#He's annoying at first. He's winning you over with his boyish charm

[ranvwoop]

I lied last night you get one (1) au scrap bc i liked the characterization. tommy would say that

Technoblade looked down at the note he'd made for himself, and then back to the café. He was at 14 Prime Avenue, but it couldn't be the place. Phil? Owning a café?

Nevertheless, he pushed open the door. A little bell chimed to announced his arrival.

"Hello, hello," a masculine voice greeted him — it wasn't Phil's, though. In looking up he found a blond, curly-haired boy, blue eyes assessing Technoblade as he stood in the doorway.

Technoblade couldn't quite the exact resemblance, but he felt the need to assure himself that surely Phil did not have a son. He was only — he didn't know how old Phil was, and the boy could be a fast-growing middle school child sure — but just because he was blonde and British did not a son make.

It had been a while since he'd seen Phil, alright.

After a moment of silence between them, he continued, "Can I get you anything, there?"

"Uh, Phil," Technoblade responded, taken from his thoughts. He shook his head. "I mean — I'm looking for a Philza Minecraft...."

"Ohh!" The boy exclaimed, pausing before giving an affirmative nod. "You must be The Blade."

"What?" Technoblade asked.

"The Blade! Phil told me you'd be coming, I didn't know it'd be so soon — you killed that guy, right?"

"... What're you talking about?" Technoblade asked, too incredulous to process it completely.

"I know Phil's letting you stay since you're on the run from the law. I won't tell, I won't tell," the boy insisted, shaking his head for emphasis. "I wouldn't tell a soul."

Technoblade had doubts that this boy had any trouble spreading rumours. "Phil told you that?"

"Right," he responded, before pausing to think. "Well, he was all hush-hush about it, so I filled in the details."

[mmmmtiredm Phil's here now]

“Sorry about Tom,” Phil said, a short chuckle in his voice. “He can be… a bit of a handful, at first.”

“But then I’ll win you over with my boyish charm,” Tommy said. “Phil, Phil – tell him about the boyish charm, Phil.”

"He's a good employee," Phil said,

[igotanidea]

Spoiled: Dick Grayson x reader

Summary: Women's day with Dick.

Warning: a little innuendo at the end, but no worries, minors allowed ;)

***

After knowing each other for a few years they became a couple in June, hence 8th March of a current year was their first International Women’s Day together.

Well- to say the whole truth – it was her first IWD with him, but the point stood.

And Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-way when it came to his girlfriend(s).

Since he might have fucked up Valentines’ day (in his defense he wasn’t entirely sure of how she felt about it since there was never even a hint on her part that she wanted to celebrate it and their relationship was still kind of fresh) it was obvious he had to make up for it, by giving her the best 8th March celebration ever.

“Morning sweetheart.”

At this point she should have been used to him visiting her apartment in the most abnormal morning hours, coming back from his Nightwinging-shit. Regardless, being torn from the sleep by his blue and black silhouette and domino mask, sometimes with the widest, charming, boyish grin and some other with blood and injuries all over was something she couldn’t move past.

“mmhmh….” She muttered rolling on her side in the bed to check the hour. 5 am. 5 am at fucking Friday. “are you hurt….?” Poor girl couldn’t even find any strength to bash him.

“no, not exactly—”

“then I’m sure it can wait for two or three hours? Come on, Grayson. I start my shift at 9 today, let me have some more rest….”

“But—” Dick frowned taking off his mask and studying her silhouette curled under the cover, one leg still in the dreamland. Did she really forget what day was it today?

“Mh. Just shut up and come here….” She mumbled again lifting the hem of the blanket, silently inviting him in and it actually did lift his spirits.

As quick as possible he stripped of his suit and slid into the bed next to her, immediately wrapping arms around her waist pulling her close. Unsure whether it was him looking for comfort and assurance he would always have someone to come home to, or rather him giving her love and warmth and safety – a must have for a woman.

“Y/n….” he whispered in her ear, running fingers up and down her back soothingly, creating the atmosphere of intimacy and love.

“The hell you want?” she snuggled closer

“Best wishes…”

“What…?” she raised her head, searching his eyes, all the sleepiness leaving her at once “you sure you’re not injured? Like – your head for example? My b-day are in September, our anniversary is in June, I didn’t win a lottery, there’s no occasion today so what are you talking about?”

“Y/N! baby!” Dick laughed pecking the top of her nose playfully “come on, think for a moment!”

“It’s 5 a.m. are you seriously asking me to freaking think?”

“What kind of special day do we have in March?”

“World Self-harm Awareness Day?”

“What?” he laughed whole-heartedly “that’s really the first thing that came to your pretty little head?”

“Jerk.”

“Come on baby… Flowers, chocolates, fancy dates…”

“Are you trying to remind me you fucked up Valentines’ Day?”

“It was not me! It was Nightwing’s fault.”

“Oh yeah, right. Blame your alter ego and you’re on a highway to split personality. Seriously what-“ she lift herself, a bit annoyed at his games now and her eyes landed on the calendar on the wall, noticing the date marked in a red circle and an exclamation mark. “Oh….”

“You there now?” Dick smirked

“I hate you Grayson-“ she muttered leaning forward to kiss him softly

“Just wait till you see what I planned for the day.”

***

Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-assed.

Wait? Did I already say that? Too bad.

Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-assed.

Such a shame that the festive day was taking place on Friday, cause otherwise he would lock her inside the apartment keeping her all to himself and spoiling her on the entire day.

But it was obvious from the get go that she was not going to skip a work day and there was no way to stop her (power girl simply liking her work, it was not a crime).

On the bright side – it was the perfect opportunity to extend the celebration on a whole weekend.

Starting from having the perfect evening.

Y/N could only do as little as step inside the apartment, after work, exhausted after all week with her brain becoming a jello, legs giving up, when she was snatched by a pair of strong arms and held close to a broad warm chest. And the contented sigh that escaped her lips was definitely not a sign of complaint.

"Missed you my beautiful woman."

"I can tell." she chuckled in response, glad to be back home to him.

"Now come on, pick up your prettiest dress and we're going out.'

"We're what?" that was unexpected "and what do you mean prettiest dress? I don’t have any dresses-"

"Good thing your boyfriend thought of that too-" Dick grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom where the most elegant and a bit revealing (but still chic) piece of clothing was spread on the bed.

"Grayson...." no matter how much she tried to deny her own instincts there was no way to stop herself from running fingers over the soft silky fabric and delighting in its sensation on her skin. She could only imagine how it would feel having that masterpiece hugging her body.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" she turned to face him, her eyes showing all the adoration of the gift. "But - I can't accept it. I mean - I'm sure it was--"

"Don't you dare saying it."

"But-"

"I bought it for you, you hear me? Because you deserve it, because I love you, because you're my woman and I’m your man." he grabbed her by the waist spinning her around and pulling to him. The fact that he was towering over her, holding her so firmly and giving her that man-like look silenced all her words of opposition. “Accept it, okay? Accept the fact that there’s me in your life now.”

“Right. The great, famous, handsome Dick Grayson the Wayne prodigy”

“Did you say handsome?” he smirked causing her to roll her eyes “seriously Y/N, I’m in your life. To stay. So the sooner you get used to unexpected gifts and surprises and being treated like a woman the better.”

“You still fucked up Valentine’s day.”

“You’ll be reminding me of that till the rest of my life, won’t you?”

“Of course.” She ginned playfully leaning to kiss him “I’m a woman. We collect such thing to use them as a potential argument in a quarrel.” She winked and this time it was him who rolled his eyes at her antics before silencing her with a proper make out session.

***

Clearly the dress was not enough for him.

Clearly taking a private Wayne jet and flying to NY was not enough for him.

He had to make a reservation at the most exquisite restaurant in the country. With the table in the secluded part of the spot, on the balcony with the perfect view on the night skyline, illuminated by the millions of little bright flickering lights.

And despite all that wonders all over them his eyes were focused solely on her.

From the way she looked in that dress (smoking hot, cause he knew what he was choosing after all), through the way her eyes were shining, hair flowing and cheeks flushing all the way to the fact that she finally allowed herself to relax and not overthinking all the stuff about expenses or being demanding.

Dream come true.

Living a fantasy when he grabbed her hand over the table and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles looking deep into her eyes.

Getting lost in their own private paradise when after the dinner they were just standing next to the railing, enjoying the peace and calmness, his arms around her waist, her back to his chest, not caring about problems, stuff to do or other people.

It was not often they could indulge and Dick was not going to miss the opportunity of being free for one night, able to plant little soft kisses on her neck, whispering soft words of love and feeling her body so close to him, while the a sign on the hotel room door clearly announced that guests requested privacy.

The silkiness of the sheets paled in comparison to the softness and delicacy of her skin and lips.

And the silence that was punctuated by her soft sighs and breathy words couldn't have been more perfect.

His woman.

Her man.

World could wait.

After all what could it do in a clash with a blooming love?

[worldheadcanons]

Can you do Axis x reader x Allies? They are all fighting for reader's love.

☆ axis vs allies: fighting for your love!

starring. . . gender neutral reader and north italy, germany, japan, america, + china.

author notes; this was super fun, i imagined it to be a sort of otome game scenario with multiple routes. like the protagonist/reader goes on dates with everyone until they choose just one person to be with. i couldn’t fit all the main allies in here, sorry anon! lmk if you want a part two for them or any other characters.

feliciano vargas!

— he knows that his colleagues are also interested in you. he’s not particularly discouraged though because, really, who wouldn’t be? you were attractive, intelligent, thoughtful— the whole package. vargas knows he has his own unique charms, traits that the allies and even the another axis don’t have. feliciano is cute and he knows how to use that to his advantage. alfred is cute too, but in a different way. he doubts the boisterous american could sweep you off your feet like he could.

— in terms of competition he views francis and ludwig as his biggest enemies. feliciano is smart enough to not let anyone ruin his personal relationships, so he doesn’t hold any real ill will towards the two. in fact, it’s because he likes them so much, especially ludwig, that he even considers them to be rivals in the first place. francis is very obviously romantic. he was the one who taught vargas the ropes, after all. however his romance was rather.. mature.. meanwhile, the italian preferred to keep his romance light and playful. ludwig was cute in a stoic way. he couldn’t flirt to save his life, but that was part of his appeal. he would give you a small smile as he tried his best to be romantic and your heart couldn’t help but melt.. yea, those two would be trouble.

— he likes to keep dates vague at first, leaving you unsure of whether or not things are platonic or romantic. unlike francis or arthur he doesn’t come on strong. the first dates are still pretty high class though. dinners at expensive restaurants, trips to private beaches, live music shows— feliciano’s willing to spend every dime on you and he’s not afraid to show it. all the while he’s joking and laughing with you, looking you lovingly in the eyes with the cutest boyish smile you’ve ever seen. he’ll whine and complain sometimes, pouting anytime you tease him. he’s pretty childish but he knows when to pull back so that it’s not annoying. 

— when things get really romantic, you’ll know. he’ll take you to more public places. vargas has many family businesses that he’ll frequent with you. it’s his way of saying you’re closer than you were before. vargas will initiate a lot more pda too, holding your hand more often than not and reveling in the feeling of you leaning on his shoulder. he’s not opposed to cheek kisses either. occasionally he’ll ‘miss’ your cheek and nail a kiss close to your lips, hinting at what he could make happen in the future. what he hoped would happen in the future. 

— eventually things will escalate to a point where he’ll personally ask you if you want to be with him or not. not because feliciano views it as a waste of time if you don’t want to continue on, but because he truly wants to be with you. he can’t stand not knowing anymore and he especially can’t stand not having you all to himself. vargas will be respective of your answer no matter what.. but.. he has a feeling you’ll say yes. 

ludwig beilschmidt!

— he’s not particularly confident of himself in this area. romance was not ludwig’s strong suit. he knows that other countries are interested in you as well, which doesn’t help him feel any better. even feliciano was after you! despite it all, his older brother had encouraged him to try to win you over. so here he was. he would try his best. the german didn’t know it, but he had his own charms. he was stoic and sort of inexperienced but still a polite man. many ladies found this to be charming. in a way, his lack of romantic prowess was his power. 

— his biggest competitors, in his mind, are feliciano and alfred. both for reasons he considers obvious. they’re both rather ‘naturally cute’ men. they had this boyish charm while still being mature. alfred was really funny which only helped his case. feliciano was great at romancing others and while ludwig doesn't know much about alfred’s love life, he figured that it was likely the american was the same way. gah.. just thinking about it makes him frown. he’s been at disadvantages before though, so he’s able to convince himself that things will be fine no matter the outcome. his opinion on the two of them doesn’t change because of the situation. beilschmidt understands that no one can help the way they feel. it’s no one man’s fault that they’re all pursuing the same person. he just wishes he didn’t have to go against vargas, one of his closest friends.

— his first dates are.. regular. but not in a bad way. ludwig spends his days beforehand researching and reading up on things like date etiquette, best cafes to take someone out to, good meals to order, conversation tactics, and more. he doesn’t mind putting in the extra work to catch up with the people he’s up against. he’ll try his best to be romantic the whole time by holding doors and complimenting you whenever the opportunity presents itself. he asks a few questions about you, wanting to get to know you for who you really are. your other suitors may take you out to expensive places but they probably weren’t actively trying to learn about you— at least that’s what the german was betting on. 

— dates will slowly but surely become more tuned to your interests and personality. you like to paint? he’ll invite you out to a nice art bar where you two can create something together. you like to read? he’ll take you to a library-cafe. beilschmidt feels that these dates are the most personal. there’s more pda as he really gets comfortable. it’s mostly limited to hand holding. every so often at the end of dates he’ll ask for a kiss. if you oblige and give him one, you’ll get to see a small smile on his face as he admires you lovingly. he may even bite his lip, clearly whipped for you.

— of course, there’ll come a time where he decides to finally ask about your intentions. he asks a little bit later, not wanting to hold you down or force a decision onto you. with the guidance of his older brother, he’ll find the time to sit you down and ask if you want to date him… like, seriously date him. just him. no matter your answer, he’ll still want to be friends with you. he’s gotten to know you so well, he couldn’t just turn away from you. 

kiku honda!

— he’s whipped for you, though it took him a bit longer than everyone else to realize it. kiku mostly labeled what he was feeling as feelings of admiration. once he notices the the pain in chest as he sees francis trying to serenade you, he realizes that he’s in love. deeply in love. it’s a bit awkward when he comes to you later than the other axis and politely asks if he can take you out sometime. despite the awkwardness, you say yes, with a smile. smiles are good. he knows a thing or two about going out with people so he’s not completely stressed about that. anything he doesn’t know he just researches beforehand, similarly to ludwig.

— his biggest competitor for your love, in his opinion, is feliciano. he’s cute, he’s funny— if honda was in your position, he would have folded for the other immediately. he’s a little worried about everyone really because he’s ‘late to the game’, but overall vargas is his biggest threat. things will be okay though, kiku assures himself. he knows he’s cute in his own way. many of his colleagues have commented on the fact that his relaxed expression was a cute one. it was rare for them to see him relaxed as he mostly thought of work related things when he was in their company. for you, however, it wouldn’t be rare to see. honda would make sure of that. 

— the first dates, similarly to yao’s, are formal. they’re not uptight though, as he wants to seem cute to appeal to you as a boyfriend. there’s gift giving here and there, but he mostly focuses on doing things for you. just when you’re too lazy to cook for the night, kiku’s there to pick you up and take you to a luxurious restaurant. anytime you mention something that needs fixing, he’s on it. if he can’t fix it himself, he pays someone to do it in his stead. he insists that it’s normal and that you owe him nothing in return. he just wants to see you prosper, is all. pda is kept to a minimum, seeing as though it takes him a while to even work up the nerve to ask if he can kiss you. when he does finally kiss you, it’s immediately made clear that he’s experienced. nothing too passionate, of course. there’s a certain air of confidence and the kiss has just the right amount of chasteness to keep you wanting more. 

— as things go on the two of you only get closer. his dates shift from formal outings to extremely casual dates. sometimes it’s buying manga and books together, sometimes it’s watching your favorite movies at home. honda’s favorite ‘date’ consists of you two sitting quietly together in the same room doing completely different things. kiku finds this to be extremely romantic. you’re both doing different things but still enjoying each other’s presence. he’ll be doing paperwork and you’ll be sitting with a computer and neither of you are talking but both of you are happy. during times like this, he may even lean over and kiss you on the cheek, commenting on how much he enjoys your company. 

— he’s not afraid to ask you straight-out what you want for yourself and your future. honda doesn’t want to keep you from your version of happiness, even if that happiness is with another man. there’s no doubt that he wants what’s best for you. 

alfred f. jones!

— he’s a bit thrown off that other men are also trying to romance you. from the very beginning he decides that you’re the one who wants to go steady with. alfred is thrown off, but not enough to give up. he knows his worth. he’s a funny guy, people like that. he’s cute too, smart when he wants to be. jones would ask arthur for help but.. he’d be better off asking a math teacher for help in a history class. he didn’t think kirkland was any good with romantic endeavors. he’d just have to wing it and do his best. it’d be fine.. probably.

— the american doesn’t think of anyone as competition really, but he does hate the idea of you going out with francis. i mean, come on! he’s quite literally known for being a romantic! hopefully you’d find his flirting corny or off putting instead of endearing. alfred’s not completely inept when it comes to romance but he’s no hot shot. most of the time when a flirt of his fails, people laugh it off because he’s just so cute while trying to be a flirty guy. he’s a loser, but an attractive one. people also enjoy the fact that he’s a bit chubby. he knows this only because of past experiences. hmm.. he supposes that ivan could pose an issue too. he’s always an issue in some way or another. 

— his beginning dates are very fun! he’s more fond of going to carnivals, finding a drive in movie theater, stargazing, eating at diners, and dancing together than any modern date. lunch dates are fine and all but it’s just so boring to jones. it’s not that he needs a bunch of excitement but he wants these dates to be interesting. he hopes that after each date ends, he’s still on your mind. he doubts the others are taking you out to such cool places. he’s flirty on these dates, trying his hardest to impress you. he’ll hold your hand often on these dates, as physical contact is something he enjoys a lot. alfred doesn’t mind hugs or kisses this early either, especially if you’re dancing. if you’re not enjoying each other then why even go out? after each date he personally escorts you home. he also leaves you with a kiss to your hand, a sign that he still has some sense of politeness despite his eagerness. 

— as things continue you’ll start to notice that he’s taking you to more distinctive places. instead of finding a drive in movie theater in the middle of nowhere, the american will take you to a roller rink he comes to often. the people there will know him and they’ll know you when he brings you in. apparently he talks about you to whoever will listen. it’s flattering albeit embarrassing. a lot of the places you’ll go will be places he enjoys and wants to share with you. alfred’s much softer now and a bit goofier, backing away from the flirty persona he attempted to put on for the first few dates. you’ll often find yourself leaning onto his shoulder as you try to recollect yourself after breaking down from laughter. it’s in these moments that he’ll smile at you, soaking in your happy expression. it’s a gorgeous expression, one he’d like to see all the time. 

— one day jones realizes that he needs to be seriously dating you. he wanted to take you to an animal adoption center as a sort of surprise but he noticed that doing that was sort of a couple thing.. like a serious couple thing. alfred really thinks getting you a pet would be the best thing in the world. the two of you would make the best pet parents in his mind. it would make him a true hero. or close to one. so he swings by your place and directly asks you if you want to be his partner. he doesn’t stall once he realizes what he needs to do. jones believes that it’s best to just go for what you want. you only live once, after all. 

yao wang!

— it’s not his first time courting a lady. he’s experienced. he even believes that he could outdo francis somewhat. only somewhat though. yao’s been around for a long time so he knows what people like and don’t like. it’s not that he’s a super romantic but he’s passionate no matter what, which draws you in. he suspects you have a thing for older men, which he doesn’t mind playing into. he’s aged like fine wine and he’s not afraid to flaunt it. 

— there is no rivals or competition in wang’s mind. why think about the other guys when he can just focus his attention on you and him? if he had to choose, he’d say arthur, maybe. maybe. francis was too much of a try hard for your affections. kirkland was a mature man. he was polite. the british man seemed to know how to treat someone right. however, in the end, yao viewed himself as on top of it all. he refused to let himself get anxious over your other suitors. that’s how people lose. by worrying.

— he’s a calm and quiet pursuer, playing the long game. beginner dates are very formal. wang tries with all his might to impress you but he makes sure to do so in a way that seems effortless. like he could do this everyday. as if to say, ‘dating me will result in the best treatment for you everyday until death’. he could never say it outright, so he let his actions speak for him. he’s no sugar daddy and he never claims to be anything of the sort. he’s just giving you a taste of what your life could be like should you choose to spend it with him. yao also gives you lots of gifts, though he tries to keep them small so you’re not overwhelmed. he adores the face you make whenever you open up a present he’s gotten you. you’re always so happy to received them.. so graceful when you accept them.. he can’t help but want to spoil you. and that’s exactly what he’ll do, if you continue on.

— as you get closer, wang starts to feel younger. his few grey hairs seem to be jet black again. the dates become less formal and more casual for the both of you. often he’ll just invite you over to his house. he spends less time trying to impress you and more time just enjoying you and your company. you’ll start to hold hands, hug, and kiss a lot more now. he loves the feeling of your lips on his cheek. these dates are a lot more loose and fun, often ending with you two giggling as he holds you in his arms. yao likes to dance with you in his home, rocking back and forth with a smile on his face. he’s shown you what the two sides of your relationship would be like. the first side, what was seen by the public— expensive dinners, beautiful clothing for the both of you, and  lovely gifts— and now, the second side, what wasn’t seen by the public. kisses to the forehead, cooking for each other, reading together, and laughing over nothing in particular. 

— after a while wang will invite you over one day and pop the question. no, not marriage, though he does think you’d make a perfect partner.. he’ll ask if you want to start officially dating. he doesn’t know for sure if you’ll say yes, even though he’s used his tried-and-true method of dating on you. yao hopes for the best and prepares for the worst. he hopes for your love.. but he’s prepared to live life as just a friend of yours. boyfriend or otherwise, he’d like to be present in your life.

[redhood414]

Part 3: The Games

Taglist: @animequeen4

(y/n POV

I never expected this. The four boys- men, are staring at me while I'm standing there like a deer in the headlights. My mouth shut and uncomfortable under their intense gaze. The king stood up with open arms to greet my family. "Clark, Lois. Lovely to see you've made till here safely." He gives my father a firm handshake and a pat on his shoulder. "It was a rough journey, my daughter wasn't used to it." My father says with a chuckle and I frown, getting embarrassed. My mother and Queen Selina gives each other a big hug, clearly friendly with each other. "Lois, how good to see you!" Selina says with a grin which my mother returns. "Likewise. Y/n, come here." I walk nervously over. "This is our lovely daughter, y/n!" I politely bow for Selina and Bruce. "Greetings your majesty and my queen." Bruce and Selina both chuckle. "Such a wonderful daughter, our sons will love her." Selina says while Bruce calls them over. "Boys, come greet the princess."

(Tim POV)

God, she's stunning, I thought as I stand up and follow my brothers to greet her. I've never seen such a beauty like her. Her skin, slightly red cheeks, the color of her eyes, the form of her body which is made out by her dress. Dick's of course the first to take her hand and kiss her palm while giving her that boyish, charming smile wich makes every girls' heart melt. I feel slightly jealous eventho I've just seen her. "Hello gorgeous, never realized I could fall in love until I saw you." Dick says to her at wich she raises an eyebrow, not impressed at the pick up line. "Lovely to meet you too..." She says with hesitation and gives him a wry smile. Jason snickers.

Jason's the next who greets her, grumpy and intimidating. "Hi." He only says, she frowns and snorts. "That's all? Just a 'hi'?" Wow, she's got fire to just say that to Jason, he frowns angrily. "What? Expected me to treat you all nicely like Grayson? I'm just going to win so I'm going to be on the throne, not to win your heart, doll." He says as he leans close to her face and she backs away. I step between them, pushing Jason carefully away. "Jason, that's enough. You're making her uncomfortable." I say, trying to stay respectful while actually being annoyed.

Jason mumbles something but goes standing beside Dick. I smile in an apologetic way at the princess and take her hand, bowing politely. "My apology if my brothers were rude to you, princess. You look lovely as ever." I notice her smile when she sees I'm much opposite than the eldest. "I'm Tim Drake. And if I may, you look stunning, like a star." I say with the small confidence and boldness that even surprises me. Her cheeks flush slightly and she ticks a hair out off her face. "You flatter me, prince Tim" she says with a smile, clearly having it touched her heart. I give a nod and go stand beside my brothers.

(no one's Pov)

Now just Damian...Oh God. I pray for Y/N.

[thequeenofneverland1]

James Potter///Echoes of Love and Loss

Anonymous Request: James Potter and Y/n Evans first meeting and she doesn’t like him since he keeps bugging her and keeps calling her his future Mrs potter and months go on she and James end up dating leaving her best friend Snape heartbroken who has loved her since childhood and her sister Lily, is not happy about it about her sister relationship with James and tells her about Snapes feelings but she tells her that she only loves James and only sees snape as a brother But months later at graduation, James asks Y/n marry him leaving Snape sad and Lily mad as the wedding approached Lily nor Snape show up but Lily regret it when she finds out about the death of her sister and James

Warnings: unrequited love, characters deaths and lots of angst

The sunlight streaming through the large, dusty windows of the Hogwarts Great Hall was sending ever-changing patterns of light and shadow across the tables as you joined your sister Lily at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

"Anyone I should be aware of, Lily?" You asked, eyeing the bustling crowd.

"Hmm," Lily chewed her lip, thinking. "Well, there's Potter and his group of troublemakers," she said, pointing towards a group of four boys. Amongst them, one boy was louder, with untidy hair and circular glasses, his hazel eyes twinkling under the sunlight.

"He seems fun," you commented, your eyes twinkling at the boyish charm reflected in James Potter's eyes.

"He's a menace, more like," Lily shot back, with an irate frown creasing her forehead. "All he does is flaunt his Quidditch skills and annoy Snape."

"Ah, Severus," you said, rolling your eyes softening at the mention of him. Lily rolled her eyes at you, for not being a big fan of Snape's blatant favoritism for darker magic.

Just as you finished your conversation, James himself bounced over to your table with a cheeky grin. "Ah, Evans! And other Evans!" He laughed at his own joke.

You frowned at his extremely familiar tone but still asked politely, "You need something, Potter?"

"I need a lot of things, but right now, I just wanted to confirm our Astronomy study session. At eight," he said, looking at Lily but addressing you.

"We don't have any Astronomy study session, Potter," Lily irritated says

"But future Mrs Potter and I do," he winked towards you as you felt a hot flush climbing up your neck from this comment made you explode, "Keep dreaming, Potter, because that's the closest you'll ever get."

"Oi, Evans! Have you seen my Invisibility Cloak? I swear it was here just a minute ago," James said, his messy hair sticking out in all directions.

You sighed, a trace of annoyance in your voice. "For the hundredth time, Potter, I haven't seen it. Maybe you should learn to keep track of your things."

From the very beginning, James seemed determined to capture your attention. However, his relentless pursuit of hulk only served to irritate you even more James would cheekily call you his future Mrs. Potter, much to your annoyance. Months went by, with James persistently trying to win your affections, but you remained uninterested.

"Hey there, Mrs. Potter-to-be," James said, flashing a mischievous grin. "I've got a feeling we're meant to be together."

"Potter, I've told you a thousand times. I am not your future Mrs. Potter. And stop following me around!" You replied, frustration evident in your voice.

“Ah, love!!”James called out, his voice carrying over the chatter of their housemates. "Fancy to go at Gobstones?"

You looked up from your Transfiguration textbook, an unimpressed frown on your face . "No, thank you, Potter. I'd rather not waste my time."

James sauntered over, a playful glint in his hazel eyes. "Come on, it'll be fun! Or are you afraid of a little challenge?”

You sighed, closing your book with a snap. "It's not about the challenge. It's about the company."

Sirius Black, who had been lounging nearby, let out a low whistle. "Burn," he chuckled, earning himself a glare from James.

Months went by and the same scenario played out over and over again. You found yourself warming up to James, despite your initial irritation. He was bold, courageous, and above all, he genuinely cared for you. He did more than just annoy you – he also protected you,teased you, made you laugh and was always there when you needed someone.

Meanwhile, your best friend, Severus Snape, carried a deep and unrequited love for you . Snape had harbored these feelings since childhood, but he stayed silent, never daring to reveal his true emotions. As time passed, your heart began to open up to James, and the two of you gradually started dating.

You saw James nervously approaching you and you could sense that something important was on his mind. With a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, you awaited his next words.

James took a deep breath, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Y/n, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," he began earnestly.

Intrigued, you prompted him to continue, "What is it, James? You can tell me."

With a determined glint in his eyes, James mustered up the courage to ask, "Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

You felt a rush of emotions overwhelm you as you processed his heartfelt request. Your heart swelled with joy and uncertainty, but ultimately, you knew that your feelings for James were undeniable. With a soft smile and a voice filled with warmth, you replied, "Yes, James. I would love to be your girlfriend."

A radiant smile broke out on James's face, his eyes reflecting pure happiness. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, whispering words of gratitude and affection. In that moment, you knew that you had made the right choice, and you felt a deep sense of contentment knowing that you had found love in James.

Your heart sank as Snape finally mustered the courage to open up to you about his true feelings. You could see the raw vulnerability in his eyes, a mix of longing and pain that had gone unnoticed for far too long.

"Y/n," Snape began, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability, "I have loved you for as long as I can remember. How could you not see it all this time?"

Again your heart heart ached at his confession, realizing the depth of Snape's feelings for you. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, knowing that you needed to be honest with him, even if it meant causing him further heartache.

"I'm sorry, Snape," you started softly, your voice filled with regret. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. You've always been there for me, and I value our friendship more than words can express. But my heart belongs to James. I love him, and I can't deny my feelings for him."

Snape's expression fell, his eyes filled with a mixture of anguish and resignation. He nodded silently, understanding the weight of Yours words even as they pierced his heart.

You reached out to gently touch Snape's shoulder, your voice trembling with emotion. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Snape. I care about you deeply, but in a different way. You're like a brother to me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

As Snape processed your words, a bittersweet acceptance settled over him. Despite the pain of unrequited love, he knew that the bond would endure, albeit in a different form. And as You offered him a sad smile of understanding and compassion, you hoped that the shared history and friendship would serve as a source of comfort and strength for the both of you, even as the two of you navigated the complexities of his and your intertwined lives.

Lily was devastated to hear that you were dating James. She had always known that Snape had feelings for you , but she never thought you would choose James over him. She confronted you about it, trying to make you see the reason.

"Y/n, you know how much Snape cares for you. He's loved you since we were kids. How can you just throw away his feelings like that?" Lily pleaded with you.

You sighed, feeling guilty for hurting Snape, but you couldn't deny your feelings for James. "Lily, I care about Snape, I really do. But I don't love him in that way. I only see him as a brother. James is the one I love."

She shook her head in disbelief. "But Y/n, Snape would do anything for you. He would never hurt you. Can't you see that he's the better choice?"

Your heart ached at the thought of hurting Snape, but you knew that you had to follow your heart. "I know you're worried, Lily. But James has changed. He's not the same person he used to be. He truly loves me, and I love him. I hope you can understand that."

She reluctantly accepted your decision, though she couldn't shake the feeling that Snape was the one who truly cared for you . As your relationship with James blossomed, Snape tried to move on, but his heart remained broken, longing for the love he could never have. And Lily could only watch from the sidelines, hoping that you had made the right choice.

She sat down with you, her heart heavy with concern. "I know you love James. But how can you be with someone who has hurt our best friend so much?"

You looked down, feeling guilty for not standing up for their friend. "I know, Lily. I've seen the way James treated Severus, and I hated it. But he's changed, Lily. He's not the same person he used to be. He's apologized to Severus and he's trying to make things right."

She sighed, still not convinced. "I know people can change, But what if this is all just a show? What if he's still the same arrogant bully deep down?"

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "I believe in James, Lily. I believe in the person he's become. And I can't ignore the love I feel for him."

She wrapped her arms around you, knowing that she couldn't change your feelings. "I just want you to be happy, But please, be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt."

You hugged your sister back, grateful for her concern. "I'll be careful, Lily. I promise. And I hope you can understand why I love James, despite everything."

As James and you swam together in the tranquil waters of the Black Lake, you found yourself unable to keep the weight of Severus Snape's confession to yourself, any longer. The shimmering light of the lake danced around the two of you as you took a deep breath and mustered the courage to speak.

"James, there's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice barely a whisper above the gentle lapping of the water.

James turned to you, his eyes searching with your curiosity. “ what’s wrong love?”

Taking a moment to compose yourself , you gathered your thoughts before speaking. “Snape confessed his feelings for me,"

James's expression faltered for a moment, a hint of concern shadowing his features. "Are you... thinking of being with him instead?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Feeling the weight of his words, you grasped his hand tightly and looked into his eyes, your own filled with sincerity. "James, Snape's feelings mean nothing to me. You are the one I love. You are the one I choose,"

A wave of relief washed over James as he processed your words, a small smile breaking across his face. Wrapping his arms around you, James and you held each other close, the gentle ebb and flow of the water mirroring the calm that settled over the two of you

“I love you so much Y/n.” James pressed his lips into yours

James and you were sitting in the Great Hall by side, your fingers intertwined with his. You couldn't believe that you were dating the boy who had once annoyed you to no end. But as you glanced across the hall, you saw your best friend Snape sitting with your sister and he had a look of heartbreak on his face.

Months later, as their graduation from Hogwarts approached, James made a life-altering decision. He gathered the courage to ask you to marry him

"Y/n, will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?" James said, his eyes filled with pure adoration.

Your heart swelled with emotion, tears of joy streaming down your face. "Yes, James! Yes, a thousand times yes!"

It had been a beautiful day, filled with love and laughter as James Potter and you exchanged vows in front of their friends and family. The sun shone brightly as the two of you said 'I do', promising to love and cherish each other for all eternity.

But there was an empty space at the wedding, a hole that could not be filled. Lily and Severus, two people who had once been important in your lives, were absent. You couldn't help but feel the sting of their absence, wondering why they had chosen not to share in this special moment.

Despite the absence of Lily and Snape, you felt surrounded by love. Your new husband, James, held you close and whispered sweet words of comfort in your ear. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, stood by the side of the two of you, offering support and friendship in the face of sadness.

As time went on, Lily began to regret her decision to miss the wedding. She had let her pride and hurt feelings get in the way of supporting you on your special day. She reached out to you and James, hoping to make amends and rebuild their relationship.

But it was too late.

The memory of the last goodbye haunted James as you and him prepared for both sacrifices of his and yours. The weight of both of you impending fate pressed down on the two of you, but you and him found solace in each other's presence.

As the two of you stood side by side, memories of the past flooded the thoughts. The laughter, the tears, the love shared between James and you. And remembering the day that you and him had promised to always stand by each other, no matter what.

"James, my love," you said, tears in your eyes. "If this is the end, I want you to know that you have been the greatest love of my life."

James pulled you into a passionate embrace, your lips and his lips met with a desperate, final kiss. "And you, my darling Y/n, have been mine," he whispered. "I will love you forever."

Tragically, just a few moments later, You and James were killed by Lord Voldemort.

It was a scene of heartbreaking despair as Severus Snape held your lifeless body in his arms, tears streaming down his face. The woman he loved, the one person who had brought light and joy into his otherwise dark and lonely life, was gone.

He whispered your name over and over again, a desperate plea for you to come back to him. But you remained still and silent, your eyes closed and your chest unmoving. The reality of your death hit him like a tidal wave, crushing his heart and leaving him gasping for air.

Suddenly, a small voice broke through his grief. "Mama," Harry said softly, his own eyes brimming with tears as he looked up at Snape and the lifeless form of your in his arms. Snape's heart twisted at the word, a painful reminder of the family he had lost in one tragic moment.

He held you closer, his sobs echoing in the quiet room as he tried to come to terms with the devastating loss. Harry reached out a hand, touching your cold cheek with a trembling finger, his lower lip quivering with unshed tears.

"Mama," he whispered again, his voice filled with longing and sorrow. Snape closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a heavy burden. He knew that nothing would ever be the same again, that a part of him had died along with you. .

Lily was devastated when she received the news. The sister she had pushed away, the sister she had neglected to support, was gone. She mourned the loss of you and James, regretting the choices she had made that had led to this moment.

In the end, Lily realized the true value of family and friendship. She vowed to honor the memory of her sister and brother-in-law, to be a better friend and sister to those she loved.

And as she looked at Harry, the boy who had lost his parents so tragically, she knew that she would do everything in her power to protect him, to love him, and to make sure he never felt

But as he looked down at Harry too, his heart clenched with a fierce determination. He would do whatever it took to protect the boy, to keep him safe and ensure that he never had to endure the pain of losing another loved one.

[earlgreydream]

the garden.

| 1940s!bucky barnes x reader | fluff | mild angst |

You walked home from work, seeing your new neighbor, Bucky Barnes, leaning against the wall of his house. His arrogant smirk appeared as you walked up the path to your door, scrunching your nose at the sight of him. 

James Buchanan Barnes was irritating. The first day he’d moved in, he and his friends were loud until the early hours of the morning, drunkenly shouting along with his record player. Then, his drunk friends had walked through your garden, trampling half of your flowers and some vegetables. And he was always outside with his stupid smirk, thinking his pretty face was enough to win you over. 

Bucky was also gorgeous, and the worst part was, he knew it. You’d seen him in town flirting with girls in the market, and everywhere he went. Even your friends all fought for his attention. When they’d come over, you’d sit outside on your porch and they would all wave to him and giggle. He greeted them, chattering with the blushing and giggling girls who fell at his feet. You always rolled your eyes and ignored him, unamused.

Bucky was fascinated by you, the only girl to never fall for his charm. He was charismatic and had every girl at his fingertips that he had ever wanted. He knew that the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, and you despised his smoking habit. However, he had made it his goal to win you back over, but you had proven to be stubborn. You were a challenge, and Bucky was determined.

“Hey doll.” He greeted you as you stepped up onto your porch.

“It’s Y/N.” You scowled at him, and he said your name, winking at you.

He checked you out, admiring you in your high waisted pants and button down. You shook your head at him, going inside your house, closing the door. You put your grocery bag down and started to make dinner, when you saw Bucky on your porch. You groaned and opened your window, looking at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“My stove is out of gas. Could you put me up for dinner?” He gave you a boyish grin, rocking on his heels.

“Why would I do that?”

“To be neighborly,” he suggested.

“C’mon. Because I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow?” Bucky tried again.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Y/N, the stores are closed, it’s late.”

“Fine. Get in here.” You gave in, shaking your head and shutting the window. He waltzed through the front door, looking too pleased with himself.

“Plus, I brought a gift!” He held up a bottle of rosé.

“So you can get drunk and ruin my flowers again?”

“I apologized for that. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven.” You said, not convincing him or yourself. 

“Where’re your glasses?” He asked, and you pulled a cabinet open, stirring your pot of pasta. He pulled down two glasses and filled them.

“Maybe I don’t drink.”

“You do, this is your favorite wine. I’ve seen you drinking it on the porch swing at least twice.” Bucky called you out.

“Oh, so you stalk me?” You accused. 

“No, you just sit outside all the time.” 

He lifted the glass to his lips, smiling behind the rim. You drank from your own, needing it in order to deal with him. You noticed his dog tags, resting against his skin with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He caught you staring, but he held eye contact, wanting to make you blush. 

“You fight in the war?” You asked, and he shook his head.

“I will. I haven’t been deployed yet. Me and my friend Steve recruit here, but we’ll go with the next team.”

“Where will you go?”

“Germany, maybe. Or Poland.” 

You hummed, thinking that Bucky didn’t seem like the military type. You supposed it was his duty though, and he didn’t want to be labeled as a draft dodger. You strained the noodles and mixed them with the sauce, serving him a plate. Bucky thanked you, taking a seat at your tablecloth. 

“Hey, get down, Pepper.” You scolded your cat that jumped onto his lap. You apologized and he smiled, petting her head.

“She has no manners. Push her off,” 

“She’s fine. I don’t mind.” He smiled, and your cat jumped onto the floor, prowling for dropped food. You ate quietly, ignoring his silver gaze. 

“How long have you lived here?” He made conversation.

“Since I left my parents’ house when I was sixteen,” 

“That’s awful young. Why?”

You didn’t answer, pouring yourself another glass of wine, and he tilted his glass for more. You emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass, earning a thank-you. 

“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

“I’m absolutely buying you dinner. We’ll go out, to Brooklyn.” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Is there any way to get out of it?” You asked.

“I’m afraid not.” 

“You’re an amazing cook.” Bucky complimented, standing and taking your empty plates before you could.

“Thanks. I got that-”

“No, you cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He turned on your sink and began to wash everything, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You watched him, biting back a small smile. 

“I’ll just be getting out of your hair. Have a goodnight, doll.” 

You rolled your eyes, closing the door after him. You picked up your cat and held her, watching him walk across the lawn. He waved at you when he saw you watching through the window, and you shut the curtains.

You came home the next day, tired and annoyed from work. You were in a bad mood, and you just wanted to relax.

“James?” You stopped when you saw him kneeling in your yard.

“Y/N, you’re home.”

“Why the hell are you in my yard?!” You demanded, opening the gate. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I was replanting your flowers.” He said, kneeling in your garden. 

Your eyebrows shot up as you saw the rows of freshly planted daffodils, and you walked over to him slowly. 

“Thank you.” You were impressed, and he leaned back on his heels. 

“I’m... I can’t take you out like this. Let me change, then we can go for our dinner?” He smiled down at himself, dirt and grass staining his pants.

You nodded, hiding your smile behind your hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach. You shook your head, watching him go toward his house. You went inside and quickly changed your own clothes, into wide white pants and a yellow button down. You fixed your makeup, and went to meet him on the porch. You bit your lip, smiling as you opened the door to find him standing with a bouquet of daisies.  

“Bucky...” You couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“I thought you’d like them. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“It’s working.” You whispered before putting the flowers in a vase. You walked to his car with him, and he opened the door for you, being so charming.

Bucky lived to see your smile. When he finally earned it with the flowers, warmth erupted in his chest and spread through him. He had truly felt bad about your garden and spent the whole afternoon replanting it for you. He drove you into the city, music playing softly on the radio.

“Where are we going?”

“New York pizza, Y/N,” Bucky looked proud of himself.

“That sounds amazing.” You confessed, your stomach growling. You’d missed lunch at work, and you were starving. 

“Pizza is my favorite.” 

“Mine too!” Bucky announced, and you giggled at that. He turned and smiled at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than it usually did. 

You arrived at the pizza place, following Bucky inside. He put his hand on your lower back, and you felt the butterflies again. 

“What would you like?” 

“Margherita pizza. I’m a classic girl.”

“Perfect.” He ordered for the two of you, leaning against the bartop while you waited.

“We’ll take it to go.”

“We’re not eating here?” You asked, confused, and he shook his head. 

“Got a better idea.” Bucky winked at you, taking the pizza box once it was done. 

“Can you take this for a second, doll?” He asked, handing it to you as we stood outside. You took it from him, and he leaned into his car, pulling out a blanket before taking the pizza. He nodded for you to follow, and you walked a few blocks down to a park, where he spread the blanket. You were beaming as you sat down beside him, the glow of the street lights and the stars making him look impossibly more attractive. 

“You’ve outdone yourself.” You smiled, biting into a slice of pizza. He looked pleased, and the two of you found yourselves talking until the streets were silent. You were sitting in front of him, when he leaned forward, kissing you. You kissed him back, threading your fingers into his dark hair, letting him move you onto his lap. His tongue pushed past your lips, your mouths moving in sync. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Bucky asked, surprising you. You were blushing furiously, and you almost said no, but the feeling his words gave you, made your heart race.

“Yes, James.” You pecked his lips and he grinned into the kiss.

That was how you and Bucky ended up spending most of your time together. He helped you tend to your garden, and you taught him about the plants. You were a botanist with a green thumb, and he was in awe of your tender care of your plants. Every night in the following weeks was spent with the two of you gently rocking on your porch swing, drinking coffee, listening to records, or making out. Either that, or you were listening to him read on the couch or in your bed. 

You and Bucky had been together for almost two months, when he came home late from work one evening when it was nearing October. You were waiting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, watching for his car to roll in. 

“James!” You called, and he walked up to you. 

“Hey, doll.” He leaned down and kissed you sweetly. You looked up at him, and your gaze meeting with sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Worry filled you, and he sat down next to you. 

“I’m getting deployed. We leave in two weeks.” He breathed, and your heart fell into pieces. 

“I’ll wait for you.” You said finally.

“Y/N, you could be waiting for years, or I may not make it back.”

“Don’t say that!” You cried. 

“It’s the truth--” 

Tears started rolling down your cheeks, and you shook your head. You climbed onto his lap and clung to him, gripping his shirt and crying into his shoulder. He rubbed your back and held you on the porch. 

“I want to get married, before you go.” You said, and he turned your face to look at him.

“Doll, you can’t mean that.”

“No, I do. Marry me. Marry me and promise you’ll come back for me.” You touched his face, and he brushed tears from your cheeks. 

“I will marry you, and I will fight every single day to come home to you. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you.”

For months, you and your cat waited on your porch, the cool metal dog tags resting against your sternum. A box of his letters sat on your bedside table, telling you how much he missed you, and loved you, and he wanted to come home to his beautiful wife. All of your friends thought you were mad for marrying a man you’d only dated a few months, the week before he went off to war. A star hung in your window, and every day was spent waiting. Your garden flourished, pumpkins growing as autumn approached. The nights you spent outside began to grow colder, and you waited.

When you saw him, it was like fireworks exploded inside of you. He was tired, he looked wartorn, and he was definitely more muscular. You screamed, tossing your blanket off of you, and running. You jumped over the fence, making him laugh. You threw your arms around him, and he caught you as you jumped into his arms. He held you tightly and spun you around, planting a deep kiss to your lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” 

You were crying as Bucky held you, overwhelmed with joy to see him. You didn’t sleep that night, or the next few. 

[pathofcomet]

my honey, my daisy, my only

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: isaac/MC

summary: “Do not fall in love with anyone here,” Sebastian threatens, wiping a glass and carefully placing it to the side, to be moved to the cupboards a little bit down the hall.Written for Isaac week, day 4. Prompt: AU. Hanahaki AU. (AO3)

“Do not fall in love with anyone here,” Sebastian threatens, wiping a glass and carefully placing it to the side, to be moved to the cupboards a little bit down the hall.

She places her trembling hands in her lap: scared and her heart still throbbing in her chest. This place and this time suddenly don’t really feel like a dream anymore, the fear too real. Love is a concept that doesn’t fit in this image that she’s building of the inhabitants of Saint-Germain’s mansion, so his warning is hollow, empty.

“Why?” she still asks, dumbly.

Sebastian stops – and then slowly, he undoes his necktie and the first two buttons at the top of his shirt. With the downwards pull, she can see the small scar sitting at the base of his throat, nothing but a faint line, whiter than the rest of his skin. His finger is just delicately following the path of where there has once been a cut.

“You know what this is, right?”

She nods. It’s not proper to ask more about it, because what’s there left to be said, when you have given up all memories of a loved one for the chance to keep on living? When the flowers start growing in your chest alongside your love, there are only two choices, really: you’re either having your feelings reciprocated, or have them disappear forever, alongside your memories of the person you fell for. Sebastian chuckles, a dry little thing.

“This does not exist here yet.”

And now the warning sinks in, with its whole finality and strength. If you love, and you are not loved back – here the only choice left is to eventually choke on all those feelings. She can feel her throat constricting in painful memory, the ghost of something she will never be able to recall. She nods again, and Sebastian, pleased that he got to her, resumes his work.

***

Love is pain. Love on its own is pure death – it goes as simple as that. But love kills slowly and beautifully, for it is not entirely unkind.

For vampires, the suffering is doubled. Because while sex is the food, love is the appetite.

And Isaac is stuck in the middle, thirst clawing at him, knowing the pain long before the love arrives.

***

Is there a reason for what humans do? Isaac doesn’t feel like he became a vampire a long time ago, but the separation still comes to him naturally. Even more so ever since she joined this place and turned his world upside down.

Isaac opens his door to her small figure in the frame and no matter how much he scrambles for a reason why she’s here, he can find none. By all laws of logic, she should be afraid and hateful. Instead, she smiles and doesn’t pour all the contents of the tray in his lap, which is more than he’d expected.

And Isaac finds himself smile back. Mistake no. 1.

***

Saint-Germain drinks his coffee, watching the exchange between Isaac and his newest visitor, and he calculates inside his mind several possibilities and probabilities. In time travel, just as in love, there are no real certainties, not even for the best out there.  But there are more or less twenty days left for their young visitors – certainly not enough to develop any severe forms of the sickness, even if she is to catch it.

Saint-Germain thinks her better than that. But twenty days are more than enough to have her fall in love with a city instead. Cities don’t break hearts. So he clears his throat, passing his cup over to Sebastian, and creates an excuse.

Mistake no. 2 – Isaac didn’t do anything directly about this one, but he still considers himself guilty for it.

***

“Smiling suits you,” Isaac says, and her cheeks bloom red, like flowers.

He is smiling as well, and the two of them are on the side of the road, looking at each other, suddenly transfixed. When not frowning, when not teased, when at ease – Isaac looks like a man entirely enjoying the spring of his life. Full of playfulness and boyish charm.

It is gone in a moment, but she trusts her eyes more than the slip of her mind.

She doubts she’ll make Isaac admit to such a thing, especially when he still seems to have problems keeping his blush at bay even when they brush shoulders accidentally, on the more crowded streets, but… she thinks this might be a date. Or at least that’s how dates in movies look like, since she cannot remember her own ones.

But they walk and talk. He takes her to his favourite café, and she has the best baguette of her life. The coffee sticks to her throat.

***

She reaches out, too much and too willingly. Trusting too much, fearing too little – it drives Isaac a bit crazy. He doesn’t have the bloom to go by. He never experienced love in his past life, focused on his studies as he’s been, and vampires can judge only by their thirsts. But it feels like way more than anyone has tried to do for him in a while, ever since Napoleon, and suddenly Isaac isn’t sure if he wants to call her a friend.

Or something more.

Mistake no. 3. He spends two hours on the kitchen floor, Sebastian stepping gracefully around him, drinking bottle of rouge after bottle of rouge, his lips turning redder and redder, the clawing feeling at his throat not quite disappearing.

***

“Luv,” Arthur says, and she flutters her eyes open, slowly, to him pushing her hair behind her ear.

She went unfocused there for a bit.

“That expression doesn’t suit you,” he continues, sighing.

She tries to scold her features better and focus on the game of chess in-between the two of them in the library. Leonardo is napping on the floor in the corner, a blanket she brought from upstairs over his shoulders. It’s been harder to control the pain, flaring up at random times – and she’s sure it still shows on her face, no matter how much she wants to actually hide it. It’s nothing much but discomfort, thrumming from deep inside her chest, but only for now.

It’s a bit annoying that Arthur somehow already picked it up. She frowns at him, pushing her piece across the table. From his own expression, she can tell it was a bold but completely stupid move. It’s fine; she hasn’t played chess in a long time and she didn’t expect to win in the first place anyway.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“You know him better,” she closes her eyes again, turning her neck a bit – Arthur gets a bit distracted staring at the expanse of skin there. “What should I do?”

Arthur grins, his fangs sharp.

“I think you’ve been doing just fine.” He points a finger towards the clock on the wall, already several minutes past the time for Isaac’s meals.

She gets up, technically allowing him the win, leaving the room. Leonardo opens his eyes to peer up at the writer, and although they say nothing out loud, there’s some knowledge passing between the two of them regardless.

***

“Why did you stay until so late, then?” Sebastian asks, grateful that no matter how badly Isaac might need blood, he’s not just grabbing at his shirt and sinking his fangs in his skin, instead ripping from his hands a glass vial.

She’s away now, so his hunger is already slowly fading, as Isaac is trying to do calculus in his head, and more definitely not think about the time spent together, which just keeps adding up.

In the entrance hallway, she’s coughing, delicately trying to cover it up with her handkerchief. When Saint-Germain shows up, she gathers the two small flower buds that she coughed out in her handkerchief, and hides it in her pocket, smiling up at him instead.

The notion of having him as a dance partner staves off the pain, at least for a while, just a bit.

***

She gives and gives. Mistake no. 4: Isaac accepts. He doesn’t know how to say no, even when it hurts. He doesn’t know how to translate her own suffering, when he’s so happy to just have her near.

Isaac’s used with the thirst, nothing else he hasn’t experienced before. The trouble with love is that it feels fresh each and every time.

So while he thinks he has things under control, she most definitely doesn’t. When one chooses to pluck out the flowers growing in their chest, the memories disappear. The one who picks this path, will keep on making the same mistake, not recognizing the patterns, unable to grow with no roots grounding them in place.

So she falls, fast. When Isaac saves her, an upside down mirror of her first night here – not fear thrumming at her wrists this time around, but just the pleasure of having him near, she stumbles, and swears, and the words come out muffled.

She covers her mouth, looking up at Isaac like a deer caught by its hunter. He wants nothing else but – mistake no. 5. Isaac doesn’t stop: then and there, when the doubt starts coiling inside his stomach.

Instead, he offers himself as her company and gentlemanly ignores her when she asks for five minutes to freshen up. In the corner of the room in which she ducked to hide, Vincent pats her back, as petal after petal falls out from between her lips, until she’s left shivering.

And beautiful. Love is pain. Pain is beauty.

Maybe that’s why Isaac cannot look away, cannot keep away: because her cheeks blush with the prettiest of red each time he gets to close. He realizes he maybe pushed too hard simply because, in the fountain where before was only clear water, once he gets up – she’s surrounded by cherry blossoms.

The petals swim all around her, a child leans over to pick a few in her hands. An older lady tuts disappointingly at the two of them. Isaac reaches out a hand, fearful.

But what is he fearing? Why is he so afraid? If this is true –

No.

Mistake no. 6. Isaac cannot believe the obvious signs, because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of them. Men kill more hearts just by not trusting their own.

***

She shivers in the bathtub, the water getting colder, overflowing with flowers and petals. She’ll have to deal with that later – now she is busy counting up to 10, over and over again, trying to calm the thrumming of her heart, the desperate up and down of her chest: her hand pressed over the scar there.

She wonders: how long into these symptoms she got the removal done? How much did she think she could handle, before it all became too much?

Isaac, pushing at Napoleon’s shoulder, bites at his neck, fangs so painful that it makes the other man hiss.  The soldier grabs at Isaac’s hair, enough to make eye contact.

“Slowly,” he urges, and Isaac’s grip on him relaxes, though his gulps still ring too loud in his head.

It brings him no pleasure, but his friend calms: with the warmth of another person, the fresh blood, hunger easier to be sated. The tug turns into pets, and Isaac places a kiss where he pierced the skin, lapping at the blood spilling out.

Napoleon sighs. “You’re wet. Let’s change, shall we?”

***

“This room is getting stifling, Toshiko-san,” Dazai says, coming around to check on Isaac.

They’re vampires, they’re supposed to heal and recover fast. Dazai just wants the bragging rights, that he cares the most out of their friends group. And also, maybe, Dazai wants to check the one rumour he has heard, which proves itself quite true.

Isaac is still asleep. Around him, overflowing from his desk and shelves and windowsill: flowers upon flowers, fully bloomed. Dazai sighs. The smell is almost sickeningly sweet – and she looks quite pale.

“I figured I’d be bothering him more if I were to take them out each and every time…”

Each and every time she bends her body over and coughs out flowers in exchange for his love, is the sentence that she doesn’t finish. She is also quite right. And despite it all, she is still here, right next to him.

What a little fool, their Toshiko-san.

***

They dance together, in front of several pairs of eyes, carefully noting each and every small detail, change in them. Like how Isaac’s pupils get the slightest bit more dilated, his fangs sharper, grazing his lips even with his mouth closed. Like how she can’t quite keep her back straight, how she doesn’t really speak.

Sometimes what remains unsaid means more. It is unbearable to hold each other like this, would have been even more unbearable if they didn’t.

Isaac disappears as fast as he appeared, and she’s left on the spot, hands clawing at her throat. She hunches over, clasps her palms to her mouth as she’s trying her damn hardest to stop breathing, to stop feeling. To calm the wave of emotions threatening to spill over, past her lips and in her lap, like a sky decorated with cherry blossoms.

“I believe it is a bit late for that,” Saint-Germain says.

And then they’re out.

***

In the afternoon glow, filtering through the stained glass, she looks beautiful. And Isaac is filled with need: not for her blood, to be fed – but for her love, as a man. His touch against her cheek is tentative and tender and that of someone begging to be held and pushed away at the same time.

Isaac isn’t sure yet which scenario he’s wishing hardest for.

She meets his eyes, and something in him goes even softer. It melts away everything in her.

“W-what is-? Why are you crying…?”

And despite not being hurt, she keeps crying. The tears are just that, in the beginning, and Isaac’s thumb passes over her skin, catching each and every one. She finds she cannot stop, once the dam has been broken: the happiness is suddenly too much. Here he is: just him and her, and he is touching her, and he is caring for her.

Much more than she thought she deserved, much more than she thought she’d get. Way too little compared to how much she still wants. So the tears keep spilling, never stopping. Then they’re not just tears anymore, a petal falling as well each and every time.

Isaac’s hold gets just a bit gentler, and that’s how she knows something is not quite right, before the petals start falling in her lap. Against her cheek, he clenches and unclenches his hands. Slowly, awkwardly, searching her face all along, he reaches out… and pulls her into an embrace.

She sniffles in the material of his shirt, his arms closing around her. The petals are cascading now more rapidly, down his back, and her hands claw at him.

“It’s going to be all right… Please, don’t cry.”

Of course, he can say that because he’s not the one spilling his feelings from his guts, betrayed by his body to show his feelings. He can say that because he is not dying from loving. She trembles in his arms, knowing she doesn’t deserve the comforting, knowing he doesn’t want her.

“… I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her hold on him tightens, and her tears fall even more furiously, accompanied by her pained wailing.

Isaac holds her, gentle as ever, his palms soothingly rubbing down her back. If he were to count the bones he can feel through the thin material of her dress, the numbers would be higher than in a normal human body.

Love taking roots, love taking over.

If she were to see his expression, she would find it pained, his face buried at the crook of her neck. But even when they untangle, Isaac covers his face with his palm, the downward tug at his lips, making his fangs visible, hidden from her.

Mistake no. 7: Isaac cannot tell the truth. Even worse, Isaac hides the truth, even when he knows hers is so painfully obvious, even when that so obviously pains her.

“Do you intend to return home?”

***

“Don’t go back…” Isaac says, laid on his back, her just a bit further to the left.

And while she’s staring at the open night sky in front of her, he can’t stop looking at her.

She shifts, coming up, suddenly coughing up the now familiar flower petals. They’re falling in-between her fingers, overflowing her hold. Isaac’s heart squeezes in his chest at the sight.

“Does it bother you?” she asks, in-between gasps of breath.

He looks at her, taken aback.

“This,” she shakes her hands in the air, the pink flowers falling all around her. “Knowing it’s you.”

Isaac chokes on his next words, and changes the topic. He can hear her, trying to keep in a new wave of coughing. He has accidentally heard her complain to Sebastian about the chest pain, how her muscles are aching with how much she’s been heaving, how her insides don’t feel quite alright anymore.

Her body, so small and frail, holding the weight of her entire, spilling love.

***

Isaac doesn’t like the way he gets when he’s hungry – it’s been worse these days, what with the desperate need of her as well. Sometimes, something alike a fog washes over him.

When he comes back to himself, he’s in a bed made of blood and flowers: scene of an almost-crime. She’s still breathing, and that’s all that really matters, but his head is foggy and there’s nothing to do but wait and pray, and pray and wait – and hate himself for all of it.

Isaac has only words to rely on in this scenario, for his feelings. And words tend to fail him already, so much and so often. And he tends to fail words as well, so obliviously.

If he can hurt her even like this, why does she love him?

If he can hurt her even like this, how is he supposed to hold on to this last piece of his humanity while actually accepting that he loves her?

Mistake no. 8. Isaac pushes her away.

***

“Sebastian,” she whines, because it’s the fourth time he’s brought up to her rooms only a bowl of the blandest soup.

He pushes at her shoulder, gluing her back to the pillow again – as it should be. She’s paler now, weaker, and in the air all around her room, the sweetest of fragrance, the spring back in his home country. Bouquets of flowers sprang from place to place since his last visit, and… he is fearful she might not make it for the door.

“Sick patients don’t get to complain about the schedule of an overworked butler.”

She pouts, even as she picks up the spoon. It hangs in-between her fingers.

“Sebastian?”

A beat.

“Yes?”

“Just… why?”

He sighs. “I don’t think anyone knows, or remembers for that matter. I just think it’s just the heart thinking it doesn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“So you get a person or you get the flowers? They’re pretty, but they’re cruel.”

Sebastian eyes her cracked lips, the petals of her flowers – living and still image of each other.

“So is love.”

A beat.

“Did anyone tell you that you make a terrible emotional support?”

He grins at her, this time flicking her forehead.

“Might have heard it several times before.”

***

  “What do you think you’re doing, Newt?” Arthur asks, shoving his friend’s body against the wall, a bit too harshly, holding onto the collar of his shirt.

Isaac covers his hand in his, pushing. Arthur doesn’t let go, just lets out something that is between a growl and a sigh. Isaac, more or less, does the same.

“She’s bad,” Arthur says.

Isaac remains unfazed. “I know.”

“Worse, after all that blood loss.”

And only that – the guilt, makes Isaac actually realize that bad is not just the dull lull in her chest, but something more definite. Arthur would have never gone out of his way like this if that wasn’t the case. Only when the panic settles in, accompanied by a wave of anxiety so forceful Isaac almost feels like throwing up, does Arthur finally let go.

“You can lose her in two ways,” he says. “Pick the one you can live eternity with.”

***

She can’t really speak anymore – words too harsh on her throat, where buds are slowly crawling their way up. Someone comes by to prepare her a new cup of tea regularly, because it’s supposed to soothe the pain. She’s not sure it’s effective at all, but she also cannot complain much anymore, anyway.

Her coughing fits now can keep going for even half an hour at a time, and she cringes with each intake of air, because her muscles are aching so desperately for some kind of relief. She has nothing to give.

Theo comes and reads poetry to her, though she notices him skipping the love poems. Arthur plays chess with her again, though he’s not chiding her for taking too long this time around. Napoleon sits by her side, as they eat crepes together.

She misses a party, stuck in this waiting game, to see what comes first: her demise or her return. Isaac doesn’t – and in the span of a night, he makes a new friend in an old one and loses him too.

He doesn’t want to lose another person. Ever – if possible, or at least not in that way.

His hand trembles around the handle of the door, trying to gather his courage. The familiar scratching at his throat returns, stronger and stronger the longer he hovers.

He enters without knocking, and she looks up from a book she’s trying to read, startled. She immediately starts coughing at the sight of him; this time around, the petals fall freely all around her. Isaac shakes and trembles in the doorway.

“G-gods!” he says, and in two big steps, he’s closer to her bed. “You’re… this is… bad.”

She manages a weak smile at him.

“I know.”

His voice trembles. “How can you be so c-calm about this?”

She shrugs, though it’s just a tiny movement, barely there, so that she doesn’t trigger another coughing fit. She’s had so long to imagine herself at this point – just because it came faster than she expected, doesn’t mean she didn’t expect it at all.

He keeps his distance. Any closer and she’ll just explode in a bouquet of flowers.

“Y-you’ll soon get back and you can get help and-” Isaac is a blabbering mess and a stuttering fool, only for her.

“I won’t.”

“What?”

“Even if I return, I won’t.” She raises a hand to her chest, pressing it to a scar, that Isaac can notice from where her nightgown has slipped down her shoulder. “It would mean forgetting you.”

She raises her gaze, meets his. She’s begging, one last time. She’s telling him, in words this time. And Isaac stands there, stunned into silence, because if she is to have the same fate either way, what is he protecting her from in the first place?

“I love you,” he says, and for a long moment, there’s only silence stretching between them,

Then, he blushes, fidgeting on the spot, the words obviously out without having thought them. She struggles with her bedsheets, but is still fast enough, despite her weak body, to have gotten up on her own feet by the time Isaac is at her side, arms around her waist, to help her.

She licks her lips – chapped and pale things that they are, and looks up at him, exhausted and obviously pushing herself.

“Say it again. Say it and mean it,” her hands, fisted around the material of his shirt, eyes falling down with the request, too much and too late.

“I l-love you. I don’t…. Please don’t just disappear like that.”

His hold tightens around her body and she sighs.

“I love you too,” and she gets up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against him, nothing but a chase gesture.

Isaac closes his eyes, pulling her closer, opening his mouth, his tongue coaxing hers to follow suit. Which she does, so willingly and openly, and something in Isaac’s chest tightens, just the love he has for her. And something in her chest opens up, releasing, just the love she has for him.

When they part, all around them, branches of cherry blossoms surround them. It’s like her chest has been cut open, and everything fell over – and she is smiling, beautifully and honestly for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Isaac buries his face at her neck, exhausted with the honesty, relieved at her health, so in love that it hurts – and maybe he understands her better than he wanted to admit, maybe he understood her all along.

[lokislytherin]

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader

summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night.

word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 1798 + 1046 + 2113 + 1646 + 1569 + 896 = 15237

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

a/n: and we are done with this au, babey! i can’t believe i put ‘chapter 8’ when i specifically wrote 7 chapters only lmaoo (i mean prologue and epilogue don’t technically count? and 7 chapters bECAUSE THERE ARE 7 MEMBERS OF BTS STOP SLEEPING ON MEMBERS)

also here is a shameless cameo of myself i am the friend with terrible puns because i am the friend with terrible puns and y/n is based off @jungkooksbish​

no i won’t apologize for my terrible puns they are a key aspect of my personality

"Hey, Y/N, when are you ever gonna introduce us to your new boyfriend?" Your friend nudges you as you walk down the streets.  "He's quite the sucker for you, isn't he?"

Her comment is followed by her own loud laughter, and you huff, crossing your arms.  She's one of the few who know you're dating a vampire, and by the teasing expression on her face, she's more than fine with it.  Or at least she is now - when you'd first told her, she'd threatened to fight Jeongguk for putting you in so much danger.  You'd advised her against it - a fight with a vampire who dabbled in martial arts was not one that she, a tiny teenage girl armed with nothing but a mean uppercut, would win.

"I swear, if you continue making puns like that, I'm going to introduce you to Jin.  His dad jokes are as bad as yours.  You'd love him."

She brightens a little at the thought of your annoying roommate.  "Ooh, you told me about him.  He's the pretty one, right?" You nod, and she crinkles her nose.  "But he's so old."

You shake your head in mirth.  (Aigoo, you can hear Seokjin's voice complain in your head, just because I'm borderline thirty and you're barely seventeen doesn't make me old!) "Don't ever let him hear that.  You'd boost his ego and break it down in the same sentence." You don't mention that he's a witch who could legally turn people into frogs if he wanted to.

Both of you laugh.  Sobering, she looks towards the bus stop ahead of you, then back at her watch.  "Crap! I'm gonna miss the bus!"

"Oh, darling." For some reason, she's always on the verge of missing the bus, but always manages to snag the last seat.  This time is no different, as she waves goodbye before dashing off, skidding to a halt just before the vehicle.  You wave, watching as the night swallows her up.

She wasn't wrong to voice her concerns about Jeongguk - like most, she had believed that he was a soulless killer, an undead monster of flesh and bone.  When you'd first told her about your new vampire boyfriend, she was worried - isn't he going to suck your blood, drain you dry, and not feel a thing? He's a vampire, how could he possibly be good for you? But she was wrong about him, dead wrong.

(Heh, dead wrong.  Your friends must be rubbing off on you if you’re making puns now.)

You're eighteen, and sometimes nobody really takes you seriously, but you're the only one who truly sees him for who he really is.  They see a feral beast, fangs dripping red with blood, the stuff of nightmares and horror films.  You see bunny cheeks and a toothy grin, things that make you happy.

But sure, he's capable of being dangerous too.

He's a hazard to your concentration - everywhere you go, you can see his sultry blue eyes flashing at the forefront of your mind.  When you're with him, you can hear his seductive voice whisper sweet nothings into your ear, smooth like the purest of velvet.  It drives you insane, how he likes to pin you down, burning a trail down your bare skin with his icy touch, how it leaves you trembling and begging for more every time.

It's almost crazy, really, how he's so bad, but so good only for you.

He's got that boyish look that you've always been obsessed with, a baby face painted with a perfect mixture of charming and dorky.  He treats you so well, always putting your needs before his own.  He's so in love with you it's got your heartbeat skipping every time he whispers it into your skin.

When you're with him, it feels like a new era of your life has begun.  When you're with him, it feels like home.

He's like a drug, ever so addicting, taking you to a new high every time.  You love the way he says your name as your bodies lie tangled under the covers, your legs clamped around his back, his hot mouth on your skin.  He gazes at you like you are the stars in the sky.  Sometimes, he sinks his fangs into the skin of your neck, over the scars of the past, claiming you as his until the end of time.

A shadow melts away from the rest, revealing itself to be Jeon Jeongguk, the love of your life, the Edward to your Bella, the cause of your euphoria.

"Hey Y/N," he breathes, looking at you like he hasn't seen you in years when in reality, he saw you this morning.

A smile curves onto your lips.  Your boyfriend is a complete and utter dork, but you love him for it.  "Guk."

His lips meet yours halfway when he bends down and you stand on your tiptoes.  You can feel him smiling into the kiss - it's chaste, but loving.  When he pulls away, both of you are grinning like fools.  

The full moon shines high in the sky above you, and you can hear a dog howl faintly in the distance.  

Suddenly, the night doesn't seem quite so dark and lonely anymore.

[bitchiha]

The Boxing prompt with Kiba !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All bark and no bite (The Rats 900 follower celebration!)

A/N: YAYAYAYAY HERE YOU GO SHAWTY!!! I was actually hoping Kiba would get this one and if he didn’t I already started a draft of it so he was gonna get one either way HSJAJSJS

Warnings: eventual NSFW, swearing, violence lol but non explicit its just describing the fight, also I just really exaggerated the money shawty Kiba makes from his fights because I wanted him to just fuck around and splurge LOL

There were two sides of Kiba Inuzuka: his bark and his bite. 

 If you were unfamiliar with the famous fighter - which would be highly unlikely considering he’s a goddamn star on the streets - then your first impression of Kiba would be that he was like a harmless Chihuahua, not at all like his fighting name that was plastered on posters on every street corner. The Wolf.

But to the newbies in the betting pools who are only doing it to satisfy their sketchy bosses, I mean come on... kids gotta be all bark and no bite, right? Besides all the good fighters are the quiet stoic ones... And Kibas done a good job of doing the exact opposite. Running his mouth with all his cocky smack talk any chance he could get, spitting teasing remarks about his opponents days leading up to the fight.

“What? That twig? I’ll beat his ass in my sleep.”

“Pffft. Not worried at all.”

“Oh thanks for reminding me, I forgot what that guys name was.”

So the newbies to the betting pools and underground fighting rings place their back-alley bets on his opponents victory. 

They’re always confident with their bets too, some placing large wagers, completely confident in Kibas downfall or hoping to impress their bosses. It’s not the newbies faults though, they’ve never done this kinda thing before. They all go to fucking Cape Cod every summer in their vineyard vines shirts, thry don’t know shit about the underground world.

Plus, Kiba’s one of the youngest fighters, he's only been an adult for a couple years. He doesn’t even know how to act when he gets his wads of cash after fights, spending it on fancy cars and designer clothes. Compare that to the scruffy looking men in their late twenties built like refrigerators and you can see where their heads were at.

Getting into their front row seats, (they figured they were gonna get that money back with the bet, so why not splurge for some good seats? See their bet unfold before them...) Their confidence only solidifies watching Kiba approach the ring in his silk purple robe, basking in the cheers with a toothy grin. He was lean and clearly fit, the untied silk robe exposing his abs and muscled legs.

As the cheers of the Wolf die down, the announcer calls out his opponent. It was a Russian name that was very butchered, but no one could pay attention to that as the guy walked out from the opposite side of the stadium. Another spark of smugness swept over the newbies as they gawked at the opponent. He was a bulky man, at least 6′3, this Inuzuka kid looked like a fucking kid compared to that hulking guy. They were so winning that bet. One of them turns towards the occupant of the seat next to him, gaining the courage to finally talk to the absolute hottie and asks if he could take her to real nice french restaurant a couple blocks away after the match (with his newly won money of course.) 

She declines effortlessly, that smug smirk mirrored on her own face. He thought to call her a bitch or something, pissed off with how she just brushed him off like that, but the bell rang and sliced away all the chatter and signalling the start of the match. The newbies go completely still as they watch Kibas demeanor shift from that little barking Chihuahua and into a frothing wolf. 

With his boxing gloves strapped on tight, mouth guard secured and the crowd chanting his infamous name (yourself included), he starts dodging punches like its a simple dance. Everything boyish about him is gone and as he throws his first punch, the Russian man unable to block it, the newbies get their first real taste of the Wolf.

It was like he was untouchable. Now the rookies realize why nobody objected to their large wagers against him, why they did their best to hide their own bets. They didn’t agree with them, they were just conning their way into debting up some newbies, so they could be just like the rest of them.

Kiba’s giant opponent barely landed any punches. Whenever it seemed like he was gonna land one his opponent immediately blocked it and got his own touch in. It was kind of comedical, watching such a buff and intimidating man struggling so hard, especially after the Russian was the one who challenged him to the fight. Something about how he was tired of the Inuzuka’s attitude and how he needed to get put in his place? So many others said the same thing it was kind of annoying at this point. Kiba just wanted to get the cash and to go fuck his girl.

Not too long after it starts Kiba has already won the match, he lets the announcer grab his arm and raise it up to the crowd in triumph, before slipping through the roped enclosure and stalking towards you. He offered to shake the bloody mans hand in the ring, but he just ignored him (or he couldn’t see, Kiba wasn’t sure.) That predatory look was still in his eyes as he pulled you into a sweaty kiss and as you pull away you have to wipe the blood from under his nose, despite the other fighter not getting much hits, the ones he did get in were painful.

 The crowd is whooping and once again chanting his name, but the newbies remain seated and watch utterly deflated. Seeing his big grin up close, they realized his canines were sharper than they had initially thought. 

Then there was his bark of course, too. And Kiba barked a lot. He always wants you dressed in the most expensive fur (faux!! this is kiba we are talking about) coats, Chanel purses and gold and diamond jewelry... He’s well dressed too, with real gold chains (the subtle ones) and of his own and rings and watches. Hell even your pet dogs have designer collars. What he loves the most is his cars though.

His bark is important to him because up until a couple years ago all he has was bite, his bark measley and mouse-ish, you still loved him then though. But look at the two of you now? 

After the match he’ll get you into one of his sports cars and have you count the cash he earned as he speeds through the city. One hands gripping your thigh, squeezing it with a smirk everytime you count another thousand. All that cash from one fucking match and he can’t wait to spend it all. 

The two of you’ll blow half of it at that fancy restaurant that loser had proposed to take you to, barely keeping your hands off each other for more than five minutes. Your ordering shit you can’t even pronounce and he keeps whispering in your ear about how he can’t wait to fuck his favourite little good luck charm. He’s pressing some sort of tiny dessert into your mouth and after you eat it he’s making you lick his fingers and then you do the same thing to him. You two are like the nights entertainment for the other tables, but neither of you really give a fuck. 

Dishes and glasses pile up on the table and the waiters become skeptical of how you two are going to pay for all of this, but your his last table before the end of his shift so he doesnt question the large wads of cash tossed on the table, then another one a few moments later as a tip.

Your back in his sports car and the engine is revving as you speed through the busy streets, ignoring the blaring horns of other cars because like I said before, neither of you really give a fuck. You two think you’re goddamn invincible. 

Stumbling up the driveway to your shared mansion you can hear the dogs barking through one of the floor to ceiling windows. Kiba opens the door and your dogs run out to greet you jumping and licking at your faces, only to lead them into the backyard as you to run up the stairs to your bedroom. 

One of your heels is still on and the other is downstairs somewhere, or maybe it’s in the backyard? Kiba’s shirt is half unbuttoned and he’s trying to shed the rest of them while unzipping your dress (you got mad at him the last time he ripped your dress off.) It’s all frantic and hazy, like it always is. Everything is just so intoxicating after he’s won a match. 

Once your out of your dress he’s shoving you to the bed and as you crawl onto it he follows suit, settling right on top of you as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He’s devouring every curve and crevice of your mouth and then he’s rutting his clothed cock against your stomach and growling into your mouth and your whimpering because your panties are absolutely drenched. 

You’re trying to take off his belt as he continues exploring your tongue, even though it feels more like he’s trying to go down your throat. There’s spit pooling down your chin and you don’t know if its yours or his, its a mixture of both and either way he has no problem with licking it off your face. Managing to take his belt off he pulls away to do the rest on his own. That look was back on his face now, the one he always had when he was in the ring. 

Despite how much Kiba tries to deny it, his bite was still much bigger than his bark. That’s just natural for the Wolf. 

[markszone]

Don’t Need a Lucky Charm

GIF from nakamotens

Summary: Supporting Mark's first boxing match

Pairing: boxer!Mark x female reader

Genre: fluff, fluff, fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8K

( A/n: couldn’t get this boxer Mark out of my head... enjoy!!❤️)

You and Mark were laying on the couch watching a show to pass time. 

“I’m so excited for tonight,” you said, turning around to face your lover. 

“I’m nervous,” Mark admitted.

You ran a hand through his smooth brown hair, your hand parting through the soft strands. He was going to his first boxing match after months of training, he has every right to be nervous. 

"Win or lose. You'll always be a winner in my eyes," you comforted him.

His arms tightened around your waist. "There's no bigger catch than you, baby." he said with a wink after.

You smiled, feeling all the butterflies erupt, and kissed him. 

You turn to look at the clock. "Aren't you supposed to be training?" 

"Nah, I don't want to wear myself out," he explained.

He stood up letting go of you and straightened his clothes, he held a hand out to you and you looked at him puzzled. 

"I thought you weren't gonna train?" you asked.

"I'm not," he replied "C'mon, let's go to the nearest beach while we still have time."

"Okay," you replied, taking his hand and straightening your clothes as well. 

He grabbed the keys while you grabbed a bunch of chips to munch on the way. 

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yep, c'mon," you replied.

-----

It wasn't a long drive to the beach, you reached there within a few minutes, you stepped outside the salty breeze clouding the air. You loved the beach even though you drove by it plenty of times.

Mark walked around the car and grabbed your hand making a smile light up your face. His fingers laced through yours holding you tightly. He brought your hand to his mouth, his lips brushing your knuckles.

"Can we switch hands?" you asked, you still wanted to eat the potato chips while you walked. He released your hand, and you walked around quickly grabbing his other hand.

He was holding the chips packet with his spare hand while you fed him and yourself with your other hand.

"Summer is coming around, you have any plans?" he asked.

"Maybe just lounge around and just spend time reading," you said, which was exactly what you did every summer.

"I think we should go on a road trip," he suggested.

"I thought we were gonna do that during spring?" you question him.

"I thought about it but I think it's better if I work during spring, save up, and then we go on a road trip for two months," he explained "That means we get to spend more time with each other." 

"I like the sound of that," you said.

Mark sat down on the sand and pulled you down on his lap, his arms embracing your torso,  resting his chin on your shoulder while you rested your head on the side of his. Watching the waves crash the shore feeling utterly at peace in his arms and near the beach. 

"Wouldn't it be cool if a shark washed up on shore?" he asked enthusiastically. 

"More terrifying than cool, bub," you muttered.

"You could watch me kill it in order to protect you," he said his arms tightening around you "Would you be impressed, my lady?" 

"Considering it would already be dead due to lack of water. I'm pretty sure I could kill it too." you chuckled.

"I suppose this is the downfall of dating someone ten times smarter than you," he sighed. 

You faced him and gave him a peck on the cheek. Mark blushing immediately as soon as your lips left his cheek. You smiled at your boyfriend, admiring his boyish smile and red cheeks.

You traced your hand on his jaw wondering just how lucky you were to be with the single most amazing person in the world. You lost track of how long both of you sat there in silence, comfortable silence. The kind that you could only share with certain people and yours was Mark.

"It's so beautiful," you breathe, staring at the sun setting in the distance. The flickers of orange, pink and red mixed in a beautiful swirl illuminating the sky. It was breathtaking.

"You know what's beautiful? Watching you admire something which seems so dull in comparison to your beauty," he whispered softly.

You blushed hard, thinking you were hardly prettier than the sunset, but it was kind of him to say so. You looked down hiding your reddened cheeks.

"I wish you believed me," he said.

He looked at his watch before slowly bringing the both of you up. 

"My match will start soon," he informed.

You could already feel the nerves kicking in at the statements so you wondered just how nervous he must feel. 

-----

Mark paced around the locker room, his hair put up neatly to avoid the bangs on his face while fighting, and his strong chest on display. You could hear the sound of his name loudly echoing through the room.

"I have to go home. I forgot the dishes," he said suddenly.

He reached for his shirt just as you grabbed it. He looked up at you and just beneath his firm expression you could see the glints of fear.

"Mark you are going to do fine," you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder.

"How do you know that?" You're not a psychic."

"I don't have to be. You are the strongest and most hardworking person I know and tonight you'll prove tha-"

Your words were cut off by his lips, his lips moved against yours hungrily as though he were saving a piece of you for the match. He pulled back his breath ragged. His forehead pressed against yours.

"I don't need a lucky charm. You are my strength Y/N," he said.

"Then go prove me right, Lee." 

He pulled on a pair of blue gloves, and pounded his fists together. He gave you one last kiss on the forehead before he headed to the entrance.

"Next up is Lee," the announcer yelled.

He gave you a small wink before walking out into the crowded room, and stepping into the ring. The other boxer stood on the other side of the ring, he must have already entered before Mark's moment of doubt.

You moved to join the full crowd, elbows dug into painfully, shoulders pressed against yours. The more you tried to get to the front the more you were pushed back. You couldn't see anything mainly due to your height but also because you were too far back. How were you supposed to cheer for Mark if you couldn't even see him?

"Lee wants the girl in the blue shirt to be brought to the front," the announcer demanded. 

"I'm over here," a girl wearing blue called.

"No he means me."

"Bring me front."

"My bra is blue. I can prove it."

"Mark baby I'm coming."

The room erupted in chaos with everyone claiming to be you. You halted in your spot feeling your protective instincts for Mark kick in, because every girl was struggling to move front towards him and every guy seemed to be irritated by this.

"Shut up," Mark said in an annoyed tone, through the announcer's microphone. 

The room slowly grew silent.

"Much better," he murmured.

His voice softened. "Y/N, babe, where are you? Raise your hand please."

"I'm here," you said raising your hand.

"Good," he said "Now all of you please part like the Red Sea and let her come through."

They slowly moved aside providing you enough space to navigate to the front. You gave the people you were passing a small smile to show your gratitude, but they all seemed to be sporting matching expressions of irritation. You finally made it to the front of the ring glad to be closer to him.

"Let's begin," the announcer yelled.

The crowd resumed in their cheering, yelling 'Lee' repetitively and occasionally the name Jaehyun who must have been the opponent. You eyed this Jaehyun he was built, very built, Mark was almost as tall as him. It kinda scared you, but you believed in Mark.

The announcer went over the rules, explaining what determined a win and a loss. You listened intently paying attention to the rules much of which the crowd wanted to drown out in their cheers. 

"Round One" 

They circled each other like predators. It was Jaehyun who threw the first punch which Mark effectively dodged, retailing with a swift punch to the stomach. They did this a few times exchanging positions of defense and offense. At times it seemed like Mark had a third eye because of the way he dodged a majority of his hits. 

The rounds came and went each time Mark got hurt it felt like a blow to your own chest, and each time he had the upper hand you felt like a proud soccer mom at one of her kid's games.

You couldn't help but notice that Mark was very talented, his punches were well aimed, his steps seemed measured, and just looking at the constant flicker of his eyes you could tell that he was aware of his surroundings. His behavior seemed to imitate that of an animal fighting for survival. 

The last round of the match was nearing and Mark's face and chest was a burning red coated by sweat. Exhaustion didn't begin to cover the state of him at the moment.

"You can do this Mark!" you yelled "Take it home, baby!"

The round felt like a century with them both seemingly worn out.

"Mark, baby, put him down!"

Mark suddenly charged at Jaehyun, forgetting about holding his position, and continuing firing a punch after punch. I watched wide eyed as Jaehyun dropped to his knees and finally rested on his back. The referee blew his whistle, and soon after raised Mark's hand declaring him the winner. 

His chest rose and fell as the crowd roared in delight and victory. He spit out his mouth guard grinning widely. Your heart clenched with joy as you watched him bask in his glory and heard the growing chant of his name begin. This was his moment. 

In his moment Mark proudly smiled and when your eyes met, you swore you saw the galaxies in his eyes and you felt as if you're the luckiest person to have ever crossed paths with him. He made you so proud.

------

You waited for Mark to enter the locker room and once he did, you tackled him with a big hug not minding his sweaty body. Mark pulled away to cup your face, seeing you smile proudly at him made his heart burst into happiness. He leaned in to give you a kiss. Your lips moving against each other. 

You slowly pulled away just enough that your lips were still brushing against each other. "I love you," you said "Win or lose, I'm proud of you for doing your best."

"I love you too," he replied.

Kissing you once more. Happiness and pride lighting up his face. 

[alexadru]

White Knight - Pay & Play to Win (Fate Grand Order edition)

Weiss had often wondered what made Ruby waste so much of her time on her scroll and when she had asked the question one day, her leader had simply shown her.

Fate Grand Order. 

That was the title of the mobile game Ruby was sinking at least a couple of hours a week. Time which she could have spent improving her grades and becoming a better leader. The young girl was the face of team RWBY, after all, and Weiss would not settle for less than the very best.

That said, she did not have any particular complaints about her progress over the months, but she disagreed with all the time she was wasting pointlessly on a silly game. 

A fact which she voiced without any restraint and which incurred another childish (in Weiss' opinion) argument between the two girls.

Ruby: "It's not childish! It's based on the greatest heroes from Earth's history, their stories and it has many life lessons. Plus, it's fun."

Weiss simply shook her head at the absurdity of her argument. She found it hard to believe that some fictional characters and their half thought out stories could ensnare people into playing that game for hours.

Ruby: "Why don't you give it a try first before you say it's childish? I bet you'll change your mind."

Another absurdity uttered by her partner, but, against her better judgement, Weiss, decided to give the game a try. If nothing else, but to prove Ruby wrong. 

After an entire week and a lot of wear to her scroll's battery, Weiss would have an epiphany and would, begrudgingly, agree with Ruby. This game was fun.

From the intriguing story, the likes of which Weiss had never seen or read to the beautiful art of the characters, the heiress could say she was hooked. She continued to play regularly, enjoying the experience as she continued to make progress through the story.

Weiss had not reached the point where she would spend money to get certain characters like she had heard from Ruby that some players did. That was until she saw him and she literally fell in love.

After spending a substantial portion of her allowance to get him when he was in the gacha, her joy could be heard across campus as she literally screamed like a fangirl when he answered her summons.

Her object of adoration? The servant Saber, King Arthur. He was everything she dreamed about. From his kind, loyal and slightly playful attitude to his charming, soft looks which made her blush every time he'd give a smile when she would level him up.

These were all traits that she had voiced quite often to her team, which was present in the room on the day the Weiss alarm rang for the first time. Weiss talked so casually about the game these days that it showed just how much she was sucked into this world.

One Saturday, as Weiss was farming like mad for materials to make her prince perfect, Ruby said something that changed her perception on life.

Ruby: "Hey, Weiss. Don't you think that Arthur is kind of like Jaune?" The girl commented as she busied herself leveling up a well known red Archer.

The innocent remark was met with the heiress looking up from the device abruptly, ready to refute the claim and defend the knight. However, Weiss stopped short to consider her words for a few moments. Moments which turned into seconds which then turned into minutes. Her eyes widened as if she reached a revelation. 

Ruby... was right! 

Abruptly, she jumped on her feet and walked out of the room with hurried steps. The rest of team RWBY heard her knock on JNPR's door. It opened moments later.

From the other side, Jaune had answered with a bit of apprehension. It wasn't often that someone would knock so loudly on his team's dorm room, except for Nora when she'd forget her scroll. What he didn't expect to see in front of his eyes was the familiar figure of his former(?) crush which he was trying to move on from with little success.

Jaune: "Weiss? Is everything alright…" The boy didn't get to finish as her hand grabbed his wrist, earning his full attention.

Weiss: "Come with me for a bit!" 

Unable to resist, he was dragged away by the small girl. Weiss had surprised him by how strong her grip was as she led him somewhere. The poor boy was caught so off guard, he couldn't do anything.

30 minutes later, Jaune found himself in the changing room of a store. It wasn't an ordinary store, however, but one that specialised in cosplay. Outfits belonging to famous fictional characters were sold here and for some reason, he found himself ready to change into one.

Of all the places in Vale, he did not expect the girl to bring him here. Nevermind the fact that she had given him an outfit and was told to try on, something from a game Ruby played if he remembered correctly. 

It was very unusual from the normally serious Weiss he knew. Still, he begrudgingly started undressing and putting on the outfit, having a new-found appreciation for the people who enjoyed cosplaying.

Weiss waited outside the changing room for 10 minutes, her mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. All ranging from curiosity about how Jaune would look to her slightly panicking that she acted so out of character and dragged him without giving a single explanation.

Looking at her feet she considered her thoughts about the boy and found that she didn't know how to feel about him. Given what occurred in the last few months, Weiss genuinely didn't know the nature of their relationship. She never thought of him much before and only recently started noticing him.

Her head snapped back up when she heard the door open.

Jaune had exited the changing room looking awkward. His steps were hesitant as if he didn't know how to walk properly in the extravagant armor. Oddly enough, despite having more layers on him, he felt a lot more exposed as if a lot more eyes were on him. Which could very well be the case, the store was huge and packed with other customers.

In his personal opinion, when Jaune checked himself in the mirror before exiting, he found that the look suited him. The blue went well with his eyes and while the silver armor was not that special, the gold accents brought everything together, matching his hair as a bonus. 

However, he looked nervously at the girl who had dragged him here. Jaune didn't know why, but he felt that she had done this for a reason and while she didn't share that reason, he hoped that he didn't disappoint her.

Weiss was quiet. Almost unusually so, despite her normally verbose self. She had seen the boy exit the changing room, donning the clothes she had picked for him and her mind came to a halt.

Baby blue eyes danced around, drinking in the sight of Jaune cosplaying the prince of her dreams. The boy who had both annoyed her the most and had been the kindest to her.

Weiss: "Jaune, would you smile for me, please?" She requested quitely.

Jaune: "What?" He didn't have a good feeling about the situation. Not with how quiet Weiss was being, her previous scrutinising gaze only adding to his nervousness.

Weiss: "Just… just give me your best charming smile."

And her weird requests kept coming. Jaune was smart enough to not question them, so he did as she requested. He tried to smile once, but it felt shaky, so he stopped, took a deep breath and tried again, his thoughts on how the beautiful girl in front of him made him feel before.

Weiss' breath hitched in her chest as she looked at him. It was impossible how well he fit the look. Everything from the blonde hair, his tall and lean physique to his boyish face was a near exact match to the Saber Servant. The only discrepancy was the eye color, deep blue instead of aqua. No less perfect in her vision.

Her face burned.

The old saying turned out to be true. The clothes did make the man and in this case, they made Jaune into her dream.

Jaune: "Weiss?" He stopped smiling and was a bit worried that she had yet to say anything. 

His words seemed to have been a wake up call as she acted almost immediately. Abruptly, her small hands pushed Jaune back until he was inside the changing room again. The surprise gesture made him trip and fall on his butt inside the small room.

Weiss had followed him inside with no hesitation. After closing the door, she wasted no time in straddling him by sitting in his lap and giving him a deep, hot kiss, catching him completely off guard.

They broke it off after nearly a minute. The two panted as they struggled to regain their breaths, Weiss managing to do so much quicker.

Jaune: "W-weiss? Why di…?" To say he was shocked was an understatement. This went beyond anything he expected to happen when she had dragged him with her.

Weiss: "Where have you been all my life?" Her purring voice nearly made him melt from all the affection it held.

Jaune: "I-I've literally been asking you out for weeks." Did she really not notice him all those times?

Weiss: "Nevermind that. What matters now is that we're here and we can do whatever we want." To prove her point, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward until her body was pressed completely against his, feeling everything. She pressed her forehead against his, the intense gaze in her eyes sent shivers down his spine.

Jaune: "I think I need an adult…" As freaked out as he was by her gesture, he could not deny the butterflies he felt in his stomach or how hot his cheeks felt. Weiss Schnee had kissed him and it made his heart start a marathon in his chest.

Weiss: "I'll make a King out of you." With a slow, sensual lick, she wet her lips and captured his again. This time, her fingers went through his hair as she got lost in the sensation. Weiss nearly moaned when she felt his hands on her slim waist, pulling her closer as he began reciprocating.

They continued like this until the staff found them and kicked them out for indecency. Weiss managed to somehow buy the outfit anyway, though. 

Now they simply walked around Vale with the heiress hugging his right arm to her body closely and leaning her head against it. The boy blushed all the way, but remained quiet. 

The day had only begun for them.

[hanafarook]

"Koi No Yokan"

Chapter: 6.

"One Court To Rule Them All"

Neither the first years nor the second years approached me until and unless there was something they needed from me. I remember Iwaizumi mentioning something along the lines of how intimidating I looked and I was okay with that, as I remembered Aiko saying, "it's a nice look to have on you so the juniors know they can't mess with you" and here nobody except Oikawa tried. 

"Ah! Look....here comes Kirei Chan like a breath of fresh air" Oikawa said as he looked up at me, his voice came out in a teasing huff, he was bent over with his hands placed on his knees, breathless from running laps.

 The corners of his mouth turned up in a signature smirk that always came out when he was either teasing Iwaizumi or getting a perfect shot.

I narrowed my eyes for a split second after getting caught off-guard before managing to compose a relaxed but formal smile on my face, "happy to help".

I was only very occasionally cocky whenever Oikawa tried messing with me on purpose because for some reason I felt too conscious of Iwaizumi. He was a nice guy and I didn't want oikawa and my occasional banter to hijack the volleyball practice and become the center of everyone's attention. 

The third years were pretty chill with the exception of - Oikawa Toru. Oikawa's way of pissing Iwaizumi off in the beginning was flirting with me which I would have to grudgingly admit charmed me to quite an extent but then when it went back to his fangirls, I came to quite a realization, that I was losing my footing. 

He was a player with layers of issues that I was only starting to get glimpses off. For me, I was fortunate enough that I was able to downplay most of Oikawa's attempts at…..well, whatever he was trying to pull off. Sometimes, just sometimes it was fun watching Oikawa sizzle like fish on a frying pan whenever I complimented Iwaizumi or Kindaichi. 

"That spike was so nice Iwa-san, you look to be in good shape, pretty sure we'll be winning the next one"

"Yup, Iwa-chan wouldn't be doing that without a setter like me"

"yeah right, crappykawa"

Yup, that Boy had not just a raw nerve but a bunch of raw nerves under the cool, charming exterior of an obnoxious prideful player - obnoxious prideful side which I saw more off

During my time as their manager, it wasn't just Iwaizumi and Oikawa taking the center stage, there were others too and I was fortunate enough to learn about them both, on and off court, their personalities reflected their style of playing. Kindaichi - a first year, was quite tall for a first year and a little jittery, eager to do better as one would expect of all first years. His hair though was a highlight, his teammates called him "turnip head" if he missed any of his shots, earning his glare everytime. 

The boy had quite an attitude as did all first years

(The third years managed to keep them all in check. Oikawa being the captain was super chill with them, so I don't know, if anyone of them ever tried to test Oikawa's patience if they did...good god bless their souls.)

Yet, Kindaichi was always painfully shy around me, so he didn't really approach me except that one time, where he was trying to reach for something at the exact time I was, that was…awkward. 

Then came Shinji Watari, buzz cut with a kind face, first year. He was a nice Chap and I think the least of the troublemakers and one less person Iwaizumi and I had to worry about. 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa, Ah! Now, here are two punks who always tried to look like they were the coolest bunch. I don't know which one of Oikawa's fangirls they were trying to Impress. 

Kunimi? Never have I come across someone as unbothered but sly as Kunimi, He was just a different species all together 

Mad dog was another junior who was as his nickname suggested - hyper, aggressive, "mad dog" but his real name was Kyoutani and if I thought Hanamaki and Matsukawa were punks… they had nothing on him. Kyoutani was Punk™.

Next came Yahaba Shigeru, he had a boyish charm similar to Oikawa's but was more reserved than any of them yet that didn't stop him from being salty about something, anything especially if it were his annoying teammates. Ah! but Yahaba Shigeru's hair was no joke, it was fabulous, me and Manami almost burst out into laughter watching Yahaba prance out onto the court like he was some fabulous life guard of a TV drama but Yahaba's face? It was salty, Yahaba's hair? caramel, and Yahaba Shigeru? salted caramel personified. "m--anamii Chan, p-lease don't title your article as salty life-guard saves the day" I whispered out of breath from laughing quietly.  "ca-aa-n't promise that senpai" replied Manami, also barely keeping her own laughter in check. 

And then we had - Oikawa Tooru, himself. Oikawa was built like the ring from Lord of the Rings (-One ring to rule them all) and Iwaizumi one Sam to keep that ring in check.  

During the plays, Iwaizumi's movements were quick and rough but Oikawa's surprisingly OR not, looked graceful and sharp, he always looked chill yet on the edge, just one step behind from turning into some sort of a demon. That sense of formidable feeling emitted only from Oikawa and no one else. 

[lailannajacobs]

Heart to a Gunfight - Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

Warnings: Pure 100% fluff! 

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Took a little break from this series because I didn’t like what I was writing, but I really like what I came back with! Hope you do too! Always love to hear what you think! <3 

Heart to a Gunfight | Chapter 7

Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you couldn’t hear what Bucky whispered in your ear. There was no reason you should be this nervous about playing a silly engagement party game, but your racing heart said otherwise. It wasn’t that you were nervous about the game. You were nervous about Kira figuring your scheme out. You couldn’t let that happen to Bucky. Not anymore.

You turned to face him, then backed off in surprise when you realized your faces were so close your lips had almost touched. His lips pulled into a slow smile.

“What did you say?” You whispered back.

“I said,” He took your hand in his and began fiddling with your fingers, “We got this.”

Skeptic, you raised a brow, “How is it that you’re the one comforting me now? I agreed to do this to save your ass.”

“I didn’t need saving,” He scoffed and shook his head at your look of disbelief, “And we’ve done fine all night. This will be too.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve never had to know everything about the other person. This is going to blow everything to pieces and-” You had to fight to keep your voice down and took in a deep breath so that Kira wouldn’t realize what was going on before the game even began.

He rubbed his thumb across the backside of your hand, waiting until your heart slowed to beat in time with the movement and you could breathe properly again before speaking, “As long as we get a few questions right, it’ll be fine. We’ve only been dating about a year now, right? We’re not supposed to be able to compete with people like Steve or the bride, or even Kira and Brad. It’s a nearly newlywed game. We’re nowhere near that, remember?”

“We’re nowhere near being a real couple either,” You pointed out, though his words had managed to calm you considerably.

He chuckled and slung his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close so that your head rested on his shoulder. Against every rational instinct you had, you felt yourself melt into him, taking in the deepest breath you had taken all day.

“Good news,” He whispered into your hair, “After we do this, we only have to stay another half hour. Then we can go our separate ways and never see each other again.”

You smiled, “You really know how to charm a woman, Barnes.”

“Maybe I’m just getting good at knowing how to charm this woman,” He murmured.

“Couples! Take your seats!” The best man shouted into the microphone before you could get a chance to really look at Bucky, “The game’s about to start!”

Finding Peggy wasn’t hard. She was one of the few already seated, ready for the game to start. You took your seat beside her on the left side row of chairs, while the partners sat a few feet away on their own row of chairs. The future bride and groom were at the front of the rows, their chairs back to back so that they couldn’t cheat. The rest of you got to play along for fun, but they were the main attraction. That little fact reassured you even further. No one would be paying attention to you and Bucky.

“Nervous?” Peggy asked, though her eyes never left Steve.

You watched Bucky squeeze in between Steve and Brad, shooting them both a smile as if he wasn’t stuck beside his ex-fiancé’s new fiancé.

“No. It’ll be what it’ll be. And anyways, it’s been fine all night,” You echoed Bucky’s earlier words.  

She turned to face you like she was about to say more, but noticed Kira take her seat on your left.

“Maybe I should have sat beside Steve instead,” You whispered, knowing Steve had far more answers about Bucky’s life than you did.

Peggy chuckled, “You’re such an obvious cheat, I doubt it’d work out. Plus, do you really want him sitting beside his ex?”

“Good point,” You agreed, turning in your chair so that you were facing away from Kira.

The best man and another single groomsman went down the aisle handing out small white boards and dry-erase markers. You stared at the blank board in your hand wondering how the hell you were supposed to pull this off. Glancing up at Bucky, you watched as he scribbled something onto his own board.

When he flipped it to face you, there was no stopping the smile on your lips. In boyish scrawl, so small you were surprised you could even read what was written, were the words ‘winner takes all?’

You nodded, ready to wipe that smug look of his face. He wore it too well. This was the ultimate test to see who the best was at this scam of yours. The odds weren’t quite in your favour, but they weren’t in his either. It was the perfect competition. All you had left to do now was win. The only downside was that it added more pressure to the game.

Kira leaned over towards you, “If you ever need help answering questions about James, I’m sure I can be of some help. After all, I did date the man for ages.”

You stared at her sickeningly sweet sneer and forced a smile of your own, even if it was the last you wanted to do.

“Thank you, Kira, but I’d actually like to get some answers right. I don’t know how much I trust advice from someone who walked out on the kindest, most caring, albeit slightly idiotic man I’ve ever met. If you couldn’t see the obvious, then I don’t think you’ll be much help.” Peggy choked and coughed on what might have been a laugh, “But thank for the offer. May the best couple win, right?”

She grunted some sort of reply that was too low for you to hear anyways. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you and when you turned to face him, he mouthed the words “You good?”

You nodded and mouthed back, “Just peachy.”

He smirked.

You felt yourself do the same.

“Couples, you know the drill!” The best man shouted, “Answer the question and when the timer’s up, flip your board to face your partner. This isn’t a competition, but we’re keeping score for our future married couple here. We’ll see if they can beat it on their wedding day!”

Everyone started clapping and a few whoops erupted from the back table. At least you weren’t going to be at that wedding. You’d had enough drama tonight to last you the rest of the year. You weren’t about to add a wedding night to the mix. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t had as miserable of a time as you had thought you would.

“Is everyone ready? First question! We’ll start with an easy one. Who was the first person to say, ‘I love you’?”

When everyone had their heads down, writing their answers, you looked up at Bucky, hoping for some sort of clue. But his head was down as he wrote his answer and you realized you couldn’t cheat your way out of this. Looks like you were on your own. At least you had a fifty-fifty chance of getting the right answer. It didn’t feel like it was all up to chance though. Deep down you had the feeling that you could figure this out if you tried hard enough. Replaying the night from the moment you had met Bucky, you racked your brain for a clue and didn’t come up empty. You wrote his name on the board, marker squeaking ominously across the plastic, and you hoped he was following the same train of thought as you were.

When it was time to turn the boards, you held your breath, fingers crossed that you’d at least get the first question right. If you could only get one question right, this one was the best one. He flipped his, and you let out a breath of relief. The corner of his mouth was pulled up slightly as he shot you a piercing look that seemed to say he knew he was going to win this little game of yours.

You narrowed your eyes at him, hoping he knew that this was only the first round. His smirk only grew in response.

“All right couples! Next question!”

You had been so focused on Bucky that you hadn’t heard them go over the future bride and groom’s answers.

“Here’s a question for the people sitting on our right side,” The best man motioned to the side Bucky was on, “If your partner had a superpower, what would it be?”

Bucky smirked and immediately scribbled something down.

How could he think it was that obvious? You weren’t even sure what to answer for that, so how could he know? Think, you told yourself, there had to be an answer you weren’t seeing. Every superpower you could think of crossed your mind, but nothing seemed right. When Bucky noticed you staring, he raised a brow. The look made you want to throw your board at him. His smile grew as if he knew exactly what you were thinking and he spun his finger in a circular motion, telling you to hurry. You were pretty sure he was only doing it to annoy you, but he was right. You only had a few seconds left before you had to turn the board. You needed to write something fast…fast…Speedy…

You jotted down an answer just as the best man was telling everyone to reveal their answers.

Bucky turned his board and you shook your head at the words, realizing he must have added to his answer while he was waiting: ‘Super speed. Come on Speedy, how is it taking you this long?’

Pointing to himself and raising a finger, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He was clearly a point ahead and there was no way you could argue it.

“He’s right you know,” Peggy added, reminding you that there were other people around, “You should have gotten that one immediately.”

“Was it really that obvious?” You whispered back.

She nodded, “Yeah. Stop thinking like yourself. Start thinking like the person you needed to be tonight.”

You stared at her, hoping she’d elaborate but Peggy only nodded some more.

The best man spoke up before you could ask her what she meant, “Next question! For those of you on the left side this time,” He motioned to your side, “What would you say your partner thinks is your most irritating habit?”

Again, Bucky had something written down seconds after the question had been posed. You shook your head at him and only got a shit-eating shrug in response. Glancing over at Steve, you noticed he was having a little more trouble answering this question. At least you weren’t the only one. Every time you had looked over at Kira, she had been sitting with the board flipped over on her lap, waiting, as if the game was far too easy for her.

You thought back to Peggy’s words: the person you needed to be tonight. That person wasn’t real. But then again, none of this was. You had only met Bucky hours ago, which meant that everything he knew about you, he had learned tonight. You grinned. Well, that narrowed down his answers considerably.

The tension eased from your shoulders and you wrote down your answer, the marker flowing easily for the first time.

When your ‘speeding’ matched his ‘driving like a crazy lunatic’ you blew him a kiss, knowing you’d be fine for the rest of the game. He shook his head, running his hand through his hair, a teasing smile on his lips. When he winked at you, you knew you were going to have to step up your game if you wanted to win.

The rest of the game went by surprisingly quickly, even though the two of you hadn’t gotten every question right - one of which being ‘which partner takes up more than their half of the bed?’ You had both accused each other.

“So, our future bride and groom have a near perfect score with only one wrong answer. Let’s see if they can keep it up with this last question! Here’s the question for the right side of the aisle: What was your first impression of your partner?”

You grinned. This was an easy one. There was no doubt in your mind that he had thought you were a crazy lunatic the moment he had met you. He had told you so himself and you wrote down those exact words.

You watched as he wrote something down, and you waited for him to look up at you with a victorious smirk on his lips, but he only stared at the board, his brows furrowed. Then, he erased what he had written, wrote something else, and placed the board on his lap. You wanted to catch his gaze to ask him what he had written, but Steve said something to him the caught his attention until the best man asked for the boards to be turned.

‘She was a crazy lunatic’.

You smiled and looked at the exact same words written on your board.

Bucky shrugged almost sheepishly, unable to keep a grin off his face.

When the best man announced the end of the game and wished everyone a good night, letting everyone know he was off the mike for the rest of the night, you let out a sigh of relief. Bucky had said neither of you had to stay more than a half hour. Although you had originally planned on leaving earlier, you knew the two of you had to leave together. Separately would be too suspicious and you weren’t about to ruin your efforts for a half hour. And you had to admit it, Bucky had been much better company than you had anticipated.

Bucky approached you and wrapped his arms around the small of your back, pulling you in close. You let your arms hang loosely on his broad shoulders, your fingers playing in his hair as you leaned back to get a good look at those incredible blue eyes.

“We did not bad,” You said.

He looked offended for a moment, “Hell, I think we did pretty damn good there Speedy.”

“Yeah…we’re actually a pretty good team.”

“You sound surprised,” His fingers played along your back, the feel warm even through your clothes.

You nodded, “I’m pretty sure we’re better at being competitors.”

“Maybe,” He amended with a chuckle, “That might be why this worked so well.”

You laughed, “Probably.”

He searched your face for a moment, smile fading, “Can I kiss you now, Speedy?”

You didn’t know where Kira was, but you figured she had to be close and watching if he had asked. You nodded.

One of his hands left your back and cupped your cheek, pulling you in closer. The kiss was delicate and tender, but it sent electric shiver through your body anyways. Your fingers curled into his hair tighter and he pulled you a closer, his lips pressing more firmly into yours. You wondered for a moment what it would be like if he seriously kissed you. Before you could let yourself get carried away, you pulled back.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, his voice low and gravely.

The look in his eyes caught your attention, “Yes?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, “I won.”

“What?”

You were about to shrug him off, ready to defend your cause but he pulled you into a hug, blocking your escape. You could feel the laugh resonating through his body and you found yourself laughing too, the sound contagious.

“You know I did,” He whispered into your neck, his body melting against yours as the two of you swayed playfully from side to side.

You smacked him on the arm until you managed to pull back far enough to see the smug smirk on his lips.

“You did not, Bucky! You know we’re going to go to Peggy for the final verdict!”

The look on his face shifted, his smirk melting into a dangerous, toe-curling grin. Your heart began to beat a little faster in anticipation, wondering what this new look of his meant.

“Let’s do it,” His calloused fingers ran up your arm and righted your strap, fingers lingering on your shoulder, “I’m sure she’ll tell you the same thing I did. I won, Speedy.”

Your inhale was a little shaky, “I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

His eyes lit up, “I guess we will.”

[ikesenhell]

The First Thing

You can find all other IkeSen/IkeVamp works of mine here! NOTES: AT LAST I RETURN. I made this almost explicitly to annoy @a-shout-to-the-void. I had to make an entire playlist to write this... you know that ‘boyfriend’ by Ariana Grande actually is very helpful for this? (and ‘bitches broken hearts’ by Billie Eilish, who knew) ---

When she started looking at him--really looking at him, investigating his features and cadence, memorizing the sound of his voice--she noticed his hands first. She never told him. If she’d asked what he wanted her to notice, she assumed Arthur would chuckle (in that delightful, infuriating, charming accent of his) and say, “Darling, aren’t there a thousand things about me you could look at?”

Famous author he was. ‘Pain in the ass’ could be added to that list. 

His mouth was a liar and she wished it would shut up more often (the man wrote Sherlock Holmes and couldn’t catch a clue, apparently; his motor-mouth flirtations drove her insane). His eyes went along with the facade. What a liar the body could be! 

But his hands? They were the crack in his armor. She learned the way he curled his fingers slow around mugs when he was thinking, curled playfully in teacup handles, rapped annoyance against his pockets. When nothing else in his flirtations gave him away, that did. 

(As much as it was the chink in his mask, it was hers, too. It was the first thing she’d liked about him. His hands made her think he might even be tolerable.)

The second thing she liked was his idiosyncrasies. She wasn’t too given to sweets--she’d always preferred savory things--but the day she rapped on his door to deliver a fresh mug of coffee and a block of fudge, he was too distracted to disguise them. 

“Set it down there,” he gestured, not rising from his typewriter (a horrific, spiderweb contraption that the Comte got for him and he so obviously hadn’t adapted to). “I’ll get to it.”

She set the platter down within his arm’s reach and set about collecting the other stray mugs around his room. When she turned, he was absently breaking off hunks of fudge and dropping it into the coffee, brow furrowed, chewing on his lip, pecking away with a single finger on the keys. It was almost charming. She thought about her grandfather doing his best with his home computer, hammering out emails punctuated with ellipses between his pointer fingers. 

“Has no one taught you how to type on that?” She asked. 

Arthur blinked owlishly over his frames at her. “Is there a certain way?”

Did Arthur Conan Doyle write by hand? She cast the thought from her mind and instead savored that he’d addressed her like a human being and not a snack conveniently wrapped in a skirt, that out of his vest and with his shirt slightly unbuttoned and the sweet abomination of chocolates in his coffee, he was almost lovable. She placed the last dirty mug on her tray and balanced it against her hip. “There is. There’s a hand placement that makes it easier. After that, it’s just practice.” A beat. “It’s sort of like playing the piano. Have you played?”

“No. I play violin.”

She almost asked, ‘like Sherlock Holmes?’ and thought better of it. “Well, I suppose it could be a little like that. Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you.” Arthur cast her a smile--a wonderful, ordinary smile. “I don’t suppose you’d teach this old chap how to type sometime?”

“I suppose I could do that, if Sebastian doesn’t need me at some point.”

Arthur’s eyes crinkled. “Well, do let me know.”

When she left the room, he was back to pecking away at the keyboard. She cast one glance back--he was slurping down the sludge of chocolate and sugar and coffee--and wondered if the warmth in her chest was something she ought to worry about.

---

The third thing she liked was his puppy. Vic was adorable; watching them cuddle and romp on the lawn behind the mansion warmed her heart. The spaniel bounded after her skirts as she hung the wash, rolled on her shoes and looked longingly up at her. 

“Hey baby!” His head was silky under her fingers; obviously, he was cared for. Arthur, panting, caught up a few moments later. 

“My apologies, my dear.” He played at an approximation of Napoleon’s bow, but too loose and formless, smiling all the while. It was so boyish and delightful that she smiled despite herself, heart surging. “It seems he’s gotten away from me. I’ll get him out from under you.”

“It’s no problem. I love dogs.” She scratched under the puppy’s chin, watching the tail wriggle on the grass. “I had one, actually. Her name was Neo, short for Neopolitan.”

“Neopolitan! What a divine name.” Arthur dove over Vic, nuzzling the spaniel. “Almost as regal as you, baby boy!”

She grinned and flapped out another shirt (one of Arthur’s, incidentally), pinning it to the line. “You’re not getting blood on your shirts anymore.”

“Am I not?” He shrugged, as if it were nothing at all. “Interesting. Vic! Want to play fetch?”

Vic yelped happily, darting away once more, and as Arthur cursed and scrambled to his knees after, she found herself watching as he ran. 

---

Seasons turned, and so did they. As gradual as the waning months from summer’s height into the shimmering twilight of fall, everything changed. 

“You know, my dear,” he said one night, hunched over the typewriter he still had not mastered (but he was using all of his fingers now at her instruction, which she considered a win), “I’m rather fond of you.”

“You’re fond of all women,” she replied easily, fixing his hand placement on the left. “You hit the ‘enter’ key with your little finger. Trying to use your ring finger like that is causing you problems.”

He wasn’t looking at the keys anymore. Those blue eyes were trained on her, mouth set in a long frown. “I’m serious.”

Was he? She faltered, uncertain of where to turn. Arthur showing vulnerability was almost impossible to comprehend. Was this a ploy? Was this how he lured so many women into his arms? Was this why his shirts were so often flecked with stranger’s blood? Come to think of it, that hadn’t happened in a while. 

“I…” She trailed off. “I don’t know what you mean by that. I guess I’m getting close to everyone.”

His correction was as swift as sharp. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Have you seen blood on my shirts recently? I’m not out looking for any old skirt to bring home.” He peered intently at her, waiting for a reaction. She stood stone-faced. 

(Because what if he was just saying that? What if he--with all his quirks and humor and love of animals and quick tongue and razor mind--was playing the latest caper on her? What if he truly just thought she was someone to play with? What if this was all a sick game? Her heart hurt--it hurt, it hurt, it hurt under the weight of imagining him wrapping her in those arms, with the imagined long evenings in his room reading the latest books.) 

“What,” she scoffed, disbelieving, “should I give you a piece of paper to check off to ask if you ‘like’ me or ‘like like’ me?”

Arthur cocked a brow. “Would that clarify things for you?”

She turned on her heel and left, swinging the bedroom door hard behind her. 

---

Damn him, he was telling the truth. 

Quizzing Theo was exactly as illuminating as she’d suspected it would be. He’d noticed Arthur’s recent change--that he came home from the bars at the same time without vanishing into some side room, that he was ordering alcohol (which he never did when he was chasing a woman), that he was drinking blanc like water (and he was, she could vouch to that--he kept ordering it to his room). 

“Is there a reason for all the questions, Hondje?” Those piercing eyes cut straight through her. Determined to stay them, she slid another warmed pitcher of syrup to him. 

“I mixed it with butter this time,” she told him. “The way my grandmother did. You’ll probably like it like that.”

He frowned, placated for the moment, and tested it on a bite of pancake. Success; his whole face illuminated. “Not bad, Knabbeltje.”

“Glad you like it.”

Theo reached out and caught her by the wrist before she could turn away, expression serious once more. “He’s fallen for you.”

(And she wanted to say ‘Good for him’ and pretend not to care, but she remembered the way his shoulders curved over a piece of paper as he wrote with an ink pen, how he could take the tiniest pieces of information and discover everything about it, how he’d smuggled so many of the encyclopedias into his bedroom that the Comte caved and bought Arthur a shelf full of his own, how he smiled when he was really and truly enjoying himself.)

She swallowed. “How do you know?”

Theo released her and leaned back in his chair, scowling as if he’d never cared to begin with. “Pretty sure you knew that already. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here asking me all this.”

---

It was raining cats and dogs that night, and she hadn’t talked to Arthur in three days. But he was heading out with Theo to the pub, and Sebastian was nowhere to be found, so she took it upon herself to find their raincoats. By the time she returned to the hall, only Arthur was standing there. 

“Where did Theo go?” She asked. 

Arthur shrugged and pointed up the steps. “He forgot his wallet.”

It sounded like a lie, but it wasn’t delivered like one. Arthur’s hands remained telltale still at his wrists, picking at the buttons. She draped Theo’s coat across the rack and held out Arthur’s, helping him into the sleeves. He let her adjust his raincoat, eyes never leaving hers, not once. She  just busied herself with the buttons. Then he took one step forward, gloved hands pinning hers to his chest. 

"I know what game you're playing," he whispered. Was he serious? Joking? It was impossible to tell. "You're waiting to see if I’m serious or simply indulging a passing fancy."

Theo wasn't back yet. She swallowed hard. "Am I?"

"You are." A pause. He trailed his nose against the ridge of her ear and she shivered. "If I break and pick up a skirt at the bar. If I come back with blood on my vest. If I have someone else's perfume on. You don't trust me--not yet."

Her fingers, somehow, were bunched in his vest. She tried to ease up, turned her head away from him. He just followed. The slope of his mouth skated down against her neck and she wondered what it would be like for him to leave a hickey there instead. Would it burn like her heart did around him? She could smell his cologne and coffee and fudge and ink and it all spelled ‘Arthur’ in cursive letters, etched in the most primal part of her soul. 

"Maybe," she hedged, breathless.

"No 'maybes', Love," he sighed against her. "But I'm a stubborn man. You'll see. I meant every word."

---

His whole body wrote love letters to her. 

She knew it, too. He was so touchy when she’d first arrived at the mansion, and now--now the gulf between them was thick with the promise of all he might do. Arthur lingered around her shoulders, his hands deftly handing her pins to hang the laundry when she dropped them in the garden, appearing as if summoned when she needed something from a high shelf. It made her ache. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” she fussed at him in the pantry, soft so Sebastian couldn’t hear. Arthur smiled at her over his coffee mug, finger tapping. She was right. 

“Am I?” He evaded. 

“You are,” she pressed. 

“What, praytell, am I doing?”

(Making me want you so badly I could scream. Ghosting around me.)

“Being a fucking dick.”

Arthur’s eyes blew wide with surprise, and then he laughed so loud and genuine that Sebastian appeared around the corner and squinted. “My! That’s a turn of phrase I didn't expect.”

“You deserved it,” she announced. “I’m not taking it back.”

She still corrected his typing when she came through to fetch his coffee mugs. He was fast now. The metallic hammer of keys echoed down the hall, silencing only when she entered. Thick flakes fluttered past his windowpane, falling in sheets over the gazebo, and Arthur looked up with a paintbrush and a capful of white oil paint. 

She paused. “What are you doing?”

He scowled and motioned at the page. “Typo. That’s how I know I’m old; misspelling words that I ought to know better about. I found that it’s much easier to simply paint over the word, wind it back, and retype the blasted thing on top when it dries.”

Was that how White-Out got invented? She didn't mention that and instead commented lightly, “Smart.”

Arthur shot her a wink and a smile, turning in his chair and taking his coffee with murmured thanks. “What are you doing after this?”

“Nothing, I suppose. I was thinking about doing some journaling.” 

His smile vanished into nothing, fingers rolling thoughtfully along the ceramic mug. At long last, he said, “Is that pressing?”

“I guess not. Why?”

“Then stay.”

Somewhere above them, Mozart’s piano started, a sonata he’d been slaving on for months. Apparently he’d finished it; the notes glided through the ceiling, echoing against her hammering ribs. Arthur waited, silent and pensive. 

She swallowed. “What happens if I stay?”

“Nothing.” A beat. “Everything. Whatever you like.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Those blue eyes roved around the room, as if hiding all the things they could invent. “If I’m perfectly honest, I was thinking of a cuddle.”

“A cuddle? Just one?” She teased, propping her tray on her hip. “You Brits have to specify.” 

He chanced a grin. “Well, perhaps more than one cuddle. We could sit together on the couch, perhaps read a while. Something quiet. Would that suit you?”

Overhead, Mozart hit a sour note of frustration and fell silent once more. She inhaled sharply. 

“Two conditions.”

“I’ll have them.”

“One, I have to bring Sebastian his tray back. Two, I’m bringing you some rouge. You have to drink it beforehand.”

Arthur clicked his tongue, but smiled again. “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll take it.”

---

He was pacing when she returned, sleeves rolled back, a few books lying on the coffee table as if he would need to sell her on any of them. He didn't. She shut the door tight behind her and handed him the rouge (which he drank a little too quickly, fingers fumbling with the stopper as if he’d never seen the bottle before). 

“Well.” He slumped into the couch, bringing his legs up with him. “I laid out some novels--”

“Great,” she replied, and settled inbetween his legs to rest on his chest. “You enjoy them.”

Arthur inhaled. His pulse thrummed wildly against her ear, the smooth plane of him comfortable and easy. “Do… do you want any of them?”

“No. I’ve been working all day. I’m alright with resting.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her shoulder, hands cool and nervous on her skin. “I’ll admit, I didn't expect you to just go for this.”

She paused only a moment before admitting, “If I didn't just do it, I knew I was going to be too scared.”

“Too scared for…?”

“Doing what I wanted to do.”

Arthur’s hand--one of those honest, understanding hands--slid upward into her hair, easing her body upward along his. He was all high-strung sinew and bone and flesh, reassuringly solid and hypnotizing. His mouth against her forehead was a relief; against her ear, a taste; against her jaw, a promise; against her shoulder, a tease. 

“Stay tonight,” he whispered in the curve of her skin. Only Arthur could make begging sound seductive. “Here, with me. Don’t make me let you go. You’ve only just arrived, I can’t possibly let you go now.”

She entwined her fingers with his (the very first thing she’d ever liked about him), relishing the ghost of his mouth against her skin, and then--oh, there he was, his lips near hers, and regardless of who leaned first she tasted him with abandon. She was more given to savory things, but when it was him, she supposed a little sugar didn't hurt. His tongue tasted of chocolate and coffee and moved so slow and smooth that when they parted, she gasped. 

“Please,” he murmured, and punctuated it by sucking on her lower lip (damn writers; they always knew how to end a sentence). 

“I’ll think about it,” she breathed, knowing full well the answer. “But you can try and convince me.” 

[jaeminlore]

Darlin’ | Lucas

summary: i love the way you soften my life with your love

words: 4K+

category: biker!lucas, fluff, tattooist on the boardwalk!lucas, reader just wants some sun

“I told you, I don’t want to move.” You open one eye and squint towards your best friend, Hana, who for some reason can never sit still.

It’s summer break, you can’t help but think. Exams just ended and it’s time to stay on the beach every day until you turn into a merperson. Summers in Salos are the best for this reason, and you have decided to spend your first week of summer promptly sleeping on the beach. 

Hana doesn’t know how to relax, or rather, doesn’t know how to stop putting her nose in places that don’t belong. “But the bike show is starting today. There are going to be so many hot guys and girls there with their bikes.”

“I want a bike,” you grumble. Your timer beeps, so you restart it and turn on your back. “Go check them out and I’ll be here.”

Hana whines and pulls the hem of your bottoms, letting the waistband snap against your skin. “I can’t go alone!”

“Ow!” You rub at your waist. “I’m coming, okay? But you’re buying me dinner afterward.”

“Whatever,” Hana grabs your arm as soon as you’re done covering your top half with a hoodie. “Let’s go, I heard that all those hot tattoo artists have their bikes set up in front of their shop.”

You know what shop she’s talking about. It’s Neo Tattoos, owned by a few handsome, yet intimidating boys. They’re often the center of attention at most beach parties, always revving their bikes too loud in the parking lot just beside the beach. Parties with them are always exciting, because they come armed with a stick and poke gun and a business card for the customer’s more sober morning, where they can cover up what they drunkenly got at the party. 

Businessmen, for sure.

“What do you even do at a bike show?” You grab your bag and swing it over your shoulder. Hana barely waits for you to slip your sandals on before she’s forcing you to trudge up the sand dunes, past the snow cone cart, up to one of the many boardwalk entrances. 

An entire part of the boardwalk is set up with bikes. People’s motorcycles line the pathways, and their owners just sit in lawn chairs with cups of beer, waiting for someone to come up and spark a conversation about their souped up motor vehicles. Tourists fall right into the trap, traveling to the island just to take a peak at what these people have been working on for the entire year.

You like the show, mostly because you have sort of always wanted a motorbike, and these shows are a nice chance to find people willing to seek their old rides. But they can be terribly boring, and you have no idea why Hana would put the two of you through it. Even if there are cute boys attending.

Neo Tattoos sits further down the boardwalk, away from the pier and closer to the nightlife scene. Bars and restaurants line the boardwalk for people who have spent their entire day shopping or swimming. There’s a club somewhere around here, run by the same people who keep the karaoke cabana down by the beach up and running.

You stop on the way, looking at the different bikes. Hana drags you on, and the two of you stop just in front of the tattoo parlor.

The place doesn’t look like it belongs in front of a beach. The entire storefront is made of black bricks, all splattered with different neon paint. It looks cool at night, the neon paint glows in the dark and draws excited university students in. 

You’ve considered getting a tattoo there, but you aren’t sure you what design you want. Even if you did, you might go to a different one just to escape the embarrassment that is Hana around cute boys.

Apparently today, you don’t get a choice. 

There’s an annoying tingling of chimes that rings throughout the shop as soon as the two of you enter. 

The man behind the counter greets the two of you. “I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two, today?”

“I want a tattoo,” Hana says. She’s putting on that sugary sweet voice that can win over just about anyone’s heart. “But I only have a twenty.”

You want to call bull on her lying ass, but she’s batting her eyelashes at Johnny and he seems to be actually considering it. 

“Let’s see what we can do,” Johnny winks at Hana and then cuts his gaze towards you. “Did you want one too?”

“Not today, thanks.” You hug your arms close to yourself. “I’m just here to support.”

Johnny stands up, and he’s a pretty big guy. He towers over you both, with his wide, but lanky, posture. He’s wearing a white t-shirt tucked into blue jeans, and a long chain hangs off his neck.

You’re eye-level with the lock charm on the chain. 

“Follow me,” he says. “Lucas is the only one taking walk-ins today, so hopefully you like his style.”

“She doesn’t get to choose a style with only twenty bucks to her name,” you quip, making Johnny laugh.

He turns the corner into a small, square room, where only one tattoo chair occupies the floor. Some unknown song plays from the large black and yellow speakers. It’s surfing music, something similar to The Beach Boys. It fits the location, but rejects the atmosphere of black and neon that these boys have cemented as their staple design.

There’s a sketching desk in the corner, where the previously mentioned speakers rest alongside a large monitor. The screen is taken fully by photoshop, where a tattoo design basks, just waiting to be praised.

You walk over; rest you hand on the back of the rolling chair, and stare at the design. It’s black and white ink. The silhouette is of a shark, but the body is a drawing of the beach. His fin is a wave, and his underbelly is the sand. It’s really beautiful. And when you look up at the sketches on the wall and notice that all of them are similar in their surrealistic nature. Charcoal sketches of beach scenes and ocean life and local fauna have you sort of mesmerized from the start.

“Do you like them?” Someone asks you from behind. It’s a new voice: deep and boyish, and you feel suddenly vulnerable for looking so deeply into someone else’s art.

“They’re really good,” You turn around as you reply, and any other words that might have made their way to your mouth are swallowed back down your throat, along with your dignity. 

He’s just as tall as Johnny — Does this place only hire tall guys? — but he’s cuter, in your opinion. You can barely see his big eyes, hidden behind dark brown strands of hair. You follow the line of his nose down until you reach his lips. They’re ruddy and seem to be permanently formed into a pretty pout. 

Then he’s smiling, and his teeth are bright and straight and you feel you breath knock out of your chest.

You manage to tear your eyes away from his mouth long enough to form a coherent sentence. “They’re really beautiful. Worth much more than twenty dollars.”

“Sorry?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

Johnny nudges Hana forward gently. “Lucas, this is Hana. Hana, Lucas. She wants a tattoo but only has twenty dollars.”

Hana gives Lucas a shy wave. “Sorry if it’s an inconvenience.”

“Not at all!” Lucas chuckles, and it’s soft and melodic and boyish. “Most of these are customs or just freehand. Tell me what you’re thinking design-wise, and I’ll see what I can cook up.“

Lucas walks past you to sit on his chair, so you retreat to the wall, awkwardly cocking your hip, arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Johnny slaps the doorframe and heads back towards the front of the shop, and you’re left to wonder what you’re supposed to do.

Lucas uses the wheeled chair to get around. He wheels to the other side of the desk and pulls a large binder out of one of the drawers. “Here are some of my minimalist designs. That’s pretty much all a twenty is going to get you, so see if any of these interest or inspire you.”

Hana flips through the book, and Lucas turns to you. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/n,” you say, shifting your posture. “Here for moral support.”

Lucas locks his gaze into yours and repeats you name slowly, like he’s mulling it over. “Y/n. Would you like to sit down? You can take my spinny chair and I’ll go get a spare stool.”

“Are you sure—” he’s out of the room before you can finish your concern. You turn to Hana and shrug.

“He’s cute,” she whispers. She sits back on the chair and straightens her shirt.

You sit in the chair and roll over to the other side of Hana’s chair. “Are you gonna ignore the google eyes Johnny was giving you?”

“Oh, of course not.” Hana waves away your concern. “I got his number while you were snooping on Lucas’ monitor.”

“I wasn’t snooping!”

“You so were,” Hana grins at you, resting her chin on the palm of her head. “Anyways, I was gonna say Lucas is cute for you.”

“You’re impossible,” you shove her shoulder back with a shake of your head. “What did I say about summer boyfriends?”

“We don’t need them.” Hana pouts. She sticks her tongue out at you just as Lucas walks in. “I’m gonna get one anyway.”

“Get what?” Lucas sets his stool on the other side of Hana’s chair and looks at you.

You blink. “Um...” You avert your eyes to the loose thread sticking out of the chair handle. “Hana wants us each to have summer boyfriends.”

Lucas hums. He turns back to his desk and extracts the tattoo gun and a wrapped needle. He unwraps it and fits it in the gun. “Just for the summer?” His eyes are twinkling. Again, he’s asking you. It’s like Hana isn’t even in the room, which is new to you because everyone notices Hana first.

You almost answer. You’re about to when Hana shoves the book into Lucas’ hand. “I want the key design.”

Lucas pulls his gaze away from you and smiles at Hana. “Alright, let’s get started!”

☼

You visit the bike show later that week on your lunch break. Working at the small perfume shop on the boardwalk can be fun, but it certainly makes you want fresh air by noon.

You take a sip of the lemonade you bought and browse the bikes, stopping every once in awhile to talk to the owners.  

“Y/n!” Lucas’ voice rings across the boardwalk. He’s in front of Neo Tattoos, leaning against a cherry red Ducati. 

It’s way too hot for him to be wearing what he’s wearing. He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a leather jacket. His hair is down across his forehead again, slightly matted with sweat. He wipes his forehead and waves at you, arm long and tall above everyone’s head.

He looks incredibly dorky, and it puts a smile on your face. You walk over. “Aren’t you hot?”

“Just a little bit,” Lucas pinches his thumb and pointer finger together. Then he runs his fingers through his bangs and pushes them off of his forehead. “I look cooler this way, though.”

You look around, to see everyone else with their bikes. Most of them are in their swimsuits, or at least wearing only bottoms. You turn back to Lucas and push your lemonade towards him. “Take a sip before you get a heatstroke. And take off your jacket, at least.”

Lucas shrugs off his jacket, to reveal a red t-shirt underneath. “At least I match my bike.”

“This is yours?” You reach out and touch the shiny chrome. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you!” Lucas brightens up. He slaps the seat. “It’s the first thing I bought after opening Neo with Johnny.”

“I’m gonna get one one day,” you tell him. He gives you your lemonade cup back and you take a sip. “And a tattoo.”

“You’re gonna ask me to do it, right?” Lucas grins down at you.

How could you say no to that face? “Yeah. I really liked that shark design, if it isn’t reserved.”

“No,” Lucas hugs his jacket to his chest. “I was just messing around with designs. Give me a call when you’re ready, alright? I’ll give you my number.”

You return from your lunch break with an empty lemonade cup, the number of a cute boy, and a smile on your face.

☼

The next time you get a day off, you head over to Neo Tattoos for your appointment with Lucas. 

You two have been texting back and forth throughout the days. You’ve found that Lucas has a large arsenal of memes always at the ready. Another thing you’ve realized is that Lucas is the most adorable person you’ve ever known. He texts you every morning with a little picture of a baby sea turtle or dolphin or other baby marine animal. You reply with a random puppy picture you find on twitter, and every day it makes never fails to trigger an onslaught of heart emojis from Lucas.

It’s really cute.

Lucas is really cute. It’s probably too early to call it a crush, but it certainly feels like one, especially when you get called out by Hana for smiling at your text messages.

The chimes ring when you enter the parlor. “Hi, Johnny.”

“Lucas! Y/n is here!” Johnny yells into the hallway before turning to you. “He has been talking about this appointment all day.”

“Can you shut up?” You hear Lucas before you see him. He comes out of his room and smiles. “Hey, Y/n.”

“Hey, Lucas.” You scurry towards the back room, if only to avoid Johnny’s knowing stare. “How was your day?”

“Good. Better now that you’re here.” Lucas cocks his head to the side and gives you a cheesy smirk. 

You shove his shoulder back and climb onto the big chair. “Let’s get this over with. I have a date with the sun later.”

Lucas falls back into his spinning chair and scoots himself towards you. He rests his elbows beside your thigh and gleams up at you. “You’re gonna ditch me for a nap in the sun?”

He looks so boyishly handsome, smiling at you like that. He looks like someone in love. Like someone who is staring at their significant other in admiration.

It makes you feel vulnerable and naked. You clear your throat and shove your arm in front of his face. “So, forearm?”

Lucas turns on some music and gets started, stopping every few minutes to check with you. “Does it hurt?”

“Not too bad,” you say with a shake of your head. “Just a little sting here and there.”

Lucas holds his left palm out. “You can always squeeze my hand if it gets too much.”

“Do you want to hold my hand that bad, Lucas?” you tease, and the pink that creeps up his neck is enough for you to reach forward and grab his hand.

You hold it in your lap while he finishes up the tattoo, never really squeezing it. At most, you run your thumb along the back of his hand.

It feels good, his large hand encased in yours. His skin is almost as warm as the smile he gives you from time to time.

Soon, with a low hum and one last wipe down, your tattoo is done. “Let me bandage it, and then you can go one your stupid date.”

You giggle. “Are you jealous of the sun, Lucas?”

Lucas brings your hand to his cheek and hums, looking up to the ceiling. “Of course I’m jealous. I want you to spend more time with me.”

“What would you have in mind?” 

Lucas looks surprised. The color reappears in his cheeks and he clears his throat to collect himself. “Would you like to go on a ride with me? We could drive down to the pier and watch the sunset?”

You blink. Is Lucas asking you on a date? An actual date? As in, he likes you? 

“U-Uh, yeah.” You match his grin and feel your chest warm. More confidently, you manage a nod. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

☼

You pick up dinner while Lucas finishes up his shift, and when you return, he’s got that stupid leather jacket on again. He sees the bag of fast food and opens his backpack. “Do you mind wearing this on the way?”

“No,” you giggle. “But let’s get going. I’m hungry.”

Lucas swings his leg over the seat and passes a helmet to you. He revs his bike. “As you wish.”

You swing your legs around and grab his waist, clasping your hands together. Palms against his abdomen, you can feel the smooth lines underneath. It flusters you. Still, you don’t move your hands for the bigger fear of falling off.

Besides, being this close to Lucas is quite nice.

Lucas parks his bike next to a bicycle rack just off the pier’s entrance. 

“I’m not sure you can park here, Lucas.”

Lucas looks ethereal in the light of the setting sun. His large eyes peer down at you, and with a smile grazing his features, he looks like an angel. He shrugs, “It says bike rack.”

“You’re crazy,” you say, eyes bright. 

Lucas bumps his shoulder against yours and grabs for your hand. Linking his fingers with yours, he swings your hands back and forth as the two of you walk towards the end of the pier.

There’s a railing for public safety. Lucas fits his long legs through the lower bars anyways. His feet dangle in the air. “Let’s eat!” He raises his fists in the air.

You avoid the annoyed stares of onlookers and follow Lucas’ actions. You fit your legs under the bars.

The two of you eat burgers and watch as the sunset returns to its bed behind the sea. 

“It’s beautiful,” Lucas says. He reaches his hands out towards the darkening sky. “I love this island. I never want to leave.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. The lighthouse beam switches on, and the beam falls over the two of you before finding its place in the air. You watch the light turn. “I’m glad I came out here with you.”

Lucas grins. His cheeks are blossoming into reds and pinks and you like the way flustered looks on him. “Me too,” he says. “Genuinely. I really like you.”

“I like you too.” You scoot closer to him and rest your head against his arm. “A lot.”

☼

The sun is scorching. It causes an instant sweat the moment you walk under the rays. “Alright, Jaemin?”

The lifeguard waves at you from his perch, a silver whistle pressed between his lips. “Lucas was looking for you,” he says around the metal.

“Don’t tell him I’m here,” you say. “Give me a minute underneath the sun without him or Hana ruining it.”

“Copy,” Jaemin says with a salute, giggling at your perturbed expression. He’s been particularly happy lately. You wonder why.

No matter, you decide, choosing to focus on your plans for today: laying in the sun and ignoring life in general.

The island fills your senses. The sound of the waves; of children playing; of seagulls screaming for food. It’s everything Salos is, and it feels like home. Nothing makes you feel more at peace than here, on the beach. To feel the sand beneath you and know the entire ocean is only a few yards away; that’s heaven.

What isn’t heaven is when a large cloud covers the sun, keeping you from receiving warmth.

You open your eyes, ready to glare at the cloud in annoyance.

Only it isn’t a cloud; it’s Lucas. His large frame blocks the sun from you. His smile is just as bright, though, so you find yourself not minding quite as much. “Hey, Lucas. What’s up?”

Lucas gives you an apologetic grin and sheds his leather jacket. “Sorry for bothering you. I was on my break and I saw you over here. Can I sit with you?”

“Go for it.” You scoot over on the towel so Lucas has room. 

He plops down, dropping his backpack in front of him. He extracts an apple. “Do you want one? I packed two.”

You take a bite of the offered apple and lean your arm against Lucas’. “How was your morning?”

“Good,” Lucas says in his deep voice. “Only two appointments, but the first one took three hours. My hands hurt.”

You take the hand he isn’t holding his apple with and begin to gently massage it. You knead circular motions into his palm and fingers, discarding your apple in favor of the task at hand. 

“You don’t- You don’t have to do that.” Red blossoms across Lucas’ neck. He watches his hand encased in both of yours. 

“I want to,” you say. Lucas’ eyes flit across your face, and you feel openly vulnerable with your face so close to his.

Especially now, when your face is bare of everything, save SPF 80 sunscreen. You can just picture your bright red cheeks and peeling nose. Maybe your lips are chapped too, since you forgot to apply chapstick this morning.

Lucas doesn’t mention any of this, so you assume you’re just overreacting. 

“Y/n?” Lucas asks. He licks his lips, quickly, but you catch the motion.

You know what’s coming. Truthfully, it’s been coming since the day you met Lucas; when the tension began. Then came the feelings, and you’ve been stuck ever since. 

Maybe Lucas has been stuck too.

He ever-so-gently reaches up and tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind your ear. His hands are sticky from the apple juice, but you can’t really be bothered to care right now. Not when Lucas is treating you so softly. 

Your senses zone in on Lucas only. His large brown eyes, colorful tattoos, and too-long bangs falling into his eyes. His scent, like some generic body wash that smells boyish and soft, just like Lucas. 

His lips, pouty and smooth and pink. 

His fingertips trace down from your hairline to your chin. When his thumb swipes across your lips, your breath catches in your throat.

Then Lucas is leaning in, too fast for you to even think about what he’s going to do. Well, obviously he’s going to kiss you, but your brain seems to be filled with nothing but warning bells and signals screaming for you to lower your adrenaline levels. 

His lips fold into yours almost perfectly. Your thoughts turn over into the feeling of his fingertips trailing down your neck. His palm rests in the junction between your neck and shoulder. He pulls your closer to him and sighs against your mouth.

You move your lips, smiling when his nose bumps into yours. He tastes like green apples. You rest your hand on his knee and lean in closer. You giggle at the surprised noise that escapes his mouth. 

The sound of a whistle makes the two of you jump apart. 

“No kissing on the public beach!” Jaemin shouts at the two of you, no real venom in his voice.

You kiss Lucas once more and give Jaemin the bird. 

He whistles again. “That’s illegal!”

“It’s not,” Lucas giggles, hiding his face in the crook of you neck. 

☼

You walk into Neo Tattoos. “Where’s Lucas?”

Johnny closes his magazine and looks at you. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I brought him a lemonade and my break is almost over,” you say in passing, heading for the back.

“Lucas!”

“Y/n!” He shouts back.

You enter to see him with a customer. He’s so cute when he’s focused. You look at his gloved hands and furrowed brows. It makes you lean against the doorframe and watch him fondly for a moment. 

He finally looks away from his customer. “Hey, Darlin’”

His wide smile makes the trip across the boardwalk worth it. You hand him the lemonade. “I have to get back to the shop, but I wanted to see you real quick.”

Lucas stands up and pulls off his gloves. “You’re too kind. Can I come visit you after my shift and take you out?”

“I’d like that a lot.” You kiss him and squeeze him tightly. Hopefully he can feel all of your love through your hug.

Because you really love this boy. He softens your world and makes everything feel warmer. He encases you in an eternal summer, and you don’t ever want it to end.

[jungkookiebus]

Chemistry | knj

This is part of the BSC 1st Anniversary Drabble Request Exchange!!

Scenario: hybrid au + Namjoon + hybrid him and hybrid reader go to a school for hybrids, they’re vice president and president and maybe they both have a crush on the other but dont know about the other’s crush (some jealousy would be cool 🥰 thanksss 💜) Word count: 3.6k Pairing: hybrid!Namjoon x hybrid!reader Warnings: unprotected sex (stay safe!), little bit of ol’ dirty talk

You pulled the poster down angrily as your tail twitched furiously behind you. Ears laid flat, you stood, fuming, in the middle of the hallway.

“____?” Haeun asked, nervously. “Everything okay?”

“Absolutely not.”

Haeun, being a bunny hybrid, was timid in comparison to your feline attitude. You were the only panther hybrid in your school, and everyone was afraid of you. You weren’t sure why, but that was just how the gavel fell. Haeun had been your friend since childhood, enduring the hardships of being hybrids together. Even now, hybrids were segregated to their own schools.

You were currently in the running for senior class president with your arch enemy, Namjoon, a wolf hybrid. You had been at odds for years, vying to be on top of your class and each time he seemed to get the best of you, even though you were equally matched.

“Why does he feel the need to try for everything I want?!” You crumpled the paper in your hands and threw it into the nearest trashcan.

“I think he knows it gets to you,” Haeun interjected.

“Of course, he knows it gets to me. Smug jerk.”

You spotted him across the cafeteria laughing amongst the rest of the baseball team and sneered at his stupid, boyish smile. For someone so cute, he was the most annoying.

“I’m getting this.”

The next week called for a student council meeting of the current board and to establish rules and school functions promoting the election. You crossed the mostly vacant room and planted yourself in a desk closest to the windows, hoping to avoid talking to anyone. You were staring out of the window waiting for the others to arrive when you felt the downy swish of a tail brush against your arm. Before you even turned your head, you were painfully aware of who had just sat next to you.  

“_______,” his smooth voice swept across your mind like rain.

Twisting in your seat and narrowing your eyes, you flattened your ears and looked at him through pierced eyes.

“Namjoon,” you said with a snarl.

“You’re cute when you’re pissed.” You knew he was messing with you, egging you on and trying to get a rise from you.

Your ears perked back up and your tail wrapped around your midriff as you turned back towards the windows.

“Hey, come on, it was just a joke. How about we try getting along for once?”

He reached out to touch your arm and you immediately withdrew and snarled at him.

“Not likely, Namjoon.”

His eyebrows rose in curiosity, but he didn’t seem deterred by your behavior.

“You don’t scare me.”

“What?”

“Everyone is afraid of you. You keep up this façade,” he said gesturing towards you, “but you’re not as scary as you look or Haeun wouldn’t be friends with you.”

“What do you know?”

“I’ve known Haeun for years and she’s not friends with just anyone.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’d like to.”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he said as he settled back into his seat, tail swishing lazily across the floor.

The rest of the weeks were pure torture as the election went on. Polls were not in your favor and you were trying your hardest to at least win something over Namjoon for once. No matter how much you smiled, talked to people, or tried your best to win them over, your numbers were not going up. Wholesome, all-around Namjoon was stealing your votes and you couldn’t understand how.

One day, you decided to approach him as he walked to his car.

“Hey, Namjoon!”

He turned in surprise at the sound of your voice and smiled widely.

“Is the pretty panther talking to me for once?”

“Cut the shit. How are you doing it?”

“Doing what?”

“Getting all of the votes.”

“Uh, well, same as you, talking to people and working events.”

“But you’re winning.”

“Look, ______,” he said with a sigh, “I’m going to break it to you, you’re not the nicest person.”

You looked at him, affronted.

“Okay, fuck you.” You turned to walk away, but he quickly grabbed your wrist and you felt the goosebumps rise on your skin.

Turning back, he was looking at you seriously.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Forget I asked,” you said walking away. Namjoon didn’t call out, nor did he follow you.

Your forehead hit your desk with a thud as the results were announced over the intercom. Namjoon had gotten president and you had gotten vice. Yet again, Namjoon had beaten you. Haeun chewed on her bottom lip but didn’t say a word because she knew better than to try to comfort you. You were short-tempered and your feline instincts were to act in disdain and anger.

“This isn’t going to affect me,” you said as you rose from your desk.

“Wait, you’re not mad?” Haeun was quickly following behind as you made your way to first period.

“I’m fuming.”

Haeun stopped in her tracks and didn’t follow you further as you walked to chem. What sucked about all of this was that you had first period with him, and he was your lab partner. The universe was a cruel mistress when it came to your fate. You slid onto your stool next to him without a sideways glance as you dropped your bag on the floor.

“Congratulations.” His deep voice resounded in your ears.

“Same to you,” you said still looking ahead to the front of the class.

“Going to the dance this weekend?”

You shrugged, not really wanting to have casual conversation with him right now.

“Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Maybe.”

“Absolutely not,” you said as Haeun held the black dress out to you.

“It’s hot.”

“It’s egregious.”

“You’ll make Namjoon look twice.”

You did a double take as you stared at her with wide eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, _______,” she said flopping down on your bed, “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

You sputtered as you tried to quickly defend yourself, not making it look better.

“I do not like him. We hate each other, why would you say that?” You were pacing around your room, flailing your arms and all Haeun could do was smirk and lie back on the bed, watching you flounder.

“Look at yourself, you’re so flustered you can barely talk.”

“Okay, he’s cute, but that’s it.”

“Suit yourself, but you should really wear that dress.”

Haeun gave you a smug look as you resigned and walked to the bathroom, dress slung over your shoulder.

“I feel ridiculous,” you said as you walked into the crowded gym. You pulled at the hem of the dress, willing it to magically become longer as you slouched.

“Stand up straight, you look like a sick giraffe.” Haeun wore a cute pink dress that accented her equally cute personality. Her soft, furry ears glistened in the low lights of the gym and her nose twitched excitedly.

You stood to full height, a good foot over Haeun, and glanced around the gym. You spotted Namjoon right away with a pretty junior you recognized but couldn’t bother to remember her name. You felt a flush course through you that felt oddly like jealously, but you quickly dampened it.

“Let’s get a drink,” you said pulling Haeun along behind you.

The crowd parted as you made your way through, receiving ogling looks from both boys and girls alike.

“Told you that dress was a good idea,” you heard behind you.

“Shut up, Haeun.”

You heard her laugh as you reached the table, grabbing two cups and handing one to her.

“Prince charming is coming this way.”

Before you could turn around you heard his low voice behind you.

“Well, hello, Miss Vice President.”

His eyes raked from the tips of your toes to the tips of your ears.

“Can we help you?”

“I was just coming to say hi.” The small cat hybrid beside looked at you with disgust, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Hello and goodbye. Looks like your date is pissed.”

Namjoon looked at the girl beside him like he had just remembered she was there. “Ah, well, enjoy your evening ladies.” Haeun nodded and raised her cup as he walked away.

“He just eye fucked you hard.”

Your drink almost came out of your nose. “God you’re crude.”

She shrugged before continuing to drink and scanned the dance floor.

“I’m gonna go see if Yoongi wants to dance,” she said setting her cup down.

“The fox hybrid? That’s, like, a natural enemy to you.”

“Oh my God, I can’t with you, bye.” And she was off before you could protest, basically hopping as he sidled up next to Yoongi.

This night couldn’t get any worse for you. You quickly dipped into the shadows of the perimeter of the gym and snuck out the doors leading to the empty corridors of your school. Why you had agreed to come to this stupid dance was beyond you, but it was expected of the class vice president after all. You ducked into the all too familiar chemistry classroom you had every first period. Sighing, you walked to your normal table, sitting down to breathe. That was when you heard the door click shut softly behind you. Hair raised, you turned in the direct of the sound only to find Namjoon looking at you curiously.

“Are you following my every move now?” you asked him, annoyance evident in your voice.

He held his hands out defensively as his ears laid back.

“Whoa, no, I was coming to check on you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

“I’m not saving you.”

You both stared each other down for a few seconds too long.

“Why are you here then?”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Like I said, I was checking on you.”

“Thanks, now you can go,” you said turning back around in the stool.

A few seconds later and you felt the ghost of his breath against your neck, causing every hair on your body to stand on end.

“You look really good in that dress,” he whispered.

You gulped audibly as his fingers ghosted up your arm and came to rest on your shoulder. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through your body and he noticed right away.

“Am I reading the signs wrong or are just as into me as I am into you?”

Your mouth felt parched, as if you hadn’t had water in years. Was this really happening right now? You were supposed to hate Namjoon. Your hands gripped the edge of the table nervously as you laughed; the sound coming from your mouth very unconvincing.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered. Your tail flicked nervously behind you, brushing against his legs.

His hand came around to cup your jaw so that he could turn your face towards him.

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he said as he placed a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Involuntarily, your mouth fell open and he turned his head to fully envelop yours with his, tongue immediately moving against yours. He moaned as he got the first taste and he was not disappointed; the sweet, tangy flavor of the punch was still on your tongue as he flicked against it. You turned in the stool and grasped the lapels of his blazer as you pulled him closer to you, spreading your legs as much as you could in the dress and pressing him against you.

“Feisty, huh?” he laughed against your lips.

“Just shut up,” you said kissing him once more. His hand traveled the length of your thigh but stopped at the hem of your dress. Throwing all caution to the wind you spread your legs further, causing the dress to ride up as well. He squeezed your inner thigh as his lips moved to your neck, your head moved to the side to give him more area. Brushing his fingers lightly against the fabric of your panties, he sucked and bit into the skin below your ear.

“God, I want to fuck you,” he moaned.

“Then do it.”

He seemed surprised as he pulled back to look at you.

“Don’t act like there hasn’t been sexual tension between us.”

He looked at you as if to say you weren’t wrong. Maintaining eye contact and quicker than you were able to notice, he had two fingers shoved into the side of your panties and into your awaiting cunt. You had already started to get wet, but this sealed the deal as he pushed his fingers in further, watching your reaction as you gripped the table with one hand while the other was still buried in the fabric of his blazer.

“Fuck, Namjoon, warn a girl.”

“I wanted to see your face.”

“What…w-what about y-your date?” You were finding it hard to form words as he pumped his fingers in you as he lazily brushed his thumb over your clit.

“Oh, her? She’ll be okay.”

Only the after hour emergency lights lit the room and Namjoon loved the way he could see your face half-shrouded in darkness, almost as if he were watching a noir film play out in front of him. Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks and casted soft shadows.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said as his lips brushed along your cheekbone.

Your ears twitched in embarrassment as your tail came up to wrap around your waist. His other hand grabbed it softly and pushed it away as you relaxed.

“Don’t be so tense.”

You sighed as his lips came to yours, fingers still working you open slowly. His lips were gentle, soft against yours and you wanted to fall into the feeling forever. In the back of your mind you wondered why you hadn’t given in to this type of pleasure sooner.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he whispered.

Your eyes rolled back, and your cunt clenched down around his fingers as he asked you the question.

“I don’t care,” you said breathlessly.

“Oh, come on,” he tutted, “use your words.”

He curled his fingers upwards against your g-spot and you gasped loudly; the sound seemed to echo in the empty room. Your palms began to sweat as you grasped at the slick surface of the lab table, thighs quivering, and your feet slipped off the rung of the stool.

“I want you to bend me over this table so that every time we have class, I think about it.”

Namjoon groaned and you felt his cock, hard in his pants, brush past your knee.

“Fuck, if I knew you had such a dirty mouth on you, I would have tried to fuck you sooner.”

He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbed your wrist, and jerked you upwards into a standing position. His lips were on yours once more as he pulled your tight dress up past your hips as you shimmied your underwear off yourself. You fumbled with his belt for a few seconds before you were pushing his pants down.

“Wow, no underwear?” you asked as his cock sprung free immediately.

“Didn’t feel the need,” he purred.

You grabbed his cock in your hand and reveled in the growl burning at the back of his throat. Just as languid as he, you worked your hand over his cock until he pushed into you. His hand came up to your throat as kissed you in a rush, tongue exploring as he pushed you against the lab table.

“Turn around,” he demanded while grabbing your hips, helping you along.

He pushed, hard, into the middle of your back, forcing your upper half onto the table as he spread your legs for a wider stance. Holding the base of his cock, he rubbed it between your folds, gathering the wetness that was now threatening to drip down your thighs. You moaned at the feeling of him rubbing against you and you wiggled your ass to hurry him up.

“I can’t wait to be inside of this pretty pussy,” he said bending over you, hand on the table beside your head, and slowly thrusting against you. “You know how many times I’ve thought of taking you in various places around school?”

Every inch of your skin was aflame as if a fire had been lit from within. A mix of embarrassment and arousal rushed through you like a wave; he was being so open with you and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Dogs aren’t supposed to like cats,” you said looking at him through your peripheral.

He laughed as he bent down some more, nose in your hair, sniffing lightly before rubbing his face against yours.

“Well, I like this particular kitten.”

You both groaned in unison as he entered you. The stretch was far from uncomfortable; this was the best you had felt in ages. His hand was still planted firmly on the table as he began to fuck you with purpose. You felt his tail twitch and brush against your calves at each thrust. His face was in your hair once more, inhaling deeply as he moaned.

“You smell so fucking good. I’ve always wanted to be this close to you. Did you know you give off the most intoxicating pheromones?” His thrusts slowed but hit deep. Your eyes rolled back as he brushed against your g-spot.

Your hands slid across the smooth tabletop as you tried to hold yourself; your palms leaving sweaty prints in their wake. Namjoon lifted your right leg up behind your knee to deepen his already dangerous thrusts; it was almost like he had known your body forever.

“I need you to fuck me harder,” you begged.

Namjoon looked around him and to one of the lower tables that was wheelchair accessible.

“Move,” he demanded as he slipped out of you and pushed you towards the table. He guided you to lay flat on your back, legs hanging from the table. He positioned himself between your legs, grabbed your ankles and pushed until the heels of your feet were on the edge. He wasted no time before he was sliding back inside of you once more, hands back on your ankles as he pulled your legs to his shoulders. You cried out as he thrust faster, balls slapping against you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You tried to grab onto something, anything, but all you were hitting was a discarded textbook and the knobs of the built-in sink.

“Fuck.” You felt as if you were gasping for air, your body trying desperately to keep up with what was happening.

“Touch yourself.”

You popped three fingers into your mouth before bringing them down to your clit and rubbed fast circles. Your back arched off the cool tabletop as he gripped tighter to your legs and buried his cock as far as it could go.

“I’m gonna come.” You were practically in tears. Namjoon was watching you in such sharp focus that everything else around him seemed to fall away. In that moment, neither of you were enemies nor being two different species of hybrid mattered. Your ears were flat against your dark hair and you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You clenched down hard around him as you came, mouth falling open and then closed again as you ground your teeth together to stay quiet. He fucked you through your orgasm and slowly pulled out of you.

“Look at that, you creamed all over my cock, baby,” he said as he started to pump himself, using your cum as lube.

You sat up on your elbows to witness the mess you had made before looking at Namjoon who was completely fucked out and fucking himself into this own hand. You reached forward, grabbed him behind his head and brought his mouth down to yours in a hard kiss that was less methodical and more chaos. Your post orgasm high had you moaning into the kiss as Namjoon’s hand worked over himself faster and faster. Images of you coming around him spurred his orgasm to a quick peak as he came, hot, on your cunt and thighs. His moans came out almost as a deep growl as his cum leaked down your skin and he backed up; steps almost faltering.

“Fuck,” he laughed. “I never thought this would happen.”

You sat up, reaching into a drawer on the table that you knew held paper towels. “Yea, well, neither did I.”

Namjoon grabbed the roll from you, pulling several off before wiping you down.

“So where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Back to the gym?”

He laughed once more as he gathered your belongings. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, back to being mortal enemies I guess.” You pulled your underwear back on as he did up his belt.

“_______,” he said, exasperated, “I’m being serious.”

“I like you, okay? As much as I hate to fucking admit it, I like you.” A triumphant grin spread across his face at your admission. “But I’m not jumping into this.”

“Uh…I don’t know what you call this,” he said gesturing between the both of you, “but I think we already did.”

“Relationship wise, you goose.”

“You know, I’ve never met a goose hybrid.”

You slapped his shoulder as you pushed your way past him and to the door. You pulled it open and turned to look at him, hand grasping the wood. You made direct eye contact with him and then looked over towards the table before looking at him once more.

“See you in chemistry on Monday?” you asked rhetorically as you walked out, leaving a smiling Namjoon behind.