#no socialization needed which is also a perk

[tinyelf101]

Shadow x Reader

First ever time making a post on Tumblr! Please have mercy on my soul.

This is a 2k word oneshot for Shadow the Hedgehog! This is my first time writing for him, so please let me know if I made him too OOC! My requests are also open, so please submit one either here or on my ao3!! Thank you!

The joints of your spine almost creaked when you bent to reach for a paper towel that had drifted to the floor. Behind your back, sitting at the dining room table, Shadow's ears perked forward, and he paused, mid-coffee-sip. You pressed your free hand on your lower back and sighed as you stood.

The bacon on the stove sizzled angrily at being neglected, and you quickly flipped them.

"Back bothering you?" A deep voice asked, and you winced.

"Not much," you lied, spine aching even as you braced the heel of your palm against the counter. You balled the dirty paper towel and tossed it toward the trash can, but it bounced off its edge. "Damn."

The silence stretched as you set a clean paper towel onto a plate. As soon as the bacon finished cooking, you scooped them up with the flimsy spatula — Shadow had offered to replace it forever ago, but you'd declined — and set them onto the paper towel, which soaked up the grease.

It suddenly felt as though a bolt of electricity shot up your spine, and your breath caught. You tensed but otherwise remained completely still, not wanting to set off the hedgehog that was still watching you very closely. With a deep breath, you set more strips of bacon on the hot pan.

"Enough," Shadow spoke, standing from his seat. "Go lie down. I will finish cooking."

"Shadow, the last time I let you cook, you permanently charred my counter," you said, gesturing to the black scar on the white marble. "I'm fine."

"It was you who told me that it's okay to need help."

"Yes! And I'm right!" You said quickly, not wanting Shadow to take backward steps on his progress toward emotional vulnerability. "Just... let me finish?"

"There's no need to be stubborn," Shadow said, "but fine. However, once you finish, you're resting."

"Fine, fine," you said. Although you wished you could get away with starting the apartment's necessary chores after finishing breakfast, you knew Shadow better than that. "But only if you keep me company."

"If I must," Shadow spoke solemnly, but you recognized it as an attempt at humor and laughed.

A comfortable silence stretched as you finished cooking the last of the bacon. You served it on the side of some eggs you'd cooked earlier - sunny side up, per Shadow's request - and placed the plate of warm food in front of Shadow.

"Thank you," he said with a nod, still eyeing you.

"You can thank me by not treating me like I'm fragile," you said, smiling to assure him that you weren't truly upset.

"You are anything but," Shadow said, raising his coffee mug to his lips. "I'm simply making sure you aren't damaging yourself."

"Damaging myself," you muttered.

After making yourself a plate of breakfast, you joined Shadow at the table. You exchanged a mostly one-sided conversation about your plans for the day, and were relieved to learn that Shadow had the day free. You recommended that you both go out and have fun, but Shadow declined, claiming he needed to rest his social battery. Nodding, you crunched on your slightly overcooked bacon.

Shadow always ate faster than you, so you were used to his habit of staring you down until you finished. You purposefully ate your last bite very slowly, just to tease him.

"Alright, you're finished. Come," Shadow said, standing.

"Barely," you said through a mouthful of eggs.

Shadow tugged on your arm. It was such a gentle pull that if you hadn't moved with him, you wouldn't have budged. He guided you toward the bedroom and flicked the light switch off. With only a few weak streams of sunlight to guide you, you were led to the bed.

"Lie on your stomach," Shadow said.

"Can I ask why?"

"No."

With a roll of your eyes, you crawled onto the bed. Halfway through, you paused to stare.

Shadow had stripped himself of his gloves, revealing the red stripes that continued past his wrist and enveloped two fingers. His black claws — blunted after too many nicks to your face — shone in the glow from the cracked curtains. 

No matter how many times you'd seen them, you never got tired of it. Not only because of their appearance, but because of the silent meaning. Mobians only showed their bare hands to those they truly trusted.

"Lie down completely," Shadow said, fingers twitching with embarrassment.

You smiled at him and plopped down onto the mattress. The soft atmosphere quickly snuffed when you groaned, the rough movement jostling your sore back.

A hand rested on your upper spine, and you tensed.

Without a word, Shadow very, very gently ground his thumb into the muscle directly beside your spine. A shudder wracked through you, and your face pressed into the bed. A soft groan escaped you, and you would have felt embarrassed if Shadow hadn't continued without missing a beat.

The touch was incredibly light, as though Shadow were afraid of hurting you, but it still felt heavenly. The very slight scraping of his claws, the pads on his thumbs, and the pressing of his heel all contributed to you melting into the mattress. Your lagging brain finally caught up with you for a few moments, long enough for fluttering anxiety to kick in.

"You don't have to do this," you mumbled into the sheets. When a long moment passed, you almost thought he hadn't heard you somehow, but then he sighed.

"This is helping with your pain, isn't it?"

"Yes," you said slowly.

"Then why should I stop?"

"Uh..." You hummed delightfully at a particularly rough press of his thumb. Shadow seemed to be making it his mission to keep your brain from functioning, with the way he was increasing his pressure, but you needed to voice your concern. "Because you don't get anything out of it?"

At that, Shadow paused. When you subtly frowned, he started up again.

"You could use that very argument against making me breakfast this morning. Why did you make me a plate if you got nothing from it?"

Shadow adjusted his form, pressing his hard knuckle into your muscle. It hurt in such a good way, and you groaned. You could feel Shadow's smug smile without having to turn and look at him.

"Because..." you mumbled, falling quiet as you melted into putty, allowing Shadow to do with you as he pleased. The pain of your spine slowly ebbed, and a soft whine slipped through your lips. "Because I love you?"

Again, Shadow paused, but he wasted less time before resuming.

"Mhm," Shadow hummed, and you knew him well enough to understand that that was his way of saying it back. "Exactly."

You'd expected the pampering to end after half an hour. Anybody's hands would tire after that long, even Shadow's. However, every time you tried to reluctantly end the massage, Shadow shoved your head back into the mattress and wordlessly continued. Even an hour later, after you'd expressed that your back no longer hurt, Shadow simply moved on to massage other parts of your body. His hands squeezed and rubbed at your shoulders, and a low hum rose in your throat.

"You're such..." Shadow moved onto your upper arms, and you sighed happily. "You're such a good boyfriend."

Shadow huffed, and you smiled. You gently grasped Shadow's hand and turned to look at him. Although it was impossible to see if he was blushing beneath his thick, black fur, you could tell by his slightly furrowed eyebrows that he was feeling shy.

"Let me return the favor," you said, moving to sit up. Again, Shadow shoved you back down.

"Please. As if I need anything from you."

You frowned, and Shadow paused.

"Did that not come out right?"

"Don't think so, babe."

"Ah." Shadow focused back on his work, gently massaging your forearms. "What I meant by that was... You don't need to do anything for me. I am content the way we are."

"But I want to make you happy. Can't I do that?"

"I..."

You stared at Shadow over your shoulder, and he slowed to a stop.

"If... it would make you happy, then... I suppose I could indulge you. What is it that you want to do?" Shadow asked, sitting on the bed and resting his hands in his lap.

"To return the favor, obviously," You said, sitting up. You braced to be shoved down again, but when Shadow only raised an eyebrow at you, you relaxed.

"Don't push your luck."

"How about... only for fifteen minutes?"

"Five."

"Ten?"

"Fine," Shadow grumbled.

"Stop being so stiff," you said, teasingly poking Shadow's tense shoulder. "Lie on your stomach. No, you cannot ask why."

Shadow rolled his eyes, but he couldn't suppress a small smirk.

After some maneuvering, you now sat beside Shadow, who rested on his stomach, his head on his folded arms. Your joints felt as though they were floating after Shadow's heavenly massage, but you still cracked your knuckles for dramatic effect. You rested your hands on Shadow's lower back, and you felt the muscles beneath your palm stiffen.

"Ready?" You asked.

"For a massage?" Shadow asked with a huff. "Yes."

Although you'd only massaged a select few people in your life, you willed all your lackluster skills to come together to make this a good experience for Shadow. You doubt that he'd ever had a massage before, and you were determined to make him want more. Just the idea of Shadow shyly approaching you to ask for another massage had you smiling from ear to ear. So, you repeatedly pressed your thumbs into the stiff muscles of Shadow's back, carefully avoiding his quills.

After a few minutes of complete silence, Shadow groaned.

You opened your mouth to tease him, but when he shot a glare over his shoulder, you quickly snapped it shut.

The more time that passed, the noisier Shadow became. Finally, exactly at the nine-minute mark, Shadow abruptly sat up, waving your roaming hands away.

"Enough, enough," he said, breathless.

"But we aren't finished!" You argued, glancing at the clock. "You agreed to one more minute!"

"Yes, well, I've changed my mind," Shadow muttered, turning away. His shoulders were hunched, and he avoided looking you in the eye. You lowered your hands and sighed.

"Shadow," you cooed, and Shadow deflated slightly. "Please don't tell me you're embarrassed that you enjoyed it."

"I'm not-" Shadow cut himself off when he turned to look at you, and he sighed. "I'm not... embarrassed. I'm only trying to keep whatever dignity I have left."

"I promise you haven't lost any dignity." You placed a hand on Shadow's shoulder. "But, if that's what you want, then we'll end this here for now, yeah? Get our lazy day started?" You said, scooting closer so you could nudge against Shadow. Shadow leaned into your presence. "Just promise you'll let me finish that single minute up sometime, yeah?"

Shadow scoffed, smiling.

"Fine. Yes. I agree."

You placed a kiss on Shadow's cheek, and he turned his head to steal a kiss from your lips. You hummed against his mouth, and you felt him smiling against you.

"You know how I feel toward you, right?" Shadow whispered, and you quickly slammed forward to kiss him harder. As soon as you'd pulled away, Shadow returned the favor by pressing kisses to your cheeks. "Good."

[theworstcreature]

Lowkey wish I was chillin in my art teacher’s room with my headphones working on some random project rn

[slutzforbueckers]

can you do y/n who went viral/famous for how good she played in high school and how insanely pretty she was meeting the uconn girls for the first time since she committed to playing their and Geno introduces them to the girls and they ask her a bunch of questions ( basically fan girling) and one of the girls ask her if she’s dating anyone which she the tells them that she’s gay and that catches them off guard which makes Paige start liking her and the more they get too know each other they both have feeling for each other leading to smut

once in a lifetime

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: paige takes a liking to you after you join the team, slowly but surely.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you had been to plenty of campuses- visited, toured, played in their gyms— but none of them had felt like this. UCONN was different, the moment you stepped foot in the practice facility, your stomach was burning with nerves. you had dreamed of playing here your whole life, becoming a husky is what motivated you to be as great as you are now.

geno met you in the lobby, already sipping coffee and smirking like he could spot your nervousness a mile away. “you sure you’re ready for this?”

you tilted your head with a nervous laugh. “i think so.”

his grin widened as he nodded, slinging an arm around your shoulders like you were already one of his own. “good, because they’ve been talking about you since december. i’m not sure if they wanna play with you or date you.”

you choked out a laugh, cheeks warming. you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach disappearing, hearing that they already liked you made things a lot easier. “that bad?”

he held the door open for you, snickering before he spoke, “worse.”

the sound of sneakers on hardwood stopped as soon as the doors opened and you stepped in—the echo of dribbling died, a team of the most talented women’s basketball players in the country were staring at you like they had just seen a celebrity. which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

you had gone viral more times than you could count—crossovers that made people drop their phones, game-winners that left crowds screaming, and that one video of you pulling up from half-court and winking into the camera had something like 8 million views. everyone knew you were good at basketball but they also knew your face, a face that could probably have you a successful career in modeling if you weren't interested in making people trip over their own two feet.

geno cleared his throat, gesturing to you. “alright, alright. no need to act like she’s beyoncé.”

your ears perked up and you held back a laugh as you watched kk nudge ice and whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, “she kinda looks like beyoncé.”

"okay, i'm leaving her in your hands. welcome her and try not to scare her off." geno shook his head with a sigh and patted you on the shoulder before heading back to his office.

that's what broke the ice— the court exploded with chatter and movement, the team crowding around you like fans after a game. they all spoke at once and it was hard to keep up.

“hey girly! im kk, the best player on the team. i'll teach you everything i know.”

“you mean how to miss layups?” another voice chimed in. you turned to see azzi smirking, arms crossed. “hi, i’m azzi. don’t listen to anything kk says—any of them for that matter.”

"thanks for the heads up." you smiled, laughing as more girls introduced themselves. it was fast and chaotic, but somehow you already felt like you belonged. after the introduction came the questions, they were all curious about your stats, how you got so good. you looked past the group to see paige—standing a little apart, cool blue eyes on you, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

you knew who she was, obviously. everybody did. the face of women's college basketball. you had followed her on social media, followed her career. she played with swag, control, talent—and somehow, she looked even better in person. her blonde hair was tied back, a light sheen of sweat on her temple, eyes steady and unreadable.

you met her gaze and smiled. she didn’t smile back, not quite, but the corner of her mouth twitched. she turned away, grabbing her water bottle from the bench like nothing had just happened. before you could think too long about it, kk threw an arm around your shoulder. “so, who's the lucky guy?”

you laughed, not expecting the question so soon. “i’m gay, there will be no lucky guy.”

dead silence. twelve stunned faces looked back at you like you’d just dropped another game-winning buzzer beater. paige had turned around, her brows furrowing as she looked at you.

"well that was unexpected,” ice muttered. “never would've thought.”

laughter broke out again, and a few girls high-fived you. you rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was beating a little faster—and not just from the attention but because you felt eyes on you. one pair in particular. you turned slightly, scanning the room. paige was looking at you from across the court again. this time, she didn’t look away. something flickered in her expression, curiosity, interest, maybe something else. then she grabbed a ball and started shooting like nothing happened.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you adjusted quickly—your game fit right in with theirs, fast-paced, sharp, aggressive. the girls respected you instantly. it wasn’t hard making friends— jana and azzi basically adopted you, dragging you to every team hangout, movie night, and post-practice snack run. sarah kept calling you “future,” morgan taught you every ridiculous tiktok dance she knew, and kk kept giving you flirty little side-eyes like she wasn’t totally kidding.

but paige? paige was… different. she wasn’t cold, she just wasn’t as easy. she’d joke with the others but was quieter around you. she’d pass to you perfectly during drills but barely speak to you after. you caught her looking sometimes—quick glances when you weren’t supposed to notice—but whenever your eyes met, she’d look away.

it should’ve annoyed you, you weren’t used to people being indifferent—especially not when they looked at you like that—but something about it hooked you.

one day after practice, you lingered in the gym, getting up extra shots. you were mid-three when you heard the squeak of shoes behind you.

“you’re always the last one out,” paige said. you turned. she was leaning on the wall, arms folded, sweaty from practice but still somehow effortlessly composed.

“you stalking me?” you teased.

a small smile pulled at her lips. “just wondering what you’re trying to prove.”

you arched a brow. “you think i’ve got something to prove?”

she walked closer, picking up a ball and rolling it in her hands. “you play like you do.”

“i play like i love it.”

she nodded, looking at you again, really looking. “you ever stop moving?”

you stepped toward her now, slow, deliberate. “you ever stop watching?”

that made her blink, she dropped the ball, and it bounced away. for the first time, paige bueckers looked flustered.

“…i’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbled, turning quickly and heading toward the locker room. you watched her go, chest buzzing with a strange mix of pride and something you didn’t want to name yet. the next day, paige passed you the ball a little harder, guarded you a little tighter, smirked at you when you sank a shot in her face.

it wasn’t much but it was something.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you weren't sure when things changed exactly. maybe it was that late practice when everyone else had cleared out and it was just the two of you. maybe it was the way she had started passing to you with just a little more trust. or maybe it was in the locker room—when you caught her watching you as you peeled off your jersey, her gaze lingering for a second too long before she quickly looked away, cheeked tinged pink.

but something shifted.

the distance between you and paige didn't feel cold anymore, it felt like a string was burning between you, pulling you closer to each other, like you were circling something inevitable. it started with small things, she started sitting near you during team meetings—quiet but present. when you cracked a joke she laughed, not loud like kk but still a laugh.

one night, you stayed in the gym late, a airpod in, hoodie up, working on your footwork with no one but your reflection and the sound of squeaking soled to keep you company. when you you missed a step and cursed under your breath, a voice behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin.

"try slowing down."

you turned, startled. paige was leaning against the wall, arms folded over a white tank top damp with sweat. “you watching me again, bueckers?”

she just shrugged, walking toward you. “just thinking you’re too good to end up on the bench.”

you rolled your eyes but handed her the ball. “then show me.”

she did, effortlessly. her steps were sharp, deliberate, her pace controlled. you watched her every movement—not just how her body moved, but how she looked at you while she moved. there was something different in her eyes now. you switched spots, trying to mimic her timing. she stepped close, fingertips grazing your waist as she adjusted your stance.

“don’t rush the pivot,” she murmured. “let it come to you.”

you exhaled slowly. her voice was soft, closer than it needed to be, and it made a shiver run through your spine. “didn’t know you gave private lessons,” you said, voice lower than usual.

she stepped back with a small smile. “guess you're special.”

your breath caught—just for a second—but it was enough. the look in her eyes was different now. not guarded, not shy, just there. honest. wanting. you tossed the ball aside, watching it bounce across the hardwood. “so what happens after the lesson?”

she hesitated for a second, like she wasn’t sure if she heard you right. then she moved toward you again, steps slow, deliberate. “that depends,” she murmured, standing close enough now that you could feel the heat of her body through your hoodie. “you still want me watching?”

“i want more than that,” you whispered.

you weren’t sure who moved first—maybe it was you, maybe it was her—but suddenly her mouth was on yours, hungry and searching, and you melted into it. her hands found your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your hoodie, gripping your hips like she’d been dying to. you kissed her back with everything you had, all the tension, the teasing, the heat that had been building between you for weeks pouring out in that moment.

she pressed against you fully, tongue sliding over yours as she deepened the kiss. her hands slipped lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, and you got the message quick—jumping up, wrapping your legs around her like you’d done it a thousand times. she carried you to the edge of the court, setting you down on the bleachers with a groan. her lips never left yours for long—just enough to pull off your hoodie, eyes raking over you like you were something she’d been craving.

her fingers slipped into your waistband slightly, fingers brushing just enough to make your hips twitch. she pulled back, eyes meeting yours. “you want this?”

“yes.”

she didn’t hesitate after that. her fingers slid down—firm, controlled, just like her game. her touch was confident, knowing exactly where to press, how to build the pressure. you groaned, back arching slightly, but she kept her free hand on your thigh, grounding you. her name slipped from your lips like prayer, over and over.

“look at me,” she said quietly.

you met her gaze, and it nearly undid you. her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling, but her focus was locked entirely on you, watching you fall apart for her. her fingers moved faster, deeper, her thumb circling just right, and your body started to shake—your breath coming in short, messy gasps. “paige—“

“i got you,” she whispered. “let go.”

you did—your head dropped back, a broken moan slipping from your mouth as the wave hit. she didn’t stop until your thighs were trembling, until you had to push her hand away with a shaky laugh and a whispered curse. she finally stood upright again, eyes full of something quiet and wild all at once. she leaned in, kissing you softer now, almost sweet.

“1v1 me?”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[f1fantasys]

uhm so i have an idea where Lando is working out alone to release his emotions, perhaps after a bad day or bad race. but suddenly, you enter the gym, which annoys him because he wanted to be alone right now.

however, as you start working out, he kinda ogling your 🍒 and eventually decides to approach you to talk and that led to the spicy part when he starts touching you and fucked you on one of the bench using you to let out his anger 🫣 tysm!!!

THIS!! I don't feel like I've done this INCREDIBLE request justice. So someone please write a better one and tag me in it! @ccsainzleclerc5516 you would do amazing at this!

POST RACE WORKOUT

Warnings - smut!! need i say more?

2.4 words. IDK why it's so short - feel like i have writers block.

The Monaco weekend was always a fun one. Fun, but extremely busy, especially being a Sky presenter. From the Monday leading up to the weekend you'd been in and out of meetings, events, and not to mention recording and being live on air for several hours a day. But you loved it, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But now that the race and post-race shows were finally over, you still had a lot of adrenaline and energy to burn, which is why you currently found yourself walking up the stairs to the gym, wearing the tightest tights and a sports bra. It was well past midnight, but, having connections had its perks, so here you were.

You pushed open the door and stopped in your tracks. There was some distant music playing and as your eyes scanned the room you definitely weren't expecting to find Lando Norris who was currently lifting weights, shirtless, might I add. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, eyes shamelessly searching your body, but an annoyed look on his face.

''Uh, hey'' you greeted.

All he did was nod his head.

''You good?'' you couldn't help but ask at the way he was looking at you. You felt you own cheeks heat up as you gawked at his body that was riled with sweat.

''Yeah'' was all he said as he turned around and continued what he was doing.

You of course have had a lot of interaction with Lando - several interviews and social media videos which meant you'd spent quite a lot of time with him. Obviously, he was one hell of hot man, and yes, you looked, but you'd never touch. Your work was too important to get involved with any of the drivers. You'd also noticed him looking more often than not, but you never allowed your mind to go there.

As you stood there for a few minutes you couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. He'd had a shitty race - mclaren had fucked his strategy, once again, and he didn't get the win. So you totally understood why he was in the gym at the time - also trying to get rid of the adrenaline.

You dragged your feet to the treadmill and hopped on, setting a medium pace, trying to focus on something else and not the half naked man across the room.

After about 15 minutes you slowed your pace down a bit, grabbing your towel to wipe the sheet of sweat over your face and arms. As you walked over to do some weights, you looked ahead in the mirror and locked eyes with Lando. He was standing drinking his water, and you watched as his eyes left yours and shamelessly looked your body up and down again. To be fair - you were swearing the skimpiest gym clothes which left nothing to the imagination.

What you didn't know was that Lando had been eye fucking you the full 15 minutes you were running. He had wanted to be alone, let out his frustration, but that changed the minute he realized it was you who walked through the door. He licked his lips as he saw how your tights wrapped around your ass so perfectly, how your boobs were bouncing and threatening to spill out of your bra, how you back muscles flexed as you ran, and how sweat covered your body making you glisten under the lights. Lando had always found you attractive to say the least, and now he was painfully hard by just watching you workout. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to you and rip your clothes off, bend you over, and rail into you.

You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your task, so you sat on the bench and started brench pressing, heavy breaths leaving your mouth.

Suddenly, you saw Lando standing above you, staring down, and his own breathing just as heavy as yours.

Before you could react and say anything, he held onto the weights and pryed it out of your hands.

''Lan-'' you started, but he cut you off.

''Shh'' you said, before walking around and facing you as you sat up. He took a seat in front of you, legs on either side of the bench as yours were.

You swore you heart was beating out of your chest right now. He looked so heavenly. Bright green eyes, curls messy and sticking to his forehead. And not to mention his god-damn beautiful torso. Muscles taught and defined, with sweat dripping down, his own body shining in the lights.

''Eyes up here'' he said, smirking, catching you out for staring.

''Fuck'' you mumbled to yourself, before you looked up at him.

You felt as his hands found your waist and effortlessly slid you closer to him, and now your breaths were mingling, the heat in your body rising.

As you found yourselves in an apparent staring contest, Lando's hands started roaming your body He traced your arms up and down, your shoulders, you back, and your breath hitched as he suddenly slipped them under your sports bra, feeling up your boobs and fondling with them.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, but that was impossible with the fact that he was sitting right in front of you and touching you. Now he was rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling at and tugging them, earning himself a moan from you.

''Lando'' you panted, needing more, almost grinding yourself on the bench.

''I know baby''

The nickname gave you goosebumps, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and smile at him.

Soon after, Lando tore your bra off of you, revealing your perky boobs. He lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Biting and sucking on it before using his tongue to sooth over.

Your hands found his hair and you pulled at his curls, edging him on, begging him some more. ''Lando, please'' you said, grinding down on the bench harder than before.

He lifted his head and crashed his lips to yours. It was eager and messy, tongues clashing and spit sliding down both yours and Lando's chin. He bit on your lower lip and you felt him slide his hands through your tights to grope at your ass. By now you were cupping his face, pulling him impossibly closer. While his one hand stayed on your ass, the other slid round to your front and cupped your cunt.

The action has you arching off the bench, breath increasing ever so much as he slid his fingers through your folds, which were soaking by now - something that didn't go unnoticed by him.

''Already dripping for me, love?'' he asked, voice thick and hoarse with his British accent.

''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say, biting your lips at the feeling of his calloused fingers rough against your clit, which he found rather quickly.

He captured your lips with his as he thrust two fingers through your entrance, the swift movement making you tremble in his arms.

''Ride my fingers y/n'' he said between breaths.

And so you did, you rode his fingers hard and fast, and just as he curled them at just the right time, feeling you soft cushiony spot inside of you, you felt a warmth begin to build in your stomach.

No word spoken and Lando added a third finger, sending you trembling over the edge as you latched onto his shoulder for support to ride you through your orgasm.

He slowed his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, before pulling them out and shamelessly licking them clean of you cum, moaning at the taste.

''Hmm, so fucking delicious'''he said, smirking, as you watched, mouth agape.

''Lando please'' you panted. ''Need to feel you in me'' you said, looking at him with longing eyes.

When you looked at him again, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes became ridiculously darker and the emotion he wore on his face was a mix of sudden anger and frustration.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he man handled you to lay down before he ripped your tights off of you and stood up to free himself of his constraints.

You watched as his hard cock bounced first then stood tall and angry.

''Fuck, he's big'' you thought to yourself as he placed himself between your legs.

Lando leaned down to kiss you as you took him in your hands and pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre cum around his tip.

The movement had him bucking forward, grunting into your mouth.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. ''You sure?'' he asked.

''Please. Please fuck me''

He lined himself up and wasted no time in slamming into you, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Shit'' you gasped. He was definitely the biggest you'd ever had, and the sting was intense. But this was Lando Norris, and you were determined to let him have his way with you.

He finally started moving, setting a pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dug deep into his skin.

''So fucking tight, fuck y/n''

''Oh, Lando, yes, please, yes'' you cried out, unable to keep your moans at bay.

Lando continued to fuck into you while his mouth found your boobs and sucked hard at them, surely leaving purple bruises for tomorrow.

Within minutes you could feel your walls begin to clench around him, your orgasm approaching fast.

''Fuck, gonna cum Lan-'' you started but before you could finish he pulled out. You whined at him, an annoyed whine which you knew would edge him on further.

He scooped you up with such an ease, and suddenly you were flipped over and on your tummy, Lando sliding into your cunt with force again.

He bunched up your hair and pulled it tight, earning pornographic moans from your mouth straight to his ear.

''Can't win a fucking race but at least I got you begging for me'' he said through bated breaths, finally railing you the way he wanted from when you first walked in.

''Fuck Lando, you won. You won for me'' you moaned. You didn't care what the outcome of the actual race was - in your eyes, he was always a winner.

''Doing so well for me babygirl. That's tight.''

This time your orgasm gave you no warning. Hearing him call you babygirl pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering underneath him and your juices spluttering all over.

You moaned his name as you came, and if anything, he sped up his movements briefly before sliding out of you again.

This time he sat facing the mirror and pulled you up to sit down his lap, facing the mirror as well.

You immediately sank down on his now throbbing dick, setting a harsh pace as his hand snaked its way around you and settled on your throat.

''Want you to watch yourself fuck me'' he roughly whispered in your ear.

You kept your eyes on each other while you rode him, Lando's occasionally dropping down to watch how your boobs bounced up and down with each thrust.

''Fuck'' you hissed as you felt another orgasm approaching.

''Fucking me so good baby, go on. Be my slut'' he urged you to carry on.

Your movements were becoming sloppier, unable to hold yourself up and able to continue to thrust so Lando had to take matters into his own hands.

He was now fucking into you again, but at a relentless pace, clearly chasing his own orgasm as well.

''Together, yeah?'' he asked, his hand sliding down to toy at your clit.

You couldn't hold it in anymore. ''Fuck, Lando, now. I need to cum'' you said, as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

The room now filled with grunts and moans, swear words flying everywhere as you both reached your climax, juices spilling out of you like the end of the worlds. Lando made sure to empty his load painting your walls white with his warm splutter.

You sank back down on him, letting your weight fall back leaning on him.

You locked eyes in the mirror again, both trying to catch your breaths, sweat dripping down the both of you.

Now that he got his release, Lando couldn't help but feel ashamed at the fact that he used you. Although this was the best sex he'd had in a long time, he felt he needed to apologize, and hope he hadn't fucked up a chance at anything more.

You could feel him softening inside of you, but neither made any attempt to move.

''Lan-''

''Wait. Fuck. I'm sorry if I was too rough'' he said, shyly.

''What?''

''I'm sorry i called you a slut. It was a complement, actually. I just had all this adrenaline from the race. And you were there. And...Fuck, i couldn't help myself'' he was rambling.

''Lando stop.'' you said firmer than you intended to. ''I didn't say I didn't enjoy it. Did I?'' you asked.

He shook his head.

''Really, it was so fucking good, and I'm glad it was me. I'm glad you used me''

''I-What?''

''Yeah, think I needed it as much as you did'' you said.

He wrapped his arms around you holding you tighter.

''Well then I'm glad you walked through the door. Thank you'' he cooed.

You smiled at him and slowly got up, letting him slip out of you, when something dawned on you.

''You ripped my clothes, Lando! literally'' you shrieked, eyes wide and a chuckle filling the air.

He stood up and pecked your lips.

''Well then, you'll just have to come home with me'' he said, smirking, but throwing his t-shirt to you to wear.

As he watching you put it on, he couldn't help but notice the stickiness dripping out of you.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, more to himself.

''What?'' you asked, as you didn't even release he was still watching you.

He didn't say anything, instead he bent down and licked your core, collecting the mixture of both of your cum.

The action had your breath hitching, not expecting it at all. You held onto his head as he did what he did, before he stood back up and let the juice slide out of his mouth and into your, before he kissed you roughly again.

''So fucking hot. Round 2 at mines?'' he asked.

You just smiled and walked to the door, opening it while gesturing him to follow you out.

REMEMBER - requests are open!

[coquettefrancaise]

the other woman

by Lana Del Rey

pair: Azriel x Reader ~ 1.9k

warnings: fluff, a few sexual references, one enormous cat lol

summary: after being mated for nearly a decade, Azriel has kept a huge secret of special females in his life from you… and they're not a part of the inner circle

Normally you didn’t like to poke fun at outward appearances but you just had to make an exception for the figure standing in front of you. You could come up with a few apt descriptions for it: fat, chunky, sturdy, well-fed… enormous. The latter seemed to fit perfectly. 

You’d been tending to your garden when you heard a soft meow. Sitting just outside the picket fence of your property was an enormous siamese cat. Incandescent blue eyes watched your every move with an intense, albeit bored, gaze. 

Standing and brushing off your outdoor trousers, you approached the cat with careful steps. It simply watched, unamused with your caution. “Why hello there kitty,” you cooed, hand outreached. 

Azriel had taught you long ago that you should wait for animals to approach you to avoid having their claws sunken in your skin. The same also went for strange males. 

So you waited. And waited. 

Apparently this cat, who appeared to have eaten multiple other cats, wished to test your patience as its eyes flickered from your hand to your face. Almost mockingly. 

You rolled your eyes and searched for something within reach that might lure it closer when you remembered something. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a wrinkled bag of dried apricot, forgotten in the back of your mind as you pulled weeds and prepared the soil for planting. 

The cat’s ears perked up at the crinkling of the bag and you smirked.

You tore a smaller piece of apricot off and got into position once more. To your unsurprise, the cat prowled, or rather sashayed, to your offering, nipping it from your fingers before nosing your palm for more. 

“Greedy little shit,” you huffed under your breath before giving it another and another until it was practically purring on your lap. Your hand petted over its soft fur, warmed from being under the springtime sun as you clicked your tongue affectionately. “Would you like to meet my husband? He might be a little intimidating at first but I assure you he’s a sweetheart under all his gruff.”

The cat continued purring in response so you scooped her into your arms, along with the half-eaten bag of dried apricots to satiate her if needs be, and headed inside. “Who needs Valkyrie training when I could carry you all day?”

Once inside, you took off the gardening hat Elain had given you for a Solstice gift one year. She’d been the one to teach you how to maintain soil best and which season was best to grow what. Before her help, you had never managed to keep a succulent alive, despite it being the ‘easiest plant to take care of’. You called bullshit. But now you were a proud owner of not one but two! garden boxes.

On slow days like this where you and Azriel had no social or work obligations, you enjoyed either having your hand buried in soil or your nose buried in a book. Azriel would keep to his study, unable to disregard centuries of overworking, or he’d annoy you. Which would end with either his hand or head up your skirts. Who were you to complain? 

You forewent washing your hands, not wanting to let go of the behemoth of a cat in your arms, and you strode directly for the study, pushing it open to reveal your mate in all his glory. 

Even though you’d been mated for nearly a decade, every time you saw him your heart sped and your tummy fluttered with butterflies. He was signing reports, raven hair falling over his furrowed tan brow. “Brought a visitor, my love?” His midnight voice caressed your ears despite not looking up. 

You caught sight of a dark wisp racing from your shoe to his shoulder. Sometimes you forgot he kept tabs on you ‘for safety and protection’ he once told you. To some it may seem a violation of privacy but if it eased Azriel’s worries over you then you were fine with it. Besides, you’ve come to adore the tendrils of darkness. 

You hauled the cat further up in your arms, grunting with the effort. “This enormous creature was prowling about my gardens, in search of something to eat, no doubt.”

Azriel finally straightened and blinked. “Shadow is always hungry, as you can tell.” He motioned to her excessive pouch. 

You gaped. “Shadow?”

He got to his feet and crossed to where you stood, the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar clouded your senses. One of his large scarred hands stroked the cat, Shadow, with a confusing familiarity. 

“I forget that I don’t need to keep secrets from you after spending my entire life doing so with everyone else around me.” He confessed sheepishly, hazel eyes connecting with yours. 

“First question: if this cat is named Shadow, then what are the names of your actual shadows?”

He shrugged, the shadows in question wreathing his broad shoulders and the tips of his wings which protruded from his back. One strayed, curling around the nape of your neck. “They became angry with me the first time I referred to them as one entity so I’ve thrown out dozens of names with no direct association to one exact wisp.” He explained coolly. 

You giggled at that. “Your enemies would quake in their boots if they heard how sympathetic and fair you are with your shadows which have been known to choke men out from the inside, you know?”

A corner of his lip turned up. “They wouldn’t be quite so scared if they saw the way my shadows cuddle up next to my wife in the early hours of the day.”

“I suppose not.” Pink dusted your cheeks and you cleared your throat. “Back to the matter at hand. The cat.” I lifted my arms for emphasis. “How long have you been seeing her behind my back?”

Azriel plucked her from your arms, cradling her to his chest as if he’d done so a hundred times. “Oh, this old lady? She’s been in my life longer than you have, my love. I believe she might be older than me as well.”

“She’s probably as old as she weighs.”

He snorts at that amusedly. “Where’d you find her?”

“I told you, she was scouring my garden for food. I gave her some dried apricot and lured her into my arms. She is quite a stink, you know?”

“It’s the breed.” He informed you, petting his knuckle under her chin to which she melted further into him. Growing strangely jealous, you glared at her. Azriel noticed this with a chuckle and sent a fresh wave of love and amusement down the bond. “Jealous over a cat, my love?”

Insufferable male. 

“I heard that.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes. Insufferable mating bond. “Why don’t you just tell me how you know this cat. And why the hell is it so fat?” you snarked. 

A rare smile tugged at his lips. He leaned in close to brush them against the shell of your ear, sending shockwaves of pleasure down your spine. “No other creature could compare to you, darling mate. The way you squeeze my co-”

You silenced him with a hand clamped over his mouth, to which his eyes crinkled at. He pulled back before reaching a hand for yours. “I’m going to take you someplace only I know of.”

You press into his side and hesitantly. “I swear if it’s our room…” you warned. Soon the room around you disappears into darkness and then you’re in the backyard of Rosehall, Azriel’s mother’s cottage. You glance around, confused as to what he has to show you here. 

He tugs you towards the small shed in the corner of the yard, ivy growing along the stone walls and wooden door chipped from years of use. When you’d asked about this structure his mother had referred to it as her storage. You’d never been inside until now. 

Inside the surprisingly spacious shed were over a dozen cats. 

“Oh my gods,” you breathed, 

Azriel set down the enormous cat in his arms and she immediately strode to a tall scratching post, growling at any cat in her way. You couldn’t help but snicker at her asserted dominance. 

You looked to your husband, who you thought you knew everything about, and raised your brows for an explanation. 

He raked a hand through his hair and leaned his back against the doorframe. “About two centuries ago I was here, visiting my mother, when I had a little visitor come to my windowsill. I convinced mother to allow her to stay and so she fed her cream and treats everyday, spoiling the creature. That was Shadow. As you can see, she’s been used to the princess treatment and hugely fond of the food. Since then, I’d been on and off missions at the time and it seemed that every time I was away a new one would follow me. I couldn’t just leave them in those horrible places, so I brought them each here. It appears that I’m some sort of…”

“Pussy magnet.” You supplied before you burst into laughter. 

Azriel chucked a finger under your chin. “So it’s alright if you make jokes about that but not me? Besides, you fell victim as well, might I remind you.”

Heat flamed your cheeks and you snapped your teeth at his fingers. Damn him. 

He only smiled before continuing his story, “Anyway,” he gave you a pointed look to which you raised your hands in defence, “I built this shed for them and Shadow is basically their superior, as she’d prefer it to be put.”

"Big Sister, huh?" you nodded as you took in all the cats lounging about, a couple brushing their bodies against your legs. Although they were quite plump, none even came close to the enormity of Shadow.

How endearing, you thought as you practically melted on the spot. Surely no one would take a look at this six-foot something Illyrian male, with literal weaponized shadows at his beck and call, and peg him for someone who would adopt stray cats.

“You surprise me every single day, shadowsinger.” You looped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so your nose could rest against his. 

“In a good way I hope.” He whispered, fingers digging into your hips as he tugged you impossibly closer. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Only ever in a good way.”

Before he could respond, a loud meow broke your moment. Glancing down, Shadow was at your feet, watching you both expectantly. You looked at Azriel once more, meeting his eyes, and you both giggled. 

“Hungry?” you inquired as you fished out the apricots once again, giving her a full one. One by one, the other cats sidled up to you, sniffing at your treat. “I’m not entirely sure I’ve enough to go around.”

Azriel walked over to a carpet covered armoire, probably used as a scratching post, and opened it to reveal that it was stocked with cat food. “That’s where that portion of money disappears to.” You click your tongue. 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m still getting used to sharing all my truths with someone. I swear that after this I’ll do better.”

You pull his face down to pepper kisses on it. “I completely understand. You have so many enemies and so much to protect. If I were in your shoes I’d be just as guarded. And, if anything, it can’t be as bad as Cassian hiding his submissive kink from Nesta until he called her ‘mommy’ at that one family dinner.”

“Actually…”

author's note: this is an ode to my own fat cat <3 Jajeet... this one is for you!

I've admired this fandom for as long as I've had Tumblr, so over two years, and I've thought about writing for it and building a camaraderie with the talented artists I've read from so here I am, with my meager offering :)

divider credit: cafekitsune

[gothicfied]

Min-su bf headcanons I just need to be feed cus this poor guy barely gets anything 😔

Bf!Min-su / Player 125 Headcanons

Pairing: Park Min-su / Player 125 x fem!reader (No Squid Game AU)

Warnings: None this time! This is just pure fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

A/N: he's so cute I could die😞🙏 (Also tysm for the kind words, I really appreciate that! <3)

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who you originally met at the university you both were studying at. For you, it was somehow impossible to make friends or find connections with any of your classmates, regardless of the course, so you were actually kind of glad when your professor announced a group project and randomly picked four people that'll have to work together. Usually, you'd groan just at the thought of a group project - but not this time.

જ⁀➴ Two out of your three group members were... less than ideal people to work with. Lazy, not on time, unresponsive, uncooperative. But, thankfully, Bf!Min-su, the rather shy boy that was the only one who was willing to work with you on the assignment, was there to save you from overworking yourself. In the three weeks you were given for the project, you spent most of your time with him, even outside of school.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who had a massive crush on you since the day he saw you enter the class you had together, but was obviously too shy and tol nervous to say something. So, he always opted for watching you across the room, the cafeteria and perhaps followed you on you socials, but that was it. If he was shaking while pressing the 'Follow' Button, there would be no way for him to confess to you. Given this, he was more than happy to be in a group together with you. He even did more than what was asked from him to complete the project, just to make it easier on you.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who enjoyed the friendship that eventually grew between the two of you. He thought that it was best for him to try and shake off any romantic feelings he had for you for the saks of being friends, but he just couldn't. And he was really bad at hiding it, too. The first month or two, you just thought he was shy like that, always flustered around you, but after a while it confused you. There was no need to be so nervous around you, so what was his deal?

જ⁀➴ It clicked when he started to make little random gifts to you — Just trivial things he overheard you talk about. You thought it was very cute and caring of him and that's where things started to make sense to you.

One evening, Min-su had invited you to his apartment, which was right outside campus, to continue watching a show you started together. Attentive as he was, he made you guys your favorite tea, gave you your favorite blanket of his and made everything cozy, as it was freezing outside. You always complained about how winter was the most boring season, so he always made the effort to plan something nice for you guys to do. It genuinely warmed your heart to see how much effort he put into this, just to make it perfect for you. After sitting and watching the show for a bit, you just couldn't help but ask: "Is it possible you like me?" Min-su looked at you like he was just caught doing something he shouldn't. "Wh-.. What? Of course I like you?" he stammered out, nervously laughing. "No, I mean that you like me." The way his face turned red told you everything you needed to know.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who was actually your boyfriend now after months of keeping his feelings to himself. When you confronted him at first, he thought he was going to burst into tears immediately, somehow being ashamed of himself. It quickly turned into you having to comfort and reassure him, telling him that you felt the same way and that he didn't have to be embarrassed about anything.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who never stopped being your best friend after becoming your boyfriend. It all just kind of felt the same after a few days, just with the perk of being able to kiss you and hold you and love you and... just so many things he always dreamt about. To him, you were the most perfect girlfriend and to you, he was the most perfect boyfriend. You two just completed each other.

જ⁀➴ After a month or two, you'd move in together. It wasn't hard at all to get used to each other, since before the start of your relationship, you and Min-su had spent 99% of your time either at your or his place anyway. Being able to wake up to the sight of him peacefully sleeping next to you was the best thing about living together.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who was admittedly insecure. Not about his looks or anything, but about if he was being a good boyfriend or not. Jealousy wasn't much of a thing with him — If he saw you laughing or having a good time with a different man, platonically of course, he'd just question himself and if he was even good enough. You'd always have to reassure him, but you didn't mind it. If he needed that comfort, you'd never hesitate to give it to him.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who was, surprisingly, a very good cook. He'd always insist on making dinner and making something new for you to try. If you liked something, which was almost all the time, he'd save that recipe somewhere and maks it for you again if you were feeling bad or just didn't have a great day.

જ⁀➴ Bf!Min-su... who you couldn't be happier with by your side. The two of you were already planning a future together just a few months into your relationship. And no matter if things went according to plan or not, you knew that you'd always want him by your side.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Spectral Shroud
Wondrous item, very rare (requires attunement) ___ This semitransparent robe fades to wispy tatters along its hem. Its folds shimmer with prismatic colors, which are muted by the robe’s translucence. While wearing it, you have advantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks you make in dim light or darkness and on any saving throw you make against being frightened. The robe has a veiled hood that looks like a lace skull. Pulling the hood up or down requires an action. Leaving the hood up for more than a moment instills in you an eerie feeling of being watched. While wearing the robe with its hood up, you gain the following benefits. * 𝘿𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚. You have resistance to nonmagical bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. * 𝙀𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙎𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. You can see 30 feet into the Ethereal Plane when you are on the Material Plane, and vice versa. * 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙑𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚. Whenever a creature that can see you makes a melee attack against you for the first time on a turn, it must first succeed on a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw or become frightened of you until the start of its next turn. * 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙁𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩. You have a flying speed of 20 feet and can hover. * 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩. You can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain. You take 1d10 force damage if you end your turn inside an object. 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚. The “spectral shroud” is a sentient chaotic neutral item with an Intelligence of 10, a Wisdom of 16, and a Charisma of 17. It has hearing and darkvision out to a range of 60 feet. The item can speak, read, and understand Common, and can communicate with its wearer telepathically. Its voice is wispy and hollow. While you are attuned to it, the shroud also understands every language you know. 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮. The shroud’s sentience is thanks to a ghost that’s been bound to it. It was once a friendly spirit, but time has long since eroded its patience for social niceties. The shroud believes it needs to be buried in hallowed ground for its soul to be released and put to rest... ...Continued in the IG Comments! ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for as little as $3 a month!

[restlessmaknae]

love 119 // anton

You and Anton are an unlikely combo. He's a professional swimmer, and you write for the school magazine. One interview with him leads to a series of consequences including asking him to prepare you for the school's swimming competition, and ultimately, falling in love with him.

➳ Characters:��swimmer!Anton x school magazine writer!female reader/you

➳ Genre: high school au, boarding school au, rich kids au, comedy, fluff

➳ Words: 7.2k

➳ Warning: mentions of food, reader feels insecure about being 'average' at school, they are both down bad but oblivious until the very end

➳ A/N: This story is part of my KOZ International High series, but can totally be read on its own as it's Anton's own story.

Attending KOZ International High was like watching those movies where they send a misbehaved child to a boarding school in a different country, only for her to experience many culture shocks alongside many unfortunate events that come with living on her own for the very first time. Except that you weren’t a misbehaved child, just a girl whose parents had the money to send her abroad, and a good enough student to actually make it.

Freshman year was living hell for you. You were away from your home, your friends, and even your cute little dog. There was no one else in your whole year who came from your country, so you couldn’t befriend them on your very first day when you heard their name, unlike Heidi and Frida who both came from Germany. You had a national swimming champion, a Youtuber, an app developer, a worldwide known pianist and even a chess champion at your school alongside many students who had won different competitions in many different subjects.

Going from being the top of your class back in your home country to being an average student here - because average here still meant you performed constantly above 85% in all subjects - was rough. Being away from the familiar, your safe spaces and cosy spots and from all the people you knew at the ripe age of 15 was also rough. You felt like you had existential crises for the first few months every single day, and you didn’t know what happened or what day it was, but you just calmed down after a while.

Afterwards, you decided to take advantage of being at this school, and just enjoy the perks it had. You went to the on-site gym, you joined conversations in the communal kitchen of the student hall, you befriended one of your classmates - Dew from Thailand who was an impossibly tall yet shy guy - and you applied for the school magazine at the end of freshman year, and successfully got in.

So from sophomore year, you were a part of the school magazine team that published articles online about students, their achievements, school events but also local news, programmes and initiatives. You didn’t have to stick to just one section, but Minju and Yunah liked writing about local news, so it was kind of like their topic now. At first, you only wrote about school events, but then, you had the opportunity to conduct an interview with Anton Lee from the other class who was in the national swimming team.

However, since he was not from your class, you didn’t really know him or what he looked like, but you didn’t want to be a stalker and message him on social media (though for that to happen, you needed his ID first, and no Anton Lee on Instagram looked like it could be a 16-year-old swimming champion). So you tried your luck in the sports centre which had two giant swimming pools, and as far as you were informed (by Andrew who was on good terms with the guys from the other class), Anton usually practiced here after classes, even on weekends.

What you didn’t expect was to see five different guys and two more girls taking advantage of the swimming pool when you walked into the place in your flip-flops (no outside shoes were allowed). How the hell were you supposed to find Anton? You thought that it would be just him on this fine weekend, but alas, maybe you were the only one who didn’t like swimming that much.

You stood there, totally out of place, until one of the boys emerged from the water, and you decided to walk up to him. Or more like waddle up to him like a penguin, trying not to slip and fall into the water, especially when you saw how defined his abs were. Even though you had swimming classes in freshman year, so you saw boys in their swimwear, you definitely didn’t prepare yourself for this…

“Hi!” You gave him a little wave with your hand, gaining his attention. “Sorry to bother you, but have you happened to see Anton today?” You tried with a friendly smile, but the boy just stood there in front of you, not saying a word. It was difficult to decipher how he was feeling because he was wearing dark-coloured swim goggles, so you couldn’t see his eyes even if he was rolling them at you or not. “Anton Lee?” You tried again in case he didn’t know whom you meant.

You started to feel very weird at this point, but then, the boy got rid of his cap and his goggles, revealing a soft set of eyes and a somewhat confused expression.

“I’m Anton,” he broke it down to you in a soft voice, and you gasped a bit. Oh… so that explained the defined abs part. Right, a national swimming champion could have that.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know what you look like,” you explained with a bit of an awkward giggle. Anton’s lips curled into a polite smile, but you could feel that it was a bit forced. Oh right, you should say why you were there!

“I’m Y/N, I write for the school magazine, and we want to interview you for next month’s installment. Would you be up for it?”

The boy looked back at you as if he had never been asked to give an interview even though you were sure that he had given dozens of interviews. At least, that’s what you could imagine with him being on the national team.

“Uhmm… sure,” he half-said, half-asked at this point, and you weren’t sure whether it was out of politeness or not, but you were thankful that he didn’t send you away.

“Cool,” you nodded excitedly, giving him a wide smile. He just looked back at you, and you realised that he had no phone on him, so you couldn’t ask him to exchange contacts. Ah, you should have thought it through before marching up here and asking him if he wanted to do an interview. “I’ll contact you with the details. I’ll come by your classroom… or something like that.

“Okay,” he nodded, water dripping down from his hair.

Since there was no coach around, he must have been practising alone, and you applauded his dedication. You had never stuck with any sport for a long enough time to call it anything serious, and now, you just went to the gym and joined the cardio classes that the school organised, but sometimes even those seemed like a waste of time. You couldn’t imagine how anyone would go through years doing the same sport, building up their performance, but here was a living proof in front of you whose chest you tried so hard to not glance at. Not just because you would be embarrassed but because you had a feeling that he would be, too.

“Okay. I won’t keep you up any longer. Thanks for your time! See you around, I guess,” you blurted out in one-go, and turned around to walk away from him. You were halfway towards the door when you almost slipped, but managed to recover without falling headfirst and making an even bigger fool out of yourself.

Gosh, what a way to make a first impression!

To be very honest, sophomore year went by in a blink of an eye now that the world (or at least the campus) opened up for you a little bit more than before.

You wrote articles for the school magazine, hang out with Dew on campus or off-campus (asking for your parents’ permission, of course, as it was mandatory for underage students when leaving school grounds), kept your friends from home up-to-date with everything that was going on in your life, focused on your studies but also tried out a few activities to see what you actually enjoyed. You even took part in an English Literature competition as well, but didn’t make it to the finals, so there’s that. Your interview with Anton became the article with the most views during the whole school year, so you got a cute little pin by the other members of the school magazine.

When junior year rolled by, the school was in a frenzy because it was about to organise a national swimming competition for the first time in the school’s history. Most students had to take part in the organisation one way or another like printing out timetables, decorating the sports centre, welcoming guests and competitors alike and directing them in the right direction of the campus, or distributing the competition’s merchandise at stalls. The swim meets would be held over the weekend, but due to the preparations, the Friday before was a short school day with classes only until 1pm. Thankfully, since the school magazine was to cover the whole event, you didn’t need to take on more work, you just needed to be there, take pictures and interview people.

You, specifically, had been assigned to interview Anton yet again, but after last time, you had his KKT ID, so you could ask him about the details. You asked him a few questions the day before the competition, and when you inquired if his parents would come to see him, you were a bit surprised to find out that they still lived in New Jersey. Not that you knew his whole bio, but for your first interview, you had gotten to know that his parents were both Korean, but moved to the States before he was born. You assumed that they came back to Korea with him, but it seemed that it wasn’t the case, and for some reason, you found it quite disheartening.

So much that when you were sitting in the spectator area, waiting for the boy and his opponents to walk into the arena for the final heat (because Anton, of course, made it to the finals), you turned to Sullyoon who came to take pictures with you for the school magazine, and asked her:

“Is it okay if I take a video of Anton while you take pictures?”

The girl looked a bit perplexed for a moment, probably not knowing why you suddenly changed your mind. However, she wasn’t one who was too interested in others’ business, so she nodded a few seconds later.

“Sure. It’s fine with me.”

“Thanks,” you beamed, smiling to yourself as you turned back just in time to see the boy walk up to his lane accompanied by his coach. He got rid of his jacket by his chair, exchanged a few words with his couch, and started warming up.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen him swim that day, but somehow, because it was the finals, you felt more nervous. You were aware that he was really good, but still… He seemed calm though, but coming to think of it, he usually seemed calm albeit a bit too shy for someone who was considered famous and popular at school. Sure, the members of the school’s first and only band - consisting of Taesan, Yechan, Gyuvin and Jungwon - were probably the most popular boys in your year, but before they rose to the school-level stardom, Anton was probably the most popular one in your year.

Not that you cared too much about popularity, and he didn’t seem to do so either, he was too busy practising. Though he did practise at school too, he had his coach-led sessions outside of the school, so after classes, he was often seen leaving school grounds, only coming back later at night. You sometimes caught sight of him in the corridor at the student hall, but you didn’t interact a lot, just a few hellos here and a few good nights there. Since he wasn’t in your class, sometimes you wondered if he was as shy around his classmates as he was around you, or maybe it was just because you were a girl.

“Y/N, aren’t you recording?” Sullyoon’s voice brought you back to reality, and you hastily murmured a ‘thanks’ before averting your eyes to the swimming pool where the boy already stood on his block, getting into position.

You unlocked your phone, and turned it horizontally to get the whole view of the pool. Then, you pushed the red button a few seconds before the starting signal was given, and off they went. It was an individual freestyle heat, and it didn’t even take a minute to finish, but it felt so long because you were watching him so intensively, your eyes following him in his lane. He wasn’t in the lead at first, but when he turned around, he quickly diminished the distance between him and the top two swimmers.

“That’s it,” you mumbled under your breath. It was silly, you knew, he couldn’t hear you after all, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t cheer for him loudly when he came in first place.

The arena erupted in loud cheers and applause as everyone was happy to see one of the students win in his category. However, since the girls’ final was still left, you couldn’t move from your place to ask him about his experience. For the school magazine, of course, nothing else.

After the competition came to an end, there was a 30-minute break before the start of the winning ceremony which would be held in the event hall a few minutes away from the sports centre. So you took that time to seek out Anton after checking with him through Kakaotalk that he was free and willing to answer a few of your questions.

The boy’s hair was still half wet when you met him on a bench halfway between the canteen and the student halls. The hustle bustle of the event didn’t reach this side of the campus, but it was still close enough, so he wouldn’t miss the ceremony.

“Hey!” You beamed when you saw him sitting there by himself, his eyes fixated on his phone. He changed into sweatpants and a loose tee, but he still wore his flip-flops. You couldn’t tell whether it was because he forgot to change or because he liked it that way.

“Hi!” Anton greeted you back as he looked up, his lips curling into a half-smile. You could tell that he was tired, but you only had a few questions, so you wouldn’t keep him up too long.

“Congratulations! You did really well. I was truly impressed how you went from third to first place in a matter of seconds,” you shared excitedly, but he just let out a shy little giggle.

“Well… thanks,” he mentioned as he scratched the back of his neck. You just smiled at each other awkwardly until you pulled out your notebook and started asking the questions from him, recording everything on your phone. It was a mere three minutes, so it didn’t take long, but before you would let him go his way, you sent him the video of the finals.

“I’ve taken it, so your parents could see it,” you justified when he just looked back at you with wide, curious eyes. He looked at you as if he couldn’t decipher why you would do such a thing for him even though you thought it wasn’t a big deal. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and when he opened it again, his voice was even softer than usual.

“Thanks. That’s… that’s very kind of you,” he admitted, his words uncertain but genuine.

“Anytime,” you shot him a friendly smile before getting to your feet and bidding goodbye. You had to go back to fetch Sullyoon either way.

Your interview with Anton - compiling questions for him before and after his win at the competition - became the article with the most views again, something that you didn’t fail to share with him when it was announced. You couldn’t say that you were friends as per se, but you did ask how his practice went when you bumped into him at the student hall later at night, and he did ask you about how you had been when you met each other by accident in the school corridor. You knew he already had a lot on his plate, so you didn’t seek out his company more than it was necessary, but you still sent stuff his way when something reminded you of him.

However, that did change when senior year rolled by. With the third week of the new term starting came the announcement of the random draw for the annual sports day. KOZ International High’s sports day was your school’s version of ISAC, and even though you were all coming from influential families and all the students had probably enough money to attend the Olympics games in the VIP section, no one complained about the event. In fact, it was all the school magazine and school radio could talk about for weeks, and everyone tried to put effort into practising for their own games to not lose face.

Each year, all the classes participated in four different categories - mixed 4x100 m relay, archery, swimming and dance -, going up against one another within each year. The only category that allowed students to sign up for was dance as only groups could participate, and they needed to be formed in time to seem somewhat professional. Each year, this was the competition everyone was looking forward to the most since usually professional dancers signed up - like Baekseung, Minwoo and Haruto who always won the dance category in your year. For all the other categories, there was a random draw during homeroom where your teacher announced who would be participating in which category. 

This year, Anton didn’t get selected for swimming unlike last year, but you did. You had been selected for relay twice and archery last year, so this was new. Though you knew how to swim and you actually had swimming lessons in freshman year, your competitive side didn’t let you practise just like everybody else now that you were on speaking terms with Anton. So you asked the boy if he could help you prepare for the competition.

“What do you need help with? Technique, breathwork, nutrition or…?” The boy looked at you expectantly when you asked him about helping you out, and you suddenly realised that you had been so wrong that this would be easy, that your request would be obvious.

“Weeeelll, maybe a bit of everything?” You chuckled nervously. “I really want to win this, so whatever can get me there,” you added with a shrug, and Anton seemed slightly amused but also… endeared? Was that the right word for the look he gave you?

Either way, the boy agreed. You thought that he would just watch you swim once to see where you were and what you needed to work on, but he kept asking you when you would practise, so he could come by. He couldn’t always make it because of his own schedule, but he did show up frequently, giving you tips about your posture, technique, timing and little things that you would have not considered paying attention to before (like your post-workout meal).

He was firm in the way he explained certain things, but he was gentle when it came to show you what he meant, especially when he needed to touch you to correct the angle of your arms or the way you turned your head. You could see that swimming was truly his passion, and he was enthusiastic about helping you out, so he probably didn’t think too much into such tutoring, but there were moments when your faces were so close or his skin touched your skin a bit longer than absolutely necessary, and you felt nervous and giddy and warm all at once. He probably did so too because he stuttered or looked away or asked for a break at times like this.

It was usually late at night when you practised in the pool, so there weren’t other students around, and you tried not to be too self-conscious about this whole thing. However, when Andrew came by to practise for his own competition, and you could feel his eyes on you two for a few minutes in the beginning, you felt a bit nervous.

However, when you asked Anton about it after practice that day, sitting on the edge of the pool, your feet grazing the edge of the water, he said that he wasn’t bothered by it.

“Can I ask you something though?” He inquired, looking at you with those curious brown eyes, and you nodded, prompting him to go on.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way… but why do you want to win the competition so bad?”

“Fair question, really,” you chuckled, airy and light, but sucked in a deep breath before jumping into your explanation. It’s not like it was something to be ashamed of, but you still felt a bit silly for feeling this way. Either way, he deserved to know the truth in exchange for his help.

“I just… I don’t really feel like I’m good at anything here. You know, back in my home country, I was the top student in my class, and at the whole school, too. Here, I’m pretty much average, and as much as I want to say that it doesn’t bother me, it does. There’s always someone who’s better at me in literally everything, so I get joy out of winning anything. Even if it’s our sports day.”

You weren’t sure how someone like Anton who was known for being on the national team would understand what you were feeling, but he seemed to know just the right thing to say.

“You’re good at writing for the school magazine and interviewing people,” he pointed out, his words oozing sincerity. When he looked at you like that and sounded like that, you really did feel good about yourself, but you weren’t sure if he was just trying to make you feel better or he really thought so.

“That’s nice of you to say, but the others are also really good. Minju even won a literary competition.”

To that, he couldn’t say anything. It was a fact. Ever since you had been admitted to KOZ International High, you hadn’t won a single competition. Not that it should have mattered, your parents were happy as it is, but still… going from being known for being smart and an overachiever to being average… it hurt a bit.

“To me, you are the kindest girl I’ve ever met,” the boy confessed gently, quietly, like a secret shared just between you two. “In that sense, you are the first one on my list.”

His words felt warmer than the towel around your body, and you were sure that if you had not just come out of the water a few minutes ago, a blush would surely be creeping onto your face, mirroring your emotions in an obvious way.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently, but you could see that he was also a bit shy with the way he bit down on his lower lip. A habit that you had picked up on before, but up until now, it didn’t make your heart race.

“But you’ve met so many people, right? I mean, you are an athlete.”

“While it’s true that I’m usually surrounded by a lot of people, I don’t actually know them or take notice of them. For instance, when I’m swimming, I focus on the water, the pool and my body. Nothing else,” he shared willingly, his eyes watching the waves his feet made on the surface of the water. “In a way, a lot of people watch me, but they don’t see me. If that makes sense,” he added a bit belatedly, his voice soft as ever.

You’ve never really thought about his swimming career that way. You’ve thought that he met a lot of people and made a lot of friends and connections, but what he was saying made perfect sense. It also made you feel a bit disheartened because after everything he must have been lonely. His parents didn’t come to see him compete, there was always a buzz around him even if he didn’t want it, and he focused on swimming, nothing else.

This thought made you feel even more thankful because he carved time out of his busy days to help you out, and now he even called you the kindest girl he had ever met.

“They don’t see the real you, I get it,” you hummed, slightly shivering at the way his eyes found yours. “I’m glad that I can see the real you though,” you blurted out without thinking ahead, without thinking at all. It was like you were under a spell; locked down, locked in, unable to move.

In that moment, with the melody of Anton’s coy little giggle accompanying you in the swimming arena, you realised what this feeling meant.

You were in love.

You were both nervous and excited for the sports day.

Swimming was at the end of the day because you had the relay runs first, followed by archery and dancing. You went out to watch the competitions, but since they hired a professional photographer for the event, the school magazine members didn’t need to take pictures. Instead, you enjoyed the event, rooted for Dew in the relay run (and with his impossibly long legs, his team won) and Sullyoon and Minju in dancing. You even checked out archery where Anton came in second place after Carlos.

Then, there was a lunch break and the juries for dancing decided on the ranking before announcing the winners as part of the first winner’s ceremony of the day. The involved students and those who were curious then moved to the arena where each year had its swimming competition for the boys and girls alike. Since you went in class order, the seniors were last, and by the time it was your time to get ready, you had been all nerves.

You didn’t expect Anton to be waiting for you in the corridor between the changing rooms and the pools because he had already sent you a good luck message on Kakaotalk (and you had congratulated him on his second place in archery). However, you couldn’t deny that the sight of the boy was enough to put your mind at ease. For a little while, at least.

“Hi!” Anton greeted you with a friendly smile as you halted in front of him, your sports bag thrown over your shoulder. “I just wanted to come by and see how you were doing.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just…” You let out an awkward little chuckle, suddenly all too aware that your voice was anything but stable. “Okay, I’m gonna be honest. I’m very, very nervous,” you added, biting down on your lower lip. It wasn’t even something that would be marked or kept in your school records, and yet, your heart was pounding so loudly, you were slowly going crazy.

“It’s all okay. I get nervous before competitions, too,” the boy admitted, somewhat of a fond smile playing along his lips while he was looking down at you. You looked back at him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe - not just because of his words, but because of his close proximity. Before, you were rarely aware how close he was, but these last few weeks, that’s all you could think about.

Gosh, you were so gone…

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s totally normal. Plus, studies say that adrenaline can actually improve performance,” he explained as an attempt to ease your nerves, and you found yourself smiling for the first time in a while.

“No matter what happens, thanks a lot for helping me out. I owe you a whole lot,” you admitted, and playfully nudged his shoulder. You could see that the boy was a bit taken aback by that, but a few seconds later, his features softened even more than already, and his voice was even quieter than usual.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Anton disagreed gently. His eyes were twinkling with care, the lines of his lips deepening his dimples, a sight that made your heart race. Not out of nervousness, but out of this newly bloomed warm and comforting yet thrilling feeling.

You just stood there in the corridor, looking at each other in silence, getting lost in each other’s eyes. This moment was so precious, you wanted to tuck it into your pocket and never let it go. Yet, life moved on around you even if you were still, and the door to the pools opened, the quiet corridor suddenly filled with laughter and chatter.

Suddenly self-conscious, you mumbled something akin to:

“I should probably go. To get changed and to warm up.”

“Yeah, sure,” the boy nodded, but before you could go your way, he reached out to gently pat your head. Only once and only briefly, but you felt electrified from head to toe either way. “Good luck, Y/N! I’m rooting for you!”

And off he went, his cheeks tinted pink, and as you watched him leave, your hands automatically reached for the top of your head where his hand had previously been. You were woken from your stupor only when Dew showed up and started asking what was that between you and Anton. Though you had told Dew how you had been practising with Anton’s guidance, you had never touched upon how you felt around the swimmer.

“I really don’t know,” you blurted out in all honesty, and Dew looked back at you, all confused. “Do boys act like that with just anyone?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then, why do you think he did that?” You asked, hoping that the Thai boy could help you. He was a boy after all, he should know better. On the other hand, Dew merely shrugged his shoulders.

“My guess would be that he likes you, but don’t ask me about stuff like that. I’ve never had any luck with girls,” he justified before you could ask him (rightfully so) whether boys patted a girl’s head that they liked. You thought that maybe having a guy friend would help with your feelings, but it seemed like it couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Either way, Dew wished you good luck before he left, but all you thought about was Anton and the way he patted your head. Even when you entered the arena later on, you tried to search for him in the spectator area, but to no avail. There were just too many people, and now it made perfect sense why he said that he was surrounded by a lot of people, but he didn’t take note of them or concentrate on them.

So you did the same, and as you stepped onto your block, you took in a deep breath. You mentally played back all the advice the boy had given you, and told yourself that you would do great. Positive affirmations and all that.

After the starting signal, your body moved on auto-pilot. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t think, just swam and swam, and gave it your all. You now understood what people meant by your surroundings becoming a blur when something happened so fast because it was over before you knew it.

As you emerged from the water at the end of your lane, you took in a few deep inhales before your eyes found the announcement board. You scanned the screen, but your brain couldn’t comprehend the result, not until Daniela in the lane to your right came up to you to congratulate you.

“Congrats, Y/N!”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, still in a daze because… You looked back at the screen, and oh my gosh, you came in first! You did it! You were the winner in your year!

No one was faster than you to get out of the pool and dry yourself, get changed before heading out with your hair still half-wet, searching for a familiar pair of chocolate-brown eyes. You almost gave up when you spotted him just where he had been before he had wished you good luck.

To be honest, you were in a state of heightened excitement that couldn’t be contained, so you weren’t really in your right mind when you ran up to him and just outright hugged him. He was taller than you, so you momentarily pressed your head against his chest in the embrace, and thought it felt odd and new and everything in between, it also felt so right.

You almost let go of the boy when you noticed how still he was, but then, he had his arms around you (uncertain, gentle yet still there), and whispered, so only you could hear:

“You did really well, Y/N!”

And though it was brief and a bit awkward, it was equally heart-fluttering, and even if you tried to deny that you hugged him because you liked him and not because you were thankful for his help, you were lying.

You were oh so gone.

You still couldn’t get over everything that happened on the sports day, but now that you weren’t practising together and you didn’t need to interview him, you didn’t need to face him over the next few days. It helped a bit because your heart was jumping up and down in joy whenever you thought about his words, his head pat and that hug, and you felt like you could burst with all the different kinds of feelings that he brought out in you.

On the other hand, you promised him right after that impromptu hug that you would like to treat him to something as a token of appreciation for his help, and he didn’t protest. So you settled on the following Saturday, but it seemed like time slowed down because every day dragged on, and it was still not Saturday.

Dew even pointed out that though he was no love expert, you really acted like a girl in love (based on the movies and shows he was watching), and you couldn’t deny it anymore. There were even students who came up to you, asking if you were dating Anton because they had seen you two hugging after the competition. You shooed them away, saying that you were just thankful for him because he had helped you prepare for the competition.

You didn’t want to admit it to strangers, of course, but you also didn’t want them to make up rumours about your relationship. Or well, possible relationship. You didn’t ask Anton if he was approached by the same students, and you didn’t want to admit something that maybe only you felt, putting him in a tough spot.

However, you couldn’t deny that you felt like this encounter would be different… like a date or something. It would be the first time you leave school grounds with Anton, and you knew that he only went out for his practices and the necessities he needed. Though you hang out with Dew off-campus, it was different, he really was just a friend, and you were both clear about that.

Therefore, you spent an ungodly amount of time deciding on an outfit because you didn’t have to wear your school uniform or sportswear this time. You also needed to ask your parents to give you permission to go out because you were underage. It was a fairly smooth process with a whole online system set up where your homeroom teacher got a notification when your parents approved your leave, and you could show the approval on your phone to the guards at the gate.

Due to your indecisiveness, you arrived by the gate exactly at the discussed time, and Anton was already there, leaning against a railing. He wore a dark brown coat, currently unbuttoned, that emphasised his long legs and wide shoulders, with a white shirt and dark jeans. His hands were in his pocket, and he was slightly bobbing his head to the music coming from his headphones. He looked like a campus crush in those shows you liked to indulge yourself in, and the thought didn’t exactly help your crazily racing heart.

You were a few steps away when he opened his eyes and noticed you coming up at him. His lips immediately curled into a shy smile, and he took his headphones off to tuck them into his bag. You reciprocated his smile when you halted beside him, and asked him how he was doing while exiting the school and heading towards the bus stop. He said there was a really good restaurant that he liked going to after practices, so you decided on going there.

When he asked about your week, you felt heat rush to your cheeks because well… it seemed like all you had been doing was playing back the events of the sports day and daydreaming about meeting him today.

“Just the usual, really,” you shrugged instead, covering up your lie with a wider smile as you got on the bus.

You automatically sat down in a loveseat, and though his close proximity shouldn’t have surprised you at this point, you still felt your cheeks burn when he sat down beside you. It was different this time though. No matter how many close moments you had shared before, you had never sat beside each other on the bus, and you had never gone off- campus together, so it was new, it was different, and it was very, very exciting.

“What were you listening to, by the way?” You inquired to break the silence, referring to him waiting for you with his headphones on.

“I have this playlist with songs that I like, so I just put it on shuffle.”

“Can I have a listen?” You asked giddily because you really loved music, and you always enjoyed checking out new songs and new artists. However, Anton seemed a bit surprised by your request, and you immediately added that he didn’t have to if he didn’t feel like it.

“No, no, it’s totally okay. I’ve just never had a girl ask me to let her listen to my playlist,” he let you know, coy as ever, before reaching into his bag. You totally expected him to reach out his headphones for you to take it, but instead, the boy leaned closer to you to put it on you, tucking your hair behind your ear with one hand while holding the headphones in the other.

You found yourself blinking at him rapidly, your heart beating in your throat, and it felt like it was so loud, he could hear exactly how big of an impact his closeness and gentle touch had on you. On the other hand, he didn’t seem affected by it, instead, he boosted a boyish smile when his eyes caught yours, as if he could see right through you.

You could barely register the first song playing because you were still under his spell, but at least you didn’t have to talk for the next few minutes. Anton played a few of the songs on his playlist before it was your stop, and you gave the headphones back to him, sharing your opinion on his song choices while heading towards your destination.

The restaurant he picked was run by a lovely elderly woman who prided herself on the fact that Anton had been coming by ever since he had been a student at KOZ, and how much he had grown over these years. She seemed very fond of the boy and kept sharing stories about him until she was gently reminded by him that you were here to eat.

“Come on! You’ve never brought a girl here, so I have to take advantage of it,” she called him out on it, and Anton’s face immediately flushed, his eyes fixated on the table instead of anything else in the room.

“He helped me prepare for the sports day at school, and I won first place, so I’m treating him to a meal,” you shared with the old lady who directed a knowing smile in the boy’s direction before her eyes settled on yours again.

“Oh, so you’re that girl! He’s been talking so much about you lately.”

“Ah ahjumma,” he groaned slightly, acting like a sulky little kid with his lips curled downwards and his puppy eyes showing. She held up her hands in defeat before taking your orders and getting started on making the food.

Not gonna lie, you felt really good by the fact that you were the only girl Anton brought here and that he had been talking about you lately. Sometimes, you felt like he was just generally shy around others, and while it was true, you were now more hopeful than ever that his actions towards you meant that he felt the same way about you.

So though the meal was amazing and you had a very nice conversation while having lunch, you couldn’t shake this thrilling feeling off, and those so-called butterflies in your stomach didn’t want to chill. Instead, they made you believe it was now or never, this was your chance to make sure while walking in the nearby park, and so you blurted out:

“Anton, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he replied calmly, casually, but your next question made him avoid your eyes.

“Would you have said yes to today if it hadn’t been my thank you treat for your help, we just came just because?”

A few seconds of silence settled over the two of you, and the thought crossed your mind that maybe this would not go as you had imagined it. You would be rejected right here and right now, in the middle of this gorgeous park, on this fine Saturday in October, and you would never be able to recover from it.

Instead, the boy halted his steps, and eventually turned towards you, and you automatically did the same.

“Yeah,” he answered in his trademark soft voice, but before you could open your mouth to ask THE question, he beat you to it. “I like you, Y/N.”

Nothing could prepare you for how it would feel to hear those words roll off his tongue - not even this whole week of daydreaming behind you. As the afternoon sunlight shone on him, his eyes seemed to twinkle, and the sight was just too beautiful - he was too beautiful -, you felt like melting under the Sun.

“I like you, too, Anton,” you squealed before you threw your arms around him, and pressed your head against his chest. This time, the boy didn’t hesitate to hug you back, and it was just so heart-shatteringly tender and comforting and soft, your racing heart finally rested.

For it was now not searching for the answer to your question.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think! 😊

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Header taken from the 'Odyssey' trailer video

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[gremlingottoosilly]

Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it. 

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support. 

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed. 

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me. 

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you? 

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable. 

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts. 

— Dismissed. 

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want. 

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem. 

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances. 

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect. 

— Sir? Is everything alright? 

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator. 

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t. 

— I thought you’d heard me the first time. 

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now? 

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away? 

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja? 

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you. 

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow. 

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable. 

— You forgot the milk. 

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk. 

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics. 

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty. 

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir. 

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here. 

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office. 

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise. 

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen. 

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay. 

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees. 

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already. 

— Ja. Bra is next. 

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger. 

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though. 

— Braves Mädchen…good girl. 

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target. 

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples. 

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window. 

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen? 

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you. 

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life. 

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation. 

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel? 

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language. 

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him. 

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest. 

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop. 

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide. 

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges. 

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat. 

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created. 

— How do you feel? 

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less. 

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles. 

— My pleasure, Schatzen. 

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain. 

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all. 

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Damian x reader but reader is a very awkward but kind person. they are awkward around people, hell this is their first relationship, and generally doesn’t receive good attention from others because of it. but he loves them despite it. i hope this makes sense

Graceless

Damian Wayne x Reader

wc: 2.2 K summary: Being in a Gala his father threw with your dear boyfriend. Also, sneaking out from it. warnings: literally so much fluff I threw up, no y/n used a/n: ThANKYOUSOMUCH FOR THE REQUEST OMG, literally such a cute idea, I hope I could write it as cute as you described it. Enjoy! (Divider)

»You're stiff. No need to be nervous, beloved.« Damian tells you quietly, hand on your back as he stays by your sidesince the beginning of this event. He had been trying to console you and let loose the entire time, having been nothing but patient with you. Sighing out, you look at him and attempt to relax your shoulders. You are not used to such Galas, being especially awkward now with so many people around. There is no reason why you said yes to this. Really, you've been dreading going here with him, but you also didn't want to mess up or make him upset by declining his request.

He looks to you as well, expression soft and understanding. You have no idea how you scored such a jackpot. But truth is, he thinks the same about you. Damian would be lying if he said he didn't find your slight awkwardness and shyness adorble. In fact, he cherishes it.

»We can go, get some fresh air, if you'd like.« You perk up at his suggestion, trying not to make it obvious that you would do anything to disappear for a moment.

»Sure.«

The crisp evening air winds past you, making your hair fly into various directions and you move your hands to unruffle your hair. This action only makes Damian's heart flutter even more, watching your every move while he stands beside you on the spacious balcony.

»What are you looking at?« He blinks out of his stare and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly.

»Just enjoying the view.« Now it's your turn to look away, being mostly flustered by his attempt to flirt with you. »Thanks.« You manage to mumble out, earning a soft chuckle from him. It makes you a little confused for a moment before you realise that it may have sounded slightly out of place. How else are you supposed to react to flirting? What was there even to say in general?

»Oh, you are so cute...« In the next moment, you are pulled into his arms, a hug if you will. There are rare moments for Damian to let loose and be affection, but with you it comes naturally. He can't help but always want to squeeze you tightly in his arms every time you are being more adorble than he thought you can be. You return the hug and melt into it shortly after, loving how dreamy the mix of his cologne smells like, wanting to drown in it.

Soon, the chatter from the Gala becomes louder for a moment, followed up with a click of a door before it becomes more quiet again. »Gremlin, B wants to see you. He doesn't want you sneaking out again.« You recognise the voice to be one of his brother's, glancing behind your shoulder to see Tim. You are getting better at their names.

Damian groans and reluctantly lets go from around you, leaving you alone on the balcony for now as he goes to his father to discuss something. Not that he cares, really.

As your alone, you settle on leaning your hands against the cold railing and looking out to the cityscape. It always amazes you at how big and shiny Gotham looks like from the Wayne Manor, the river that goes around the city makes it look even more stunning. The cool wind goes past you once again, this time not as aggressive as before. It helps you cool down from the social gathering, finally having some alone time, even when you would prefer it with Damian.

You focus on the calm stream of the river, not noticing more people pile onto the balcony. Soon enough, you feel someone tap your shoulder which makes you turn around. Dick? It is Dick, right? Damian didn't trick you?

»There you are! Enjoying the evening? I hope we didn't scare you off or anything.« He chuckles lightly, hoping to get to know his youngest brother's girlfriend more without him interrupting every other sentence. You only saw his brother's one time when they invited you to a dinner, and Damian didn't let anyone talk to you for more than fifteen seconds. Not that he was jealous, he was just really annoyed with how teasing and stupid they are, which only makes you more shy around them.

»No, not at all. It's nice.« You respond back in an attempt to come off as relaxed and totally not awkward around him, hating the fact that it's most likely not working. But Dick is polite enough not to mention it.

»I see. You know, Damian can get really grumpy at times.« He starts and leans against the railing beside you, a rather amused smile on his face.

»How do you keep up with that?«

You never expected this question and you have no idea how to respond to this at all. Or is he messing with you? He definitely is with how light he is talking about it.

»Um... well, he is not as grumpy all the time.« You smile back in response as best as possible, making the man beside you laugh a little. It's a mystery for the whole family on how he got a sweet girlfriend like you. You don't seem to talk too much around them, getting out of your shell only sometimes when they directly talk to you. And even then, you still seem more reserved.

»Hm, I have that different in mind. Maybe he is- « He can't finish his sentence as he gets punched behind his back, making him gasp for air and turn around confused.

»Who- «

»Father wasn't even looking for me, what are you doing here?« Damian steps away from Dick and goes to your side, placing his hand around your back like before.

His brother quickly recovers and purses his lips, trying to come up with a quick excuse.

»I was just talking to her! I wasn't even trying to interrogate her or something...« Damian rolls his eyes, wordlessly dragging you back inside the Gala to escape the antics of his brother.

As you're walking away, you glance behind your shoulder and give the other an apologetic smile, hoping you didn't upset his brother. He luckily doesn't seem as upset and just gives you a thumbs up in response, flashing you a shiny smile in return.

»I apologise, they can tend to be a pain in the ass. He didn't try to ask you something stupid, right?« He tilts his head at you lightly, still walking through the Gala and out the hallway to escape this place all together.

»No! No, just...« You answer back, trying to explain to him briefly what your small conversation was about, »uh... he talked about the weather. And stuff.«

He doesn't buy it at all and just gives you an unimpressed look, waiting for you to spill the truth. »Okay, he did ask me about your grumpiness. And how I keep up with you.« You sigh out, biting your inner cheek as you watch his reaction. He is rather amused and shakes his head, tugging you along outside with him.

»Don't mind him... he is stupid.« He mumbles back, reassuring you while wrapping his arm around your waist fully. You both exit the building and make your way to your usual hang out spot near the river, liking the way the moon reflects against the water. The sky is clear, giving you an even more pleasing view. You both walk to a nearby bench and sit down, getting a brief chill down your spine at the cool wood. Damian, ever the oberserver, shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over you shoulder before pulling you close again and relaxing with you.

The close proximity and comfort makes your cheeks flare up, being glad it's dark enough so he doesn't see it. Either way, your subtle reaction of sighing out made it clear you enjoy this.

The comfortable silence is something you both adore, being able to be relaxed and calm with just the other's presence. You don't need to say something to the other or do anything, happily being leaned against his side like that. You don't need to worry about being weird for fidgeting with your hands in your lap. There is nothing you need to worry about or be afraid with him, being the only person you trust with yourself. At first, it didn't seem like he liked you at all before you started dating. But it turns out that he was just trying to mask his feelings in front of you. He noticed you in his class every day and just couldn't help but feel drawn to you. It was scary, but soon learned how to approach you and quickly realised you were probably more cute than he thought you are. All that pining came to an end once you both started to date, but it surely didn't stop entirely.

You sometimes forget that you can be affectionate with him because in your mind, it's still hard to believe that you two are an actual couple. Like now, you finally realise it again and want to do something together with him. Not just sit around and stare at the lake.

»Can we walk around?« He looks at you, not really having expected this suggestion. But who is he to say no to you? He'd be a fool to deny you anything.

»You mean take a walk? Of course we can.«

With his jacket around your shoulders, you both walks side-by-side by the lake and don't talk much again. Neither fo you mind, once more. Damian takes a few steps away from you, making you stop and stand while watching him approach something a bit further away. You uncertain of what to do but decide on standing on your spot and wait for him to come back. He rips something out from the ground apparently, being lightly amused from the sight. Eventually, he returns to you with a small smile, basically skipping up to you again.

He hands you a smaller boquet of white, wild flowers, making you smile even more at how sweet his gesture is. There is no reason for him to pick up some flowers for you, but he still did.

You take the boquet from him happily, unsure of what to say but really grateful for the few flowers he gave you just now.

»You like them?« Without thinking too much, you nod quickly and hug him tightly.

»Yes... thanks. It's sweet.« Was that enough to express your gratitude? You really hope so, but you also feel a rush of affection wash over you as you both hug.

»Not as sweet as you.« He murmurs back and nuzzles his nose against your hair, making you feel even more flustered than before.

»Why do you always say something like this?« Damian smiles against your hair and squeezes your wasit softly in his arms, speaking into the top of your head.

»You don't like it? I can stop.« Of course, that makes you react even more. You quickly shake your head and lean off him to look into his eyes. The subtle shine of the moon makes your blush more apparent for him.

»No! I-I mean, just... you're making this more difficult.« You manage to mumble out before averting your gaze towards the water, huffing out defeated. His expression softens and he gently puts his hand over your cheek, carefully making you look back to him.

»Or maybe you are just need to learn how to deal with flirting.« He teases lightly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone in a gentle manner.

This just made you blush more, pouting at him. He can't help but find this even more adorble, feeliing a little bad for teasing you. »Sorry... didn't mean to sound rude.«

You don't want him to feel bad on the other hand and shake your head, leading you to lean you head more into his hand. »No, I... probably need to learn how to deal with it. You're right.«

You both smile at this and silence falls above you, just studying each other's eyes in the moonlight, getting lost in the proximity of the warm hug.

Finally, his thumb brushes over you lower lip, hand still cupping your soft cheek. His eyes rake over your face, getting stuck on your lips and you feel your heart speed up at the realisation. Leaning in slowly, your free hand supports you on his chest, other arm still around his neck with the small boquet of flowers in it.

After hesitating just for a moment, you press your lips against his own and he could swear he feels a firework errupt in his chest and entire body. He kisses you back without a second thought, pulling you flush against him with his hand by your waist. You're unsure who breaks the kiss first, but you are left a flushed mess in his arms. And he finds it cute all over again. Your slight awkwardness never made him feel annoyed or anthing like that. He's not like most people, he is more patient and sweet with you. Damian doesn't hate that you need a little more time for affection, he doesn't feel worried over you uncertain moves. He is more than happy to guide you through it and show you how to love yourself and express your feelings more freely.

»You are... gripping me a bit too hard.« you break the silence first, a rather sheepish expression on your face as you wait for him to stop gripping your waist so much. He snaps out of his stare and replaces his hand onto your back.

»Sorry... got carried away.« He scoffs lightly, being the one being sheepish now.

a/n: I never felt myself cringe so hard before while writing, but I also tried to make it as believeable and cutesy as possible. Hope you enjoyed it though!

←MASTERLIST

[calder]

Themes of Gay Identity and Homophobia in Fallout: New Vegas

Revised and extended 4-30-25. Much of this essay is no longer available on the wiki.

Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California.

In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage from the PRIMA guide), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control.

In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented.

Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture.

At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface.

The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. 

This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population. No Brotherhood character makes any remark conveying hatred or disgust towards homosexuality; malice is not a necessary ingredient of homophobia. Fear, ignorance, tradition, and control are forces that shape their society, resulting in the needless oppression of gay people. The subject remains subtextual, apparently taboo, which may reflect their culture's origins in the U.S. Army. Additionally, the Brotherhood's medieval theming dovetails intuitively with these themes of traditional propriety, regressive superstition, and closed-minded stagnation.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. One line suggests homosexual relationships in the faction are relatively equal to the average Legion husband and wife in some ways, apparently a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Despite this, gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden.

A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again.

The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. NCR sharpshooter Corporal Betsy is a survivor of rape, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma. An NCR side-quest involves finding and killing her rapist.

A more significant movement out west, the Followers of the Apocalypse only control one major outpost in the Mojave, the Old Mormon Fort, somewhat ironic given the social and historical connotations of Mormonism. They allow outcasts and downtrodden to take shelter among their tents here, and do not stigmatize sex workers or addicts. A bisexual ghoul sex worker named Beatrix Russel can be encountered here, and the Courier may do business with her.

The Followers tend not to form hierarchies, and insist that the Courier choose non-violent approaches while carrying out their quests, which involve directly bettering the surrounding community of Freeside. Among other tasks, the player may be tasked to distribute Fixer (a medicine comparable to methadone) to homeless people experiencing withdrawal, or aid those abused by chem dealers. The main quest giver for the faction is community coordinator Julie Farkas, a doctor with a bold and unusual mohawk.

At Red Rock Canyon, the Courier can help a young man find purpose and kinship by convincing him to leave home and join the Followers. Jerry the Punk is a Great Khan who has been ostracized for writing poetry, and the upcoming masculinity rites expected of him by his small, tense village give him reason to actively fear for his life. Jerry has positive memories of the Followers from his childhood, because there was a time when they would bring books to share with the Great Khans tribe. The Punk finds a sense of purpose and connection when he leaves his isolated home settlement of harsh, angry men to live among the Followers, who see value in his gentle, creative nature as opposed to belittling him.

At the time of the events of Fallout, the Followers of the Apocalypse presented as benevolent secular monks who opposed the Children of the Cathedral cult. In the wake of the Unity Crisis, the city of Boneyard peacefully joined the NCR. The fiction of New Vegas establishes that, in pursuit of their founding principles, the Followers developed into a transgressive force for leftist values, openly critical of the NCR's capitalistic profit-based society. Director J.E. Sawyer freely acknowledges that the values of the Followers of the Apocalypse were informed by leftist philosophy:

"The Followers of the Apocalypse: Libertarians, socialists, communists, or greens?" Sawyer: "They vary significantly, but range from anarcho-syndicatists to socialists to communists. Their general tendency to be inclusive and non-hierarchical means they don't have a single outlook or 'platform.'"

The distinctive character design of faction representative Julie Farkas resembles an archetypical punk woman. Being a far-left counterculture of a capitalistic empire, the Followers of the Apocalypse generally evoke and directly mirror the goals and organizational methods of the modern punk movement--more acutely, they embody the sensibilities of America's rail punks, a highly transient subculture who overwhelmingly emphasize volunteerism and anti-imperial philosophy, as opposed to the sensationalism of the reactionary punk rocker scene, which is defined by the moving target of aesthetic/social transgression. This read is further informed by the Followers' inclusiveness, abundantly evidenced in their care for people marginalized by other wasteland societies, including unhoused people, addicts, sex workers, gay people, tribal people, political dissidents, criminalized people, and mutated people.

The most prominent member of the faction is Arcade Gannon, a player companion and openly gay man, who was born an illegal person under NCR law. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death.

Arcade will not hesitate to abandon the player if he disapproves of their actions, but if his trust is carefully earned, he will reveal his origins. Arcade was born into the Enclave just before it collapsed. He hides this because his existence is a crime under New California Republic law. He abandoned his fascist background to serve the Followers' ideology of learning, harm reduction, and antifascism.

Additionally, Arcade is critical of the NCR, and encourages the player to re-route the power of HELIOS One to Freeside rather than the NCR power grid. Should the Courier sell Arcade to the Legion and subsequently lead the NCR to victory at the Dam, Arcade will ultimately be identified as Enclave-born and arrested from his position of slavery to spend the rest of his life in an NCR prison. As a gay man originally born to the Enclave, his very existence is criminalized under the law of both the NCR and the Legion.

Another possible ending provides further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself, rather than suffer the favor of the mad Caesar. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains.

Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender.

The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity.

It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

____

“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality – and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.”

— Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

____

originally written (with help from other editors) for Nukapedia.

[witchyafterdark]

— Ominis Gaunt Headcanons; pt. 3

• The Pros and Cons of being with him •

This post has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time now, and was supposed to be the second installment of my previous post about Sebastian! Nevertheless, here it is. I've thought about this one a little bit harder than the other since it's my boy Ominis. All photos used are not mine, and all credits to their respective owners.

・❥・ PROS

He is the most empathetic, compassionate, thoughtful, and caring man you'll ever be with.

Most people need to be taught how to have compassion towards others, or that an example needed to be shown in order for them to learn. But with Ominis, this is something inborn. Empathy is nestled deep inside his bones, and it will be very difficult for anyone to make him act out of alignment from his true caring nature.

He is tremendously protective of you, and by extension, those you consider very close to you.

One of the many ways he demonstrates his devotion to you is by means of providing you with protection. Understandably, he knows that you aren't some damsel who needs help all the time. That's why he discreetly protects you when you need it the most; which are during the times you do not see the danger you're about to encounter, or are already in the midst of.

Quite ironic, he sees certain social situations leagues ahead of you, given his aristocratic upbringing, and can definitely read between the lines of people's intentions toward you. He will immediately step in — with practiced grace mixed with lethality — and eradicate any threat that looms over you before you even begin to notice anything amiss.

By extension, he is also very attuned to your emotional states, physical needs, and mental processes.

You wouldn't have to worry about being with someone who doesn't know how to understand you in ways you want to be understood because that couldn't be further from the truth with Ominis. One of the factors that make him a good partner is that he would actually get to know you before being with you. He took the time to learn your patterns and behaviors, and he genuinely studied you thoroughly in hopes of doing right by you.

Therefore, being in a relationship with him means he truly knows he can be a good match for you, as he doesn't want to waste both of your time. He understands when you're stressed, and would do anything in his power to alleviate your pains. And he knows when to step back and give you your personal space to figure things out by yourself.

Surprisingly, he has a mischievous and adventurous spirit in his heart, and he knows how to keep the fun alive between you two.

Being born blind, he has been told endlessly by his punitive family that he would most likely amount to nothing in his life without their illustrious influence and infamous reputation. But ever the rebel, Ominis wanted to prove to himself that their words hold no significance in his ability to live life to the fullest. To your pleasant surprise, he is much more lively and playful once you truly get to know him and he lets go of all his defenses! He isn't Anne and Sebastian's oldest friend for nothing; he knows a plethora of ways to rebel, bask in the moments of fun and adventure, and get into the occasional mischief to feed the need for a little adrenaline rush. Most people would probably consider him a boring and rigid person to be with, but he's just waiting for the right one to share the joy and happiness with.

Ominis is one of the bravest and most loyal people you'll ever get the chance to be with, whether for friendship or romantic relationship. You'll get to enjoy certain... perks of being with him. And he's more than willing to ensure your comfort and satisfaction as his partner.

Simply put, he has no qualms in waving his family name around to protect and preserve the peace around him — and that includes making sure you're safe, unbothered, and given the same special privileges as he has. Rest assured that once he made up his mind that he wants to be with you, you wouldn't have to worry if he's thinking of anybody else besides you. Everyone will know that he is yours, but most importantly, everyone will know you're his. and he's not embarrassed to say he is with you. In fact, he revels in it; albeit, more privately. While he does want people to know that he is off the market, he loathes the notion of people getting to know what goes on with your relationship with him. He's still a private person at the end of the day.

Behind closed doors, he is the most affectionate, touchy, and loving man you'll ever know.

Ominis is the kind of person that is sensitive to the energies of other people. He is sensitive like that, and for good reason. He can "read" the room perfectly without the need for sight. And so, he would definitely know simply by the sound of your heavy footsteps that you've had a tiring, rough day. Wordlessly, he would have the initiative to cook dinner for you, prepare you a hot bath, not forgetting to lay your night clothes on your bed, and caressing your hair to send you to sleep as you lay secure in his warm embrace at night. He also knows when you just need time alone to be by yourself, and tend to your own needs without him in the picture.

Nevertheless, you wouldn't even think of him as someone that needs to be "coached" into being a good partner — he has that naturally built into his personality.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

・❥・ CONS

Due to his unstable upbringing, he is actually the most possessive person you've ever met... worse that Sebastian.

It is known that Ominis is a very closed-off person. He is very difficult to win over, let alone befriend and to romance. When he was a child, every family connection his father had made was exploited to the bone. Those people would unwittingly feel honored to be acquainted to the Gaunts that they would most likely do anything to win their favor. Ominis' father once taught him that the people around him was supposed to obey him out of respect for their ancient, noble lineage.

Therefore, once Ominis lets you into his life, he unconsciously views you as his possession; someone that must remain in his life, unless he deems otherwise.

During arguments, he would not back down, and would sound punitive at times.

Having to fight for his life — quite literally — at the hands of his cruel family, Ominis has learned that using his words can equally be as destructive as combative magic. His usual sarcastic quips are one of his normal defense mechanisms. But if you're engaged in an argument with him, especially when he knows he is right, best believe he will not hold back. You will get your feelings and pride and dignity hurt. He will lay out the truth no holds barred. He will make you understand why he knows best, and that you should just listen.

After what happened during fifth year with Sebastian, he's had absolutely enough with giving people the benefit of the doubt. Once he made up his mind about a certain topic, good luck trying to change his mind now.

If you are rumored to have been getting closer to another man, best believe he will be taken care of as soon as possible. You won't see that man ever again. (He isn't a Gaunt for nothing).

As far as he's concerned, the only type of friends you need in your life are those he knows of; Poppy Sweeting, Natsai Onai, and perhaps even Imelda Reyes. Sebastian can be part of your circle but even that he is wary of. But if he so hears about other men trying to be close to you (even as your relationship with him is already public knowledge), or you're in the process of entertaining the possibility of being with other men, he will get them out of the picture by the end of the week.

He is not afraid of twisting the truth, fabricating lies and offenses that those men seemingly committed, and falsifying being a witness to a breach of magical protocol just to send them on their merry way. You'll be confused as to how and why these men just keep on getting questioned by magical authorities but you'll be none the wiser about his involvement.

Speaking of, no matter how hard he tries to undo all the conditioning he was put through as a child, his Gaunt tendencies tend to rear its ugly head when he feels out of control, or threatened in any way.

This one is something he does not want you to know. It's one of his deepest, darkest secrets that he tries to bury underneath his caring and compassionate efforts of becoming a better man. Some days, it truly gets the best of him, especially when he perceives that he is not being taken seriously, or that things around him are getting out of control. Being someone without sight (that is also a Gaunt), having absolute control of his surroundings is something he needs to feel safe and secure. Without it, it's as if he is wandless — holding his hands up in front of him like when he was a helpless child.

And so, if he perceives petulance on your part, in spite of him exercising patience, he will resort to intimidation and manipulation. He doesn't need to exert physical force to make you understand exactly what he is capable of if you keep up with your actions.

(There's a reason why Dominis is a thing to begin with. People know he is capable of it!)

Once you're with him, there's no backing out. He won't allow it. You are his.

When you agreed to accept his courtship, he understood it as a mutual agreement that this is not something casual in nature. You are not with him to waste his time, as he wouldn't want to waste yours. The decision to court you was not made on a whim. He realizes the potential of a great and fruitful romantic partnership with you. Therefore, in his mind, you need to validate his assumptions about you. You need to prove that he was right about you.

Of course, he will subtly guide you through the stages of your relationship in order to fit his narrative as he intended. He will mold you to be the person of his dreams, and will give you whatever you want that is within his power. You'd do well to be grateful and acknowledge that through your cooperation.

And if you ever break his heart by being with someone else behind his back, he will make sure you will pay for it... one way or another.

╭━━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━━╮

So, do the pros outweigh the cons for you?

[astraljedi]

Begin Again (Miss Americana - Joaquin Torres)

President's Daughter AU Series | Joaquin Torres x Female Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, light language, emotional vulnerability, brief injury mention (past trauma), soft angst

Word Count: 3.5K

Song: Begin Again by Taylor Swift

A/N: I decided to add a little something before every part, something like a little gossip podcast/social media account just for fun and to keep things interesting. Also, I read the lorax for this part specifically and I haven't read that book in YEARS HAHAHA. Masterlist | Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

- Chief of Shade PodcastDM from Anon says: A journalist friend told me Miss Americana was spotted a few weeks ago at the White House gala—dancing all night with some guy, looking pretty close and laughing. Do you have an idea of who it was? Well, anon, I’ve gotten a few messages saying the night was definitely eventful for the First Daughter. I might have a guess who it is, but I’m not jumping to conclusions just yet. Let’s wait and see.

Spring in D.C. is gorgeous. 

The light pink shade of cherry blossoms flourishes, the air is crisp, and the sun beams alone in the blue sky—no cloud overshadowing the golden star.

The White House garden is even prettier, this season already showing off the flowers blooming in the colors of the rainbow. I take in my surroundings as I sit on the fresh green grass, legs crossed, surrounded by a group of seven- and eight-year-olds dressed up from our medieval lunch party.

Today’s agenda started with one of my favorite pastimes—hosting an event for the foster group organization I work with. The goal is to get the kids out for a day, teach them a little about the environment, and let them just be kids through fun activities. It’s a small group today; they've gotten smaller over the months, which is a good thing. They're finding loving families.

Halle, a bright seven-year-old, sits on my lap with her head resting on my shoulder, her eyes slowly shutting as we’re halfway through The Lorax. I lower my voice, imitating the Once-ler, causing the kids to laugh. And I try to shove my own giggles down, staying in character for the rest of the story.

The White House doesn’t always let me host events like this here, but this weather was too perfect to waste. A beautiful spring day like this needed to be spent in the garden while reading with the kids.

“Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.”

I close the hardcover book and set it on the ground. “What did you think of the story?” I ask, brushing Halle’s hair out of her sleeping face.

“Are the trees real?” Dean asks, glancing around the garden like he’s searching for them and I smile.

“I wish. They’re so colorful and fun to look at. But we have our own and different kinds of trees all over the world. Trees are important because they give us shade, oxygen, and fruit; and they’re home to so many animals.”

“Like monkeys?!” Wes perks up.

“That’s right, Wes,” I chuckle. “Monkeys, birds, and all sorts of animals need trees to survive. We may not live in them, but we still need them to keep the environment safe and healthy. So it’s our job to protect them an—”

The kids gasp, eyes wide.

“That’s Captain America!” Wes says, pointing behind me, his face lighting up.

Halle stirs on my lap, eyes fluttering open at the name.

I glance over my shoulder and sure enough, the President walks beside Sam, who’s dressed in a navy suit and headed straight toward us. I smile at the sight of them, the kids are going to love Sam and—no, this can’t be happening right now. 

My eyes drift to the strong-framed body walking next to Sam, his laugh echoing through the garden, and my heart forgets to function properly for more than a second. 

Joaquin.

Aviators cover his rich brown eyes, the same eyes I spent an entire evening staring into a month ago and haven’t stopped thinking about since. He looked good at the gala, but this version: sunkissed, casual with his shirt sleeves rolled up? It makes my heart practically jump out of my chest and take off running across the White House lawn.

My cheeks heat up and my palms begin to sweat. I can’t help but think of the clipped photo of him in uniform that I’ve stared at for hours after Carmen handed me the navy file. 

But I wasn’t expecting to see him again. Especially not like this and not today. 

I gently help Halle up before rising myself, smoothing out my dress with shaking, sweaty hands.

“I hope we’re not interrupting,” the President says warmly. “I just wanted to stop by and say hello with some friends for our special guests today.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple.

“The more the merrier,” I chuckle nervously. My eyes find Carmen, who is doing a terrible job hiding the smug grin on her lips.

She knew.

“Hi, Sam,” I say, giving him a quick hug as my dad moves to greet each kid.

“I like your crown,” Sam laughs, nodding at the flimsy gold piece on my head—something I completely forgot about. Shit.

“We had a medieval party for lunch,” I say, shrugging off the crown and placing it on Halle’s head as she pops up beside me. Her small hands grip my waist, hiding behind me, too shy to face Sam. “Captain, I want you to meet my friend, Halle.”

She steps forward just a bit, still clinging to my dress. 

“Hi, Halle. It’s nice to meet you,” Sam says, crouching to her level and offering his hand.

Instead of shaking it, Halle giggles and throws her arms around his neck in a hug. Sam laughs, nearly losing his balance.

“Let’s play! I want to show you my castle!” she exclaims, tugging him toward the cardboard castle setup.

I snort a laugh, biting my nail, trying to hide the smile as I watch Halle break out of her shell. I step back to give them space, but I bump into Joaquin, not realizing he was closer than I thought. I inhale, my eyes fluttering close when the familiar touch lands on my back, steadying me. 

“Sorry,” I murmur, looking everywhere but at him. The birds are signing, the mix of children laughing and screaming echoes the usually quiet garden. 

Joaquin and I stand there awkwardly, watching the chaos of knights and dragons unfold before us. Sam wields a tiny plastic shield as he protects Halle from two roaring “dragons” trying to storm her cardboard castle.

I laugh, watching my dad join the group playing as a knight. 

“Joaquin,” I say, testing the waters. “It’s a beautiful day, right?” I immediately cringe inside. The weather? Really?

I’ve spent weeks imagining our next conversation, rehearsing a dozen different scenarios. And I start with the damn weather?

“It’s nice,” Joaquin says, smirking. “You organized this for the kids?”

“We usually go to an interactive museum, a park or a library. But the weather has been so nice this season that I managed to persuade them to let me do it here.” I say, scooting closer to him. “It’s the one thing I’m always looking forward to doing with the organization I work with, but sometimes I wish I could do more for them.”

“Even if it's for a few hours, it’s a memory they will take with them forever. Especially today, nothing tops playing dragons and knights with Captain America to save the princess.” He says.

I laugh and agree. 

“The night at the gala was nice, too,” I change the subject. I look at him and immediately regret it. He lifts his aviators off his eyes and our gazes lock. 

“It was,” he says, his smile growing. “Then you had to leave me stranded in the middle of the dance floor.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve stayed.”

“No worries. You had First Daughter duties.” He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“Joaquin,” I say, stepping closer. Our shoulders brush, and I feel him tense, though he doesn’t move away. “Trust me, that night, that dance, you—are embedded in my brain permanently.”

“So I’m not a fool for not being able to stop thinking about you, the President’s daughter?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re both fools.” I smile. 

“I’ve never done this. I’m not someone who makes the first move or any move, really. But if you want, my agent can give you my secure line. Because I haven’t stopped beating myself up for not doing this that night. And I’d really like to see you again. if that’s something you want.”

“One month and you’re already turning rebellious.” Hee chuckles, shaking his head a little. 

“Back up! Where’s my backup, Torres?” Sam yells from the castle setup. The kids have taken Halle hostage, and Sam is on his knees, trying to “save” her from the knight’s lair. “The princess has been captured!”

“Duty calls,” Joaquin says, mimicking the words I told him that night. I laugh and watch him take off, joining Sam in the medieval chaos.

iMessage 8:42PM Joaquin:Hey 8:45PM Joaquin:When can I see you again?

The moment Joaquin texted me a week ago, Carmen and I screamed at the top of our lungs when my phone chimed later that night. It was such a relief that I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself by basically admitting I hadn’t stopped thinking about him, all after one night of us dancing.

I stare at my reflection in the tall mirror in my living room. The short navy dress hugs my waist perfectly, and the cropped cream cardigan matches the cream lining of the dress. From what Joaquin told me, tonight is supposed to be quiet and private, something I didn’t think he’d actually be able to pull off.

I glance at the clock on the wall, my stomach twisting with nerves as the seconds tick by. Then, a knock at the door pulls me out of thoughts. I straighten my posture and walk to the door, my heels clacking against the wooden floor.

“Hey,” Joaquin says, a little breathless. His hair is slicked back, just like it was the night of the gala, and he’s holding a stunning bouquet of white tulips and pinkish lilies close to his chest. “I’m a few minutes early, I thought getting through your security would’ve taken longer.”

Usually, I have to give Carmen and the rest of the agents the full name and contact info of anyone who’s planning to see me. No surprise visits, ever. Everyone who comes up to my apartment has to be cleared. But with Joaquin, I already knew it wouldn’t be a problem. I’d bet anything Carmen cleared him before I even told her about our date. 

To be fair, no one ever comes to visit me. Not like this.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty much ready.” I chuckle, a little nervous.

“These are for you.” He hands me the bouquet, and I take them with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Want to come in? I want to put these in water before we leave.” He nods, and I close the door behind us. Joaquin lingers awkwardly near the sofa, his eyes following me as I head to the kitchen.

“These are so beautiful, thank you.” Tulips and lilies—my favorites. I told him that just a few days ago when we FaceTimed for the first time. He was out of town visiting family, but somehow we ended up talking for hours, him lying in his childhood bedroom while I curled up in my bed after a long day of work.

“I remembered,” he says, smiling as he steps farther into the room. “Took note of it when you mentioned it over FaceTime.” His gaze moves to my gallery wall: photos from my university years, my childhood dog, and a portrait of our old house in California. “Is this your old house?”

“Yeah. I took that photo the day we emptied it out before moving to Virginia. I remember being so heartbroken when they finally sold it.” I walk past him and place the vase of flowers on the center of the coffee table.

“What do you miss most about it?”

I grab my purse and step closer. “The huge bay window in the living room. My mom had this massive bookcase built there, and I used to sit on the bench reading while the sunlight streamed in. It was my dog’s favorite sunbathing spot too.” I laugh, remembering the lab mix who used to hog my blankets at night.

I glance at Joaquin—and that’s my first mistake. Because when I turn to him, his eyes are already on me. His hand gently finds the small of my back, pulling me closer.

“Ready?” he asks, leading me toward the door after I nod, my words caught in my throat. The moment he touched me, I was done for.

The whole car ride is silent. Marcus, my usual driver, sits behind the wheel while Carmen rides up front. Joaquin watches the city pass by through the window as I steal glances at his side profile.

He’s wearing a nice white shirt, just one or two buttons undone, paired with dark pants. And God, he even smells good. Even better than the last time we saw each other in the garden. 

I didn’t even notice we made a stop and arrived at our destination. Carmen stands by the open door, and Joaquin is already halfway out of the car when he catches me staring. His hand finds mine, pulling me out of my trance.

My cheeks burn. I take his hand as he helps me out of the black-tinted SUV. I glance around—we’re parked in an alleyway—and Carmen opens a door that leads into a building. She walks ahead of us, and another agent follows quietly behind.

Joaquin keeps my hand in his, guiding me through a spotless restaurant kitchen. The scent of food hits me immediately. The smell of something sweet in an oven makes my mouth water. Two chefs stand straight against a metal rack, as if the president himself just walked in.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” I say with a smile. The two chefs blush and mumble their polite greetings.

I look around, but I don’t recognize the restaurant at all. The whole place has been cleared out. Only a single table for two sits in the center, covered in a white tablecloth, set with candles and elegant dinnerware.

Joaquin pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down with a small smile. “How did you manage this?” I whisper, leaning in across the table once he sits down. Carmen gives the room one last look before disappearing to the far corner. 

“I have my connections,” he laughs. “No, but really—Sam knows the owner, and I coordinated everything with your security to make sure it went smoothly.”

“Thank you. I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

His lips part like he’s about to respond, but a waiter steps up beside us.

“Good evening, my name is Sydney and I’ll be serving you tonight. Would you like a moment to look over the menu, or can I get you started with some drinks?”

“I think we can start with some wine, yeah?” Joaquin says, glancing at me over the wine list.

I nod, letting him choose.

After what feels like hours, our plates are almost licked clean, our wine glasses are nearly empty, and the only sounds filling the empty restaurant are our laughter and the low-tempo music.

“You know, that night at the gala, Sam found me after you left,” Joaquin says, holding his glass close to his lips.

“What did he say? That your ballroom dancing needs some cleaning?” I chuckle, setting my now empty glass on the table. Joaquin grabs the bottle from the metal ice bucket beside us and pours the rest into my glass.

“Don’t act like my moves weren’t key to your escape from that old politician,” he mocks, placing the empty bottle back into the ice. “But that night, I was about to go after you until Sam stopped me—told me that  if I liked my arm and didn’t want the Secret Service to knock me off my feet, I shouldn’t go after the president’s daughter. That’s when I realized who you were.”

“Does that scare you?”

“No,” he says immediately. “I’ve been shot out of the sky unconscious. Nothing scares me.”

“Joaquin,” I say, my voice laced with concern. I reach for his hand across the table, my thumb tracing the skin along his knuckles. He doesn’t look at me—just stares at our hands.

“I remember seeing the news. I didn’t realize it was you until Carmen mentioned you being the Falcon a while back.”

“Oh, so you talked about me,” he teases, though his eyes stay focused at our hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Forget I mentioned anything.” I start to pull my hand away, but he stops me, gently catching it back in his.

“It was rough. I had to go through a lot—physical therapy, training with the new suit, and talking to an actual therapist about going back into service. What happened that day doesn’t define who I am, in or out of the suit. I take it home with me and use it to push myself to become a better Falcon.”

And for the first time, I don’t know what to say to him. I just smile softly and squeeze his hand.

“Does that scare you?” he asks, finally looking at me.

“No,” I admit. “It just makes me admire you even more. It shows your love and dedication for all of it.”

He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles, my whole body almost melting onto my seat.

The ride back to my apartment is quiet, but it feels different this time. I’m tucked closer to him, our fingers laced together, my head resting on his shoulder. Carmen glances over her shoulder at one point, catches our joined hands, and smirks before turning back around.

Thankfully, my apartment building has a private garage underneath, which makes sneaking in easier without paparazzi trying to snap a photo. My loft is on the top floor, sharing the floor with only one other tenant I rarely see.

I slide my key into the lock and open the door, but I don’t step inside. Not yet.

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Me too. My cheeks hurt from all the laughing,” he admits, one hand on the doorframe, his body hovering close to mine. I could kiss him, no one’s watching. But I’m too paranoid that my neighbor is watching us from the peephole. 

Instead, I pull him into the apartment and shut the door behind us, catching him off guard.

“If you’re going to kiss me, I’d rather you do it here,” I whisper, my hands fisting the front of his shirt.

His hands find my waist, his thumbs pressing into my hip bones. He spins me suddenly, and my back hits the door with a soft thud. A gasp escapes me. 

I didn’t expect him to push me against the door.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first saw you tonight,” he murmurs, leaning in. My grip on his shirt loosens, and my fingers trail up his chest until they reach his shoulder.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the moment you pulled me to the dance floor and stepped on my feet.”

“I did not step on your fee—” I don’t get to finish because his lips crash into mine.

My whole body relaxes as I let him take the lead our first kiss. One of my hands squeezes his shoulder, trying to pull him even closer, if that was possible. He cups my jaw, tilting my face just right, and I part my lips for him. His tongue brushes mine, hot but not desperate. He wants to take his time, and I whimper against him, my fingers curling into his hair and tugging him deeper.

When he finally pulls back, he curses under his breath. I whine from the loss, yearning for more. My lips are swollen, my breath uneven. He presses his forehead to mine, still cupping my face like he can’t bear another second of us being apart.

My heart pounds in my ears. When I open my eyes, I find him already looking at me.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing my hair behind my ear.

I lean in, stealing a few more kisses—soft, lingering ones—before I finally force myself to let him go.

“Text me when you get back to your hotel,” I say between kisses. He nods, smiling against my lips.

When I finally pull away, his hair is a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily.

God, the look on his face has me fighting the urge to pull him back in. To kiss him until my lungs beg for air. To kiss him until I feel him melt into me and his whimper when I bite his lip. 

But I can’t. Not tonight. 

I open the door, giving him a flirty smile. “Good night, Joaquin.”

“Good night,” he says, smirking as he steps into the hallway. I close the door behind him and lean back against it, exhaling hard. My fingers hover over my tingling lips as I catch sight of the flowers on my coffee table.

Yeah, I’m fucked.

iMessage 11:22PM Joaquin: Just got to the hotel. That kiss is gonna live in my head until I see you again 11:25PM Joaquin: When can I see you again?

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap), age gap (N-35, R-27)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

��Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

—— Part 2

[ttalgi]

missent letters pt.2

wanderer x gn! reader

part 1 || part 2

tags/cw: academic rivals to lovers, some cursing, mc is: a Vahumana student in the Akademiya, roommates with Alhaitham and Kaveh, and a pyro vision holder.

a/n: I finally finished the book a year later (lol) which made me want to make a part 2! Also, please don't mind any ooc or wrong plot details...it's been a while since I've actually played genshin.

wc: 2.1k

“It would do your remaining few brain cells some good to stop banging your head against the table. Plus this table was expensive. I can’t have the wood scratched already.”

You stop mid head bang to send Alhaitham an incredulous look. “Please!” you plead. “Have some sympathy for me at least once in your life. My life is over.” You slump your body across the living room bench.

Without missing a beat, he replies, ”I let you live here, don’t I?” Alhaitham turns to Kaveh with a raised eyebrow, “Care to fill me in on their latest tantrum?”

“It’s not a tantrum—!”

“Long story short, they asked me to send out some envelopes for them because of their busy schedule, so I told them to leave whatever they needed sent on top of their desk. Among the envelopes was one for Hat Guy, which apparently they didn’t want me to deliver.” He takes another bite of the shawarma wrap that Alhaitham brought home for dinner. 

Kaveh turns to look at your defeated form. “If you didn’t mean to send Hat Guy the letters, why were they mixed up with the other envelopes in the first place? What’s the big deal about those letters anyway?” he asks while chewing.

You perk up your head to look at him. “Huh? You didn’t read them?” you ask.

“You see, unlike some”—he sends Alhaitham a pointed look—”people, I have basic human decency.”

“Again, I let you guys live here—”

“Basically, everytime I feel anger or annoyance towards him, I just vent about it on paper pretending that he’s the recipient. Then I just stuff everything in the same envelope because it’s easy storage that way.”

“Wait!” Kaveh interrupts. “Just how many letters have you written about him? That envelope was like an inch thick. It even cost me extra postage!”

“...What can I say? I have lots of vendettas against him,” you shrug.

Alhaitham interposes, “I don’t think I understand. What’s the big deal? So what if you told him exactly how you feel about him? I didn’t take you for being a people pleaser.”

“This is why people think you’re such a machine at times, Alhaitham!” Kaveh throws his arms up in frustration. “Some people actually care about how they present themselves to others.”

“Actually!” You interject before another one of their infamous arguments breaks out full throttle. “Alhaitham’s kind of right. I did write exactly how I feel about him, and that’s the thing. I wrote everything that I felt about him..” you trail off.

Kaveh lets out a dramatic gasp. “No way! You finally confessed your feelings for him in those letters?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it confessing. I just talked about how I think his eyes are kinda dreamy despite being cold at times and that he has a really pretty face and that”—you almost give yourself whiplash turning in his direction—”Wait, finally? What do you mean finally? There’s no way you could have known about my minuscule crush on Hat Guy!”

“Anyone with eyes and ears could tell that you have some romantic attraction towards him,” Kaveh sighs while shaking his head before gesturing to Alhaitham. “Even this guy is aware of it.”

“You two do know that I’m not socially inept, correct?”

Deciding to ignore Alhaitham, you slump back against the bench. “I’m doomed.”

You pop up with an idea. “Wait! Do you guys think Tighnari needs any more forest rangers? I can take a break until this whole thing tides over and just help him over at Avidya Forest—”

Alhaitham quenched your wishful thinking. “Knowing how substandard you are with your vision, you’d accidentally set the forest on fire.”

You stumble back as if an arrow pierced through your body. You mumble out, “Must you always humble me.” You turn to Kaveh with hopeful eyes.

“I thought I'd never say this, but I agree with Alhaitham. You trying to help Tighnari in the forest would do more harm than good. Plus, you'd end up a victim to his lectures again. Remember that one time you—”

Feeling your body riddling with piercing wounds, you slump against the bench once more. “Yeah, I’m doomed.” 

//

It's been five days since Kaveh accidentally sent out the envelope meant for Hat Guy and you aren’t sure how much longer you have until the letters would be in his possession. Unless they already were... 

If you were blessed by the Archons, then maybe the envelope was lost or better yet damaged beyond repair in delivery, but alas, you know better. The mail system in Sumeru City is known for its attentiveness, especially since many important Akademiya-based deliveries are sent and received daily.

You haven't seen Hat Guy around much these days, especially considering the fact that you’ve been actively avoiding him. Mandatory lectures that you both share? You now sit close to the exit, far from him. The library that you guys are known to basically reside in? You begged Alhaitham to let you study in his office instead, promising that you’d do his portion of the house chores for the next two weeks.

Deciding to go home early out of your own volition (Alhaitham kicked you out because of an important meeting), you carefully tread the halls of the Akademiya making sure to peek around each corner before continuing. As you start to believe that you're finally in the clear, you hear someone behind you clearing their throat. Taking a look down at the shadows decorating the floor, you see the silhouette of the man that you have been avoiding for your own peace of mind.

"How much longer are you going to rat around the Akademiya for? It's not like you can avoid me forever, you know."

Feeling offended by his choice of words, you abruptly turn around to tell him off; however, the sudden close proximity of your faces has you taking a step back. If you hadn’t been paying attention to his face, you would have thought that he was unaffected by the action, but the slight widening of his eyes before returning back to normal has you knowing otherwise.

You give Hat Guy a pointed glare. Wanting to defend yourself against his statement, you open your mouth to retaliate but the sight of the familiar envelope in his hand causes you to simply shut your mouth and grimace instead. 

As he notices your actions, Hat Guy lets an annoying smirk grace his face. "Come on, say what you were going to say. We both know that you have a lot to say to me," he says while lazily waving the envelope around.

To try and play this in your favor, you start to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘avoiding you’. Also, what’s with the envelope? Never seen it before in my life.”

Hat Guy raises a brow. “What’s with this sudden stupid, chill guy persona? Anyways, it seems like you need a reminder. Not surprising considering our perspective rankings,” he subtly gloats.

“You little—”

”Let's see,”—he opens up the envelope and starts to smooth out the bottommost letter—”Maybe reading some of these letters will help jog your memory.” He makes a grand gesture of pretending to clear his throat before reading, and you can’t help but to cover your face with your hands to try and protect yourself from the upcoming embarrassing retelling.

“Again! Again, you received a higher score on an assigned research essay. It’s only been 2 months and 11 days since you’ve been enrolled into the Vahumana Darshan, so how is it that you’re the apparent “All-Knowing” about Time-Sensitive Commodities? Who do you think you are? The new Sumeru archon of wisdom? Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be disrespecting our Lesser Lord Kusanali by comparing you to her—” he pauses and his eyes hurriedly shift to gauge your reaction. If anything, he should be thankful. If you hadn’t been so focused on not looking at him, you would have seen the crease in his brows mid-reading.

Hat Guy recomposes himself before continuing to read. “For Archon's sake. What’s more frustrating is your subtle boasting towards me. How could such a shitty personality even emit from a pretty face like yours? Though, I’ll begrudgingly admit that I actually look forward to these interactions that I have with you.”

“ST—!”

A coy smirk fills his face. “Oh? Why so embarrassed? Do you know these letters after all?”

“N-no…I was just clearing my throat.” At this point, you curse your pride for not being able to halt this interaction.

“Stubborn as always.”

This time he picks out a letter from the top of the stack..

“It's completely and utterly unfair how your resting face looks so serene. Why must you always be in the library at the same time as I? Your stupidly, bewitching face only serves as a major distraction, like how could I not stare! It's like your face was personally carved by a god. Also, how the hell do you make a simple fountain pen look so good? The way that your slender fingers grip the—”

“OK, that’s enough! Stop with the reciting! I admit it!” You feel your face heat up from embarrassment and your pyro vision only makes everything feel hotter. You raise your hands in frustration. “It was a whole mixup! Those letters weren’t even meant to be sent to you.” You dial back your volume towards the end.

He pointedly sighs. “Well that much I figured out. There’s no chance in Teyvat where you of all people would willingly subject themself to this. So, what are you going to do about it now?” he asks while crossing his arms.

It hurts to admit, but you felt stupid at this very second. “What do you mean?”

He tskd. “Do I need to explain every little thing to you? You’re ranked right below me, so I know that you’re not stupid. Are you going to own up to your letters and finally confess? Or are you going to just cowardly dismiss this like you’ve been doing?”

“CONFESS?” You almost give yourself whiplash from how fast you check to see if anyone’s heard you. You repeat yourself in a whispering tone. “Confess?”

“You talk about ‘looking forwards’ to our interactions, staring at my ‘bewitching face’ and ‘slender fingers’ and you think it’s absurd that I bring up confessing? Or would it be easier for you if I confess first?”

Without thinking you blurt out, “There’s no way that you actually like me back.”

“Do you ever see me bothering to interact with anyone as much as I do with you? I even surprised myself when I started to catch feelings for your stubborn self.”

You try to shake off the nerves before staring into his eyes. “Hat Guy, I like—”

“Wanderer.”

"What?"

"Call me Wanderer instead; it rolls off the tongue easier than Hat Guy. It’s a nickname that the traveler gave me. Hat Guy is a silly name that happened to stick around the Akademiya.”

“Lots of names you have there, huh?” you tease.

He lets out a sound that’s the mix between a chuckle and a scoff. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, Wanderer. I like you. So…will you go out with me?”

“Obviously.” (Your eye roll at his matter-of-fact tone is instinctual) “I wouldn’t waste my time with anybody else. Anyways, let’s get out of here. You were on your way home before I caught you, weren't you?”

Your lips start to raise into a smile. “You’re going to walk me home?”

“Noo, I’m saying this so I can just go off on my own—”

“Oh, shut it. Let’s get out of here.”

As the both of you guys stroll out of the Akademiya, your hand closest to Wanderer suddenly can’t stop twitching every so often. Your head fills with thought pertaining to your new found relationship. 

‘Is it too early to be holding hands?…Maybe hand holding is too PDA for him on open streets—’

A cold hand suddenly embracing yours breaks you out of your stupor. You turn to Wanderer, clearly surprised by the action. Starting to feel embarrassed, you try to pry your hand out of his clutch, only for him to tighten his grip. “W-What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” He pivots his head to the opposite side, hoping that you won’t catch his ears turning slightly pink. “Your thoughts are so loud that even Mondstadt can hear them,” he scoffs. “Just lead the way.”

You start to walk with a slight pep in your step. “As you say!”

bonus scene?:

“Hey, can I give you a nickname too? Or is it too soon..”

He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“XxAssMaster69xX”

He lets out the biggest sigh. “Not you too.”

“Jokes, jokes—” you pause. “Wait, me too?”

He continues to walk forwards without you.

“Me too?! Hello???”

[anonnie-in-wonderland]

Home Calls the Heart

Summary: Twenty-year old L/N Y/N realizes she might be, okay, is a little bit of a social pariah. But there’s not much she can really do about it. Until a dreary winter day, when a determined, persistent dog hybrid named Taehyung shows up and declares that he’s interested in adopting her for himself and the rest of his lonely pack.

chapter: six

Word Count: 7.7k

rating: T (angst central, past child abuse and animal cruelty)

genre: romance | hurt/comfort| magic AU

tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly| FM!reader

Emperor Penguin!Seokjin, Golden Retriever!Taehyung, Coyote!Hoseok, Mountain Lion!Yoongi, Wolfdog!Namjoon, Kingfisher!Jimin, Holland Lop!Jungkook

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Author's Note: I know, I know. It’s been forever. The last year (or more) was a really busy one, and I also took a break for an extended period to work on myself and mental/physical health. Glad to be writing this chapter, felt kinda inspired after a few Jungkook songs came up on shuffle while I was out for morning exercise. Anyway~ enjoy

Jin-hyung stirred the rice around, carefully adding a few more ingredients with just a flick of his wrist. He was so graceful in the kitchen, multitasking with ease as he prepared an entire meal from scratch. 

Taehyung was assisting, happily following instructions with his tail wagging, even managing to get away with accidentally dumping too much gochujang in the dakgalbi with just a quiet “oops” and a sheepish expression. Taehyung was always hard to stay mad at like that. 

Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t miss this, didn’t miss them. There was something soothing about being back among them, quietly observing as the others did their best to also pick up a routine. It was a balm for his heart he hadn’t even realized he’d needed. And to think, it was all because they randomly met some human with magic. 

Not that Jungkook was praising her or anything. He was still wary of the fact that she might come back around, get the others all dopey and friendly with her, the way Taehyung was. He hadn’t stopped talking about how he had her number and could text or call her whenever he wanted, and it had been three days. 

Maybe it was too late for Taehyung, but Jungkook decided he could at least protect his other hyungs from the same fate. He didn’t want them warming up to someone who might not stay in the long run anyway.

 He was just looking out for them, the way they always had for him. It was about protecting his hyungs, not being possessive or insecure about someone moving into his spot while he was withdrawn or anything. And if being vigilant meant being around his family more again, so what? …There were worse things someone could do out of spite, right? 

“Kookie, would you check on that pan in the oven for me?” He perked up at the sound of his hyung’s sweet croon. If he had a longer tail, it would probably start wiggling around in content. Jungkook always adored when his family used one of his nicknames and spoke to him with so much blatant affection. 

In more recent years they jokingly called him their muscle bunny, because, well, he’d gone and gotten buff. He made a big deal about not being the little shy baby bun he once was anymore, and they respected him changing and discovering himself as an adult buck.

 But, deep down, Jungkook knew all they had to do was squeeze him into a hug when he was feeling down or rub a certain spot behind his ears, and he’d melt. Times like this worked too. It was a reassurance that he was still loved, even if he put his colony through it with his distance since Gramps died. 

Jin could easily check on the cookies, even while he did six other things, because he was an amazing multitasker. If he couldn’t, Taehyung, who was currently salivating too close to Jin’s pan—which earned him a maybe not-entirely-accidental elbow to the forehead—could. But it was Jin’s way of including him. The heat that hit him in the face when he opened the oven was nothing compared to the glowing warmth he held for his hyung, his whole family. 

“They look ready, hyung.”

“Good, you can take them out.” Jin had his wide back to him, distracted as he turned the heat down on the meal and fended off the impatient dog hybrid at his side. 

It was a small job, but Jungkook still grabbed an oven mitt and did it carefully. The aroma of Jin’s ginger cookies filled his nose, causing him to discreetly lean a little closer to get a good whiff. He was sure his tail did twitch in anticipation this time, just a little. 

“It’s done?” Taehyung was hanging over Jin’s back, being his normal clingy self. “Should I call the—”

“Lunch time?” Jimin’s tinkling voice made them all turn around, his shock of blue hair visible as he popped his head into the kitchen. “Ooh is that dakgalbi?”

“Mhm, I helped!” Jin didn’t dispute Taehyung’s eager chirp verbally, but the long side eye he gave the golden was loud enough.

“I’ll tell everybody,” The avian hybrid was already pulling out his phone, thumbs flying across his keypad as he likely informed the house group chat. It was more handy than someone might think to have one, even if they saw each other every day. 

It was at times the only way to get ahold of everyone when they were split up on different parts of the farm, or when they would go out shopping and inevitably all wander away from Gramps, he would shake his head and use the chat to tell them to get their butts back before they got left.

But it didn’t take long today. Apparently everyone had worked up an appetite. They came stampeding down the stairs or indoors, beelining to the kitchen in a way Jungkook knew was going to annoy Jin.

“Were you raised in a barn?!” He cried, right on time. Yep, called it. 

“The wilderness, actually.” Yoongi pulled one of his mittens off with his teeth and shook the snow from his hair as if to prove his point. Hoseok giggled, probably finding the snarky comment all the funnier since it applied to him too.

The both of them had spent more years in the household being raised by Gramps than they had out in the wild, but there was a certain animalistic sharpness to their movements and behavior that came out from time to time, a clue that they weren’t born domesticated. 

“Maybe you’d be more comfortable eating out on the porch then.” Jin retorted, accepting the plates Taehyung had retrieved for him. “This food’s only for the civilized ones.”

“Fine by me.” The lion shrugged. “Hell, I’ll shift down and eat in my fur while I’m at it. You’re not the only one who finds the cold refreshing.”

Jin only rolled his eyes, ignoring Yoongi calling his bluff. “Sit down before I change my mind.” he grumbled.

Seeming pleased with himself, Yoongi winked at them when Jin’s back was turned, rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands after stuffing his mittens in his pocket.

“This is nice,” Hoseok remarked, smiling wide after they were all seated and the food began to get passed around. “I missed sharing meals like this.” 

“Me too, hyung,” Taehyung wiggled around in his spot impatiently as he waited for the dish he wanted. Jungkook watched as it was almost handed off to him by Jimin, who smirked, passing it the other way when the dog hybrid groaned in frustration. “You did that on purpose.” He accused.

“Who, me?” Anyone who didn’t know them and couldn’t see Jimin’s wings would have a very hard time determining who was the dog when he made such a perfect pair of puppy dog eyes. “Anyway, is that all you’re eating Jungkookie? You should have some more.”

Jungkook looked down at his own plate. Compared to his usual, well, his previous intake before he startled nibbling his meals for lack of appetite, it was pretty light. 

“Want help?” Taehyung asked, already reaching for his plate from across the table. Usually Jin might scold for something like that, since it required reaching over other people’s meals, but he said nothing as his plate was passed and loaded up with a generous helping of lunch.

 His hyungs all worked to pass it back to him like the well-oiled parts of a machine, totally in sync, and it was yet another thing that made Jungkook want to hide a touched smile. They all wanted to take care of him, and they did it in a way that didn’t feel smothering. When he got his plate back, the rabbit hybrid picked up his chopsticks and ate his first bite reverently. The company and love of his family made the flavors richer, and before he knew it, someone was telling him not to eat so fast.

“There’s plenty more where that came from, Kook.” Yoongi said. 

Jungkook paused, ‘coming up for air’ as Hoseok put it when he was inhaling his food. All the patient faces he was surrounded by were trained on him, looking so subtly proud and content. 

The bunny dropped his head, not wanting them to see the way it was making his eyes water. Something bittersweet brushed against his heart and made it ache. 

Probably knowing every meal would be like this, Gramps would be absent from here on out, his chair remaining empty. They still had each other, and in time it might even be okay again, but their family looked different, and nothing could change that.

He trudged away from the house with his hands in his coat pockets, boots crunching through the powdery snow. A flake touched the fur of his ear and Jungkook stopped, the appendage flickering involuntarily at the sensitivity it caused. 

Jin stood on the porch, watching him, looking like the twelve feet between them was as wide as a canyon. He knew. Jungkook knew his hyung wanted to fuss over him.

 It was a total change of pace since Gramps died for him to want to go on walks. As a baby bunny he’d been active once he settled in, running all over the farm grounds with the rest of them. 

As he got older he helped with some of the more intensive labor-laden chores, which helped build up his impressive physique. Nothing toned muscle like an honest day of farm work. 

“I’ll be fine, hyung.” Jungkook appreciated the concern, but this was something he had to conquer at some point. If he didn’t get past this…if he didn’t face what he’d been hiding from…he’d be stuck forever.

“I’ll have some cocoa ready when you come back inside.” Jin promised, smiling sweetly. Jungkook waved, watching him turn to go back into the house, only to have to shoo his curious fellow maknaes away from the door. His keen hearing picked up Taehyung whining about something before it shut.

Sighing, Jungkook took a few more steps, lifting his nose up to the sky and watching more snow drift down from the gray heavens. An overcast winter day, huh? It was kind of similar to that time…

The rabbit glanced down at his feet, at the prints they made, thinking back to when he had walked around the farm hand in hand with Gramps. When he had first come home, his footprints had been tiny compared to the man’s adult-sized ones and he had never seen snow. He had never seen much of anything, really, except the lonely metal cage and concrete walls of his prison. 

The small hybrid’s swollen eyes blinked open, the creak of the cage door signaling his worst fear. Morning again. That meant the Coats were back, reaching into their ‘homes’ and dragging them out by the scruffs of their necks, carrying them off to the cold, terrifying room where they did their experiments. It had been the same thing, every day, going on for so long it was hard to keep track.

It would have been hard anyway, since he was so young, but the way time blurred together here made it harder. “Alright, I only need one of you today.” The human rumbled, his gloved hand reaching in and grabbing another kit by the neck. 

She squealed, but fell limp obediently as he hauled her away. Shivering, he curled deeper under the newspaper they had been using for a blanket, frightened eyes darting around to the three other bunnies left with him, squeezed in the far back corner of their cage all piled up. None of them dared to breathe, let alone move, until the door slammed shut again. 

“Sun Hee…” her sister Mi Cha squeaked sadly. He watched one of the other male kits groom her ears in an attempt to provide comfort. They were all at the mercy of the humans, all of them there for the same reason. To help, they were told. And the best way for them to do that was to be good, obedient little bunnies and cooperate. 

It wasn’t that they had much choice. Even as hybrids, the humans overpowered them easily. They were just scrawny little children, and after the series of tests they regularly endured most of them barely had the energy to pick their heads up to nibble the pellets they were given, let alone fight back. 

He had done that only once, and only because he was startled when he was grabbed up so roughly. Biting was his first defense, and his baby bunny teeth hadn’t done much damage anyway. But that didn’t matter.

He made the scientist angry, and he paid for it when he was taken back to a testing room, some of his fur shaved and water that made him scream in pain dripped into his eyes, which they held open. Later, he learned the term for it from one of the older kits—chemical testing.

He went on to explain to the younger hybrids like him their “true” purpose for being there that the humans would never tell them. They were testing subjects, bought to be used in a lab. 

Humans liked wearing something they called “makeup”. They didn’t have fluffy fur, so they shaved theirs off to rub products onto their bare skin and see if it hurt the hybrids. If it didn’t, they would do it on themselves. Each of them had been picked out to spend their lives there, “helping” humans make better makeup.

The news rattled around in his brain, but he barely processed it. He guessed that sounded close to right. There was something deep down in his distant memory, a time where had not been here with his fellow kits, but somewhere else. 

The bunny was pretty sure that was where he had come from, maybe even where he was born. It was where the two adult hybrids who were his parents lived. When he tried to think back, it wasn’t a clear picture anymore, sometimes just a feeling, sometimes hazy shapes and colors from an old memory.

He couldn’t even remember their faces anymore. But he knew the day he was taken away, a lady’s voice that must have been his mama cried and begged for them not to take her baby boy, her youngest kit. Arms held him so close, but stronger arms ripped him out of the safety they provided anyway. Everything was a blur. Everything about them was gone now. Only their smells stayed with him. 

Sometimes in the dead of night while he twitched around restlessly in his sleep, their scents almost came to him, as if they were really there. But when he opened his eyes, the room where they all slept was always quiet, dark and lonely, the whimpers of hybrids occasionally piercing the night. 

There were no adult hybrids kept with them in their room, so no one to protect them, or teach them things. They taught each other and comforted each other the best they could. And when the morning came they all braced for the possibility of being picked next. Sometimes, he felt like the humans had a target. Other times it felt random, like there was no reason to it at all. 

Either way it ended the same, one or more of them taken for testing, spending all day subjected to one cruel test after the next, until the scientists were satisfied and they were brought back to their cages to writhe on the cold metal in the aftershocks of pain. 

The kits who had not been tested on for that day would come and cuddle the spent, exhausted bodies of the kits who had. He had been pressed into the middle of the pile, panting, his blood burning and what little he had in his stomach matted into his fur after he couldn’t keep it in. He had also been on the outside of the pile, using his tiny body to share meager warmth with a crying kit who needed it. 

That was going to be his life, forever and ever, or at least until the humans came to take him for a final time like some of the kits before him who never came back. That was until the morning new scents and new voices came into the room, humans in uniforms he didn’t recognize. They were unknown, and that made them scary. Just like they would when it was the white coats floating toward them, the kits huddled up to make themselves smaller. 

A woman drifted closer, stopping in front of the cage with a strangled gasp. Through all the fur and limbs in his way, he could sort of see her through the tiny crack of space. Her eyes were shiny. His sensitive little nose smelled saltiness in the air. She was…she was crying.

“Found some more,” she whispered into a metal box raised to her lips. The Coats used those to talk to each other sometimes. Walkie-talkies. That’s what the smart older kit said they were called. “They’re young…” 

The cage door slid open with much less force than they were used to. Normally it seemed like the Coats would rip it off the hinges to get to the kits if they had to. But her hand hovered near the entrance, just laying there, no attempts to pull them all out. He, like the others, caught her scent. 

It was…different than the way the Coats smelled—which was cold and harsh, like the chemicals used to hurt them—it was…clean and nice.

 “Hi, hello,” she smiled a little, another gesture they weren’t used to from humans. The integrity of the pile was tested as some of the kits nervously started to squirm. “It’s alright. I’m here to help. It’s alright.”

He had always been curious, underneath all the fear and caution that kept them alive. If he could hop around, poking his head into nooks and crannies, sniffing around to explore the unknown, if it was a different place, a safer place…maybe he would.

It was a far off memory, but the little black kit could almost remember the touch of sunlight on his face instead of the artificial lamps shining on them.

 He could almost remember the grass. When his paws found purchase on the soiled newspaper underneath them, he began to slowly squeeze his way out, ears bent against the urgent squeals of horror that called him back to the pretend safety of their pile. 

Cautiously, he half hopped forward, pausing as he looked down at her fingers. Stretching his neck, the kit sniffed only getting that same clean, nice scent from before.

And that was when the curiosity he never got to express took over, his mouth gently nibbling the digits stretched out in front of him. The human made a quiet sound, not aggressive or angry, not dangerous. Creeping into her palm, he felt fingers curl gently around his stomach, pulling him up, close to her chest.

“Good baby,” she cooed. “Brave baby.” A finger caressed the top of his ear, and he flinched. But it didn’t do much more than that. A soft, friendly caress that turned into a scratch at the base. Although he couldn’t remember the last time he did it, his foot thumped when she scratched an itch he didn’t even know about. 

That was the beginning of everything changing. He was lowered into a crate, dark and full of warm, soft blankets. Snuggling down, he didn’t have to wait long before the other kits were placed inside one by one. 

He scrambled to peer out of the slats in the side as they moved, gently swaying in the woman’s secure hold. There was a flurry of motion out there, lots of humans, some he recognized as the Coats being walked out with their hands behind their backs. More and more cages being emptied as hybrids just like him were rescued.

“…can’t believe this happened right under our noses…”

“…illegal, new low.”

“…weren’t even trying to look into…”

“They’re just babies…look…” The crate was lifted, and another face he had never seen peeked in. This time, he moved back, his back pressing into the others cowering in the farthest part from the door. “I don’t know how much they understand. I don’t know if they’ve ever had the opportunity to shift. What if they don’t…don’t even know they’re hybrids?”

“What are they? Three or four year olds?” The second voice, a man’s, sounded unsure, gruff. He smelled smoky, not as nice as the other scent. “Once we get them safe, they’ll have all the time in the world to learn.”

To think, back then he didn’t even have a name. The scientists had only ever referred to him as the number he had come with, assigned to him in the breeding facility where he was born.

In the end, over one hundred and sixty other rabbit hybrids got rescued and taken into custody along with him. Gramps was a wealthy concerned citizen who had heard about the raid before it even broke national news. It paid to have connections in the task force that prosecuted hybrid abuse related crimes. 

The bunnies were still being processed when his savior showed up. Not that Jungkook knew it. To the bunny, he was just a bizarrely dressed human who peered down at him with concern as a task force officer cleaned his stained fur and tried to feed him strained baby food after they guesstimated his age.

Though apparently there had been more of them than they anticipated, and there was concern about how the youngest and most fragile of them would adjust to a shelter environment, even if it was a safe one. Foster care was preferred for the kits, it was decided, and Gramps had stumbled across a group of university students protesting the cosmetic company’s hybrid cruelty outside one of the stores that sold their products. He’d taken a flyer, somehow found out about the case, and wasted no time coming down and inserting himself in the situation. 

That was how he would eventually save them all and form their little family. A small bunny, young and behind on his developmental milestones, there was plenty about the situation that went over his head. It was so much to process at once, leaving him feeling vulnerable and overstimulated. But he remembered Gramps’ scent, his leathery hand reaching down to stroke him gently between the ears, and his soft, encouraging whispers. “You were just a tiny thing that left such a big impression.” Gramps had told him years later. “I knew I had to help you. I knew there was a hole you were meant to fill in our growing family.”

Jungkook paused, inhaling a deep lungful of crisp winter air and glancing over his shoulder. He’d gone a lot farther than he planned to just wandering, a bittersweet trip down memory lane. Gramps…there was truly nothing like him. So many people would have been frustrated or pushy or gotten overwhelmed with all his care and needs in those early years.

After all, being raised as a test subject didn’t make for the most socialized kid in the world. Looking back, he had more or less entered Gramps’ care as a blank slate, nothing of note about him besides being a malnourished hybrid from a bad situation. A creature to pity. No name, no voice…Jungkook had barely even had a personality.

His first day home was…something. Gramps whispered that the others would be gentle with him, carrying him through the door bundled in a blanket, still in hybrid form. Because the rescuers had been right—he didn’t know how to shift. 

The first four years of his life, kept heavily drugged and pumped full of harmful chemicals, it was a wonder he still could. Gramps wasted no time getting him set up with doctors, therapists, a whole support system. The best money could buy. “Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you’re a fighter.” Gramps had told him that first week. “I can feel it. I can see it in your eyes. One day, you’ll feel it too.” 

Jungkook had internalized those words, working hard to live up to the faith his savior had in him. Out across the fields, he watched a few cows roaming the barren grounds, a mother keeping a close eye on her young calf. It was so similar to the way he had been with his hyungs and Gramps, the rabbit couldn’t help but move closer to the fencing, overcome with emotion. 

They had been there every step of the way, as he slowly gained strength and put on weight, and as exactly five months later, he shifted for the first time. One minute he was a tiny rabbit, being washed in the sink after getting into a mess in the berry patch, the next he was naked and covered in skin and his hyungs: Jin, Taehyung and Hoseok, were running around, screaming for joy. Gramps was all pride, presenting him with clothes in his size he already had prepared, because he knew. 

His faith that one day Jungkook would master his ability to shift had never wavered. It went on from there—he learned to walk upright, learned to talk, learned to sing. Jimin was thrilled to have someone to harmonize with, and it made their farm chores go by faster when they sang and danced to their silly songs. As it turned out, Jungkook could learn to do a lot of things. “My boy, multi-talented.” Gramps would say when his close friends commented on how far he had come. “If Jungkook was a color he’d be golden.”

Golden. Jungkook stared up at the weak rays of the winter sun. The snow wouldn’t melt, at least not for a couple more days. ‘He thought I was golden when every other human looked at me and thought I was something broken to throw away.’

There was no putting a price on that. The mercy and compassion of one man was the reason he got a second chance, his first real home, a whole new life.

Knowing that person was no longer around, that they would never talk together as father and son while they weeded the garden; or that Gramps would never find and comfort him in his secret fort in the attic, crying when his insecurities pushed him too far in his own head and he didn’t want to worry his hyungs…it made his temples throb, and his fingers dug into the fencing just for the extra support.

 The air got punched right out of his lungs, like he’d gone a few rounds in a prized fight and his opponent got the upper hand. Reeling, his eyes squeezed closed, vaguely aware his breathing was heavy. Slumping over, the bunny heard the first pitiful noise crawl its way from his throat, biting his lip hard to stop it. 

It only came out as a strangled whine. When was this supposed to go away…? The way he felt, like he was coping one minute and dangling from a cliff the next? His own mind was a maze and his emotions were a rollercoaster taking him from the steepest highs to plummeting lows, guilt swirling through his stomach. 

Gramps had shown signs. He’d been getting weaker. Jungkook could smell a faint change in his scent. Why hadn’t he pushed? Why hadn’t he brought it up to the hyungs? If they made him go to the doctor…if they made him take it slow…if they…if he were a better son—

His breath rasped from his lungs and he gave up trying to hold on, allowing his body to sink bonelessly against the fence, down in the cold snow. Somehow, it was refreshing, grounding enough that the warm flush across his face and the pounding inside his head was made bearable.

For a split second, Jungkook could swear he felt the familiar touch of a leathery hand, the ring always on the index and pinky fingers extra weight on his shoulder. Blinking, he scrubbed his face, ready to be brave and…and face no one. 

So now he was going crazy, too? 

“…Jungkook?”

“No,” he groaned, letting his forehead touch the fence. “I’m not doing this.”

“Kookie, what’re you doing?” The voice asked, very clear, very present, and very concerned. “I thought that was you, and I’ve been calling you for a while now. Did you just not hear me?” Yeah, there was no mistaking that scent.

Jungkook dragged big mouthfuls into his lungs, gulping down the comfort of having someone he trusted so close. Being caught in such a moment of weakness and vulnerability should have had him ducking away again, but he was tired of running from the people who loved him most.

Still, there was a certain amount of clinginess he just wasn’t comfortable with. “M’good, hyung.” He wasn’t, but that was his problem to deal with, not Jimin’s.

Without a word, the avian hybrid gracefully sat next to him in the snow, situating himself comfortably like they were about to do a sharing circle—sans a few more members.

Jungkook knew he had to look like a wreck, but Jimin blinked up at him patiently with those round, understanding eyes, leaning back on his hands as he crossed his legs. “You know that’s not how it works,” he said lightly. “Do that with strangers, not with me~”

“Can it be later?” He asked, weakly. “It’s hard to…it’s like he’s still…please not right now?” He would die. If Jimin pressed the issue and made him really spill his guts, dig into the painful, throbbing mass growing where all his unreleased love and anguish for Gramps was stored, Jungkook would stop existing. 

Ever the emotionally intuitive one, of course his sweet hyung picked up on that, blessing him with a loving smile.

 Leaning forward, Jimin grabbed the sides of his face between warm mittens, pulling Jungkook’s head close with firm surety. Holding his breath, the rabbit closed his eyes like he had so many times before. 

Cool lips pressed against an eyelid, then both eyelids. Across his cheeks, on his nose, down to his lips. They lingered there, stealing the heat away from him. Jimin always claimed he loved kissing him in the winter because his lips were always warm. When they pulled apart, though, Jimin’s skin wasn’t the only place that had thawed. “It can be any time.” From Jimin, that was a promise. “Tomorrow, next week, even in ten years. I’ve got you.”

Jungkook pulled the smaller hybrid into him, all but crushing their bodies together in a hug. “I know, hyung.” No matter how fractured his heart felt, now matter how scarily raw he was, they would glue him back together, just like every time he needed them before. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bone tired after a long day at work, and yet somehow she had still managed to take a detour. (Y/N) lifted her head up from where it almost fully rested against the top of the steering wheel, her gloved hands running absently back and forth across the leathered material.

 The car was still running, her half-glazed eyes staring up at the storefront she was parked in front of. The Babbling Book. A cozy family-owned bookshop she’d been meaning to check out a long time. 

And after mentioning to her coworker she was hoping to support small businesses more this season and looking for her next cozy winter read, he had pointed her in the direction of this place on the hybrid side of town.

Apparently they actually had a wider selection than what was kept in the bigger, chain bookstore down on mainstreet, and (Y/N) could believe it. Mom and pop stores didn’t have to cater to corporate interests. They were free to stock whatever their heart desired.

 Cutting the engine, (Y/N) dabbed at her nose to make sure it wasn’t running, climbing out of her car. It really was a cute little store, a striped green awning hanging over the door, and a modest amount of snow and frost sprinkled there. The trim around the door was painted in the same friendly shade of green, and the light red brick it was set in gave it a nostalgic appeal. 

Rubbing her hands together for lack of something better to do with them, she carefully traveled the cleared walkway, hit in the face with a blast of warm air and a whiff of cinnamon and cardamom as soon as she opened the door. 

“Hi!” (Y/N) barely suppressed her yelp as a young girl slid down from a ladder, landing right in front of her with an energetic wave.  She couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve, bundled in a long skirt, leggings and a puffy pink sweater, gold eyes wide as her bushy tail twitched. “Whoa,” she said, awed. “Are you a human?”

“Y-” (Y/N) looked around, where other customers had baskets on their arms and were quietly shopping. Most of them appeared to be hybrids. Everywhere around her she saw long, pointed ears, or various length tails. Did her coworker tell her wrong? Were humans even supposed to be in here? Blushing at the thought of possibly intruding, (Y/N) heard her voice come out in a self-conscious whisper, plucking her sleeve. “Yes?”

Eyes practically glowing, the fox girl opened her mouth wide. “Soo-ah!” Only for it to fall shut as a woman with a gorgeous silver fox tail and wearing an apron hurried over. “You know we don’t ask guests questions like that.” Soo-ah’s ears drooped a little at the tips.

“Yes, eomma. Sorry miss…” Soo-ah bowed apologetically. 

“Everyone is welcomed here,” the woman assured (Y/N), plucking up and offering her a basket. “Please come in and browse, stay as long as you like.”

The adult hybrid ushered her daughter away by the shoulders, but not before Soo-ah threw her a wave. (Y/N) laughed under her breath, waving back and deeply inhaling the scent of paper and warm cinnamon. Although it wasn’t the largest bookstore she had ever been in, the displays around the shop already had several titles that caught her eye, and the shelves were stacked high.

(Y/N) almost didn’t know where to begin, and if she were a hybrid her tail would no doubt be wagging eagerly. Tracing her finger along the spine of a book in the mystery section, she carefully removed it from the shelf, studying the cover and then flipping it over to read the synopsis. There weren’t many books sold in her area of the city where hybrids featured as the protagonists.

Often, they were depicted as pets or sidekicks or god forbid, villains. So the thought of a calico cat hybrid being the lead detective in a murder mystery slash thriller already sounded interesting, and she placed it in her basket. It wasn’t hard to lose track of time, all the new books at her fingertips, each its own adventure. (Y/N) had hardly looked up since sinking into a chair near the fantasy section, thumbing through the pile she was considering, until a thud from nearby drew her attention.

‘That kind of sounded like someone fell over…’

Concerned, (Y/N) set the book down and hurried toward the source of the noise, finding a massive pile of books had indeed overturned, a pair of legs sticking out from under them. “Hang on!” She gasped, bending to pick up as many as she could, the pile starting to wiggle as the poor person underneath slowly sat up.

(Y/N) was so preoccupied with getting the books off them, hearing the sound of her own name almost made her drop them all again. “(Y/N)-ssi…?”

Astoundingly, she realized she knew the owner, one slightly dazed and very confused wolfdog hybrid meeting her eyes as she looked up. “N-Namjoon-ssi?!”

Swallowing, he climbed to his feet, brushing the front of his comfortable-looking gray pullover and then leaning down to offer her a hand. “What are the odds of running into each other here? Here, that was my fault. Let me.”

Before she could even tell him she had it handled, he was plucking the books up to tuck under his arm and using the other hand to help her up. (Y/N) held her breath a little, not wanting to look like she was swooning at the way he easily pulled her to her feet. Still, it was gentlemanly, and running into him was a pleasant surprise.

“Do you come here often?” She could have smacked herself as soon as it was out of her mouth. It sounded so much like a cheesy pick-up line. And yes, Namjoon was a very handsome man, his healthy tanned skin bringing out the sparkle in his dragon eyes. But given that she had only just gotten to know some of his family, the idea of actually making a pass felt absurd. Surely, he had his eye on someone else anyway.

“It feels like at least once a week.” He grinned, starting to place some of the books on the shelf.

“More like twice.” The fox woman hummed as she hurried by with a cart of books. 

(Y/N) smiled as she started to help Namjoon collect what was left on the carpet. “Sounds like they know you pretty well around here.”

“You could say I’m a regular customer,” He shrugged, looking both pleased and bashful. “I really like a good book, and I go through them pretty fast. Every time I put one down I end up right back here for the next one.” Clearing his throat, he added, “I don’t always ruin Soon-Bok’s shop, though. I’m just a little more ‘light-footed’ when I’m excited, as Jin likes to say.”

The way one of his ears drooped a little was too cute, (Y/N) thought as she melted a little. Namjoon said it so earnestly and matter-of-fact, too. She couldn’t help but picture the elegant wolfdog form she had seen, bumbling around and skidding into things with big paws and a thumping tail. 

Trying to fight down the smile surfacing, (Y/N) looked him in the eyes. “It’s my first time here.” she explained. “And the selection’s so different from what I’m used to at the bookstore I usually go to. I can see why you love it. There’s so much more—”

“Literature by hybrid authors?” He guessed.

“That too.” (Y/N) had at least five books all written by hybrids in her basket, and even more to sort through. “I was going to say diversity, but in this case I guess that’s practically the same thing.”

“It’s nice.” Namjoon nodded, finished organizing the books he had knocked down. (Y/N) struggled to get one she was pretty sure had come from a high shelf above her head back where it belonged, until Namjoon held out his hand with a short laugh. “May I?”

Not too proud to concede defeat, she put the self-help book in his large hand and watched as he easily slotted it back where it belonged with minimal stretching. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t sort of envious. “Soo…you wouldn’t happen to have any recommendations, would you?” Namjoon turned to her, eyes widening. “Since you’re more familiar with the selection here.” Was that dumb? Was that pushy? She was rusty at the whole socializing thing. Probably one of the reasons she’d always struggled to make friends… “You don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“I want to…” Namjoon’s eyes grew soft, “I’d love to.” It took (Y/N) a few seconds to realize the sound of something chopping the air was his tail wagging at an impressive pace. “What are you interested in?”

“What’ve you been reading lately?” She asked, genuinely curious. Someone like Namjoon probably had a fascinating taste in books. 

“Contemporary philosophy,” he said immediately. “Um, but I’m also following a murder-mystery series, and I planned to try a book about spiritual cultivation through gardening, because I enjoyed the author’s other book about emotional regulation through music writing and…” Dipping his head, Namjoon paused.

“Why’d you stop?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Is it too much?” He glanced down, “I know sometimes when I start in about what I’m reading it can be a little hard to follow. Not because I don’t think you’re capable of keeping up intellectually,” he quickly clarified. “But I know I get lost in tangents sometimes…”

“There’s nothing wrong with showing how passionate you are about your interests.” (Y/N) laid a hand on his arm. “That just tells me it spoke to you on an emotional level, and maybe it’ll speak to me the same way.”

Namjoon’s dimples revealed themselves in a sudden, beautiful smile that left her reeling back internally. Talk about a hidden weapon. Yes, (Y/N) knew he was attractive. Everyone in his family was. But to be on the receiving end of that look did make her heart skip a beat. “If you’ve got time, I could show you where the book is…and there’s a reading nook in the back. It’s a pretty peaceful way to pass a day like this.”

The spot Namjoon led them to was exactly as comfortable as she had described, the kind of cozy that was made for reading on a rainy or snowy afternoon indoors. She plopped down into one of the leather bean bag chairs, and he took an armchair right across from it. 

The wolfdog gingerly passed her a copy of the book he had recommended, and (Y/N) studied the cover and read the blurb on the inside of the dust jacket. “Hmm oh yes, this is right up my alley. Definite purchase. Thank you, Namjoon-ssi.”

He nodded quietly, his eyes pleased. “Any time.” (Y/N) noticed him pull a book onto his lap, squinting as she caught some of the words on the cover but not quite able to make it out.

“What’s that about? Any good?” He stilled, stared at what he had in his hands wide-eyed, eliciting a bit of confusion from her. 

“I’m actually not sure yet.” Namjoon admitted. “It just…spoke to me. It’s by an author who explains how he learned to work through his grieving process by managing fish tanks, and what he took out of it. It’s a bit…nebulous based solely on the introduction, but I get it. All of us have been working through losing Gramps in different ways, and sometimes…the progression of it surprises you.”

(Y/N) found herself nodding along, listening silently as he spoke. “I feel the same way. The whole thing gives you so much whiplash, one minute you’re okay, the next minute something reminds you of them and you’re breaking down over a song or a smell…”

Namjoon ran long fingers over the glossy book cover, his smile soft but distant. It wasn’t a smile for her, not really. He was thinking back to a memory, recalling a time that passed with the bittersweet fondness only nostalgia could bring. “Everything is heightened when you’re a hybrid, especially when you have a canine nose. After…after he was gone…his smell was still everywhere. All of our smells are thick around the farm, but Gramps’ was like a phantom for a while. I’d catch his scent somewhere and forget he was…” When he swallowed, she tracked the movement of his adam’s apple. (Y/N) waited for him to finish, in case he had anything to add, but that seemed to be the extent of wanting to talk about it at the moment.

She turned over the book in her own hands absently, wanting him to know she could relate. “I lost my mom very suddenly as a little girl. And then I lost…my path. I still had my dad, but I felt so alone. I couldn’t understand how fate could be so cruel and she could just be gone. I dwelled on it for a long time, and it didn’t help that people wouldn’t let me forget I was broken. I heard the comments they thought they whispered.”

She sniffled, surprised at herself as her eyes burned a little. Usually, she didn’t cry over her mother anymore. She could talk about it without tears coming to her eyes. Usually. “Ah, well,” she cleared her throat. “Thanks again for the recs. I’m especially eager to read up on how this author’s thoughts on existentialism relate to how they tackle the grieving process.”

If Namjoon noticed the shine to her eyes, he was kind enough not to bring it up. He perked up. “I really think you’ll enjoy it, and if you do, maybe…I could recommend more books sometime?”

(Y/N) readily agreed, hoping he would do just that. “I’d really like that.” 

It was nice talking to Namjoon, needing out a little, enjoying conversation with a fellow bibliophile. The time slipped away way too quickly as they sat and talked, and when they both had made their purchases and got ready to go, it felt like saying goodbye after a nice day out with a friend. Is that…what they were? Is that what they could maybe become? Friends?

Namjoon held the door open for her as they walked out, and a part of (Y/N) swooned at how considerate it was. She sat for a while once she was back in her car, letting her hands rest on the steering wheel and waiting to warm up. Namjoon had thrown one long leg over his bike after securing his books in a basket, waving as he rode by. 

She slowly backed out of the parking space, careful to watch for anyone behind her, whether they were on two legs or four. ‘Hanging out with them…it’s kind of nice.’ It’d been a long time since it felt like she had a group who “got her”.

**TAGLIST IS CLOSED**:

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