the little tricks you used to play, and he fell head-first into it last time.

he promised himself that he would never fall into the same hole twice!

but of course, he won’t let you sleep on his couch for the whole night. this two-seater leather couch is extremely small for anyone to find comfort in. your figure is curled up in the soft seats, and he notices your legs almost dangling out from the couch.

he bends down to swoop you up, and by instinct, your arms find his neck. he slowly makes his way towards the bedroom, not wanting to wake up the girl in his arms.

considering this was a brand-new apartment, jungkook doesn’t have a bed yet- it’s just a mattress in the middle of the floor. he lowers his body carefully and places you in the centre of the bed, thinking your arms would instantly unwrap themselves from your neck, he tries to stand back up. but your grip on him was way too tight, jungkook almost lost his balance, but his reaction was fast enough for him to use his arm strength to hold on both sides of the bed, keeping a small dangerous distance from falling on top of you. his warm breath lands on your exposed neck, and you feel the warmth melting on your collarbones.

you had to keep everything within yourself to not pull him closer, hoping he would find his balance to move away from you, instead, it’s almost as if he bowed his head lower, leaving more burning breath marks on your collarbones. the itchy feeling almost numbing. you couldn’t help but slightly peel your eyes open discreetly- through your lashes, you realise he was already on his feet again, simply pulling the covers up for you.

the soft quilt falls on top of your lower torso, and his warm hand ‘accidentally’ brushes against your thigh before he completely gets up. he watches your reaction for a short while, but nothing from your side. he knew if it this was two years ago, you would’ve absolutely gone for it right now. he remembers even if his hand slightly rested on your thigh while driving, you would immediately get him to pull up on the side of the road for a heated makeout session. but it looks like, y/n is not the y/n he remembered.

jungkook turned off the big light, leaving a small night lamp on by the bedside table before patting bam to follow him back to the living room, planning to deal with the couch for the night.

honestly speaking, if he stayed for even one more single second, you wouldn’t be sure what you’re capable of doing to him.

painful, very painful.

it was almost 4 am when you opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. your eyes land on the agape bedroom door. from where you’re resting, you can clearly see most of the living room. there he lay, on the couch.

jungkook normally sleeps just in his boxers, but considering the fact that you’re in the residence, he had to grab a pair of sweats to cover up. you observe the man on the couch, he is lying on his back, and you end up studying his figure. you could tell he was wearing nothing under those grey sweats- gosh the grey sweats and his shirtless body?!

you shut your eyes and sigh. contain yourself y/n.

if you weren’t already, you’re surely hungry for jeon jungkook now.

but you must control yourself now- jungkook knows what game you’re playing, and so do you. he’s such a slippery fish to catch- you can’t just pull the rod as soon as you hook him?

and, it looks like he wasn’t going to give in tonight that easily too.

this can be a fun game to play.

you watch him for a little longer, he turns his body to sleep on his right side, now his body fully facing you. well- this is awful. it took no time for you to fall asleep for the millionth time, this time- it was a heavy sleep. the scent of his bed surrounding you.

you decide to stay in his bed for a little longer because you know you have to leave the second you wake up.

jungkook also stayed home today, heading into the bathroom to clean up, then making breakfast, following up with feeding bam, and lastly back to the couch, attending a business call meeting.

if you didn’t have to use the bathroom so urgently, you could stay in his bed until noon. you crawled out of bed to stretch, then mentally prepared yourself to walk out of his room. well, you can’t fake drunk anymore, can you?

after coming out of the washroom, you slowly walk to jungkook, trying not to interrupt him. “...do you know where my phone went…?”

his gaze did not leave the laptop screen, his chin raised slightly, directing you to the device on the coffee table- where your phone lay. you hesitantly collect your phone, wanting to thank him about yesterday, but the sight of him so focused stops you. you didn’t have the heart to interrupt him, making way to the entrance.

you put your heels on while watching bam play with his ball on the side. the doberman notices you, walking over to you while cocking his head which reminds you of how jungkook would always do. you reach a hand out to pat his head but bam back up immediately out of caution.

feeling a little butthurt, you ask: “don’t remember me?”

not only forgetting about you, but bam also leaves to sit next to the man on the couch. jungkook gives bam an endearing rub, then looks up at you, standing by the door.

wow, bam. he always preferred jungkook over you, even when you and him were together.

you glance at the black-brown dog….but now you have a reason to contact him again.

although finding his social media account was a hassle, his phone number never changed. the same night after leaving his house, you found the number that you almost accidentally texted.

y/n: can i pick bam up from yours

he replied almost instantly: and you are?

you let out a light laugh in unbelief before texting back: y/n

then it took a good 30 minutes to get a text back. “sure thing, but only if he wants to go home with you.”

you roll your eyes at the obvious fact that: of course bam doesn’t want to go home with you?! considering the cold shoulder he gave you this morning.

but it’s okay since the cute dog was never the target to go for in the first place.

the day after the text, you went straight to his apartment after work, not bothering to change out of your work outfit- because you knew he was very into this specific set. it was a simple creamy white formal skirt set with black opaque tights.( and he loved this set. so much to the point by the time you normally got back home, he would press you onto the couch immediately. your skirt would usually be wrinkly by the time you two were done.)

jungkook answered the door, his eyes instantaneously landing on the girl in front of him, his eyes slightly widened for a split second. he has to admit, that you recognize his preferences a little too well.

it's not because he likes the pantyhose with skirt look, but more because it is on you. especially because he would watch you get ready for work all seriously, and you would get home and find his shoulders immediately, draping on top of him all tired and worn out from socializing. and he was a whore for it.

he’s literally hooked for you.

he opened the door wide open for you, he didn’t have any spare slippers in the house, so before you could take your slip heels off, he stopped you. “no need.”

after shutting the door, he opened his mouth: “you didn’t bring anything?”

you’re here to pick up bam, and yet you came empty-handed, causing bam to only take one glance at you before jumping on the couch, disinterested.

jungkook brought bam’s toys and treats over to you, yet bam didn’t even budge, to the point where he had to physically carry him over to you. it seemed like bam wasn't having any of this, not even giving you any sort of attention. jungkook had to give him a big encouraging talk before handing the medium-sized dog over to you.

you needed a lot of strength to hold the doberman in your arms while jungkook went to get a dog leash. the second bam saw the leash in jungkook’s hands,he started to struggle out of your grasp, struggling to get out of your embrace.

you weren’t prepared for the dog to be so strong, before you could let go of him, he had already left a faint bite mark on your arm, you winced under your breath while watching bam hop over to jungkook’s feet. jungkook hurried to drop the leash, coming up to you. “are you all good?”

“just a bite.” you brought your arm to his eye level, it wasn’t bleeding or anything, just a clear bite. “i’ve got some antibiotic ointment. you want some?”

you nodded your head. “sure.”

“...do you want to those off then?”

“hm?” you followed his eyes, looking down at your tights, a hole had been scratched open too, and you didn’t realize that maybe bam had also scratched you on the leg while trying to get out of your grasp. “yeah- yeah. i’ll do that.” you answered after excusing yourself to the bathroom. taking off the nylons, you threw them into the laundry basket before checking the scratch.

it was nothing but a pink line, you hurried out of the room, scared that by the time you headed out, it would already have faded.

jungkook was already seated on the familiar couch by the time you finished taking your tights off. you went over and seated down extremely close to him. pressing your thigh against his knee to show him the faint mark. he kept a very straight face while taking out the otc ointment from the first aid kit. he treated the few marks, you don't know if it was intentional or not, but he applied way too much on the injuries, leaving a big patch of your skin covered in ointment.

you look at him, who is now putting the cream back into the box. he clears the silence, “it doesn’t seem like he wants to go with you.”

you let out a sigh, looking at the dog resting by jungkook’s side. “it’s a shame that he completely forgot about me.”

“it’s been too long since he last saw you, that’s why.” he gives loving pats to bam, and you find an endearing smile creeping on your face at the scene. you muttered under your breath, “i missed him, i definitely wanted to live with him.” jungkook turned his head from the dog to you, adding “i take great care of him, and he likes me more.”

you went silent. that’s an unarguable fact. the silence went on for another minute when he spoke again. “gotta rebuild the trust again.”

your ears perk up at his comment…does this mean you can come to visit more often…to build the relationship again?

but you know it’s petty unlike for bam to like you again, lowering your head slightly, you mention, “i don’t think so,” you look up into his glassy, pure eyes, “i don’t want to force it. he looks way more comfortable with you anyway.” you’re not sure if jungkook wanted to hear that, but his brows slightly knot as he slowly opens his mouth to speak. “you’re giving up? even just being friends?”

your eyes immediately widen- you’re not sure if he meant being friends with bam…or him. he subconsciously avoids eye contact with you, looking back down at bam. “since i- no, bam, can consider you as a co-owner.”

you like the sound of that.

this is something you could get used to.

jungkook didn’t seem like he minded you staying, so you obviously did not have any intentions of leaving just yet. you’re playing with bam (surprisingly you and bam have gotten quite along within an hour) when his takeout arrives. he hesitantly asked you if you wanted to have dinner together, which you agreed happily to. he walked into the kitchen to cook something extra for the two of you.

you weren’t too hungry, but you had to admit you desperately missed his cooking. it was already 9 pm when you and him had finished dinner. the entire time it was filled with small talk and comfortable silence. you left right after dinner, saying farewell to bam, and received a slight nod from jungkook.

after getting home, your phone buzzed with a notification from jungkook’s number. it was an image of your tights in his laundry basket. you locked the phone without replying and hopped into the shower.

after doing your skincare, you casually replied: “chuck it in the trash”

jungkook sent a photo of the tights in the rubbish bin with no other caption.

you decided to tease him a little: or you can keep it if you want

jungkook: ……i’m not that gross

as if he has never touched your tights. you don't even remember how many pairs of your stockings he had ripped during the time when you two were together.

as if he could read your mind, he sent a full 2-minute video of him taking the rubbish bag outside, followed by him throwing the plastic bag into the rubbish bin with no remorse. you watch the video on a loop for a few minutes, chuckling to yourself.

you weren’t sure what got into your mind the next day. after taking a relaxing bubble bath after work, something within you told you to find jungkook. although you were very rough from working, you still felt energized to prepare yourself. after putting on a tank top and a skirt- you made your way out.

your hair still damp, you decided to pick some snacks on the way to his house. with confident and happy steps, you knocked on his door.

no answer.

you stood outside the locked door, dialing his number: he picked up within two rings, voice relaxed and soft. “what’s up?”

“are you not at home?”

he paused for a split second “you’re coming over?”

you hummed in response, “i brought fried chicken too.”

“i’m out fishing.” jungkook said, then changed to a softer tone. “since…it didn’t look like you were coming over tonight.”

you suppressed your laughter, teasingly asked: “so you were waiting for me then?”

the other side of the phone remained silent, causing you to let out a giggle. “i’ll come find you, share your location.”

he hung up, sharing his location with you right after- a freshwater lake close by. you made your way to his location with no hesitation.

bro he’s actually fishing on this fine evening.

it was extremely dark by the lakeside, but you could make out the figure of many middle-aged men sitting by the lake. turning your phone flashlight on, you spot your familiar ex-boyfriend in the middle of many men.

he stood up to borrow a foldable stool from the man next to him. you tidied your skirt before sitting real close to him, your arm pressing against his. he looked at you on his side, “it’s too hot.” he muttered. you didn’t move away at all, instead, you decided to lean your head on his broad shoulder. he didn’t move away either.

you didn’t understand the joy of fishing but still watched him the whole time quietly. it felt peaceful to have him against you by the dark, calming lake.

instead, jungkook felt slightly heated - how is it possible to focus on his rod when he had you leaning on him? it only took him half an hour to start packing his equipment, he couldn’t stand you next to him! you’re such a distraction! (not that he’s complaining…)

after leaving the lake, you two stood under the road lights, he glanced at you under the warm streetlights. he noticed your glassy eyes of discomfort. he looked down at the few itchy bites on your arms. oh shit- he forgot to remind you about that.

the lake was surrounded by grassy areas, he was smart by wearing a long sleeve and sweatpants, but he forgot to warn you about the mosquitoes before sending you his location. it was only around 30 minutes, but he could spot a few reddish marks on your arm, waist, and legs.

you didn’t realise this when you were by the lake, but now that you’re under the light, you can see the spots clear as day. jungkook takes your hand to lead you to his car, occasionally having to stop you from touching the mosquito bites. “don’t scratch them, we’ll be home soon.” he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, before stopping to caress your earlobe for a slight second.

“but it’s itchy.”

“patient.”

you bite down on your lip. patient. you should’ve been patient when you were taking that damn bath!!! this is what you get when you’re too eager for jeon jungkook.

jungkook took you back to his, immediately using a cold damp towel to caress over the little scattered bites. the mosquitos that were by the lakeside were deadly- the small pink dots had turned into a few red swollen bumps.

you were in his embrace, feeling nothing but defeated. this is literally his second time treating your injuries within two days. a familiar feeling you feel before tearing up runs up your nose, triggering your eyes to start to build up with tears. oh, you feel so guilty right now. almost weeping in his lap, he comforts you on the back while the other hand applies ointment on the bumps, he pulls out a handheld fan to relieve the itching.

“there’s more on the legs.” you tugged on his sleeve, speaking through sulking. jungkook moves to search for the rest of the bites, not expecting you to lift up your skirt to reveal the red mark on the inside of your left thigh. jungkook hesitates for a split second before applying some of the white ointment on his fingertip, his heart seems to be beating faster than usual - his head spinning, but he ignores it.

when his hands move closer to the spot, you close your legs slightly out of discomfort, just enough to cover the mark with your panties. jungkook feels his breathing fasten, he uses his middle finger to push the fabric of the underwear out of the way, rubbing the treatment on the spot. he wasn’t too sure what he touched, but he was sure he saw a slight reaction from your body, causing your hand that was holding the skirt to slightly twitch. feeling a twinge of playfulness creep up, he holds the small fan to the spot, turning it on with the press of a button.

you immediately close your legs out of sensitivity, giving him an alarming look. the second your legs squeezed against each other, jungkook swore he touched your core with his hand. he felt a numb shoot from his hand, through his veins, then right to his scalp.

you noticed his reaction on his face, and downwards. half of you wanted to take the rare opportunity- but you listened to the other half that told you to slow this down. you decided to leave after that interaction, not giving the both of you what you two obviously want from each other.

plus, he has the whole night to deal with that problem. and plenty of time to think about you.

talking about giving him time, you made the cruel decision to not contact him for the next few days. not to remind you, there was a load of work you had to do for this week for your job.

you knew jungkook would never break the ‘no contact’ type of thing either, but through some late-night stalking, you did find him updating his social media a little too frequently. either it was some workout progress pictures or his dinner with bam. weird.

the weekend came by fast, yerin texted you wondering if you wanted to go bowling with her, you hesitated, wanting to use tomorrow getting ready to see jungkook and bam. but she added that jungkook was going to be there- and you were immediately sold.

yerin’s boyfriend was decent friends with jungkook, they always hung out together, but right after you and jungkook ended things roughly, her boyfriend did not seem to like you very much. which is very reasonable since you did break up with him over text and whatever. which is something that has been keeping you awake at night lately.

arriving at the bowling alley, you see someone familiar with jungkook…the blind date girl. she had two bottles of sprite in her hands while sitting on the side benches. you can’t help but notice the pair of matching sneakers they had on.

you watch with widened eyes as jungkook goes over to her to converse, his eyes glistening with a smile that you haven’t seen in a while.

you do not like jeon jungkook very much right now.

yerin drags you to go say hi to her boyfriend and jungkook, you get a hesitant and sly “hey” from yerin’s boyfriend while jungkook on the side spares you a glance, just one single glance, to instantly turn back to the girl, the two chatting away. oh okay, so he’s going to do this now.

out of annoyance, you decided to cheer and clap for every other guy that is up bowling. you immediately caught the attention of one boy, he walked up to you, asking for your number with redness rising from his ears. naturally, you couldn’t reject him right now, giving your number in a swift motion right in front of jungkook.

still no acknowledgement from him.

finding a spot next to him on the benches, you intentionally sat closer to him. he gave you one warning look before scooting to the other side.

the girl on his right seemed to notice you, sparing you a cautious look while handing jungkook a pre-opened sprite bottle- he took it easily, raising the bottle to his mouth to take a sip out of it.

you slightly raised your arm, bumping the bottle with some strength just before his lips touched the bottle's mouth…causing a few drops to splatter out and onto the collar of his t-shirt, and his face.

as this was not expected at all, the other girl lets out a sharp gasp before pulling a pack of tissues out of her purse, and he takes it urgently to wipe the liquid off his face. you feel him turning to look at you, head cocked, his tongue poking around his mouth. you decided to play dumb, “shit, i’m so sorry kook, i didn't mean to do that.”

the girl on the other side kept calling jungkook by kook the whole time, hearing the nickname leave your mouth, he knows exactly what you’re doing. you’re doing this again.

jungkook didn’t make a single sound, while yerin’s boyfriend couldn’t help but let out a chuckle out his mouth at your actions.

when he got the chance to bowl, he took it very seriously, pins knocked after pins. yerin nudges you to capture your attention: “it’s definitely because he wants to show off to someone he’s interested in.”

you: “can’t be that blind-dating girl, can it?”

yerin: “well it’s not you…not after all that…”

you commented sourly: “she’s not his type.”

yerin gives you a knowing smile. “y/n oh y/n.”

“i know yerin, i’m being very stupid. but i can’t help it.”

you fully understand what “the grass is always greener on the other side” means now. you want what you can’t have.

the loud sound of many pins being knocked down, this is his second strike in a row- a turkey, if you will. your eyes darted towards him after the ‘STRIKE’ was displayed on the screen, but he was looking at the girl sitting on the bench, currently giving him two thumbs-ups.

he responded with a boyish smile.

and that was your cue to leave. you told yerin you felt like leaving early, and she grabbed your arm before you could go. “we’re nearly done then we’re getting dinner, you really wanna leave?” “yeah, i’m going…” you replied, uninterested anymore.

driving home, your phone buzzed many times when you hit a red light. yerin notified you that once you left, it seemed like jungkook also lost his energy to continue playing, hitting only a few pins before leaving with the girl without staying afterwards.

an idea popped into your head, causing you to spin the wheel and turn back- to his house.

this will be the final time you’ll ever willingly go to his house if this does not work out the way you wanted.

when you arrive at the familiar door, you know he probably hasn’t gotten home just yet. you decided to wait outside. the thought that what if he brought the girl home? races through your mind as you suddenly shoot up, contemplating whether you should just hop into the elevator and go home before you vividly see that image happen in front of your eyes.

you are now facing the closed elevator, a shaky finger hovering over the “↓” button. just before physically pressing it, the ‘ding’ from the elevator pulled you back to reality from your thoughts. you watch the door open at a snail's pace, revealing the figure of one specific person- just one, thank god.

jungkook has his phone in one hand, scrolling through emails when he notices that a person is standing outside of the elevator. and it was you. his girl.

eyes meet. he holds strong eye contact, and you could look right through those brown eyes. no words were needed at this moment. the distance between the two of you closes when he hurries to unlock the door, takes your purse and throws it onto the couch, pushing you against the back of the door. everything just simply felt right. his right hand immediately found itself slightly pinching the soft flesh of your earlobe- as if it was made to rest on top of your lobe.

you seriously missed being this close to him, feeling your knees weaken as he pressed his soft lips on you, he tasted like exactly what you’ve been missing for these years. it feels almost like what you feel when you’re in love. you pulled away when bam nudged your foot, but he was more forceful than ever, lifting your chin to meet your lips with his again. you only needed to focus on jungkook at this moment.

right when your hands were finding their way into his shirt, he pulled away, gazing at you. “i got to shower first.” he said, slightly out of breath.

jungkook rushed home after dropping that girl off, planning to take a shower before driving to your place. he had nothing to lose at this point- he doesn’t care if you know that he still remembers your address; he doesn’t care if he’s the one outside your door this time. the way he should’ve been two years ago.

but he was taken by surprise when he saw you outside his front door.

he couldn’t keep lying to himself that he doesn’t think about you, because you’re all he’s been missing about every single day. you, you, and only you.

you couldn’t let go of him at all, scared that he’d just slip away if you didn’t have your hands on him. “we can shower together.”

…the ‘shower’ took almost a whole hour. the bathroom echoed with your whines. many times, jungkook had to wrap his hand around your mouth, softly reminding you through his own pleasurable groans “the walls are thin in the bathroom, darl.”

carrying you to his bed, you were surprised at how effortlessly the mattress allowed him to move all over you. at first, you did not realize, but he was being way too harsh with you.

he was rough when he wanted to be, but he was never this rough?!! jungkook had no hesitation in marking you, pinching your waist when you moved in his rhythm, every single push inside of you made you feel like he wanted to pin you straight into the bed. not to mention- your entire body has been scattered with bites and signs of his touch. you’re definitely not complaining about how perfect he felt when he mended into you, and you had to admit, he was so fucking hot when he is rutting himself inside of you out of pure desire and frustration.

jungkook did not want to hurt you in any way, and you both knew that.

but you did not need him knowing that this was the most passionate, satisfying sex you’ve ever had. so you made the bold decision to start putting your underwear on right after the sensual fuck. not giving him any time for aftercare.

jungkook was lying comfortably on the bed when he noticed that you wanted to leave, his quick reaction caused him to sit up, large hands holding down your waist as he pressed you back down into the mattress. his bright eyes stared at you, “where are you heading to? hm?”

“back home,” you maintain deep eye contact, it’s hard not to kiss him when his soft, pretty lips are at a reachable distance in front of you. “i obviously can’t stay the night…”

jungkook’s grip on your waist tightened, you swear you saw the light in his eyes die out almost immediately. almost a fog covers his pupils and you figure maybe you were a little too extreme with that answer.

a delicate emotion runs across his face and he almost looks hurt when he finally gathers his words, “so…you waited outside my house…just to sleep with me?”

in that moment, you felt like the biggest cunt in the world.

you couldn’t find the right answer, if you said yes, you are the biggest cunt in the world confirmed- if you said no, you don’t think that’s a correct answer either way.

after not collecting a response from you, jungkook lets go, plopping back onto the bed, it’s almost like he took that silence from you as a confirmation of his theory. he laughs to himself, “fuck, why do i keep falling for these games you play?”

he moves his eyes away from you, to a random object in the room. “if you could’ve told me you’re real intention to simply just sleep with me ages ago, we wouldn’t be like this at all, y/n.”

you close your eyes, remaining in your position on his bed.

in the start, you were definitely in it just for a quick fuck. but it looks like you’re now in deep waters. jungkook is irresistible- and you might’ve gone way too far with this one.

“don’t say that.” you move to his side, “i seriously loved you back then.”

“if you loved me, i don’t think you would’ve sent me off to a different city, y/n.”

“i told you it was an opportunity…i know you’d be better off if you got that job, even if we broke up, i wanted you to be successful, and not- stay in this small city…being stuck with me.” you replied, hoping he would meet eye with you again.

jungkook was tired of arguing about this. he knew the both of you weren’t the best when it came to communicating, he didn’t want to leave your city because you were in it, but he knew it might’ve been the end when he saw his name on the office announcement. he told you he couldn’t accept doing long distance, while you simply replied over text “then let’s just end it all. no matter if you go or not. let’s just end it here.” and that ruined him.

it was almost like you just desperately wanted to get rid of him.

if only he had the balls to drive to your house to talk this out, but he didn’t.

he absolutely should’ve, but he didn’t.

“look at this! it’s painful.” he stopped in his thoughts when your head found his chest, you were pointing to the bruises he had left on your thigh. “jungkook! bruises.”

jungkook didn’t want to respond at all, but couldn’t help looking down on your pretty body. many parts of your skin were turning red from his roughness. he knew he didn’t use much strength at all, your skin was just easily sensitive. but he couldn’t help but feel his heart soften slightly when he heard your voice full of sulk.

he spoke with a gentle tone “sorry,” while circling an arm around your waist, massaging your hips. “does it still hurt?”

“yeah.”

jungkook adjusted his position, hovering over you, he kissed every single mark he made on your body, making sure every single area on your skin was being loved.

“what now?”

you knew exactly what he was asking about. what now? us? but you played dumb once again. “what?”

looking down at you his tongue ran over his pillow lips, he remained silent.

“you explain the matching sneakers first.” you raised your eyebrows.

“i bought them on purpose after i saw her wearing them after friday dinner. to piss you off.” jungkook replied.

but he didn’t include the part where he rejected her forwardly and blatantly the first night when he drove her home after dinner. he didn’t include the part where he asked her the night before going bowling if she could help him with a favor. he didn’t include the part where the favor was to ask her if she could come and help him act this way to piss you off.

you couldn’t help but let a giggle slip when he stared at you with a straight face. “okay, now i like you a whole lot again.”

after receiving a satisfying answer, a smile of relief crept onto his face, feeling his jaw unclench. “so you’re not just in it for one single fuck?” he teased.

“one won’t be enough.”

“give me an amount then.”

“i don’t know…until you’re bored of me? i guess?” you replied, intertwining your hand with his.

i will never get bored of you, he thought to himself. he looked at your soft hand interlocked with his, not only will he never get bored of you, but he’ll also never let go of this hand ever again.

his other hand reached for your earlobe.

after getting back together with jungkook, you’ve realized how different this man has become over this time.

you remember him sometimes being very unreasonable, overprotective, almost overwhelming- of a boyfriend. and of course, sometimes jealousy is cute! you get that, but he was over the top about it. but now- now this is different.

it’s the indifferences that make a relationship cute!

occasionally you still pull a cheeky lie, telling him that you’re going home to rest- but bumping into him in a local bar. he wouldn’t be angry at all, unlike before. instead, he would drag you with a teasing smile to come drink at his table. that’s when you know you’re in for a long night back at his house.

but there was something you really wanted to talk out with him.

one summer night, when the cold wind was blowing through his large window, you turned your body to face him- there was something that was keeping you up tonight. he felt your movement next to him, “what’s up?”

“it’s been like…two months since we got back together, right?”

“right.”

“i think i want to talk some things out.”

thank god the night was dim, and jungkook was grateful because of that, he knows the expression on his face is not very charming. if this was a face-to-face conversation, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle it.

“yeah?” there was a hint of calmness in his voice, almost like he was forcing it. jungkook doesn’t know what to expect. he thought there would be a different result this time- he’s a different person! he finds himself desperately praying with his aching heart that this will not be another heart-shattering break-up again.

at least, this time it's in person, right?

right?

he was lost in panic when your hand squeezed him under the quilt.

“jungkook, do you think i broke up with you because i wanted to get rid of you?”

was it not? the three words were stuck in his throat, but he wanted to hear your voice more than his own right now.

“well, it wasn’t. it was for a more stupid reason- not because you were clingy, and whatever you thought. i wanted you to be successful, of course. but it was all out of my stupidity, i texted that out of anger, i didn’t actually mean it. i just wanted to see if you would come find me. come talk it out. i know we both weren’t good with words.”

you lowered your voice, “stupidly, a selfish part of me- even though i wanted you to get the job- a little bit of me still wished that you would’ve picked me over that.” after your little statement, you felt a heavy rock was lifted from your chest.

the hand that you held slightly twitched under your grip. he fully moved to face you. you turned away out of embarrassment.

to honestly admit that you love jeon jungkook, is a harder thing than you thought.

you felt the mattress vibrate, and then you realize he was now laughing at you. “i believe everything you say, even if you lied to my face, i would trust you without a doubt, y/n.”

“that was all my honest words!!!”

“i know. i know.” he said through chuckles. you turned towards him, embracing your urge to touch your lips with his. with muffled laughter, he moves right on top of you, locking both sides of your body with his strong thighs.

it’s annoying how he’s still smiling….when he’s peeling your pyjamas off you.

his eyes are glassy and glowy under the reflection of the moonlight, you could get lost in them for days.

“i don’t care what you say,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “i’ve always loved you more than you did me. y/n.”

“okay then.” you replied, not wanting to argue with the man who was currently pressing lovebites on your neck.

jungkook smirks against your neck,

way, way more. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

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catsushinyakajima · 6 months ago

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KLANCE FIC RECS FOR THE NEW YEARS RECAP PART TWO

Ghost of the Future & Shadow of the Past by wittyy_name/@wittyy-name, Zizzani/@zizzani | 300k+ | Time-travel | Dual fic

These fics were genuinely so. What the fuck. Oh my god. I came into it not expecting too much and I came out of it like ahjhsihfs. I’m so so upset that it isn’t finished, that too right before the last chapter. There are so, so many good aspects to this fic. First off: the plot and its delivery. The idea of switching places with a past version of yourself is not an uncommon plotline. However, having the story be split into two stories following both the past and the present with each chapter parallelling each other was flawlessly executed. I would read one chapter where they would do xyz which affected the past, and then be so excited to see what happens next, and then be even more excited that I could simply read how it happened in the past. It felt like I was time itself, reading through parts of these characters' lives non-linearly. The KL chemistry is beautiful, the plot is beautiful, I sincerely love it.

it’s five o’clock somewhere by soulreapin/@soulreapin | 8.1k | Bartending AU | First Date

This fic was so so soft and funny. There were parts of the fic where I was so floored by the comedic writing that I was like damn why didn't I write this? Also, their first date is just so cute!

Run into the Bright Lights by peanutbutterapple/ https://hugoweasley.tumblr.com/ | 36.8k | April Fools Day | Canon Compliant

I've never seen an april fools day fic before and omg I wish there were more. The miscommunication between KL is so genuine and not a product of stupid actions. There's beautiful hurt/comfort. I've reread this two billion times.

AITA by perfchan/@jacqulinetan | 34k | Post-War

This fic is so so funny and just. It sums up the whole let down of returning back to civilian life after war very well and the way Lance shuts people out. So so good.

to breathe in this mirage by existwound/@existwound | 34k+ | Time-travel | Domestic KL

This fic is so good!?!? Astra writes KL fighting so well and it leads up to beautiful ANGST which leads to beautiful hurt/comfort. This fic is not finished but I love it so so so much.

Spider-Man Klance AU by iwriteshipsnotsailthem | 102.6k | Spider-man!Keith

This author captures the essence of spiderman in a fic so much. Many other spider-man aus will focus more on ships than the spiderman aspect, but this author balances it so well. There's a perfect blend of action and romance.

finally, you're mine by nezueye/@nezueye | 7.2k | Friends to Lovers | Modern AU

This has to be hands down one of the best fluff fics ever. Every scene with KL, which was all of them, was so satisfying and cute. I loved it so much I reread this all the time.

Even the People in Your Dreams Will Lie to You by popering/@roylustang | 314k+ | torture | angst

This fic is INSANE!!! Literally!! There's so much thought and detail that goes into the worldbuilding of the fic despite the world literally being canon VLD! This is a fic where every detail counts, and where you yourself might doubt your hindsight and knowledge too. I feel so bad for everyone in this story, and I eagerly await the last chapter (author take ur time w it tho plz)

my my, how can i resist you? by nikkiRA | 1.7k | Est Relationship | Watching Mamma Mia

This is a follow up to a fic where KL get together, but this snippet just has my heart. It's so beautiful to see the way Keith loves Lance.

what makes you beautiful by seventies | 4.5k | MMA!Keith x Nurse!Lance

The funniest fi in the world. I wish I knew the author IRL so I could laugh at their jokes everyday. They're so funny. This fic is so so funny.

I love you more than fried chicken by AsterikaMay/@catsushinyakajima | 9.1k words | Asexual!Lance

This is one of my fics...I included it cuz I'm ace and I LOVE ace fics LMAO

part one here

#klance fic recs #klance #klance fic #klance fanfic #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld fic #vld fanfic #vld fic rec #voltron legendary defenders #asexual lance mcclain #spider man keith #time travel vld fic

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rizzanon · 3 months ago

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Heyy how are you?

helloo!! using this ask to answer everyone who’s been asking for my wellbeing these past two weeks! i’ve been doing alright!!

ramadan this year was just a little more tiring that usual and i didn’t really have the motivation to go and answer my inbox these past few weeks so that would explain my inactivity lol 😅🥲 (so sorry for those who sent in asks 😭)

but that doesn’t mean i haven’t been thinking about undoing fate and batfam feb (if we can call it that still 💀 it’s almost april oh my days)

that being said, i officially won’t be back until april at best, it’s exam season again and i totally flopped my H2 chem paper (fucking hate organic chem so much)

i’ve already drafted all of the works i planned to post during batfam feb, but some are still not finished yet—i’m planning to multi drop them when i’m freed from the shackles of exams 😭😓

and undoing fate chapter 8 and 9 (yes 9 🙂‍↕️) will be dropping sometime in april (mid april latest)

so stay tuned!

that being said, incase you guys want to know what i’ve been doing (other than racking my brains for exams 💀), just click below the cut.

was super hyped for invincible season 3 and i loved every bit of it (rexsplode you will be missed dearly—it should have been immortal 💀) and i absolutely loved marks black and blue suit (we gotta love our graysons and their redheads 🥰🤗)

and because i kinda got back into my invincible hyperfixation, i can’t help but think of regressor! sister grayson—you’re a year younger than mark here(but technically i wouldn’t call this version a regressor, just someone who regressed once and used it to her full advantage) and have been exploiting my sideblog to test it out a bit… (these are privated lol)

got the motivation when i rewatched season two and remembered angstrom mentioning how in quite a few dimensions, debbie joined nolan and mark in their conquering, so take it that in her first life, she came from such a dimension, but when she regressed, she found herself in the current dimension that we know of… somewhat.

i completely understand if yall think this is probably more of an oc than a x reader type but yes this was kind of self-indulgent and still a wip lol

that being said, i also made some other platonic aus—if there is a batsis au, there must be a supersis au too! 🤭

probably won’t be a series, just some fluff works surrounding this au lol

and i’ve been delving into the actual comics for arrowfam and green lantern corp as well so i can’t help but imagine…

of course once again, this might be very self-indulgent and probably more of an oc than x reader, but i can’t get this idea out of my head until i write it all out 😓🫣 (incase you can’t tell all these ss are just snippets and i’ve written a lot more in my sideblog posts lol)

there’s still that one bruce wayne x childhood friend! reader slow burn fic that i have in my drafts that’s 90% done as well as another work i’m working on… so yes, i’ll most definitely be spoiling you guys in april 🤗🤫

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 2.5K FOLLOWERS WHATT that’s insane 😭🫶🫶

i think that’s mainly it 😅

i also got addicted to dc dark legions 😓💀

still learning the meta behind these but i didn’t expect myself to fall in so deep 😭

red hood is still one of my best characters (he should have been red but thank god he’s yellow, because he’s been carrying my team, along with mera lol)

hate the fact that my beloved nightwing is so hard to get though 😭 so yup, that’s about it! let me know what yall think about the few teasers i dropped lol)

#rizzanon #rizzanon updates #💌

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metalomagnetic · 9 months ago

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Either must die snippet

***A dear friend asked on discord if I have some EMD writing left, so here it is.***

----

Harry hadn’t stopped screaming since he entered the kitchen; he’s furious. It’s been a long time since he exploded in such righteous anger.

Cheeks red, jaws set, and those damned eyes of his glinting. Why, it’s almost like before, back in the war. Of course, now at least he can appear somewhat intimidating, what with the size of him. He doesn’t intimidate Voldemort, but it is easy to imagine he could make a random individual cower. Voldemort would like to see Harry going off like this on some pesky journalists or one of his stalker fans. It would be entertaining.

As it is, it’s not entertaining at the moment. It irritates Voldemort to be screamed at.

One flick of his wrist, and he could silence Harry. Another flick and he can send him crashing into the wall. To resist temptation, he drums his fingers on the table, reaches inside to find patience. It’s getting harder and harder to be patient these days. He had to suffer it for a while, but now he’s back in power. A Minister, not a war lord, yet people learned not to trifle with him, not to glare at him, not to talk back.

Even Harry learned, as the years passed by. He minded his business, and he let Voldemort be. Yet it’s not worth the trouble to put him in his place, now. He can already imagine the dramatics that would follow. Harry would break again, and Voldemort will either have to lock him in an attic, never to be allowed in public, or he’d have to put in the effort to build him back up, and he certainly lacks the patience for that. Hermione would be insufferable about it. Delphini would cry.

Harry must be aware of these unpleasant outcomes, too, because while he screams, he doesn’t dare do more than that. He cries, too, tears of pain and frustration and pure despair. That improves Voldemort’s mood a tad. Harry always looks good when he’s crying. “I asked for one thing!” his voice breaks, rough. “One thing! You have everything, and I said nothing- you use me, you use my name, you- I only asked for one thing.”

What a lie. Harry might not verbally ask for much, but those pitiful eyes of his ask plenty, and Voldemort gives it to him. The ungrateful brat.

“And you couldn’t let me have it! You’re a monster!”

Show him, a voice begs, a voice that was dormant for so long, but it’s waking up lately. Show him the monster. Show him how patient you’d been with him all these years. Show him how it could have been.

Voldemort ignores it. His fingers curl around the table, momentarily, because just drumming them isn’t enough anymore, he itches for his wand, but then the crisis is avoided, and he is in control, he won’t snap. He does stand, because it’s safe to do it, his temper is in check, and Harry tired himself out with his tantrum. “You asked for her life,” Voldemort reminds him. “She is alive.” Moly Weasley lives. Thought it seems a misfortune befell her earlier that day. Well earned. Delicious revenge. Harry, sadly, is not the type to enjoy the poetic justice, the mastery in this delivery of punishment.

She lives, like he wanted, she isn’t even in pain, but the score was settled. Fleetingly, he wonders if Bella is happy, if she laughs gleefully in the afterlife. Perhaps not- Bella was never one for poetry, for subtlety. She got her vengeance in blood and screams. Harry stares at him, shaking his head. “I hate you,” he whispers. Voldemort did not want to break him, but he broke, anyway. So fragile, this boy of his, despite his impressive muscles, he shatters like glass. “Nothing new,” Voldemort replies, and walks out of the kitchen.

As soon as he reaches the garden, he feels his anger rising, now that he isn’t focused on not hurting Harry until he explodes into a pile of blood and bones. He gets angrier and angrier with every step. He feels as impotent as Harry must feel. No matter how mad the boy was, how obviously hurting, he did not even think to draw his wand at Voldemort, or punch him, like he once did. He would have- for Molly fucking Weasley, he would have. Harry has few limits, but the Weasleys are one. Harry would crash and burn with them, for them, the world be damned. He didn’t, however, because he must know, deep down, that it wasn’t Voldemort. But he can’t admit it to himself, not consciously. Voldemort is a convenient scapegoat. Voldemort is a monster, rotten and evil, and it’s easier for Harry this way. Easier than the truth.

He Apparates to Lestrange Manor, and he thinks of Bella again. How odd- he hadn’t truly thought of her in years, but now he feels her around; when he walks to Lestrange Manor, is feels like before, like when he’d walk this path and knew he’d find her and Rodolphus inside. He doesn’t, of course. He finds a copy of her, instead. Bella left him copies of herself, echoes that remain to dwell the earth in her absence. Voldemort walks past Andromeda, strolls through the Manor, until he finds Rodolphus’ copy.

Voldemort knows Rabastan is guilty as soon as he lays eyes on him. That stiff posture, the fear in his eyes, even if he keeps his chin up, defiant. “Your wand,” he snarls. Andromeda followed him, she’s frowning, confused, asking what the matter is. The matter is that Voldemort was disobeyed. “Leave,” Rabastan begs her. “Leave,” Voldemort snarls at her. Andromeda is a cheaper copy of Bella, in all senses. Tamer, sadder, broken. But wiser. She leaves.

Rabastan gives up ‘his’ wand. It’s not his, of course, just like Voldemort suspected. He knew, as Harry was screeching, as Voldemort sat there trying not to snap, he was thinking how all this could have been accomplished. Delphini is at Hogwarts, after all. Impossible for her to also be at the Burrow. Unless she Apparated there. But she wouldn’t risk doing all that with her wand. It became quite obvious who would have given her a wand. “It had to be done,” Rabastan dares to speak. “You moved on, but I can’t; not until justice was served. You moved on, but Delphi couldn’t.” Delphini is a far better copy of Bella, compared to Andromeda. But, as Voldemort feared- you do not fear!- as Voldemort suspected, she is no true copy of her mother. Oh, she’s her spitting image, she has some Black traits in her personality, but no- Delphi is his copy. The anger reaches its peak. Voldemort always treasured Rabastan over most others, awarded him more leeway than most others. But Rabastan is no Harry, he’s no Delphini, and Voldemort snaps.

He reminds Rabastan who he serves, whose mark is on his arm. Useless, of course. Rabastan was never one to cow for pain, nor learn from it. Yet his pain serves to soothe some of Voldemort’s anger, lets him take it out on him. Another convenient scapegoat.

(-)

She does walk like Bella, a confident, defiant tilt to her hips. She walks loudly, proudly, as if used to have others look at her in awe, covet her. She brought her heels, even if the path to the Forbidden Forest is not exactly best suited for heels. Whenever she angers him, she knows to make herself look even more like her mother.

Once, when he searched her mind, he saw Rodolphus teaching her this, on the night before he left her at Rowle’s. “It’s best if you look like her,” he told her, advising her to let her hair free, to wear the dresses Bella favoured. “He treasured her above all others, and, in time, I hope he’ll treasure you, too.” She doesn’t stop at a respectable distance, like Bella would have done when she knew she messed up, when she angered him. No. Delphini comes close, closer than anyone dares.

She’s taller than Bella already, and the heels almost bring her up to his chin. She looks up, and those are his eyes, that is his glare, his defiance, his stubbornness. “What potion did you give her?” “My own invention,” Delphini says, and pride flushes stronger on her face. “They won’t detect it.” “And if they do, then what is the problem, no?” Voldemort asks. “Who is going to suspect a perfect school girl? And if they do suspect her, who is going to blame the Minister’s daughter? Who would dare arrest her?” Delphini shrugs.

“If you plan on using my influence to stay out of trouble, if you know you can easily fall back on me to protect you, then you should discuss things with me before you do them.” “Why bother,” she spits. “You would have said ‘no’. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” He should have tortured Rabastan more, because not all the anger is out of his system. Furry comes back hot, coursing through his veins, going to his head. “Ask for forgiveness, then,” he hisses, and he takes the step that separated them, towers over her. If she wants to play these games, he’ll play them. She will lose. It’s time for her to learn to lose- Harry spoiled her, far too much. He ignored Voldemort’s warnings that Delphini shouldn’t get away with everything she does, that he should push back, whenever she tests them.

As always, Harry’s kind, tolerant heart, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Delphini doesn’t cower, not truly, but he can detect the current of fear that passes through her. Strangely, it does nothing to improve his mood. Terrifying people usually soothes his fury, but now it just taints it with an unknowable feeling. “I thought you loved Harry,” he says, softly.

“I do!” Her fingers curl into fists at her side. Her neck is bent back uncomfortably, trying to keep Voldemort’s gaze. “She’s alive, isn’t she? Like he asked. She loves Harry, didn’t forget him, and she’ll no doubt dote over him, like a mother. In fact, now that she only remembers loving him, she’ll love him even more! I took nothing from Harry! He can have his pretend mummy! I only took away the memories of all her living children! It’s only fair!”

Delphini’s voice gets louder. Defensive. “She stole my mother from me! So it’s only fair she forgets all the beautiful memories she has with her children, memories she didn’t let me form with my mother. It’s only fair she will only remember her dead son, like I have to remember my dead mother, every time I step foot into the Great Hall, where that harpy took her from me. From us! You lost her, too! And now Molly Weasley cannot remember her husband, either! It’s fair, it is!”

It is beautiful, he agrees. It is poetic and it is just. It is perfect. However.

“You knew he’ll blame me for it; you understand he’s devastated; you understand how he’ll avoid me now, how he’ll suffer, how he’ll moan and whine at me for months on end, start drinking again, retreat into his spare bedroom and rot there for who knows how long. You are perfectly aware Hermione will blame me, too. That it could potentially harm my work. You knew this would affect me. And you did it anyway.” He cups Delphini’s face, and she finally flinches, though she doesn’t draw back.

So beautiful, this child. So intelligent. She loves Voldemort, understands him like no other. His perfect girl. If Voldemort would have ever wanted a daughter, if he’d have been given the chance to make her, build her from scratch- this is what he’d have imagined. Only, he still wishes she would have been more like Bella, or Rodolphus, or Harry; it would have been easier. For him, and for her. Alas, she is not like them. She is like him.

“She deserves it,” Delphini insists. “She hurt me!” Ever her tears are perfect, pretty shapes, clear, trailing down her cheeks. “That never works with me, Delphini,” he reminds her, using his thumb to brush one tear away. “I know!” she hisses. “Nothing works with you! That’s why I didn’t ask! Because you give Harry everything he asks, you are so attentive to provide him with what he needs, but you never care about what I want. What I need. I asked you to punish her, you promised me, remember? When I first met Ron. You promised me! But then Harry asked you to spare her, and you did what he wanted. You forgot about me, about my pain-“

“Shut up,” he says, softly. “I allow you far more than I would anyone else. Harry is my prisoner, he does only what I allow him to do, even if he deluded himself into thinking otherwise. I give you freedom. I don’t make decisions for you. I accept you as you are. But-“ he takes his hand away. “Do not trespass against me, Delphini,” he warns her. “If you want to hurt others, don’t use your mother as an excuse to do it. More importantly, don’t hurt people that are useful to me. Ask before you pull something like this again. And when I say ‘no’, better heed it. Or leave. Go far away, and make trouble there. This is my country, and nothing happens inside it without my say so. I worked for sixty years to subdue this island. If you want that kind of power, you will have to work for it, too.”

#it's fine Harry will refuse to believe it was Delphini and he will eventually forgive Voldemort #in other news Fleur is SO HAPPY now that she got rid of Molly and her smothering #probably Hermione is secretly happy as well though she will never admit it #either must die #harrymort #tomarry #Harry Potter #lord voldemort #Delphini

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selfindulgentpixies · 3 months ago

Text

Follow you through your rain

Dazai x gn!reader

Summary: Tensions in the office since new member Dazai Osamu joined the agency have run high between him and Kunikida Doppo but they're not the only one's affected.

So this is an idea I haven't really been able to shake for a while and really does tie into my own selfship lore with Dazai (and eventual polyship lore with him and chuuya) but is presented in a way that can be enjoyed by anyone here. I will probably continue to present this lore in snippets like this. This is the earliest set lore thus far. Maybe i'll write something actually set during dazai's entrance exam later.

cw: reader having a panic attack, gn!reader, reader has some description and is described as shorter than dazai and kunikida (get's called little by dazai)

---

You’d made a point to stay out of their little ‘spats’ if you could call them that since Dazai had joined the agency. Kunikida’s high strung nature had already been a thing that had fed your own stress but it had been tolerable enough. Kunikida was two years your senior and like you, a student under Fukuzawa, you respected him. Mostly.

This new push and pull though, this new tension. It was itching under your skin. The increase in yelling, and the physical lashing out– while it didn’t seem to overly bother Dazai himself who was the one provoking the behavior further, it was definitely starting to take toll on you.

Things reach breaking point early one drizzly afternoon. Not because it’s any worse than normal but because of where you happen to be. Or rather they happen to. You’re not even paying attention to what it is that’s going on, more focused on your own work. Dazai is goofing off, that much is evident and he’s standing near your work area. That’s not what starts the static between your ears. Kunikida’s yelling is what does that. Your eyes finally follow the sound as it raises in volume, see him reaching for Dazai and just as he’s about to get a grip on him, you know what that grip means, but you’re standing and the side of your palm connects with the underside of Kunikida’s wrist and smacks his hand away. “That is enough.” You do not shout, but you might as well have. Your voice is firm and silences the entire office.

Kunikida is staring down at you, wide eyed and stunned, his own anger at Dazai evidently forgotten for the moment. You’re normally respectful, sweet even, but right now you’re looking at him with steel hardened eyes. Inside your chest your heart beats wildly. You swallow bile to speak evenly. “Whatever Dazai-san has done I highly doubt it warrants all your yelling, but I doubt even more that it warrants physical violence, Kunikida-san.” Kunikida isn't the only one staring at you, Dazai is as well, surprise clear on his face. Surprise and something else shining from just under the surface.

Just as soon as your outburst happens though, you’re turning on your heel, unable to handle the stares of not only the two taller men but also the other office staff and the beginnings of their murmurs.

You think you hear Kunikida call after you. Did he sound worried? It didn’t matter. You’re practically flying down the flights of stairs to escape the building– you didn’t want to get trapped in the elevator with anyone. Especially not yourself and your constricting lungs.

Opening the door and breaking into the grey afternoon feels like cracking open your lungs, the cool air a welcome relief. You didn’t grab an umbrella in your hurry but that’s fine. You’d rather be soggy than where nosy coworkers might find you. Where Kunikida might find you and demand an explanation or worse to apologize. Stuffing your hands into your pockets you set off down the sidewalk to a cafe that was further away and not right below your place of work– you’re not even a full block away when an umbrella opens over your head.

You slow and look to your side as Dazai of all people falls into step beside you. “Now where are you off to in such a hurry?” He asks casually.

You consider ignoring him. “To get coffee.” He raises an eyebrow. “To get coffee somewhere where nosy coworkers won’t bother me,” you echo your earlier thoughts.

“Excellent! I’ll come along then. I could use some coffee.”

You give him a plain look and he just smiles brightly at you.

“You also forgot to bring an umbrella and I’d hate for my little savior to catch a cold from walking in the rain.” As if to emphasize his point the drizzle picks up in urgency, shifting quickly to rainfall and tapping enthusiastically into the canvas now protecting you from getting well and truly soaked.

You don’t reply to that and fixate on the path ahead, making him pout.

When your phone buzzes in your pocket you find the small switch on the side and turn it to silent.

—

It takes several blocks before you arrive at a cute little cafe tucked away from the main road. To Dazai’s surprise you offer to buy him a drink. “It’s for bringing me an umbrella,” you tell him. And have him find the two of you a seat while you get your drinks. You watch from the corner of your eye as he picks a cozy spot, where the two of you would still be able to watch the rain run down the side street yet his back would be against the wall. Why had he felt the need to come after you? Did he just want out of the office too after what had happened? His eyes meet your own and he smiles having caught you staring. You jump at the sound of coffee being ground and look away from him.

The tension feels heavy in your chest as you sit across from Dazai after placing your drinks. Here was this new coworker whose business you’d butted into when he’d had a conflict with one of your seniors because your own issues had flared up. Granted you stood by what you’d said to Kunikida back in the office. There really was no need for him to put his hands on Dazai, regardless of what grievances he may have.

Tapping your nails along the edges of your coffee mug and watching the foam art wiggle, anything but looking directly at Dazai, you finally speak. “I apologize, Dazai-san. I shouldn’t have butted in, I’m sure you were fine. You and Kunikida-san seem to-” you cut off when a finger pokes you in the center of your forehead, pushing gently until you’re looking up, your eyes meeting rich brown.

Dazai looks amused, and perhaps something else you can’t quite place, he retracts his hand and speaks before you can try and puzzle him out, “You’re quite the overthinker aren’t you?” It’s not truly a question. “While yes, I can take care of myself I will say I was rather flattered to have someone get upset on my behalf. It was sweet.” He links his fingers and rests his chin on them.

You feel your cheeks heat as he talks. “Y-yes that well.” Guilt bubbles because it wasn’t just for him that you’d reacted that way. Men yelling and lashing out has always had a way of setting off your instincts and you’d just happened to have been standing so close when it had all happened and- “Overthinking~” His voice chimes.

You blink, startled into focusing on him again.

“Look, whatever might have been your initial reason for stepping in doesn’t really matter. The result was the same. I didn’t get flung across the room and Kunikida-kun has something to think about.”

He’s right, you know he is as you let the words work through your mind, and if the three of you were going to be sharing a workspace for the long term– and considering Dazai had recently completed his entrance exam that looked to be the case– this was likely to happen at some point. Your shoulders sag a bit, tension finally leaving for the first time since Kunikida had raised his voice and reeled back his arm back at the office.

You lift your coffee up for a sip instead of replying and yet Dazai tilts his head slightly on the makeshift cradle of his hands as his smile grows, somehow assured of your understanding. As you set your mug down he bumps his ankle against yours under the table. He’s shifted back in his seat, face no longer cradled in hands and is instead picking up his own mug to finally start drinking his own latte. His eyes are closed in contentment.

“The coffee here is nice. Not quite the same as the coffee back at the office but still nice. And it’s cozy here, I can see why you go to the trouble of walking the extra distance.”

“I go to the trouble because I like the peace.. The convenience of a coffee shop under our work is nice and all but sometimes being so close to work means it follows.” You set down your mug and give him a look.

Dazai’s smile is unapologetic. His ankle is still hooked around your own. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You don’t kick his leg away.

–

The rest of your little ‘coffee break’ passes in easy conversation if you’re honest. Dazai is easy to talk to, sure he talks a lot himself, but he also likes to listen. So he lets you talk, draws out some of your tension over the course of coffee and once you no longer seem like you’ll crumble under the weight of your own tension and your coffee is finished the two of you get up and make your way back out into the rain, Dazai holding the umbrella above your heads.

As you get closer to the ADA building you can see a figure standing outside with his own umbrella.

Dazai bows out gracefully as the two of you reach Kunikida, handing you the umbrella and making his way inside. Your chest feels tight but Dazai gives you a little wave. When your eyes go back to the blonde man his brow is pinched.

“I’m sorr-” “ “I’m sorry-” you both begin at the same time and stop.

Kunikida clears his throat and you wish you could fold your hands in front yourself but instead you have to hold the umbrella Dazai left you with. Your fingers tighten around the grip while your free hand flexes. You nod to Kunkida.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier today-” he takes in your expression and then amends, “ For as of late. I hadn't considered how my.. dynamic with Dazai might be affecting others within the office.”

Ah. So he must have spoken with Fukuzawa-Sensei while you were away? Or that‘s a solid guess you’d make.

He continues. “It hadn’t been my intention to cause you or anyone else within the office distress.”

“Except for Dazai-san?”

“. . .”

You sigh. “Kunikida-san, while I do appreciate you apologizing to me, and I do understand that Dazai-san’s antics can provoke your anger, I just want you to consider whether or not it’s proportional to what is happening, and is it befitting of you when you’re the one most likely to succeed Fukuzawa-sensei one day?” You look up at him openly, your shoulders squared knowing you could be reprimanded in this instance for speaking out of turn.

Kunikida lets his umbrella fall to his side and he sighs, looking up into the grey sky, letting rain drops patter against his glasses before looking back to you, taking in your now slightly distorted now widened eyes. “You’re right. Infuriatingly so. I will try to be more mindful of my temperament.”

And finally you smile at him and you think you can feel Kunikida’s relief in the way his chest expands in a sigh. “That’s all I can ask, right? Those ideals of yours are all about guiding you in growing as a person, right?”

“Something like that,” he huffs, almost sounding fond. From inside the stairwell Dazai watches the interaction.

---

Annnd there you have it. I've actually been debating whether to share this story and piece of lore because I was worried about it painting Kunikida as too much of a villain when that's not how I see him. But I do know myself and knowing my own background that I would end up stepping in. Reader here's background is being Fukuzawa's student and as for my own real world background (not that this is needed) i've taken several self defense classes as well as kick boxing. So I have a sort of built in instinct to when people, especially men, grab at me or people near me. What I described doing to Kunikida is something I've needed to do.

So there's your fun(?) bit of rossi lore!

(And I am aware Kunikida's violence with Dazai is typically meant as a comic relief sort of thing within the series itself, i just wanted to address it in a different way. Especially early on when their dynamic is more new both for them and those around them. Again not Kuni hate piece by any means! )

Tags: @osamucide (Thank you for reading over the early draft!) @madaqueue @fyodior @pastelle-rabbit @startcarvingdarling

@flametrashira @chuuminn Ahhh I'm still not entirely sure who to tag in BSD works yet.

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x reader #rossi writes

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 3 months ago

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Omg you have no idea how excited I am for the new George fic, a NOVEL!?! You spoil us, you truly do. May I please see the tiniest of snippets? Don't wanna ask for too much !!

Yeah, it's so wild to consider that I wrote a novel in a week, but a short novel (or a novella) is 40k and the fic is 50k in total lmao. Because once I started writing these characters, I couldn't stop. Also, I have even started working on a companion piece for this fic with ideas that I wanted to use but couldn't find a place for in the main fic. So... I might be releasing two fics in this verse. Who knows. I am just soooo obsessed with this George x Slytherin Reader dynamic

NOW POSTED - Part One of the fic is now posted <3

(and if you are reading this after April 2025, Part Two may be posted as well and it might already be complete. it's a two part fic)

I'm Not Angry (Anymore) - George Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader (Enemies to Lovers) - FANFIC PREVIEW

Warnings: There's not much in the way of warnings for this small section, but the fuller fic will have more emotions, more elements of angst - including themes of blood purity, family betrayal, and all the themes that come with the war times in Harry Potter (death, torture, killing people due to personal prejudice); the longer version of the fic will also have smut - a lot of it. This section only has some descriptions of slightly creepy masks, the horrors of working in retail, and Fred being rude toward the reader character being her back. Also, the reader character goes by she/her pronouns, but most of the pronouns used throughout the fic will be you/yours.

Word Count: 1,700

If you want to see the full fic when it comes out in a few weeks, go over to my writing blog @sundrop-writes and follow me there (but it will be reblogged to this blog as well, so you can follow me here if you want to)

...

“Um, excuse me, Miss?”

You were distracted away from your work when someone called for your attention - you had been opening and unpacking a new box of Screaming Yo-Yos, but you put that aside for now. You looked up and put on your best (rather fake) customer service smile, the shelf in front of you still half empty, only halfway done as you abandoned it to help the customer.

You rose up from your back-aching kneeling position on the floor and wiped your hands on your apron - an ugly, obnoxiously bright orange one with the Weasley W on the chest, your uniform. A bit of public embarrassment to go along with the forced nicety that you had to participate in while doing the job. You straightened yourself to better speak to the person - a woman in her forties who most definitely wasn’t the regular clientele for the shop.

“Yes?” You said, your voice bright in a very forced way, your fake smile continuing to beam toward her as she responded with a grin.

“My son absolutely loves this sort of stuff, and I was wondering if this would be a good gift for his birthday?” She asked, gesturing toward a large fireworks display behind her.

Your eyes wandered toward the obligatory ‘must be at least sixteen years old to purchase’ sign that the twins had put on the fireworks display. One that Hermione had been down their throats about adding after multiple of her first and second year students had nearly taken fingers off from lighting the fireworks and then holding onto them as they exploded, despite the clear instructions on the packaging.

“How old is your son?” You asked, trying to sound politely curious rather than cautious. You knew better than to scare away a potential customer.

“He’s ten. About to turn eleven. I wanted to get him something for his big day.” She said, clearly beaming with pride.

“Those are a bit, uh… advanced.” You said, choosing your words very carefully. “I think I know something much better for someone his age.”

You put a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her over to a section of products that the twins had recently come out with - animal themed masks with animated, moving features that made genuine, loud animal sounds when the wearer put them on. They were a big hit with younger kids, especially for sneaking up behind people and scaring them with a loud sound. Even if you found the display to be loud and annoying, you did have to admit that it was adorable to see smaller kids put the masks on and get so excited to become their favourite animal.

“Morph-O-Masks.” You said, motioning toward the display with an outstretched, showy arm that felt far too familiar of your red-haired bosses. They were rubbing off on you in a painfully obvious way. “They make genuine animal sounds, have moving tongues and ears, and we just released a Hungarian Horntail-”

“Oh my little Gareth would love this one,”

The woman said, clearly excited, picking up the classic lion mask with the large, furry mane and the mouth that opened wide to let out a loud, realistic roar.

“He’s been hoping to get into Gryffindor, just like his father. I didn’t go to Hogwarts myself. I’m American, you see, so I went to Salem. But I moved here when my Walter proposed. And we had sweet little Gareth a few months later. Fat little baby, he was-”

“That is our best seller,” You commented with a nod, trying to gently cut off the woman’s rambling.

“Thank you so much, dear.” The woman thanked you, and much to your internal annoyance - she then pulled you in for a tight hug.

You rolled your eyes sharply over her shoulder, your fake smile dropping into a harsh scowl where she couldn’t see, and you were simply thankful when the hug lasted no more than a three count (because you most definitely were counting in your head). When she pulled away, you directed her to the cash register where Fred was waiting and got back to stocking the yo-yos.

Your thankfulness quickly ended the moment you turned around and found the other twin waiting for you. George was lingering behind you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“‘That’s our best seller’,” He repeated your words, mocking you in a girlish tone that did not at all sound like you.

“Shut up,” You griped, rolling your eyes again, shoving your hands sharply into the pockets of your apron in order to resist the urge to hit him. You had to force yourself to remember that it wasn’t your school days anymore, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job as much as you could afford to lose a few house points over your petty squabbling.

“No, really, that was great.” He continued on, still grinning with an intense satisfaction - it made you want to slap him. Not because you didn’t like to see him smiling, but because it felt like he was mocking you. “You’re finally settling into the job now, eh?”

“It’s work,” You shrugged, eager to end the conversation.

You attempted to move around him to get back to unpacking the yo-yos - but with the isles cramped so tightly together and with his body so stupidly broad, he easily blocked your way as he leaned in closer, forcing you to take a step back as he moved to grab something off the Morph-O-Mask display.

You hated that you caught a whiff of his cologne along the way, during the moment that you were a bit too close to him as he moved toward the display and you couldn’t move away fast enough. The scent was far too strong, a cedarwood and lavender that you hated, and even so, his hard day’s work was causing the slightest bit of sweat to seep through - it was truly awful.

(That’s what you told yourself, anyway.)

“I see you still haven’t sold any of the serpents yet.” He chimed, holding up a scaly bright green serpent mask from the display. “If this was a house war, I would say that Gryffindor is winning,”

You knew that it was no coincidence that the original line of masks had consisted of a golden yellow lion, a green serpent, a bronze eagle, and a black and white badger (one that let out a very terrifying snarl and had rather creepy beady red eyes - that was the reason you hadn’t sold many of those, not due to any lack of loyalty from Hufflepuffs). It wasn’t your fault that kids were more attracted to the ones that came in the secondary release - different types of dragons, a spider with snapping fangs and dozens of eyes, even the black cat that purred and flicked its ears sold out more often than the serpent.

“Did you consider the inherent bias?” You posed, tilting your head at him. “This is a shop owned by two Gryffindors, therefore you are bound to have more Gryffindor customers - especially due to the bias of your grassroots marketing back at Hogwarts, which only took place primarily within Gryffindor Tower,”

George’s face knit with intense thought as you explained this, and you were glad that for once, he was pensive and taking in your words, rather than cutting you off with some kind of joke.

“And even unconsciously, you put more care and thought into the design of the lion mask, so it did turn out to be the best one,” You hated to admit it, but it was true.

Between the quality of the fur and the intense beauty of the eyes - the way it raised its mouth and let out the deep intimidating roar - it was beautiful.

“And it’s the one you have used primarily for marketing,” You pointed to the front window, where the lion mask was on a stand advertising the new product. “It’s like you set up the serpent to fail. And then you blame it on a poor stock girl for not shilling it hard enough,”

You ground intense sarcasm into your final words, taking the green mask from his hands and tossing it back onto the shelf with the others, finally skirting around him as he stood there shocked into silence. He was genuinely impressed by the amount of thought you had put into it. He finally snapped out of his shock by the time you had knelt back down beside the box of yo-yos, continuing to neatly stock the shelf with them.

“Well, perhaps next time we should consult a Slytherin for further research and development,” He said, giving you a grin.

“Let me know when you find one who’s willing to donate her time,” You replied, brisk and cool, grabbing the finally empty cardboard box from the yo-yos and shuffling back to the storage room, thankful to have an excuse to finally flee away from George and escape the conversation.

You were behind the thick wood of the storage room door by the time that George wandered over to the front counter.

“That was smooth.” Fred breathed out, entirely sarcastic.

“Oi, that was the longest we’ve ever gone without her insulting me. I am making progress.” George replied.

“Yeah, at this point, you’ll be going on your first date in your fifties and be married by the time I have grandchildren,” Fred joked.

“You don’t even know if Angelina wants kids,” George prodded, eager to navigate around the subject of his pathetic crush.

“Yeah, but at least I know she wants me. At least I’m not hung up on some stone cold Slytherin bit-”

“Hey!” George chastised, knowing that he would have easily hurled that kind of language at you during your school days, understanding why Fred rolled his eyes. “Maybe I like cold.”

“Then go stick your cock in the ice box,” Fred sighed. “Maybe it’ll help you get over this nonsense so you can actually pick someone who’s good for you.”

George didn’t say anything further, not daring to voice the words to a brother who just couldn’t understand. There was no one else for him, no one else who lived in his heart - no one else but you.

...

NOTE - This is just a small preview of a longer fic that will come out later. If you want to see the full fic when it comes out, go and follow my writing blog, or follow me here, as I will reblog the fic here when it's posed.

#sundrop answers #interactions #george weasley #george weasly x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x slytherin reader #slytherin reader #harry potter fanfiction

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girl-lostconnection · 4 months ago

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kissing you sloppy on the cheek for a/a/o throuple 141. barking screaming crying sobbing pleading begging meowing idc PLEASE more at your convenience if you wanna continue it I love you 🫶🫶

Imagining Kyle and Johnny finding alpha!reader the most delicious looking person they’ve ever seen. not normal at all? Intriguing. Hormones fucked? Scent fucked? Sign them up. Maybe alpha!reader is beating themself up over their shitty second gender. Maybe they can fix you.

Kissing your cheek sloppy in return, anon. I just saw your ask and god BLESS you for it. God, I’ve been dying to talk about it.

Kyle and Johnny might as well be the whole construction crew with how much they are in the “I can fix them” trenches. On more serious note, I think they won’t really try to “fix” anything because they like Reader already as they are.

Reader is runt Alpha, a thing I came up with (let me know if it already existed and I’ll humble myself) at some point during my fruitless omegaverse snippet writing, all of which went into the desk and was forgotten.

But in short the idea was that runt Alphas are generally smaller, they have weaker scent, they are more sense sensitive to what other Alphas wouldn’t be. They don’t get Omega’s adaptability or Alpha’s strength or even Beta’s stability. They have less ruts, many of runts are actually late bloomers, “ugly ducklings” of omegaverse if you wish.

Johnny and Kyle aren’t alphas and they have seen their fair share of bias throughout life which in my head means that they would look past the whole secondary gender thing. But even with it, they genuinely would think that Reader is in fact the most delicious fucking alpha they have ever seen and smelled and had pleasure to interact with.

Reader doesn’t smell as strong as most alphas? Perfect, they like that Reader has softer not as aggressive scent because both Kyle and Johnny would have issues with “submitting” to average alphas. Because why would they?

Reader has fucked up hormonal balance? That’s okay, bb, they are gonna gently herd Reader to check it all out and see if there is anything that can be done to help and/or accommodate the imbalance. If not, that’s okay, they will work it out themselves and see if any accommodations would be needed.

Alpha!Reader is very much beating themselves over second gender but maybe not in a typical wallowing way. They are just stubbornly resigned. It’s a devastating kind of defeat, one that was born out of years and years of jumping over their head and never reaching the set bar. It’s not that they can’t believe that someone would want them — it’s that not believing in it feels safer. They aren’t sure if they won’t fucking shatter if they get reminded in such vulnerable situation how not enough they are.

I think Kyle and Johnny are going to win because they accept Reader exactly the way they are, while Price has very high standards for how alphas should be if Reader was to try and prove that they deserve place in the pack and they deserve place in the Price x Simon x Reader throuple.

But really, how much can you push someone before you finally push them off the edge?

#call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.asks #omegaverse #task force x reader #task force 141

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k-s-morgan · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! I just want to thank you for your work and the stories you write

Another ask: Hope you're okay

----

Hi! Thank you both so much <3

Using these asks to give a quick update: fortunately, I'm doing much better these days! I started getting a lot of offers from different companies, to the point where I had to turn quite a few down. I had to make a difficult decision as to whether I want to keep being a freelancer or settle into a full-time job with a set schedule. After lots of struggling, I settled on the former. I don't do well with schedules like this, I really appreciate my freedom to build my day the way I want to, especially at the time when bombings might keep me awake all night. Hopefully, I have enough employers now to stay afloat.

I've been very busy due to this: making serious decisions, checking how my new companies treat me, adjusting to the pressure of taking too many projects at once to compensate for the time I spent looking for a job this month, etc.

Now things are clearing up. I've made some writing progress, and I really want to get to all the wonderful, interesting asks I got as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it today! In Ukraine, a New Year is a bigger holiday, so I plan to post snippets from each of my active stories by then as a reward for myself and as a thank you to you for all the support you've been giving me.

#personal #my fics

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cosmiclily · 5 months ago

Note

For the writers block: I hope this is okay to request this kind of snippet but I think this idea is very cute. -🎸

It’s raining and Vi plus reader are coming out of a bakery with fresh strawberry muffins, a dog catches a whiff of the delicious muffin and chases them in the rain running away from said dog, Vi throws a muffin so far the dog leaves them alone and they run again not trying to find out if that dog will come back for them. The both of them find some sanctuary away from the rain and the dog. So out of breath laughing at their exhausted faces and taking a long look at each finally kissing. They sit somewhere dry and eat their muffins peacefully listening to drips that hit the ground.

“Thank Janna, for the rain” - I just realized I basically just wrote a lil mini story but like I feel like if you tweaked it, it could be better, it would be softer like the way you write the both of them is refreshing ✨

You don’t have to use this if you don’t want to at alll

“thank janna, for the rain.”

• vi x reader

wc: 1.4k

notes: i’m on a fluffy roll, this is the cutest thing i’ve ever written. thank you so much for the request!!! i loved writing this 💕

I met Vi through a mutual friend, and the first time we ever saw each other, I was helping that friend puke outside a frat party. Vi stepped in to help me get our friend home, and before parting ways, we exchanged numbers so she could check in on us later.

After that day, we started talking—constantly texting, sharing random thoughts, late-night confessions, and jokes that only made sense to us. It felt effortless, like we’d known each other for years. But every time we tried to go on an actual date, something went wrong. It was almost comical, like the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

The first time, we planned a simple outing to the park. The day we scheduled it, the skies decided to punish us for no reason, unleashing a torrential downpour that flooded half the city.

The second attempt was at a restaurant everyone was raving about. We were excited, certain nothing could go wrong with a reservation. But on the very day we were supposed to go, they suddenly announced a temporary closure due to “unforeseen circumstances.”

The third time, Vi got hurt—badly—during a hockey game. She took a nasty fall, ended up with a sprained wrist and a trip to the hospital.

Now, we were trying for the fourth time.

“I don’t care if it rains, if the café catches on fire, or if a piano falls on my head. We are going out!” Vi declared over the phone, determination radiating through her voice as we both got ready for our date.

“Don’t put those things out there; they might actually happen,” I replied, half-joking but also slightly paranoid. At this point, I didn’t want to take any chances.

Vi laughed on the other end of the line, that warm, effortless sound that always made me smile, even when I was trying to be serious.

“If a piano falls on my head, at least I’ll die knowing we tried,” she teased, her voice full of that stubborn charm I’d grown to adore.

“Yeah, well, if you die, that’s going to make date number five even more complicated,” I shot back, slipping on my jacket and checking my reflection one last time. My heart was racing—not just because of the string of bad luck, but because this time felt different. Like it might actually happen.

We hung up with promises to see each other soon, and as I stepped outside, I held my breath, half-expecting the sky to open up or a rogue piano to come crashing down from the heavens. But the air was calm, the streets dry, and for once, nothing catastrophic seemed to be on the horizon.

When I arrived at the café, I spotted Vi instantly. She was leaning against the doorframe, scrolling through her phone, her pink hair slightly messy from the wind and a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She looked up, our eyes met, and just like that—everything felt right.

No storms. No sudden closures. No injuries. Just us.

“You made it,” she said with a grin, as if she didn’t quite believe it herself.

“We made it,” I corrected, walking up to her.

We stepped into the café, the warm scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries wrapping around us like a cozy blanket. We ordered, found a small table by the window, and sat down. Everything felt calm, effortless—like the universe had finally decided to cut us some slack. The date was perfect, just the way I had imagined it.

Vi had this awkward sense of humor that never failed to make me laugh, the kind that sneaks up on you, catching you off guard in the best way. She’d say something completely ridiculous with a straight face, and it would hit me a second later, leaving me in stitches. And God, she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen—like she didn’t even have to try. It wasn’t just her looks; it was the way she carried herself, unapologetically real, with a spark in her eyes that made everything around her seem a little brighter.

After we’d finished our drinks, Vi leaned back in her chair, that familiar grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“We could get some muffins and coffees to go, then head to that park I was telling you about. I really think you’d like it,” she suggested, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

And that’s exactly what we did. We ordered a couple of strawberry muffins, grabbed our drinks of choice, and set off toward the park. The walk was perfect—easy conversation, hands brushing occasionally, stolen glances that made my heart race. It felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Until that stupid dog showed up.

Out of nowhere, this scrappy little thing came barreling toward us, barking like we’d personally wronged it in a past life. Its eyes locked onto me with what I can only describe as pure, unfiltered hatred. Like it had been waiting its whole dog life for this exact moment.

And as if that wasn’t enough, the universe—clearly bored with our happiness—decided to spice things up. Dark clouds rolled in out of nowhere, and within seconds, fat, cold raindrops started pelting us.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I yelled at the sky, my arms thrown up in frustration as the rain soaked through my clothes.

Vi burst out laughing. Not just a little giggle, but a full-on, doubled-over, can’t-catch-her-breath kind of laugh. She was drenched, her hair sticking to her face, mascara smudging just a little, and she’d never looked more beautiful.

Her laughter was infectious. I tried to stay mad—I really did—but it was impossible. Soon enough, I was laughing too, standing there in the middle of the downpour, trying to shield the box of muffins in one hand and my heart in the other.

“Here, let me take this,” Vi said, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she reached for the box. Without hesitation, she popped it open, grabbed one of our precious strawberry muffins, and chucked it toward the ugly little dog like it was some kind of sacrificial offering.

The dog’s attitude shifted instantly. It sprinted after the muffin with the kind of determination it had previously reserved for us, leaving us blessedly alone.

“My savior!” I exclaimed dramatically, throwing my arms around Vi’s neck and planting a wet, exaggerated kiss on her cheek. My lips met cold skin, damp from the rain, but her warmth still bled through, making me forget just how soaked we both were.

She laughed again, gripping my hands with a firm, playful squeeze before pulling me along. “Come on, Romeo. Before we melt.”

She led me toward a small gazebo nearby, tucked just at the edge of what I assumed was the park we were supposed to be going to. The rain hammered against the roof like it had something to prove, but under the shelter, it was just us—breathless, dripping, and still laughing.

Vi set the slightly damp muffin box on the bench and turned to me, her hair a mess of wet strands sticking to her face, her cheeks flushed from both the cold and the laughter. She didn’t bother to fix it, and honestly, I wouldn’t have wanted her to. She was perfect just like that.

“Well,” she said, brushing water from her forehead with the back of her hand, “this wasn’t exactly the plan.”

“Yeah, but when have our plans ever worked out?” I replied, stepping closer, our soaked shoes squeaking slightly against the wooden floor.

She smirked, tilting her head. “Fair point.”

The air between us shifted—still light, still filled with laughter, but underneath it was something else. My heart was racing again, but for a completely different reason this time. I reached up, gently tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering just a second longer than they needed to.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she leaned in, her smile fading into something softer, something that made the world feel like it was holding its breath. And then she kissed me—soft at first, like she was testing the waters, then deeper, like she’d been waiting for this as long as I had.

The rain kept falling, the universe still doing its chaotic thing, but none of it mattered. In that moment, it was just us—messy, soaked, laughing—and somehow, perfectly right.

“Thank Janna, for the rain.”

──────────────────────

masterlist

#vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #requests #lily writes #🎸

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polaroidhugs · 5 months ago

Text

Dancing with Myself

'When there's no one else in sight/In the crowded lonely night/Well I wait so long for my love vibration/and I'm dancing with myself' Chapter 1 - Dancing with myself Chapter 2 - Poker face Chapter 3 - Rhiannon Chapter 4 - Hotel California

(SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: While late for work the 3rd time this month, in Hano's kindness, she takes some extra time to give a man crossing Shibuya his wallet, and when he barely even reacts to her gesture, it makes her mood even worse. Not as bad as when the entire city disappears, and it's just her and wallet guy left, though.

A/N: First post!! I finished AIB like 2 days ago, and I just got the biggest urge to write a fic after watching it, so... here it is! (Excuse my typos I’m still trying to get better at writing.)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of criminalistic past-juvie, in the last little bit of the chapter, a noose and gambling are mentioned.

BTW: the character has a given last name (Hano) but her first name is up to you.

Happy reading! WC: 4618

Shit. Late for work again. And for the third time this month, too. It's really not my fault: My alarm didn't go off, and when I tried beating on makeup, my apartment's fire alarm went off and everybody had to evacuate. This is most definitely a sign I need to wake up earlier. But will I? No. Whatever, there’s no use dwelling on it; I’ll just do my makeup at the office.

Man, the city really is a beautiful place. I always find myself studying the passers-by as I wait for the light to turn. There's a dishevelled man seemingly in the same situation as me: his glasses perched awkwardly, not even having enough time to fix them, and he’s begging somebody on the phone to listen. Or, a more wicked idea, He might be a cheater, kicked out on the street, begging for his wife to let him explain.Then there’s three school girls clustered together, their voices bubbling with laughter about, from snippets of the conversation I can catch, boys.

That's the beauty of life for me. Everybody is so different. Everybody in this city has completely different lives from each other. Unless, all you do is stay in bed all day. But even those people have differing ideals. So, maybe that guy was a cheater. Most likely, he was just late for work. But I’ll never know.

My thoughts are interrupted by a soft thud, the sound of something hitting the pavement. My eyes flick to the ground to see a thin, black leather wallet, scuffed from use. The ID in the clear slot catches my eye, and it invites me to take a closer look. I can feel my purse slip from my shoulder to my elbow as I squat down to pick up the wallet.

I glance down at the wallet, the owner’s name "Shuntaro Chishiya" catching my attention as I stand back up. "pediatric cardiovascular surgeon" Damn, this guy is young for someone with such a fancy title. To be honest: his photo on the ID doesn’t do him too good: The angle of the light causes his face to be partially obscured by shadows, making eyes looking like two black holes. Whoever decided it’s basically a requirement for people to look bad on their ID needs to be locked up forever.

I slide over to a nearby pole to get out of the way. When I open the wallet a stack of crisp 10,000 yen bills greet me. Stacked neatly against eachother. Why’d I even do this to myself? Why’d I open it? The temptation to take them hit me like a punch. Three years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to grab these bills up, maybe even bought some new designer for me and my friends with the card. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, snapping the wallet shut. My fingers linger on the leather, the temptation gnawing at me.

No matter how much I think I’ve changed, that pull always comes back. But then guilt creeps in, and the fact that I’m even struggling with this disgusts me. I should be better than this by now. I remember those years. I was a disappointment. Stealing, smoking, getting in fights, in Juvie- almost, if i wasn’t bailed out. I think of my family, their faces twisted with disgust in the car mirror as they drove me home. I don’t like to remember it. I can’t remember it.

As the light signals to cross, I spot him: It’s impossible to miss this guy, really, his bleached blonde hair makes him stand out like the sun in a surrounding sea of black hair. He’s wearing a white cardigan and some shorts, hands in his pockets. How’d he not notice his wallet? His shorts don’t have a back pocket as far as I can see. I don’t even think about it as I make a beeline for him even though he’s walking away from my office building, I just have to return this to him.

“Excuse me, sir!” I yell, pushing my way through the crowd. About a dozen tiny apologies come from my mouth before I finally reach him, tapping him admittedly rough on the shoulder.

The man turns around and, thank God, it’s him alright. “Sorry for bothering you, but I believe this is yours.” I hold out his wallet, flipping it so he can see his ID. He stares at me for a moment before glancing down at his wallet. Much to my surprise, his hands aren’t cemented to his pockets: He reaches out one to take his wallet back to his pocket. “Thanks.”

And he turns head and begins to walk away. Surely he heard me yelling for him in the street? I wasn’t expecting him to grovel for me, but just that nonchalant thanks? Not even a “Thank you, maam.” Man, why do I ever bother being nice to guys?

I grit my teeth, my irritation somehow building even higher. Whatever, I begin booking it for my office building. Finally, I made it. The glass doors slide open agonizingly slow, like they know I’m in a time crunch. I wave a quick, distracted hand at Ageda, who’s cheerfully greeting me with her usual good morning as I rush to the stairs. I can’t even think about the elevator right now. My heels clack loudly against the metal steps, and as I get up to the fourth floor, I’m breathless with my legs burning from all that running.

I weave through the sea of cubicles, a bit of me dying inside when I see the stack of papers on mine: If any other jobs would give me the delight of an interview, I would go there instead in a heartbeat. Not that I’m not grateful for Hageda, he’s the only person that would give me a job looking at my past: I’m forever indebted to him.

Once I get to my bosses office, I practically crash through the door. I stumble in, hands choking the coat rack by the door as the only possible way to keep me from collapsing. “I am so sorry!” The words barely even make it out of my mouth, and I shoot the most pleading look I can to my boss. “I-I swear it wasn’t my fault this time, my alarm didn’t go off and-and-”

“It’s fine, Hano-san.” He laughs softly. Him and this office always had a way of calming me down. I’ve known Hayashi for years; he’s a family friend, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him get angry. He’s just as cool as this office, with all the brown rustic furniture.

“Do this again, however, I’ll have to tell your father to wake you up himself.” Oh, God. I can never be late again. I can already hear my father’s voice: ‘My friend gives you this job after your life of gangster-ness and this is how you repay him? Why did, God give me this disappointment as my daughter?’ The image of his face churned in disgust is seared into my brain.

I fix my bag back onto my shoulder as I bow. “Thank you, Buchou.” I should definitely be going now, getting to my job. My hand reaches to push the rustic wooden door open, but the power going off stops me in my tracks.

I guess I can’t get to work. What should I do, then? Go home? That thought places a grimace so big it hurts my mouth. Well, I guess it’s up to Hayashi. I turn around, my face brighter than the sun.

What the fuck? My boss isn’t there, and it’s not like there’s anywhere for him to hide in this office- I’d know. As a kid, me and his daughter would be so bored waiting for him to return from a meeting we’d play hide and seek to pass the time. There wasn’t any spots for us to hide well, so there sure isn’t any for him.

Everything else in the room is just as it was a second ago; except for one thing. His glasses. They’re resting on the desk, abandoned. On top of that, one of the lenses looks like it’s been shot through.

“Hello?” What am I doing? There’s no way he would respond to me even if this was somehow a joke, and if it was, why? For being late? I’ve known this guy since I was little, he wouldn’t go through all of this just to scare me from being late again, he doesn’t care enough to do that! The whole room seems to be pressing in on me, the walls narrowing, the air growing colder.

I burst out my office, looking frantically from one cubicle to the next for anybody to explain what just happened, but there’s no one. No one is here.. My office is empty. Everyone that was here a minute ago, is gone. Even Tokuda, who hasn’t missed a single day of work in 12 years, is nowhere to be found. “Hello? Anyone? Is anyone there?” I quit my running, standing in the middle of the room, spinning in circles to spot someone that might not be a great hider. Nope.

I speed walk to the stairs, noting how the elevator is down, and every single computer is turned off. I blaze down the winding steps, the straps of my bag slipping once again. When I reach the main floor, there’s something I’d thought I’d see: Emptiness. there’s nobody crying in their seats about how they got scammed by a prince overseas, or somebody yelling at the lady upfront about how its her fault their card declined. It’s so… refreshing.

I have always been fascinated by how different people are, how different their lives are, but don’t get that confused with some sort of admiration for the differences. If I’m being honest, most people annoy the living hell out of me, I’d say about 8 in 10, being generous. They all just get under my skin.

The streets are the same as my office building: Desolate. And, if I’m not mistaken, I think the starbucks has moss creeping up on it? The hell? That would take a shit ton of time to happen normally, right?

The silence of Shibuya Crossing is almost too loud. Normally, the streets are filled with the incessant humming of just about a million different sounds. But now? It’s silent. It’s almost relaxing. I’m sure there are other people here- there must be at least one or two. But right now, I feel like someone just took their hands off my throat.

No more condescending coworkers giving me those pitying looks and snacks, no more parents lecturing me how I should be like my brother, no more fake smiles for the customers that have more complaints than sense; I’m free as a bird. I don’t even have to be wearing this sad office attire- Dress suit, skirt, and heels. The convenience store in the distance is humming my name.

I don’t give a damn how bad my heels are digging into the sides of my feet I sprint there, it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll be free of these horrible creations soon. Hopefully for good: I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was little, heels have been my worst enemy. I know some girls can stand them or build a resistance to them, but that’s not me. They feel like nails for me, and no amount of being in them has ever lessened that fact for me. Maybe my feet are just shaped strangely.

I practically teleport to the home section of the store, and there I see them. A simple pair of light blue slippers. Sitting on the shelf. The soft texture of the slippers feel heavenly in my hand as I pick them up. It’s like I’m a kid again, and the slippers are those huge rainbow swirl lollipops. Relief washes over me just imagining it.

Maybe I’m a bit dramatic, but I feel like I’m in utopia. With nobody I can do whatever and take whatever I want. Who’s going to stop me? I swing my feet into the air, my heel going along with it, and making a big thud as it touches the ground. But when I do the same thing with the opposite feet it hit’s something soft, Like flesh. I didn’t check if there was anyone in here, did I? I was too caught up with putting these slippers on. That’s mighty embarrassing.

What a coincidence: Wallet guy. Chinchilla, I think his name was? It already slipped my mind. Chinchilla has his hand in his pocket, posed like he’s waiting for the bus. His lips are curled into a small smirk- the kind that’s not really a smile, but kinda is. My heels are between his feet, but he doesn’t care about that. He’s just staring at me with that slight curve in his mouth.

What do I even say? “Sorry I just kicked you with my heel, man. My bad?” I don’t know this guy, I just returned his wallet to him earlier and all he gave me was a pathetic thanks. Do I say sorry? Do I ask him what’s going on? Why would he know?

“Oh, you.” That came out of my mouth much more sharply than I intended. I’m not that salty about the wallet thing, I think. Nothing about Chinchilla changes at all, it’s like he’s a greek statue. Quite frightening, if you ask me. “Sorry, I didn’t it like that.” I sigh, bending over and slipping on my new stolen slippers: I’m not trying to be barefoot infront of this guy.

After a moment, his lips twitch and his smirk deepens. Just a fraction, but it’s noticeable. “It’s just you and me, then?” His voice is casual, like he’s commenting on the weather. His eyes make their way back to me, and the smile fades out of his face. I feel like I shouldn’t be talking with him. Why is he and I the only two people here right now? Then again, what could I lose from responding?

“As far as I can see.” I vaguely gesture to store’s window, though in my view it’s covered by cleaning supplies and chargers. There’s this long silence that stretches between us as he stares out the window. I hate silence.

“Hey,” I say, slightly shifting my body. He raises his eyebrows for a split second before looking back to me.

“Why are you and I the only people in Shibuya right now?” That’s what’s been in the back of my mind this whole time. Why am I the only one who hasn’t disappeared? I’ve never been particularly special. Mid grades and a delinquent for 90% of my life. It’s not like I’m special. Maybe he is: He’s a young long-title doctor. Definitely sharper than a sword. But I’m not.

“I don’t know.” He answers back to me, quite matter-of-factly. There’s not hint of confusion is his voice, or maybe a bit of nerve as to why him and this random girl are the only two people left in Shibuya. He just doesn’t know. Point blank period.

I’m unsure how to respond to thst. He simply just doesn’t know. Do I get mad and start barking at him for answers? I shouldn’t: He is most likely just in the dark as I am. And if he is, then I’ve missed out of a valuable warm body. Maybe I should ask him to pair up with me, investigate together.

“We should stick together.” He states blankly, like he was reading my mind. I meet his eyes for the briefest moment before nodding. “We should.” I move to the front of the store, where a stack of shopping baskets wait for me. I can hear Chinchilla’s footsteps loosely following mine. I grab a basket and head straight for the food aisles. I don’t waste time, shoving anything with good shelf life into my basket.

I can feel my new partner’s eyes on me as I shove everything useful on the shelves into the basket, and it grinds my nerves: I just can’t stand when people watch me but don’t do anything. “Don’t just stand there, put those pockets to good use.” I snap, giving him the bitchiest look I can muster. Damn, I feel like my boss from when I was a delinquent. Demanding and impatient.Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Chinchilla flash that signature smirk as he walks somewhere out of my sight. Damn, this guy has absolutely zero urgency

It takes me a minute, but I fill my basket up the the brim, along with my purse. When I step out of the aisle, I can see Chinchilla casually leaning against the cashier counter, his pockets weighed down with snacks. Without a word, I push the door open, hearing the little ding of the bell as I exit, . That would mean, that everything powered by electricity is useless right now, and I can tell Chinchilla feels it too, I can hear him let out the quietest ‘hm.’

I stop at Shibuya crossing, it feels free not having to worry about a car hitting me. An apartment would probably be the safest bet for a place to put all this shit in, but for some reason, my body feels a strong gravitational pull to Starbucks. That convenience store was rather low on water for some odd reason, and the Starbucks would definitely have a shit ton, plus caffiene, which could be nice, too. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened to me. But, since we’re partner’s now, I guess I have to ask for Mr. Mysterious’s thoughts.

“Starbucks or an apartment?” I ask, my voice flat. “We’re low on water, and I’m guessing taps don’t work anymore,” He’s behind me, but I can imagine his face not changing.

“Astute observation.”

I feel quite bullied by what he said just now. Is he making fun of my intelligence? Not cool, man. Or, this could be an answer with his own personal touch of mockery. If he acknowledges my observation as astute, then he probably thought of that too, meaning he’s thought of the apartments being a subpar place to go aswell. I don’t ask another question, I just begin walking and hope he follows.

We make it to the Starbucks and just like every other place, it’s empty, with no indication this place ever opened in the first place. There’s just one singular round chair fallen over, but that’s it. For a second, I’m stunned. I can’t believe it’s the first time I’ve been here: It’s right next to my work. I put the basket off supplies and my purse down onto a booth, and Chinchilla follows suit, slowly as ever taking the snacks he shoved in his pockets out and placing them next to the basket.

I look to the counter. Why not? Nothing’s stopping me. “One large espresso coming right up!” I announce as I grab a large cup, some water still in it, and pretend to make the most extravagant coffee in the world. I shake the cup like I’m some sort of bartender. My laughter rings out, care free.

My mood should be much darker right now. The city’s empty. Everyone’s disappeared. Any sort of technology is useless. But I’m loving this. Sure, it’s unsettling, but also so fun.

“I don’t drink caffeine.” Chinchilla’s voice cuts through my thoughts. Very late reply, indeed. He’s staring at me, and I’m staring right back at him. “You’re a doctor,” I shoot back as I set the cup down. I lean on the counter, elbows digging into the surface. “Of course you drink caffeine.”

“Med student.” He corrects, like that’s going to change anything in my point. If anything, it makes my point richer.

“Oh, a med student?” I laugh, bobbing my head as I click open the register; nothing. Aw, man. “And you already’ve got such a fancy title? You’re smart.”

He doesn’t reply to that, but I can tell it boosts his ego as he looks through the basket of snacks, settling on a yellow packet of cookies.

It’s about an hour later. I’m just sitting on a stool, looking out at the beauty of the silent city while God knows what Chishiya is doing in the back. Oh, yeah. Me and him exchanged names before he went off to somewhere in this cafe. His name is Chishiya. Where’d I get Chinchilla from?

I’ve thought a lot over this past hour, about who I am. I’m an idiot. Through and through, all my life. What my family has said hurts, but it’s true. My friends and I, damn, we were all so fucking stupid. But I guess there’s nothing I can do about it now: What’s done is done.

A faint glow of pinkish-white spills to the corner of the window. It’s nearly blinding to my eyes, which have gotten quite accustomed to the darkness. Where is that coming from? I climb onto the table, cranning my neck to get a better angle. The light illuminates a pub me and my friends used to sneak into: It was a good experience, but I still have a year until I can legally re-visit. Not sure if that matters much now, though.

“Yo!” I yell out to Chishiya, hoping he hasn’t escaped to some intricate labyrinth where he can’t hear me. “Check this out!”

There’s a few seconds of silence shared between us before I begin to hear him shuffling out of the back. I watch as Chishiya walks out from the back, through the counter and over to me. As he begins to inspect the light, my attention too wanders back to it. “Should we check it out? Could be more people.”

It also could be a risk: I know that, and obviously someone as intelligent as him knows that. But if it entails more people, maybe they know what’s going on. That seems like a good risk to take. “Sure.” He answers, immediately moving towards the exit. I scramble off the table, my slippers minimizing the sound I make when I hit the floor. I also don’t miss out on slyly snatching a few snacks as I follow him out the door.

An impossibly bright and obnoxious arrow points down to the door of the pub. As if we’d miss it in the absence. Without a word between us, Chishiya and I step forward into the pub. The pub is exactly how I remember it from three years ago: A huge bar stretches in the back, looking tiny in comparison to the massive array of gambling tables scattered across the room. At the spot where the bouncer would usually be standing, there’s only a round table. On it sits one singular phone, the screen white. We get free iphones now? Whoopee.

Chishiya’s doesn’t hesitate to pick up the last phone. A corporate ding sounds from the phone as words show up on screen.

It read’s “Error has occurred: too many players. Partner up. If you are eliminated, chosen partner is eliminated with you.”

Game? Eliminated? What the hell? For the first time since I’ve met him, which hasn’t been long, Chishiya’s face is slightly confused. Of course, still with that signature smirk as always. It’s starting to grow on me, I have to admit. I peek around the corner to see the infamous Black Jack table with four other people people sitting around it. That’s where my old boss won the money to treat us all to dinner at the fanciest diner in Tokyo. Well, I couldn’t call it ‘won,’ I would say he scammed the poor dude, but when it comes to gambling, same thing, right?

Chishiya ambled to the circular table, and I follow him. At first, his uncaring nature really creeped me out, but now it’s kinda calming. He’s not scared, and I’m sure in his mind he has a rational reason for not being. So why should I be?

I know why now; I rebuke that. As we get closer, I notice every person there has something around their neck that isn’t a beautiful family heirloom, at least, I hope it’s not: They all have nooses tied around their neck. Not tight enough to choke them, but if those things got even a few centimetres higher it sure would. Just the thought of that makes my throat tighten in discomfort. I look to Chishiya, expecting him to back away, or show some sign of being scared, but nah. He pulls the chair out, and carefully puts his head in the noose. Great job, man. Great job.

It takes everything in me to stay quiet, to put on the best poker face imaginable. Everybody else are blank slates that give nothing away. Except for the fact that they think we’re weak: They’re looking at us in a disgustingly predatory way, like we’re the mice and they’re the cats.

Two people there are smoking, one a middle aged man and another an older lady. The guy has a laughable goatee and a fat cigar dangling from his mouth, the end of it chewed as if it’s life support: He’s a total show-off. The lady, however, isn’t. Smoke pours out from her nostrils, cigarette dangling from her middle and pointer finger as she steadies her eyes on me. She’s what I strive to be when I grow up: Her clothes are colorful and she has these gorgeous gold earrings I know she had to take money from a will to afford. Man, something about the way she tilts her head like she’s just figured something out about me is terrifying, but also breathtaking.

Then there’s two other men. To the left of Chishiya is a guy about our age- 18 to 25 I would guess, and he has very tall black hair. Not too-bad looking. There’s nothing special about the other guy, he looks to be an average office worker, glasses and a buzzcut.

After a while of everyone handing out sharp stares, a ding comes from all of their pockets. I walk closer to Chishiya, looming over his shoulder to see what popped up on his phone.

“Regristration closed. There are a total of 5 - 6 participants.” Is me being here a glitch? This thing doesnt know how many people are supposed to be in this game. Holy shit, this is trippy. “The game will now commence.” Poker face is usually something I’m great at- but now? I feel like I’m transparent. ‘The game will commence’ with nooses around peoples’ necks? I would be lying to say this didn’t frighten the shit out of me.

The show-off has a grimace on his face while he looks around to study everyone elses’ face. But he can’t find anything out, their eyes are all blocked by their phones. Then, his eyes lock into mine. I don’t hold it, my eyes flickering down to Chishiya’s screen. But he clearly found something out about me: I can hear him elicit a laugh straight from his gut.

Another pinging sound comes from the phone. “Difficulty: Six of diamonds”

I’m scared shitless right now, but I have to admit, ranking a game based on cards is pretty badass.

“Game: Blackjack. Rule: One winner remains before time limit is reached.” Seems easy enough, my guy can do this. Even if he doesn’t know how to play, I’m sure he can learn. “Game over conditions: Time limited reached. The loss of all of your chips mid game. Illegal transfer of chips. Illegal restraint.”

“Game start.”

Next chapter!!

#chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #fanfic #manga #chishiya alice in borderland #x reader #slow burn #chishiya x fem!reader #Spotify

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howlingguardian · 2 months ago

Text

Still not much of a Game of Thrones fan, but last night I was talking with a friend, who is more of a fan, and we ended up discussing an idea I've had for some time- multilingual Westeros.

I get that GRRM probably had them all speak a common language just to make it more straightforward, but Westesteros is thousands of years old, and it's a large continent. it's entirely possible that the kingdoms could have each developed their own languages, like the different nations of Europe developed their own languages.

Sharing the Faith of the Seven would give a common starting point for most of the languages, but they'd grow and change over time. The North would be particularly distinct, since they worshipped the Old Gods instead, and the Iron Islands would be too due to worship of the Drowned Gods. Dorne would be influenced by the Rhoynar immigrating.

Let's say that when the Targaryens came over, they forced Valyrian as a courtly language, or maybe it was just fashionable. English nobility spoke French for centuries, while the peasants spoke English. That's why there are so many French loan words in English.

Plenty of European nobility would learn multiple languages for diplomacy and trade and so on. Westerosi nobility could do the same. So they'd learn their kingdom's language, Valyrian as a courtly language, and one or two or their neighbours languages as needed.

And think how that would work in the story! The Stark kids would all learn Northern and Riverland from their parents, plus Valyrian and a bit of Vale since Ned was fostered there; maybe a bit of Old Men for tradition too. What language they defaulted to would say something about them- Arya and Jon would prefer Northern, Sansa would use southern languages to seem more elegant.

Ned and Robert could reminisce about their boyhood and Jon Arryn in Vale, just like old times. When Robert orders Daenerys killed, Ned might switch to Vale to try and persuade Robert, then switch back to Valyrian when he resigns as Hand, signalling the distance between them.

Theon could pepper his speech with bits of Iron Island for cultural posturing, then get a shock when he goes back and realises how rusty he is. Maybe he's lost his accent, and Balon derides him for speaking like a greenlander.

Joffrey would only speak Westerland and Valyrian, and he wouldn't bother to learn anything else. He'd probably use a translater for speaking to the common folk.

Tyrion would speak a bunch- he'd delight in speaking to people in their mother tongues, or waiting to catch them out saying something rude. It'd break the ice with Jon at Winterfell, it'd let him argue in his defense at the Eyrie, it'd save his life negotiating with the Hill tribes.

Tywin would catch Arya out at Harrenhall when she responds to an order he gives in Valyrian or something. She'd make something up about learning a few words to be a better servant, and he'd let her get away with it. Maybe he'd make a crack to his men about 'My cupbearer can speak Valyrian better than you'.

And when Jon's up past the wall, he's the only one who's really able to talk to the Wildlings. In canon, Mance mentions they speak seven languages in his army, though that's not really shown. Jon being able to speak Northern and First Men would let him start a dialogue- literally!

As for Danaerys- well, Viserys would have forced her to learn at least one or two, and she'd probably be eager to learn more, first from Sir Jorah, then later from Missandei. She'd want to speak the languages of the kingdoms as she dreams of returning there someday.

And when there's magical stuff going on, like the warlocks of Qarth, or Melisandre doing her thing, they could speak in the listener's mother tongue. Imagine how much scarier Melisandre woud be saying 'You know nothing, Jon Snow' when she says it in Ygritte's language.

I might write a whole snippet of this at some point, or I might just leave it to this post. What do you guys think?

#my stuff #concept #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #grrm #books #linguistics #multilingual #possible fanfiction idea

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celuere · 10 days ago

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So that last lil Juno loredrop said she could finish from her ears alone... >:]

Mind writing that oneshot? Nice and smutty with overstim mayhap? Personally I see it as Arle absolutely refusing to touch Juno anywhere except holding her wrists above her head and licking/nibbling the shit out of those ears while Juno is stuck there under her, rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to get some friction on that throbbing pussy. I wanna know how you see it tho, so I won't suggest a prompt. I wanna know exactly how you imagine this going without my outside influence :]

(Thank you for the random ArleJuno snippets. I live for them <3)

@nonchalantpirate

I got the same request twice from you guys so I’m just merging them together if you don’t mind😭 but those goddamn ears oh I’m SO obsessed with them they’re like my favorite feature ever about Juno sobsob but let’s get to work!!!!! Also uhmmmm new oc reveal and some research team shenanigans because i realized I have free will

The S.R.T building never stood empty. Wether it be for the ominous colorful lights shining through the twins windows or the various agents in the waiting area before Maelle‘s Prosthetic-Workshop or Irene greeting everyone with a warm smile at the entrance.

Today, it was the Knave she was welcoming with a bow of her head, even though the Harbinger told her numerous times that a simple nod will suffice. The snow from Snezhnaya’s regular weather was already melting on the fur of her coat as the diplomat took the liberty upon herself to wipe the crests on her chest clean of any remains.

„Is my wife still breaking her head downstairs?“, although Arlecchino did not know how to properly sign, the usage of her Anemo Vision and years of experience in lip-reading allowed the secretary to understand her more than well enough.

„She came in at approximately 8:56am this morning and hasn’t left the building ever since then. I think she and Anselm had a slight argument earlier in the noon if I am not mistaken but gossiping is sadly nothing I get paid for…“, the woman allowed herself a light chuckle as she waved her superior towards the hallway to continue with her path. Arlecchino merely flashed her a short smile of hers after thanking. She liked the woman.

But Anselm‘s name left a bad taste in her mouth. He could wave his cane with a built-in gun at her all he wanted but she loathed the blonde with a passion. Especially since he somehow isn’t familiar with the art of knocking and once ended up bursting into Juno‘s office while she was ballsdeep ins- while they were doing business talk of course.

At least the feeling was mutual as she passed him on the way to the staircase. The man was as proud as ever. Not even sparing her a single glance. His flawless walk almost screamed at Arle to kick him in the ass but he probably predicted that anyways with the way he at last looked back over his shoulder at her.

„On your way to Whitlock? Doors are locked if you‘re here for business talk.“

She sadly couldn’t throw a dagger at him because he was back inside his lab in the blink of an eye. Bastard.

But nothing will stop the Knave from seeing her wife! So down the staircase she goes. The temperature seemingly dropping with each of her steps as the first lights came into view. The institute runs on full electricity. How they do it? A secret that’s not of much importance to her anyways. Once you reach the first lower floor you were met with a long- really long- hallway spreading before you. Only dimly lit to keep energy costs low and now Arlecchino might be fearless and one of the most capable people of the nation- but it never failed to have the hair on her neck stand up. She had no idea how her wife practically lived here without constantly getting the creeps.

Better not tell the Harbinger about Talia‘s laboratory that takes up the whole 3rd lower floor underneath her and the bloodthirsty homunculus‘ harboring it. But luckily there is no need to venture any further as Juno can be found right on the 1st floor.

And she soon found out that Anselm did indeed not lie. All of the three doors that granted entry to her wife‘s personal facilities were locked. But Irene told her she didn’t leave the building today at all-

click.

The door to her office only slightly creaked open.

„Is he gone?“, black hair peaking out behind the heavy iron, who certainly did not expect to be met with the almost puzzled look of the Harbinger, „He is, but your husband apparently took his place…“, the woman who turned out to be Remi stepped to the side to let the diplomat inside.

„You are quite early…“, her wife flashed her but a loving smile as she was seemingly busy with reorganizing the bookshelf behind her desk. Which only left her with more questions.

„Indeed. A client called off my last meeting for the day so I figured it would be nice to pick my wife up early from her work. Now may I inquire as to why you are… hiding away in here?“, Remi flopped down onto the sofa to her left again as she let out an exasperated sigh when Juno nodded over to her as a sign to do the talking.

if she only knew for what that furniture is actually used for…

„How do I make this short… Anselm decided to be an ass today like always. You know, smartassing around, being intentionally insufferable. The usual. And he‘s been nagging Juno all day long about the results of her research and since I needed another shot of painkillers today, we figured it would be best to lock everything up and ignore him while she tempers around with a needle in my shoulder. That’s it.“.

„Sounds reasonable enough. I never liked that man to begin with.“

„I know, honey… you never fail to mention it at least once a week…“, Juno almost sounded exhausted mentioning it.

Was it that bad?

„But since the spook is over, I’m now heading back up to my own lab. Thank you for the medication, Ju.“, for the Harbinger however, a mutual handshake sufficed before she headed out the door and silence took over the office in the next moments except for the sounds of books being shoved in and out of their designated spots.

„Don’t you want to go home, Cherie…?“, sharp stilettos rounded the ginormous table as they made their way over to her woman. She was still wearing her labcoat, paired with heels almost as deadly as her own when Arle noticed the pained look on her face from the side.

„Or would you rather tell me what that look is for?“, and if Arlecchino was unable to do one thing, it was keeping her hands off of her wife. The two arms wrapped themselves around her waist all on their own, really.

„I… I don’t know where to put this book, Peruere… it‘s been bothering me for ages but I just dont know where to store it…“, the scientist groaned as she flipped through the pages, Arle could only make out a few sketches of what she thought was a Hilichurl‘s anatomy.

That‘s what is bothering her?

The Harbinger sighed before leaning down to let her lips connect with the shell of her ear, the cold metal of Juno‘s piercing stinging slightly against her warm skin when she felt the sensitive body party twitch at the sensual touch, followed by a choked gasp and a book falling to the floor.

„A-Ah- A-Arle-! Not my ears-!“, she breathed as she tried turning her head away in an attempt to escape her husband- to no avail. She was so evil for that and she knew it.

„Hm? Your ears? I’m not doing anything…“, she chuckled only lightly as she blew some air against the devil attached to her wife‘s body, not to tease her further but rather watch it twitch against the slight wind. It‘s like watching the ears of a cat.

„D-Don’t play… dumb with me…“, Juno retaliated as she tried to ignore the growing ache between her legs. She hates the effect the ears have on herself. Not because she doesn’t enjoy it but because it makes it incredibly hard for her to hide anything from her husband. From Arlecchino‘s side of things not bad point at all.

„I haven’t seen my wife all day. I merely want to make sure she knows exactly how much I missed her.“, wow, when did she shove up her skirt enough to expose the lace panties she decided to wear today??? „My… even my favorite… all for me?“, the answer was obvious enough that she didn’t even need one.

„Y-You are too arrogant for your own good…“, she secretly wondered why Peruere refrained from directly getting her off and just continued unbuttoning her shirt. To her surprise there wasn’t even a bra underneath.

„I‘d rather call it calculated than arrogant. Do you think I don’t know you like the back of my hand after almost seven years of marriage? You are truly hurting my feelings, ma vie…“, voice as thick as honey as she stared down her wife‘s ear like her next meal. Oh she knows what’s she‘ll do next.

„D-Don’t even think abo-“, her sentence was sadly cut short by a moan ripping through the air as she felt her mouth wrapping around the sensitive shell before her tongue lapped up the skin almost sensually.

Juno always wondered when her Husband is going to kill her.

More books came down on the floor as the Knave had her wife pressed flush against the shelf in an instant, trapping her between the furniture and her body to make it almost impossible for her to move when she pushed the soaked slip aside to wet her fingers with her slick.

The feeling of her drenched bush only added further to her own pants getting awfully tighter with every moment.

The ecstasy shooting down her spine as her Husband nibbled, sucked and licked on her rendered her more beyond speechless, she was busy trying to get some friction between that cursed hand and her eager clit and using her own hands was difficult when the Harbinger had them pinned to the shelf by the wrists above her head. Can’t have her interfere with her plans after all.

Arlecchino never felt more sinister than in that moment, teasing and bringing her wife close to insanity by doing nothing more than biting into her when she felt the first drops of her cum dropping into the hand on her pussy. She was careful enough to not let enough pressure onto the aching bundle of nerves, always retreating further when her wife grew a bit too greedy. Can’t have that, right?

The breathy moans echoing through the office were evidence of her defeat, she let herself get distracted by her husband again. Why is she even telling herself that she will stay strong next time?

She shivered slightly when Arlecchino let go of her soaked ear with a juicy plop, her saliva already running down to her neck and between her tits, „Mh… my… I must express my gratitude for this refreshing experience… It truly helped me rewind after such a tiring day…“, as reminder, something hard seemed to be pressing itself against her lower back.

Dear gods.

„I brought you a little dessert.“

„That book comes onto that board. No- one higher.“

„Yes, darling…“, she sighed as she put the book into its place with hanged shoulders and and dry sucked balls. She made sure to be extra efficient with the Harbinger.

„And this one goes right in front of you. A bit more to the left. Mh… no… more to the right.“, Juno groans slightly as she looks back into her pocket mirror when retouching her make up- even tho the rest of her still looked wrecked enough with the remains of her Husband‘s load on her chest.

„Understood, my love…“, Arlecchino‘s own ears still rung from the aftermath of their session which consisted of Juno ripping her a new one for completely ruining her efforts of the last hours that went into reorganizing her precious bookshelf. She was now punished by having to pick them all up and putting them back into place per wife‘s demands.

Anselm only stared at them with the most judgemental expression he can allow himself on their way out while he was signing with Irene at the entrance.

#albarequests #this turned out longer than I wanted it to be #ANWAYS ARLEJUNO FOOD #squirrelboxer #nonchalantpirate #arlejuno #arlecchino nr.1 man hater #oc x canon #genshin oc x canon #genshin oc #arlecchino #arlecchino x oc

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