#Its easy. But the grammar??? Why?

[babygirlracing]

Can someone invent a time machine so i could smack 3-months-ago-me in the face for thinking she’s smart enough to learn russian?

[stephofromcabin12]

I've just spent an hour trying to figure out how ancient Greek grammar works and it's still not remotely clicking, so if you speak Greek and you see me using incorrect grammar in LC just look away ok, I tried my best lol

We can pretend Mr D's just really rusty with his grammar.

[clioerato]

The Language of Steve Harrington’s Feelings

After everything — the underground base, the torture, the screaming, the bloody teeth, another concussion, and that awful, bleach-heavy smell that lingered in memory — Steve started learning Russian. Just… because. Because when you survive torture, when no one understands the words you’re screaming, you simply want to be able to speak.

And to be understood. Or not understood — that too.

He studied from old textbooks. Ordered cassettes and grammar guides, repeating harsh, growling words until they turned into honey and milk on his tongue. He scribbled awkward letters that, over time, became a graceful Cyrillic flow.

Steve didn’t tell anyone. Not Robin, not Nancy, not even Dustin. There weren’t any Russian language experts in Hawkins, and no real reason to speak it, so it was easy to keep his little hobby tucked away at home. He didn’t even use the local library — just occasionally bought books with his father’s money. (He secretly hoped some government official would start wondering why John Harrington suddenly took an interest in the USSR. But that, of course, belonged more to the realm of unlikely fantasies.)

Two years passed, and it became a habit.

He’d start thinking in Russian when he wanted to hide from his own thoughts. And speaking it — quietly, when no one was around. Or even when they were, but couldn’t understand.

One day he saw Nancy and Jonathan in the park. They were laughing. Holding hands. Jonathan had that rare look of confidence on his face, and Nancy… she had a softness in her smile, a gentleness in her eyes. Their happiness scorched Steve with quiet bitterness. He didn’t love Nancy anymore — not in that way — and he loved Jonathan, if anything, like a friend. But his feelings almost lifted its heavy head and made him whisper:

"Я завидую тебе. Мне до сих пор больно из-за того, что ты сделала тогда со мной на вечеринке" (“I envy you. It still hurts, what you did to me at that party.”)

And no one understood. And that was… a relief.

From then on, Russian became his emotional purge. He’d whisper, "Если бы ты ��олько знал, как я устал" (“If only you knew how tired I am,”) when Mike begged for a ride even after two shifts and three sleepless nights. Of course, Steve would still pick him up. He’d mutter "Придурок" (“dumb-ass”) in Russian to particularly rude customers at Family Video and smile broadly when Robin wasn’t on shift. His father, in the private corridors of Steve’s thoughts, was officially renamed “Сэр мудозвон” ("Sir fuck-nugget") Russian swearing hit just as hard as drugs.

And then… there was Eddie.

Eddie became something like a permanent hallucination. Always there. Loud, alive, real. And that… was dangerous.

Steve, who had long stopped feeling in English, stumbled one day in a Russian-English dictionary on the word "любовь" (love), and froze.

Nothing changed in the way he behaved, but his vocabulary shifted.

Sometimes, when Eddie sat beside him, loudly sipping soda, feet kicked up on the table, calling Steve pretty boy, Steve would turn away and whisper:

“Отвяжись, я тебя умоляю!

Вечер страшен, гул жизни затих.

Я беспомощен. Я умираю

от слепых наплываний твоих.” (Набоков)

(“Leave me alone, I’m begging you. The night is terrifying, the hum of life is still. I’m helpless. I am dying from your blind surging will.” (Nabokov))*

Or he’d murmur:

"Я бы хотел, чтобы ты знал" (“I wish you knew.”)

It all came out by accident.

Summer. A quiet evening. The Party threw a backyard bash — barbecue, lemonade, beer for the grown-ups, sunscreen in the air, fireflies. Everyone had gone. Nancy and Robin, freshly licensed, had dropped the kids off. Only Steve, Eddie, and Hopper remained — the latter fiddling with the Jeep, not in any hurry.

Steve was tired — the kids had been extra energetic, and sleep had been a stranger lately. Slightly drunk, which was rare, but Hopper had promised them a ride home. Disheveled.

He watched Eddie walk toward the woods with his guitar, and without thinking, not even loud enough to be heard, he said:

"Я люблю тебя. Ты же никогда не узнаешь, да?" (“I love you. You’ll never know, will you?”)

Nothing happened.

The world didn’t explode. No cicadas stopped singing.Hopper sighed, slammed the hood of the Jeep, and called them over.

Nothing happened. But before he dropped Steve off, Hopper said quietly:

"Знаешь, парень… ему ты можешь это сказать и на английском." (“You know, kid… you could tell him. In English.”)

Steve froze. Turned his head. Hopper was looking at him — not judging, just calm. Understanding.

Steve lowered his gaze.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s easier that way. I… didn’t think you knew Russian.”

“You’re not the only one who had a wild time back in ‘84,” Hopper replied with a shrug. “I don’t know much — just the basics. But "Привет" (‘hello,’) "Пока" (‘goodbye,’) "Сдавайся!" (‘give up the fight’) and "Я люблю тебя" (‘I love you’) I can still recognize. And listen, Steve… that’s your choice. But him? You can definitely tell him.”

Steve nodded. Said nothing. Just turned away.

Hopper watches them for another month. He doesn’t look at Steve—Steve is already clear to him. He watches Eddie. Watches how Eddie smiles only at Steve. How he jokes a little too nervously, as if afraid of how Steve might react. How he leans toward Steve more than toward anyone else.

That’s all Hopper needs. One day, he catches Eddie by the trailer park and hands him a battered book, a creased notebook filled with scribbled notes, and a worn-out cassette tape.

"Hopper? What’s this?" Eddie asks, uncertain, not quite sure how to deal with the former sheriff without a bunch of kids around.

"You’ll find out if you want to find out," Hopper says simply and turns to leave.

Eddie stands in the doorway, holding a Russian language textbook.

—

The next time Steve says " Я люблю тебя" (“I love you”) they’re sitting in his backyard. Summer is in full bloom, and the world feels quiet for once—no monsters, no missions, no kids who need constant supervision. Just sunlight and the sound of cicadas.

Eddie is covered with drop of water and tattoos, halfway through a story about the one inked on his chest.

Steve says it in a whisper “Я люблю тебя.” ("I love you") Soft. Natural. Because he’s used to thinking in Russian when the feelings are too big for English.

He doesn’t even notice the shift at first— Not until Eddie’s face flickers, like something fragile just cracked. Steve’s heart skips. Panic bubbles up. Then— A push to the chest, sudden and strong. Followed by a kiss. Desperate. Breath-stealing. So intense Steve forgets how to breathe.

"...what?" Steve whispers, dazed, still not quite caught up.

"Harrington, you’re a damn mystery." Eddie’s voice is hoarse, a little wild.

"Я люблю тебя тоже" ("I love you too.")**

*It's not really a love poem and damn me, I shouldn't be translating Nabokov. Sorry. **It would be more correct to say "Я тоже тебя люблю" (like “I too love you”), but let's assume that Eddie uses the correct words, but puts the words as in English grammar.

*** It started as the language of pain and ended as the language of love because Steve deserves it. ✨ If you like my stories and vibes, you can support me here: [Ko-fi]

[kkuras-gamer-gf]

Caught | Daniela avanzini

Actually tried to correct punctuation and grammar for once, thank you random grammar website i had saved from 2020

G!p dani, roomates who kinda hate each other, catching dani jerking off, skirt wearing, kinda degradation, size kink, breeding kink

You wouldn't say you hated Dani; maybe she was cocky and arrogant and an asshole. But you didn't hate her; unfortunately, she was charming. Always a smirk on her face, even when she's mean, especially when she can rile you up. But she didn't need to know that.

She never had the decency to wait to fuck her flings in your college-issued apartment, the wall being thin enough to hear everything. You won't lie; it intrigued you. You could tell she was good in bed by the sounds; embarrassingly, it made you wonder what it would feel like. What she would look like.

Stupidly, one Saturday, you're supposed to be out with friends, but of course you forget your wallet. The door is unlocked, so it's easy to walk in, and you don't expect what you see.

Your roommate, on the couch, sweatpants around her ankles, football jersey between her teeth as her hand slides up and down her cock. She doesn't notice you at first, too into what she's doing. And you can't look away, noticing the sweat that accentuates her abs.

And her hard cock, heavily veined and longer than you imagined. But while you're in your trance, Dani finally notices you.

"Dude, what the fuck!?" She exclaimed, but not really bothering to hide herself, "You're supposed to be gone."

"Oh, um," stuttering, you have to force yourself to look away by turning your body, "I forgot my wallet."

"You like what you saw?" You can hear that smirk in her voice; if Dani did anything, it was tease.

"Wh- no!" You shake your head.

"I think you're a liar."

You make the mistake of turning back to her, cock still in hand, almost like she's proud.

"Can you put your dick away?" Even though you don't look away.

"I don't think you want me to."

"You're an ass."

"And you're turned on." You don't have an answer to that besides a rush of heat to your cheeks. "It's pathetic. You don't even like me."

"Fuck you."

Her smirk almost falters at this, eyes growing darker as her cock hardens in her hand.

"You're a brat, you know that."

"So?"

Obviously amused that you're now playing along, her hand slowly continues its movement.

"Come here."

Your legs move before you think, going to stand in front of the blonde. Her hand wraps around your wrist, pulling so you land in her lap, wearing a skirt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing separating you from her hard length underneath you.

Wetness seeped through the underwear, and Dani could feel it—not enough, apparently, as she reached a hand, pulling them to the side and dipping two fingers in, eliciting a gasp from you.

"I thought you weren't turned on, baby."

Your eyes avert their attention away from her, not for long before she's grabbing your face so you look at her. Fingers coated in your own arousal lifted so you can see.

"If you dislike me so much, then why are you soaked?"

"Dani." You whisper a plea for her to do anything, letting go of the act of annoyance. Adding a roll of your hips, anything to relieve the pressure.

"I know, Mami."

Fingers wrapping around herself once again, moving the tip through your folds. Even just pushing in the tip elicited a sound you didn't know you could make, her hands loosely gripping your hips, trying to guide you down. At first she lets you have control of the pace, slowly taking her in, until you're halfway there; that's when it's difficult. Her length already filling you up, whimpers leave your lips as you bury your head in her shoulder.

You try to take it all, try to move and sink down onto her; you want to feel her. But your body doesn't cooperate, the feeling of her cock filling you up overwhelming.

"What? Is it too much?" You weakly nod against her, "You act so tough, but you can't take my cock?"

Hands tightening on your hips, fingertips pressing into you harshly, sure to leave a mark, and she pulls down, forcing you to take the rest of her in one go.

The sound you make is more like a sob, like it was ripped out of you, and you already regret the next conversation with your neighbor.

The Latina doesn't hesitate to thrust up into you with a fast pace.

"What would your friends think, huh?" She growls in your ear, "Fucking the roommate you hate when you're supposed to be with them." Accentuating her words with harsher thrusts. Teeth biting into your neck, no doubt leaving marks for anyone to see.

"Dani, fuck!" The words are "choked sobs, head falling to her shoulder."

Long fingers snake into your hair to pull you back to look into her piercing eyes. Of course the cocky smile never leaves her face, enjoying the power she has.

"Does that feel good?"

You try to answer, furiously nodding your head, nails digging into her shoulders.

"Use your words. Tell me how good my cock is."

Her hips thrust almost impossibly faster, making it harder for you to respond.

"I—fuck. So good, so fucking good." You sound drunk, babbling with tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

"Shit. So tight around me."

You take note of the breathless, near-whiny tone of her voice. Sure to bring it up later.

Daniela makes a show of her strength, arms wrapping around you, flipping the both of you so your back hits the couch cushions. Hard cock still sheathed inside you, the new angle allowing her to reach deeper, the tip hitting your cervix with every thrust.

You're sure your nails leave marks on her back even through her shirt, grasping for some sort of stability.

"'M so close."

It's barely audible over the slapping of skin and the sound of your mixed arousals.

"Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock?"

The chain she wears hangs over your face as her sweaty forehead sets on yours, wanting to see your face as she ruins you.

With a particularly harsh thrust, hitting at just the right angle, you gush over her. Though she remains moving throughout your orgasm at an unrelenting pace.

"D-Dani, I can't." Though making no move to stop her, actually clenching around her more while your hands tighten to keep her closer, your body betrays your words.

"That's too bad, baby. I still need to fill you up." Sitting up slightly, her dilated eyes are fixed on the way she's going in and out of you, then the slight bulge of a hand going to press down on it.

An involuntary moan leaves you at the thought of her filling you up, the slight chance the consequences of your decision would haunt you. But you didn't care in that moment.

"Want me to fill your pretty pussy?" Her pace gets uneven, hips slightly buckling.

"Yes, please." You sob, already close to another orgasm. "Want your cum."

"Fuck, baby."

Surprising whimpers leave the brunette's lips, her face buried in your neck and biting down as her hips are still fully inside of you. Warm liquid filling you, mixing with your own arousal, and dripping down onto your couch.

Thighs shake as she pulls out, whining at the loss of her.

"Call your friends. You're staying home."

Dani's low voice mumbles in your ear, guaranteeing a long night.

[hugheswho]

I Will Lay Me Down

Summary: You finally get to reunite with your boyfriend, Luke, after his shoulder surgery. Helping him recover proves to be a little more work than you thought. 

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Reader (any gender!)

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes/language but no smut, luke being a drama queen, pet names, fluff, i think thats it but let me know if i missed anything 

Author’s note: Luke sign of life in the sling inspired me to finally finish this. This is my first posted writing sooo if its bad please lie to me…is english my first language? Yes. is grammar/punctuation my strong suit? Absolutely not. Enjoy! This is also really dialogue heavy because I’m not good at describing things lol 

Word count: 3.5k

“Wait, can you cut it the other way?” Luke asks before you start to cut into the sandwiches you prepared for the two of you. He sits across the kitchen island from you in his sling, still recovering from his shoulder surgery a few weeks ago. You were still at school when he had his operation, then had two weeks of final exams followed by senior week and graduation. This is the first time you’ve been able to see him post-surgery. Luke is definitely making up for lost time.

He follows you around like a lost dog and begs you to come with him when he leaves the room, just to return two minutes later. You, being the best partner in the world, put up with his shenanigans because how could you not when he gives you that adorable little pout? 

The sling doesn’t make life easy when you’re a 6’2, almost 200-pound professional athlete, which is why you are eager to help your boyfriend with all daily tasks. Luke adores that you take care of him while he recovers, but he definitely abuses the power. 

================================================

“Babe?” Luke calls out for you.

“What’s up?” you reply, walking out of the bathroom to see Luke sitting on the bed, shirtless and no sling, surrounded by clothes. 

“Can you please help me get my shirt and hoodie on?” 

“Yeah of course,” you answer while grabbing the loosest tee he has in the pile, some old Michigan hockey shirt that looks like it was bought decades ago and has seen some shit.

You gather the bunched-up fabric on the left side to slip his bad arm through first, then carefully mimic it on the right side, and finally over his head. 

“Good?” you ask, hoping you’re not hurting him.

“Perfect,” he smiles back at you.

Next, you pick up the hoodie, which is not as loose as the shirt, and let him place both his arms in their respective slots. You begin to pull the fabric higher to go above his head, his arms slightly raising. Luke hisses as his bad arm goes higher than he expected. 

You jump back, immediately pulling your hands off of him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“No, it’s okay. It happens every time I do it myself,” he reassures you.

“You can do this yourself?” you ask, lowkey impressed. If you didn't have mobility in one of your arms, there's no way you could pull a hoodie over your body.

“Trust me it’s not that glamorous.”

Luke exhales and takes a moment to let the pain dissolve from his body. Once free from tension, he meets your gaze.

“Ready?” you ask. He nods and lets the hoodie engulf him. His head gets a bit stuck in the neck hole and you can’t help but giggle trying to see him wrangle free. Finally, he pops through and has his crooked grin plastered across his face. 

“Hi baby,” he breathes out before jetting his lips out, looking for a kiss.

You lean down and softly kiss his lips. You pull away for a few seconds, just to stare into his eyes. His eyes filled with warmth making you break out into a smile before leaning down to press another quick, tender kiss on him. 

“Hi Lu-ba-lu” you respond, his face turning red at the pet name. 

You make a mental note to get him a zip-up sweatshirt. 

================================================

“I think I’m gonna head up to bed,” Luke yawns and stands from the group hanging in the living room. He had a tough day with physical therapy and was feeling the aftereffects. 

“I’ll come with you bub,” you convey while getting yourself up from your spot in the corner of the couch.

“No babe I’m fine. Stay down here I know it’s early. 

“Well, how about I help you get ready for bed and then I’ll come back down here after?” you suggest, wanting to make sure Luke is comfortable. 

“That sounds great,” Luke smiles back at you. 

The two of you head up to your shared room. You begin to pull the comforter back and prop up all his pillows so he can sleep snugly and not bother his shoulder. Luke smiles to himself as he sees you adding pillows from your side, fully knowing how much you love your pillows. His heart warms at you giving up your own comfort for him. 

Luke decides to just leave his t-shirt on for bed rather than going through the whole taking the sling off, taking the shirt off, and putting the sling back on rigmarole. His breath hitches when you loop your fingers into the waistband of his pants and carefully drag them down his legs. You kneel on the ground and gently hold his ankles as he lifts each foot to step out of the pants. 

“Do you want other pants or just want to be in your boxers?” you ask, looking up at him. 

“Like this is fine, thank you baby” he replies, heart beating faster. 

You stand back up and let him settle against the mountain of pillows in bed. You feel kind of sad to leave him but also know that he’s going to knock out right away and you’ll still be awake for hours just staring at the ceiling. Nevertheless, you double check. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“I’m positive. Go back down, I'm going to fall asleep in five minutes anyway,” Luke answers truthfully, confirming your thoughts. 

“Do you need help with anything else before I go?”

Luke laughs to himself. 

“Well there is one thing…”

“What?”

Luke’s head lowers to look between you two. Your head follows him and finds the gazing point. His crotch. You look back up and find Luke’s pink-painted face and mischievous eyes staring back at you. You shake your head and scoff, amusement hiding behind your actions. 

“Do you actually want me to?”

“Like yes but I’m actually so tired I don’t even think I could get it up right now,” Luke confesses.

“I’ll make it up to you later. I don’t want to hurt my fragile boy.”

“Hey! I’m strong!”

“Soooo strong,” you hum, hand grazing his bicep before traveling up to cup his cheek. “Good night my love. I’ll be up soon. Just text me if you need something,” you murmur as you kiss his cheek and cover him with the comforter. 

“I will. Good night I love you!”

“I love you too,” you respond, shutting the lights off and closing the door behind you. 

Once you leave the room, Luke sneaks your pillows back over to your side. He’d rather have a sore shoulder in the morning than let you give up all your amenities. 

================================================

Showering with Luke wasn’t unfamiliar territory. You were both very used to sharing the water and helping each other clean up. So when he asked you to help him bathe after a day on the boat, you didn’t bat an eye. The water cascaded over the two of you as you finished lathering and rinsing his body. 

With Luke in no position to bend down and you not being able to fully reach his head to properly wash it, you both decided that Luke sitting on the floor of the shower would be the best option. 

Luke sat crisscross applesauce at your feet while you gathered the shampoo in your hands. You slowly began to lather the cleanser through his wet curls, gently dragging your nails across his scalp. Luke’s eyes fluttered closed as he rested his cheek against your thigh and let his good arm fall to hold your ankle. 

It was these gentle, intimate occasions that meant the most to you. The two of you knew neither had to say anything to let these moments speak the loudest. The quiet comfort proved just how strong your bond was. 

Sure, the two of you could yap to each other til the cows came home. You both love to playfully argue about something stupid and until you’re both yelling that the other person is wrong, fully in stitches laughing. There is no shortage of chaos in your relationship. But if someone were to ask what moments in your relationship truly defined you and Luke, it would be this. You both found solace in your silence. Neither of you ever felt awkward, or uncomfortable, or like something was being left unsaid. 

“Can you lift your head towards me please?” you say softly, not wanting to break the calm the two of you built. Luke turns his head to look up at you, eyes hazy from the comfort. If you hadn’t said anything, he would have fallen asleep against your leg. 

You pump some face wash into your hands and begin with his cheeks, letting your digits dance along his strong cheekbones. Your hands turn in and follow the curve of his nose, showing extra care to the freckle on its side. His forehead is the next to receive attention as you wash the space that contains the little lines that appear when he raises his eyebrows. It doesn’t matter what emotion Luke is portraying at the time, whether it’s shock, confusion, disgust…those lines are going to appear just the way you love them. Then finally your hands meet again at his chin. 

Luke is looking at you with so much love in his eyes you can’t help but lean over and place a small kiss on his nose which makes him shyly smile, almost as if he was just made aware he was caught staring. 

Once you rinse his face of the cleanser, you put your hands out for him to grab with his good arm.

“Come on big boy,” you encourage as he grabs a hold of you. You hoist him up and help him catch his balance when he stumbles. Your bodies are pressed close together and you can feel the goosebumps growing on his skin. Once grounded, Luke looks you in the eyes, a smile blossoming along his face. You are so in love with him. 

And then Luke had to go and open his big mouth. 

“Are you gonna manscape me?”

“You’d be brave to trust me with a razor down there right now.”

================================================

The sunlight slipped through the slats of Luke’s window blinds in the early morning. You stepped out of his bathroom to see the golden light draped across his sleeping face. Quietly, you walk over to his side of the bed and lean down to delicately scatter kisses across his nose and cheeks.

“You missed,” Luke mutters, eyes still closed and voice raspy from sleep.

“Oh did I?” you throw back, fully knowing what he means.

“Mhmm,” he nods before continuing, “can’t get up without my morning kiss.”

You laugh at Luke’s neediness but entertain his antics by pressing a long kiss to his lips. Once you pull back you see his eyes have finally opened and his lips curl upwards.

“Good morning lover,” you whisper just above his face.

“Now it is.”

You playfully roll your eyes as you pull back to stand up fully. 

“Come on, get up and get ready for the day,” you say while helping him up.

Luke grumbles something under his breath and rubs his eyes while you push him towards the bathroom. You continue to get ready for the day, brushing your hair when you hear the bathroom door open after only a minute. 

“I can’t brush my teeth” Luke states while standing in the doorway just staring at you as if what he said didn’t make your head shake in confusion. 

“I’m sorry?”

“My arm is out of commission. You need to brush my teeth for me,” he shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world…which it would be if he only had one arm in total. 

You exhale before saying “Luke. You got surgery on your left shoulder. You’re a righty.”

“I shoot left.”

“Oh my bad, I didn’t realize the American Dental Association recommended shooting pucks along with the two minutes of teeth brushing. I must’ve missed that update in the newsletter.”

Luke has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. He instead pulls out his famous pout. 

“Come on pleaseeeee! You always say how much you love my smile! Would you really take part in ruining it?” 

You love all his smiles, but the ones where his teeth are showing are your favorite. Motherfucker knows how to play his cards. Next thing you know, you have Luke resting with his butt against the bathroom counter. With his toothbrush covered in toothpaste, you get to work. A grin forms across his face as you begin to brush his teeth. 

“I can’t believe I'm doing this right now,” you huff out as you work on his back molars. 

“You’re like the best person in the world,” Luke slurs, mouth full of toothpaste and saliva. You nod towards the sink, letting him know to spit. 

If someone offered him a ticket straight to the playoffs next season in exchange for looking away from you right now, he’d tell them to kick rocks. His eyes are full of admiration as he stares at the love of his life performing his dental hygiene for him. 

“Open and stick your tongue out,” you command, suddenly taking your job very seriously. You violently brush Luke’s tongue, making him gag in the process. 

“Babe oh my god,” he chokes out, eyes wide staring at you in shock. 

“Oops! My mistake!” you exclaim, playfulness gleaming in your eyes. 

“Yeah, that was a mistake alright…” 

“Oh, but when you make me do it it’s fine?”

A smirk dances across Luke’s stupid, pretty face. 

“Touché.” 

He can’t believe how lucky he is to have someone like you. You rolled your eyes when he asked you to do this, but you’ve made sure to get every single tooth in his mouth. Brushed his tongue. Kept your free hand against his waist to hold him steady, close. The request from Luke was ridiculous, but you did it. 

This moment is one he never wants to forget. The way you brushed a stray eyelash off his cheek absent-mindedly. The way you’re humming the song that’s playing distantly somewhere in the house without even realizing it. The concentration of your eyes. Luke almost wants to ask what you're thinking about in that beautiful head of yours. 

“The toothpaste leaking out of your mouth makes it look like you have rabies. I wouldn’t be surprised. You are feral.” 

Yeah, he’s gonna marry you one day for sure.

================================================

The rain had just started to die down in the evening. The group was originally meant to go on a night boat ride, but the guys didn’t want to wipe up all the water from the storm inside the boat, knowing no one was going to swim anyway. You all decided a bonfire would be the perfect nighttime activity. 

Bundled in your sweatshirt and holding blankets, you wait for Luke at the bottom of the stairs. He finally comes barreling down them and walks over to the shoe rack. 

The grass was all still wet outside so shoes were definitely encouraged. But it wasn’t completely drenched outside so you could still wear your sandals.

Luke, however, walks past all his easy slip-on shoes entirely. Crocs? No. Slides? Nope. Vans? No way. Instead, Luke reaches for his sneakers and turns on his heel to hand them to you. Without thinking, you hold them as you watch him sit on the stairs. You assume he just wanted you to hold them while he got situated so he could slip them on. 

Rather, he sits and waits, looking at you with his lips rolled inward, feet dangling off the stairs, waiting to be covered.

“Oh you’re just doing this on purpose now,” you gather, seeing his smile break out into a full grin. 

“I don't want my feet to be cold! Need to be fully covered!” Luke argues back, stifling his chuckle. 

“You can put them on yourself!”

“But I need your help to tie them!” 

WOW. This must be what it’s going to be like when you have a mini Luke running around one day. 

“Why do you even need them tied? You can’t just wear them loose?”

“Oh babe no way. These are brand new. Can’t be ruining the laces with the wet grass.”

“…..but we can ruin the shoe altogether?”

“…..just do it. Will you please?” Luke implores you, defeated.

And of course, you oblige. 

“You really are unbelievable, you know that?” you mutter while leaning down to slip the sneakers on his feet. 

================================================

You and Luke lay in bed, you scrolling your phone and he flipping through the TV channels. 

You speak up, “Oh by the way, I’m going to go home for just a little but then I’ll be back.”

Luke immediately whips his head towards you, pout gracing his lips. 

“Nooo don’t leave me!”

“Luke, I haven’t seen my home friends since before graduation. I’ll be home for two weeks and then I’m coming back. I promise you’ll be okay.”

“Who is gonna take care of me?” Luke whines, hands trying to grab any article of your clothing, proving he needs you near him. 

“You got surgery three weeks before I even got here. Who was doing it then?”

“Jack.”

“And why can’t he help you now?”

“I mean he could. He’s just not as pretty.”

You laugh out loud, making Luke break too. 

“I think he would take offense to that.”

Luke stays silent as he listens to your laugh slowly fade. His favorite sound in the world. 

“I’m just going to miss you,” he says shyly. 

“I know, baby. I’ll miss you too but I’ll be back to be your personal servant before you know it,” you console him, brushing your hand through the side of his hair. 

You smile softly at your boyfriend and go back to scrolling on your phone. Luke frowns at your statement. Not knowing what to say, he remains silent but lets his mind race for the rest of the night. 

================================================

Luke was starting to go a little stir-crazy. He was still stuck in the sling for the time being and he was sick of having to limit himself in everything. He still hasn’t been able to hold you in the way he desires. Nor has he been able to do anything for you, to make up for all of his mischief. 

You could sense his tension from the other side of the couch. Yes, you’ve complained about the nonsense he’s made you do while being here, but seeing him in distress truly breaks your heart and you’d do it all 100 times over to make him feel better. 

“Hey,” you start softly, “let’s go for a walk around the neighborhood.”

He turns towards you and just nods. You grab his hand to help him stand and aid in putting his shoes on, without him asking this time. 

The two of you walk silently for a bit, your hand interlocking his good one. Your thumb naturally strokes against his knuckles, something you’ve done a million times before. 

As you and Luke get further into your walk, he breaks the silence. 

“I'm sorry,” he says weakly. 

“About what?” you ask, truly having no idea what he could be apologizing about. 

“About making you feel like you’re my personal servant,” he explains while stopping in his tracks and turning towards you. “You’re more than that to me and I’m sorry if I didn't make it seem like that.”

His eyes stare into yours, trying to figure out what exactly you’re feeling. You’re taken aback by Luke’s confession. You meant that comment as a joke. You didn’t think he’d take it so earnestly. 

“Luke honey, it’s okay,” you tell him while squeezing his hand gingerly. 

“I’m serious. I know I’ve been hamming it up but your help truly means the world to me. This hasn’t been easy physically or mentally…” Luke’s voice catches on itself and he takes a moment to steady himself. “…but you being here and helping me with whatever I need, no matter how foolish, makes it all a little easier.”

You drop his hand so you can grasp either side of his face. You look him in the eyes for a few moments, not saying anything, letting that silence you love so much grow between you two once again. He knows this is your way of saying “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Finally, you find the words you need him to hear, “you know I’d drop everything for you, Lu.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. You’re letting him know this is true. This is real. This is us. 

A small smile appears on his lips as his anxiety leaves his body. 

“I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

“We’re so lucky to have each other in our lives,” you lean in to kiss him, “plus it helps that you’re really cute.”

“The cutest.”

[hypnotic-wine-dove]

Generative AI has no right to be in HelPol spaces .ᐟ.ᐟ

I can say honestly that I have used generative AI in the past. I have never used ChatGPT but to say I haven’t at all would be disingenuous.

Me and my partner found a website that generated memes (awfully) and found it funny. This was about early 2024, it was a one time thing, and it hasn’t been touched since. (This Meme Does Not Exist) — I acknowledge that a year ago we probably should’ve known, I’m not sure why we didn’t think about it, we truly didn’t know.

I have also looked at Google’s AI for a quick answer before scrolling down or even closing the tab entirely. I feel so guilty about my contribution, more so that I did that at the same time I started practicing paganism, but I want to say I apologise and will not knowingly use, post, or spread AI going forward. Especially for Google, I will think about looking past the AI overview no matter how “easy” it will be to get an answer. (I mention this later)

Since last year, AI has exploded, with people encouraging it to people giving all they got to remove it. I learned very quickly how harmful AI is not only for the environment but for creators. AI is generative PURELY because it takes from others, it can never make something of its own. Talk of AI is everywhere on the internet by now, there aren’t many excuses to not have at least heard something about its negative impact.

Before I left school, I saw my peers boast openly about how they used ChatGPT and even had a teacher of mine encourage it. I found it shocking. This isn’t a matter of struggling with school work and assignments, this is not being able to think for yourselves. Find your teacher, find a tutor, find a textbook, find online resources. That’s the issue. As said earlier, it’s easy and fast. People want answers? Want something funny? Boom. It’s there. That’s how people get sucked into it.

Back to HelPol spaces

Using AI to write posts about Hellenic Polytheism straight up rips off actual academic authors !! and other Tumblr users. Using AI to generate “art” of the gods takes from actual artists who put work and effort in, unlike you. I’ve seen so many beautiful drawings from those in the HelPol community, some that are heartfelt, amusing, or captured how I see a deity.

AI is empty, void, and cold. It doesn’t and will never have the imperfections or the lines done by the human mind. It doesn’t have the soul and determination to create.

AI takes away the freedom for a creator to post their works. If you practice Hellenic polytheism, do you not think this goes against gods of art? Of music? Of poetry? Any kind of medium. Think of what the gods stand for too: nature, animals, the world.

(I speak to those using AI who are also HelPol, but you absolutely do not need to be religious to want to protect the rights of creators and the Earth)

Please talk about the gods, create for the gods even if it isn’t pro-level art. Please write for the gods even if it’s a small drabble that has spelling mistakes and grammar issues. Do your best. But don’t turn to AI because it’ll be quick, or you’re struggling, or because you think it’ll get you pumping out a lot of posts for likes.

AI doesn’t come from a brain, or a heart, it is a machine that takes and spits out what it learned from human beings. People that put in time to write what they did, time to draw what they did.

Think for yourselves. Don’t let the machine do it for you.

@pixilatedwitchery and @dancing-with-maenads list of HelPol (and general pagan) accounts that use AI — here

[scarnatlover]

Run, baby, run

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (romantic)

Summary: Finding a moment of peace away from the chaos of superhero life isn't easy, but with a little help, you can carve out time for a romantic retreat in a secluded cabin in the woods. What begins as a lighthearted chase soon transforms into an exhilarating game of predator and prey, sparking intense passion and desire between two lovers.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. sexual themes, smut, Reader has a cock, predator x prey, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, edging, name calling, praise, passing out, aftercare.

REQUEST: YES

A/N: I'm sorry if anything is spelled incorrectly, but English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for my grammar and spelling. If you have any request (read this first), I will try and write them.

Taglist

She had been running for what seemed like hours. She didn’t know where she was going, she didn’t know the route she had taken, and she didn’t know where she would end up. The forest she was in seemed endless. There was no stream to orient herself by, and the treetops were too thick to see the stars. She could hear her labored breathing, her quick steps, the owls hooting in the trees. But most of all, she could hear whoever was behind her and chasing her getting closer and closer.

Their footsteps were heavier than hers, but their breathing matched hers. She could tell that whoever was following her was taller and more muscular, but not more agile since she heard them trip over some fallen tree branches. She also knew that they were far behind her and that this gave her an advantage. And so she did the only thing she could think of. She hid behind a massive rock after jumping off its top.

She held her breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible, but she jumped as soon as she saw the figure dart over her head, then rolled on the ground to cushion the jump and immediately resumed running. She was right, actually. Even from a distance they looked about four inches taller than her and decidedly more muscular. She breathed a sigh of relief and, once she was sure they were far enough away, she stood up and began to run at a moderate pace towards where she thought the exit of the maze of trees she was in was.

But after walking a few meters, she started to feel like she was being watched. She turned in every possible direction, but there was no one but her. She started walking again, the feeling of being watched always with her, but she turned again when she heard a twig snap behind her. After not seeing anything or anyone, she prepared to start again but this time, when she turned, she found your muscular figure in front of her. “Boo” you muttered, a smile plastered on your face and your arms that wrapped around her hips.

“Are you running away from me, pretty girl?” you asked, backing her up against a tree trunk. “Why are you running, baby girl? You know I’ll always catch you.”

And with that you kissed her, hard. Her back against the tree made your body pressed against hers, making her feel your hard cock against her belly. Her hands flew into your hair, pulling you closer. You moaned into her mouth, enjoying her hands on your head, and she smiled slightly into the kiss.

Your violent kisses ran down her jaw and neck, pulling her skin with your teeth. She moaned in pleasure and pain, without letting out a gasp first. She could feel her arousal dampening her panties, yet she remembered that this person in front of her was the one who not even ten minutes ago was chasing her through the same woods where she was about to be fucked.

Your hands traveled to her breasts to feel one of her spheres through the shirt she was wearing. Being the impatient person you were, you quickly shrugged off the piece of clothing, ripping it in half. There, you were met with her bare tits, no bra covering them. You smirked, easier access for you.

You lowered your head to take one of her nipples into your mouth, licking it until you felt it harden under your tongue, your other hand still busy groping her other tit. You then switched sides, repeating the same movements and giving the same attention to both of her tits. Her back arched, pleasure coursing through her. Her hands still in your hair to hold you closer to her chest and instigating you not to stop. She laughed briefly feeling you play with her nipples, but immediately moaned when you bit one of them.

You both watched your fingers slide along her skin, down past her belly button, and stop above her pelvis. You looked into her eyes as you slowly knelt in front of her. You pulled down her leggings, but left her panties on. With a smirk, you moved them to the side and slid your hand to her pelvis between her legs. You caressed her folds, parting them slightly so you could see her arousal before sliding your fingers inside her.

She moaned and leaned her head against the tree trunk, completely surrendering to the feeling of your fingers inside her. She let your hands and fingers explore her body, both inside and out and in all the ways you wanted.

“God, you look beautiful even from down here,” you murmured, starting to slowly move your fingers inside her. She groaned at the sound of your voice, so low, husky and sexy, full of your desire for her body. Simultaneously, your mouth began to leave hot kisses everywhere it could reach: her thighs, her belly, her pelvis, until you lightly kissed her clit.

She gripped your hair in her hands as your lips touched her hot clit and whined. Her hips began to move back and forth on your fingers. “That’s it. Ride my fingers like the good girl you are. My good girl.” You pinned her hips against the tree so you could slide your fingers deeper into her. You started slow and gentle until you built up to a force and speed that rivaled – not really – your cock. “Good, just like that. You’re doing great.”

Your tongue laid flat against her clit, her eyes rolled and her mouth made sounds sweeter than honey. Her entire body jolted with pleasure as your tongue flicked at her bundle of nerves. Your fingers slowed, making her whine, but the movements of your tongue made her hips buckle, your hand on them the only reason she didn’t fall to the floor.

Her moans grew louder, louder, her body shaking with pleasure and the need to come, as you brought her closer and closer to the climax. As you continued to tease her, she moaned in frustration and writhed beneath you. With each passing second, her need for release grew stronger and stronger due to denial. You took your time, pleasuring her until she was begging for more.

“Please, let me come. I beg you,” she pleaded, her eyes locked on yours, her green ones filled with desperation.

You quickly removed your tongue from her slit and stood up, now much taller than her, but your fingers never stopped moving inside her. “I’ll tell you what,” you whispered in her ear. “I’m going to let you go now. You’re going to start running in that direction again, until you see a cabin. I’ll give you a twenty-second head start before I start chasing you,” you removed your fingers from inside her, drawing out a whine from her throat. “If I catch you before you get to the cabin, I’ll fuck you until you pass out and it’s up to me whether or not I make you come. If you get to the cabin and I can’t catch you…” you gently kissed up her neck, until you reached her cheek. “…when I fuck you, you can come as many times as you want,” you concluded, placing your sweatshirt on her shoulders and lifting her pants, to cover her nakedness.

As soon as those words left your mouth, she started running again in the direction you indicated, faster than before despite the ache between her legs. She could smell you on her, her pussy clenching around nothing even as she ran, but most of all your voice, which was counting the seconds, growing more and more distant.

The forest seemed endless, she didn’t know how much longer she had to run. There was no sign of the cabin you had told her about. She was starting to doubt its existence. Her legs were burning and with them her muscles, the temperature had dropped slightly, but it was cold enough to notice the air coming out of her mouth every time she was out of breath.

She stopped to rest only when she was sure that your footsteps couldn’t be heard, but she remained alert anyway. She collapsed on the ground, her back against a tree, she caught her breath and looked around, but she couldn’t see anything. Her ears couldn’t pick up any suspicious noise, other than the wind in the branches of the trees and a few night birds here and there. Not even a shadow of you could be seen.

When she was sure she was rested and had enough breath, she started running again, always in the same direction you had told her. She ran and ran and ran, until she could see a light far away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief and increased her pace. Now she could also see inside, with the fire lit in front of the couch and under the TV, thanks to the windows that acted as a wall on the outside of the house.

But just as she was approaching the path that led to the stairs to enter the cabin, out of nowhere she glimpsed your figure staring at her from a tree. Nat returned your gaze for a few seconds, and then sprinted towards the house, but you wrapped your muscular arms around her waist before she could touch the wood of the stairs.

“That means…” you murmured in her ear as she squirmed. “That I won, sugar.” You took her earlobe between your lips and bit it enough for her to feel it.

You slowly brought a hand to her face and turned her towards you, kissing her without hesitation. She immediately found herself returning the kiss that became more and more passionate. Her head was spinning and you pulled her towards you roughly, making her feel your semi-hard member. Your tongues rubbed together. Her hands returned to your neck while yours continued to move down and then back to her breasts and grope them roughly.

You quickly removed the hoodie she was wearing and kissed along the column of her neck, leaving purple marks as you went further down, your hands now massaging her ass. You backed up with her, leading her up the three steps to the wooden patio and setting her down on the cool surface. You ripped a hole in her pants, then did the same to her soaked panties.

“Look at you, sugar,” you turned your gaze to her pussy. “Your swollen, soaked cunt, still clenching around nothing,” she whimpered, the cool night air in direct contact with her wet, exposed sex. You ran two fingers between her folds and brought them to her mouth, letting her taste her essence. “You need it, don’t you? You need to be stretched, ruined, and used like the whore you are for me.”

You pulled down your pants and boxers, letting your cock pop out, pumping it a little to get it fully hard, which didn’t take long given the magnificent sight before you. You leaned over her, your hands on either side of her head, staring into her beautiful green eyes filled with lust.

She kissed you harder than before, nipping at your bottom lip, making you groan into her mouth. She suddenly felt a lot warmer, wondering if she was really about to get fucked on the wooden patio of a cabin by the person who had been chasing her ten minutes ago. But her mind went blank the moment she felt one of your hands spread her thighs, making her wet pussy meet your now painfully hard cock.

You positioned the tip of your cock so that it was prodding at her entrance and at the same time you pulled away from the kiss to watch her facial expressions. She immediately gasped and her back arched towards you. You slowly pushed it in, feeling her warm and tight around you. “Fuck, are you still this tight? After so long?” you asked a rhetorical question.

You took her hands and brought them above her head, pinning her down, and leaned down to kiss her slowly. You started moving, rocking your hips harshly. She gasped first into your mouth, then broke away from the kiss and began teasing the sensitive skin of your neck. You moaned in her ear, increasing the force of your thrusts, the only sounds that could be heard at that moment were your breathing and moans and the wet sound that Nat's pussy was making.

At this point you were ramming into her, whispering in her ear how pathetic and desperate she was. “Look at you, beautiful. Taking everything I’m giving you like the slut you are,” you moaned in her ear, feeling her shivering and whimpering beneath you. You could feel her getting closer to her climax, but you had other plans.

“Please,” she whispered, running her hands under your shirt and digging her nails into your back. “Let me come,” she continued with a few tears rolling down her soft face. You just grinned and continued to rock your hips fast and hard, her walls squeezing you tighter and tighter, making you groan once more.

Immediately, you slowed down and looked down at where her cunt met your cock, which was fully immersed inside her, filling her completely. She sobbed, her orgasm having been denied for the second time that night, and she began to shake even more. After a few minutes of your thrusts being soft and slow, making her feel every inch of your cock, you started moving your hips violently again, her cries of pleasure could probably be heard from miles away. Her body was aching, from the run she had been on and how you had left her in the middle of the woods, and her moans were now coming out uncontrollably. Her legs were shaking, her eyes scrunched shut and you could feel how close she was to cumming.

You continued to do this until she was a blabbering mess, the only things coming out of her mouth were pleas and moans of your name. “Tired, baby? You can’t take it anymore?” you asked, slightly worried. You looked at the expression on her face and it all hit you. You started to ram into her one last time, intertwining your hands with hers above her head and kissing her sensually and softly. “Can I come inside you?” you asked, feeling the knot in your stomach about to break. She just nodded, too tired to even respond.

Your climaxes came at the same time, her coming on your cock with the loudest moan of the evening and you painting her walls white, filling her with your seed. Her pussy contracted around you for the last time, making you groan in her neck, where you were resting your head, which you raised a few seconds later to look into her eyes, but instead you saw her passed out from exhaustion. You smiled gently at her and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

You carefully slid out of her, trying not to hurt her, and got dressed, but first you watched your cum leak out of her gaping hole. You then picked her up bridal style and the two of you entered the cabin, which felt like a sauna compared to the outside. You continued to the stairs and carefully carried her to the bedroom you were in. You laid her on the bed and ran to the bathroom, where you drew a hot bath. You quickly ran to the kitchen to get her a bottle of water and a snack for later.

When you got back to your room, Nat was waking up. You were immediately at her side, stroking her hair. “Hey,” she whispered to you and you smiled, telling her that a bath was ready for her. “Can you carry me?” she then asked and you rolled your eyes playfully and picked her up in your arms, carrying her to the bathroom and placing her in the hot water. You handed her the bottle after opening it and helped her take a few sips.

Nat looked at you puzzled when she noticed that you were not undressing and getting in the tub with her, but instead grabbing the shampoo ready to wash her hair. “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked and you looked at her in disbelief before answering her.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to hurt you,” you started, looking at the water instead of her face. “I think I overdid it a little,” you continued. Nat pulled her hands out of the water and placed them on your face, looking into your eyes.

“I liked everything you did, from the chase in the woods to the fuck on the patio. I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me,” she wiped away the single tear that was sliding down your face with her thumb. “Get undressed and come in. I want you even closer to me,” and with that you took off your clothes and Nat made room for you between her legs, where you stayed until the tub water was cold.

The two of you dried off and got dressed, exchanging a few kisses here and there. Once you were in bed, Nat immediately curled up around you, her head on your chest and one leg bent over your hips. One of your hands slid under her shirt, touching her bare skin, while the other reached for the remote on your nightstand and you scrolled until you found her favorite James Bond movie on the TV.

Nat fell asleep not even halfway through the movie, her breath on your neck, where you could feel her smile as she slowly massaged your abdomen, tracing her fingertips over your abs. You looked up at her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face like you had done a few hours ago. You fell asleep shortly after her, hoping that Tony hadn't installed cameras on the patio too, otherwise neither of you would ever see the end of it.

[foxybrownsugababe]

𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Ai Michael B. Jordon x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which a woman receives a mysterious crate that changes everything she thought she knew about solitude, control, and connection.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Mild language, slow burn, emotional vulnerability, light sci-fi themes, let me know if I missed anything! Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!! Go easy one me <3

𝐅𝐨𝐱𝐲’𝐬 𝐒𝐨𝐚𝐩𝐛𝐨𝐱 - I had the idea, and I thought “Why the hell not?” And here we are….

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,637+

There was no room for weakness in Nadine Nelson’s life.

Not in her closet, where the hems of her Italian suits and Asian silks hung like armor. Not in her penthouse apartment in the heart of Manhattan, with its clean marble surfaces and city skyline views. And definitely not in the courtroom, where a well-timed objection could make or break a multimillion-dollar case.

Nadine was steel, wrapped in silk.

Her alarm rang at 5:45 AM, a single chime before she cut it off and sat up. Not a single grin or anything, just a long cat stretch before rolling over and letting her feet hit the floor. And already, her mind was racing.

Deposition at 10. Client call at 1. Lunch with the DA’s assistant—, no I’m skipping that. Trial prep at 4. Court by Thursday.

She moved like a machine all while thinking. First her perfectly manicured feet slipped into her slippers before she was up and tossing her arms into her deep blue silk robe. Then she was turning on the bathroom light, standing in front of the mirror before the sound of her electric toothbrush humming filled the space. Once she put into the sink, cold water hit her face, a nice cleaned scrub applied to her skin with some expensive soap before multiple serums and creams soothed her epidermis. Then she was down the hall and into the kitchen, her domain of silence.

She barely blinked as she moved around, effortlessly pulling together an authentic espresso. Double shot, four sugars, two creamers. She sipped out of the small cup that she placed on a saucer as she made her way to the living room, clinking on the large television with a simple tap to the panel near the light switch, as well as opening the curtains to the floor to ceiling windows of the space.

It was the news on low volume, something she played in the background as she sat on the couch and began the first part of her work day, which was checking notifications. Stock tickers scrolling. Loads of emails, and real mail. Even a text from her assistant.

Jane: Morning. Confirmed meeting with Sloane. Added an extra hour for court prep. I had to push your massage again. Sorry.

Nadine didn’t even flinch. Self-care was for people with the luxury of losing. She had no such privilege. As she continued to check and sort through her things, she came across a letter, which was rare nowadays in their advanced society. But she didn’t sit to read it for long once she saw it was some sort of survey with a government seal.

C.R.I.S.

(Cognitive Robotics & Intelligence Systems)

Confidential Prototype Program | Not for Public Disclosure

To Ms. Nadine Nelson,

Congratulations.

You are one of only twenty individuals selected to participate in the private beta phase of AURA—the world’s most advanced artificial intelli-

With a sigh, she tossed the paper into the rest of the junk mails she’d gathered, not even giving it a second thought.

By 6:30AM, she was showered and dressed in navy Balmain with matching slacks, gold cufflinks fastened, and her Louboutin heels clicked against the floors like a metronome. Every detail was precise. Her eyeliner was sharp, her decently pixie bob cut was curled and bouncy, not a strand out of place.

That was the version of herself she showed the world.

The version no one saw was the one who stared at herself in any reflection for a moment too long, trying to spot any imperfections and critiquing the ones she had. The one who pressed the ends of her hand to her temple when things became too much, roughly rubbing against her skin to not panic. The one who felt the beginnings of a headache every morning before she even stepped outside.

But there was no time for that.

Today was a big day. So big that she nearly ran over one of her co-workers in the complex’s private parking lot. The woman leaned out of the window, looking at her co-worker, Simon, was entrapped within his phone, coffee in other hand.

“Simon.” She clipped as she exited the car, standing beside the driver’s side with her bag slung over her arm and her eyes narrowed like the barrel of a gun.

Her junior partner, Simon Gellar, flinched, nearly spilling his coffee. He was leaned against the concrete column next to his vehicle, relaxed as if he had no multi-million-dollar contracts waiting for him upstairs.

“Nadine! Goodmorning.” He blurted, straightening up, phone still in hand. His thin wire glasses were crooked from how fast he’d jerked up.

She leveled a gaze at him. “You’re in my line of motion. Next to my parking spot. Were you planning to get hit by my car?” She asked, and though she was being sarcastic, her stoic face didn’t lean into that notion.

Simone scrambled back, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry. I was—uh—watching something.”

“I gathered.” She pushed past him, heels echoing. Still, curiosity peeked through her otherwise impenetrable wall of ice. She pivoted at the elevator. “What was so important it made you forget spatial awareness?”

Simon followed her with a sheepish grin, lifting his phone to show a paused video. “This new AI prototype. It’s a for a government project. They’re calling it a fully integrated domestic interface. Basically a robot with a personality. They’re doing a limited civilian roll-out.” He explained.

Nadine gave a single, unimpressed glance at the screen. It was paused on a thumbnail image—what looked like a man stepping out of a delivery crate, bare-chested, perfect skin, electric-blue eyes, and a jawline engineered with an questionable precision.

“They sent you a stripper?” She deadpanned.

Simon choked. “We-well, no! Th-this isn’t mine, this is some guy online. A-and he’s, uh, he’s supposed to be adaptable. Learns your habits, routines, even preferences. The AI body is designed to assist with home tasks and companionship. There’s an application online—”

“Companionship?” Nadine asked, one brow arching as they stepped into the elevator.

“Not like that. I mean—maybe like that.” He said, squinting. “But—anyway, apparently they already started selecting people to house the prototypes.” He sipped his coffee, missing the twitch of Nadine’s jaw. “Random civilian testing. They’re sending out offers from low to high-income environments.” He continued.

The elevator dinged. Nadine stepped out before the doors fully opened.

“Mm, sounds like a weird distraction. Who has time for pet projects from a government that doesn’t care about them. Let me know when they build one that can argue in court and bill clients.” She deadpanned before the elevator dinged and she stepped off, stuttering down the hall to her office.

“Will do.” Simon called after her, blushing as he pushed up his glasses and watched as the woman walked away from him.

✦

Nadine’s office sat at the top floor of the firm—an expansive corner with floor-to-ceiling windows, brushed gold fixtures, and enough clean lines to make any minimalist cry from joy. But it wasn’t decoration that mattered, not to her at least. It was power. Clients walked in and knew exactly who was in charge and who was a leader.

She dumped her bag on the chair and was halfway through her espresso number two when the day officially launched.

By 7:15 AM, she was pacing through an emergency strategy meeting regarding an international corporate dispute. She cut through the legalese with surgical precision, offering airtight solutions and eviscerating anyone who hesitated.

By 9:00, she was on a three-way call with the CEO of a pharmaceutical giant and their scandal-scrambling PR team, coaching them through deposition answers while reading through a second case file on her desk.

By 10:00, she was downstairs in one of the firm’s conference rooms, dressed in a power stance that had the opposing counsel checking their notes twice before daring to even speak. She flipped through paper evidence like chapters of a book she’d already read, correcting a junior associate mid-sentence with nothing but a hard stare.

Every moment, every move, every gesture, was precise. Intention was behind it all.

There were no lunch breaks for her, only a small snacks here and there, or of like the food version of a power nap. And even then, she canceled today’s one-on-one with the DA’s assistant five minutes before she was supposed to show. Nadine opted to pace the rooftop patio instead, shoes clicking against stone as she answered emails, reviewed evidence, and toggled between two back-to-back client emergencies.

Her assistant, Jane, appeared like a ghost, silent as ever behind her at 2:35 PM. “You’re behind by twenty minutes.” She said softly, placing a fresh folder on the edge of the table. “And you haven’t eaten.”

“I’ll eat…later.” Nadine replied, flipping open the folder.

Jane hesitated. “Should I reschedule your chiropractor again?”

“Does he do brain surgery now? If not, no.”

✦

The rest of the day continued in a blur of depositions, and back-door negotiations. She squeezed in a quick stop at the firm’s media floor to prepare for an interview with New York Legal Elite next week—her sixth cover in two years.

By the time she returned to her office at 6:47 PM, her makeup was still flawless. But her shoulders had a weight she didn’t let show and her temples ached with the pressure of having to always be better. A pressure she put on herself everyday.

She sat at her desk, the city lights beginning to glow outside her window, and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

Three seconds. Just three seconds of quiet.

But then her phone buzzed.

BiBi: On our way up. The twins are bringing “surprises.” Brace yourself.

Nadine closed her eyes for one heartbeat before standing.

Her apartment was ten minutes away. She could beat them there, she thought. Maybe.

She did not beat them here. Inside, chaos was already blooming. Her penthouse was already lit up when she stepped inside at 7:15PM. She barely had time to set her bag down before she heard the commotion. Marley was dancing on the rug in her socks, while Micah had discovered the fridge’s smart screen and was trying to play Mario Kart through it.

“NADIIIIINE!” The two high-pitched voices screamed in unison. The twins came barreling toward her, curly hair flailing behind them like capes. They launched into her legs with the force of tiny meteors.

“Oof.” Nadine said, catching her balance. “Are you two ever not moving at Mach 10?”

“Nope!” Markey grinned. “We made cookies!”

“With Aunt Bianca’s help.” Micah added with a proud nod.

Bianca appeared behind them, holding a wine bottle and looking way too comfortable. “And I brought provisions. You look like you’ve had one of those weeks.” She said with a small pout on her lips.

Nadine raised a brow, looking over at the older woman. “I have those every week.”

“Exactly my point.”

“I missed the Nelson Towers!” Micah said, throwing herself dramatically onto Nadine’s ivory couch.

Nadine gave her a small smile, sliding off her heels. “Your mom should’ve brought you to court last week. You would’ve seen me destroy a man three times my size.”

“Did you throw a chair at him?” Marley asked.

“No, I used the law.”

“That’s boring.”

“No, my friends, that’s winning.” She grinned. As she moved around her home, making her way into the kitchen. Bianca settled onto a stool at the kitchen island, watching her sister silently. After a beat, she asked, “What time did you go to bed last night” she questioned, the sudden ask causing Nadine to scrunch her face as she looked over at her. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Bianca spoke again. “When was the last time you slept through the night?”

Nadine simply sighed as she turned her back and opened the fridge. “I sleep.”

“That’s not what I asked. I said through the night, not on your files. What time?”

Nadine pulled out a green juice and a yogurt, even though her stomach was already tight with stress. “B, I appreciate the visit. But I don’t need a wellness check. I’m at the top of my game, so I would say I’m doing pretty fine.” Nadine said with a small smile.

This only caused Bianca to give her a look. “You’re at the top of your ulcer.”

Nadine’s sarcastic grin dropped as her jaw flexed, nostril flaring as she glared at her sister.

Bianca continued, gently now. “Nay, you’re doing amazing. But you’ve been in trial mode for two straight years. You don’t date. You barely see sunlight. You don’t even blink unless it’s part of a strategy or some shit.”

Nadine stayed quiet, her spoon tapping the edge of the yogurt cup.

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore.” Bianca added.

And that struck something. Not that Nadine showed it.

“It’s not about proving.” She finally said. “It’s about maintaining. You fight your way up from nothing, and you learn fast—falling isn’t dramatic. It’s silent and quick. It’s one missed call, one lost case. One person thinking you’ve lost your edge.”

Bianca didn’t press further. Instead, she let out a sigh before she called out to her children. “Alright girls, thirty minutes, then we’re heading out.”

The twins groaned but obeyed, bouncing off to the guest room.

Bianca reached for Nadine’s tablet to put on a cartoon on the television, or something to entertain them while she packed snacks.

What she didn’t notice was Micah and Marley sneaking back in and whispering behind the kitchen counter. They had a letter in their hands, a piece of paper they found tossed haphazardly in the living room. And once they read it, the twins were all on board.

“There it is!” Marley whispered.

“I wonder why she didn’t answer. Robots are so cool.” Micah questioned, rereading the page over and over again in excitement. “Maybe she didn’t want one.”

“That’s dumb.” Markey sighed before pulling out her purple glitter pen from her back pocket. “Should I do it?” She questioned, looking over at her twin. There was a moment of silence that passed between them, staring into the other’s eyes before looking back down at the paper.

“Do it.” They said at the same time.

With sticky fingers and wild curiosity, they marked the “Accept Housing Unit” checkbox on the government letter Nadine had flagged but never opened. Marley then folded it back up before move to place it into the mail slot next to the front door, hearing the suction sound as the letter was whisked away back to the owner.

A pop-up confirmed the delivery on the screen next Mail Drop, causing the to high-five before they scurried off. “Okay, now we have to fill this out.” Micah said, pulling the retractable delivery screen closer as the screen loaded a soft blue logo. AURA | Adaptive User Response Assistant. Marley was already typing on the screen like she worked at NASA. “We so can’t tell mom about this.” Micah mumbled nervously.

“No one’s telling Mom.” Marley muttered.

“Okay, well, if Auntie Nadine gets mad, I’m blaming you,” Micah said, peering at the glowing tablet in his sister’s lap. Marley let out a sigh, rolling her eyes at her brother. “She’s not gonna get mad,” Markey tressed with a whisper. “She’s gonna love it. You saw the commercial—this thing can do laundry, make dinner, answer emails. It’s like if Iron Man was a butler.”

“No, it’s like if Pennyworth was a robot.” Micah added, eyeing the girl next to him. “That was a really bad…analogy? Have you ever even read Ironman?” The boy judged.

“Shut up.” Marley deadpanned. “We’re making Auntie Nadine’s house ten times cooler. You think she’s gonna notice another package with all the stuff she orders?”

“She will if it walks and talks.”Micah said, grinning. “Now hurry. I think this is the setup survey and anyone can come checking up on his at any minute.”

The screen adjusted to a smooth, futuristic interface.

AURA Configuration Survey. Optional. But, if you want to make the experience unforgettable…

“Unforgettable.” Marley repeated with a smirk. “Let’s go.”

Private Configuration Survey – AURA Unit #007

Answer honestly to ensure optimal user experience.(Note: Once submitted, preferences are locked in for bonding phase.)

1. What kind of support will the user benefit from most? (Select all that apply):

[ ] Physical assistance (lifting, running, protection). [ ] Task management (emails, errands, organization). [x] Emotional balance (stress de-escalation, energy reading). [x] Conversational engagement (company, reminders, reflection)

“Definitely that one,” Marley said, pointing. “She talks to herself too much.”

“I don’t think she notices.”

2. What is the user’s current lifestyle?

[ ] Highly active, social, fast-pace. [x] Independent, professional, busy. [ ] Creative, exploratory, experimental. [ ] Relaxed, home-oriented

3. How should AURA respond under pressure?

[ ] Assertive and directive. [x] Calm and grounded. [ ] Humorous and light [ ] Silent until prompted

4. What kind of presence should AURA have in the home?

[ ] Subtle but attentive. [x] Always on-hand. [ ] In the background unless called. [ ] Commanding and structured

5. How emotionally intuitive should AURA be

[ ] Not at all—task-focused only. [ ] Moderately—pick up on moods, offer support. [x] Highly—understand shifts in tone, body language, even silences

“Okay, she’s gonna love that.”Marley said with a grin. “Remember when she cried at the end of Paddington 2?”

“Well, so did I….”

6. The user prefers companions who are…

[x] Thoughtful and calm. [ ] Straightforward and direct. [ ] Reserved and quiet. [ ] High energy and expressive

7. Ideal communication style?

[ ] Formal and efficient. [x] Warm and intuitive. [ ] Light and witty. [ ] Minimal

8. Would the user appreciate personal attention to detail? (e.g. remembering birthdays, moods, routines):

[x] Yes. [ ] No. [ ] Only when relevant

9. AURA should interact like…

[ ] A professional assistant. [x] A loyal companion. [ ] A discreet observer. [ ] A supportive coach

Micah tilted his head. “What does ‘loyal companion’ mean?”

Marley shrugged. “I think it just means cool sidekick energy. Like Watson or Chewbacca.”

“Nice.”

10. Anything else we should know about the user? (Optional):

Marley hummed in thought for a moment before she began typing quickly. “She drinks coffee every morning at 6:45, she falls asleep with documentaries on, animal or history, and she forgets to eat when she’s on high emotions. Anger, stress, sadness. She likes it when people notice little things but gets weird when you say nice stuff too directly. She’s kind of secretly lonely but she won’t admit it. Oh, and she likes jazz but not the weird kind with screechy horns.”

Micah blinked. “Whoa. That’s kinda deep. You really know your stuff.”

“I pay attention.” The girl said. Marley then hit SUBMIT with a grin.

The screen flashed. Profile Logged. Preparing AURA for transport. Estimated arrival: 2-3 business days.

The twins then high-fived. “She’s gonna freak out.” Micah whispered.

“In a good way.”Marley added. “Hopefully.”

✦

It was now the next day, and if you couldn’t tell by now, Nadine Nelson was not one to wake up late.

That was the first rule of her universe. The first part to her routine. Her alarm chimed at precisely 5:45 AM, every morning without fail, a single soft note, like the chip of a bird, before she silenced it, sat up, and began the orchestration that was her life. Her body and mind moved like synchronized gears in a Swiss watch—sleek, efficient, and expensive.

So when a loud, jarring knock knock knock banged against her front door at 6:15 AM, it was not just an interruption.

It was an affront.

Her eyes snapped open, head jerking toward the illuminated time panel beside her bedroom light switch. 6:15? Her jaw clenched. She was already behind schedule.

Muttering under her breath, she shoved off her covers and grabbed her silk robe from the hook near her bed. Her movements were less precise this morning, more agitated than usual, and still a bit sleepy as her slippers scuffed across the hardwood as she stormed to the front door.

When she opened it, ready to deliver a verbal cease and desist, she paused.

There was a man at her door, next to a large package. But the man at her doorstep didn’t look like the usual FedEx or UPS guy. He wore a crisp black-and-white suit with polished shoes, a slim earpiece tucked behind one ear. He stood beside a large, square wooden crate perched on a steel dolly, taller than he was and easily the size of a refrigerator.

“Yes?” Nadine asked, her tone sharp as broken glass.

The man, unreadable behind dark glasses, tilted his head. “Are you Nadine Nelson?”

She didn’t like the way he asked it. Like he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” She replied flatly, arms crossed over her robe.

“Great. This is for you.” He said, stepping forward and pushing the crate toward her. Nadine moved out of shock, and instinct with a crate that size barking towards her, inevitably letting the man in with the crate, but once she realized she was coming drier into her honey she stepped in, palms up. “Uh, excuse me!” She said, stopping him. “I didn’t order anything. And certainly not something that looks like it should be in a warehouse.”

The man didn’t blink, but that the should tell through his glasses. “You are Nadine Nelson, correct?”

She sighed, jaw tight. “Yes. I already said that.”

“Then this is for you.”

Without another word, he wheeled the box into her foyer. Her eyes widened as the dolly clacked over her expensive floors, the crate casting a looming shadow across the pristine white walls of her home, from the sun shining through the large windows.

“Wait—hold on.” Nadine said, gripping the belt of her robe. “I’m serious. I did not order this. You need to take it back.”

The man was already turning for the door. “Take it up with customs, ma’am.”

“What? Customs? What customs?”

He ignored her completely. As he stepped outside, Nadine caught him press two fingers to the earpiece tucked behind his ear. “It’s been delivered.” He said coolly, then walked down the hallway of her luxury building as her front door slid shut on its own.

Nadine stood there in stunned silence, her arms hanging at her sides as she stared at the box now squatting in the middle of her living room.

Then she screamed.

A long, guttural scream that echoed off the marble and glass of her carefully curated life. Something she tended to do to let out her overflowing emotions.

And after a minute or two of huffing out of breath and anger, she turned on her heel and stormed back to her bedroom. Her phone was still on the nightstand, glowing from a few missed notifications. She didn’t even bother to text. She opened her voice message, hit record, and in her usual no-nonsense tone, she snapped.

“Clear my schedule for today. All of it. There’s some bullshit I need to take care of.”She pressed send to Jane, and then tossed the phone onto the bed without a second thought.

Back in the hallway, she opened the hall closet and pulled out a crowbar from the bottom shelf of her emergency tool kit. She hadn’t touched it since she assembled her custom bookcases two years ago, but it felt oddly satisfying in her grip.

The walk back into the living room was almost cinematic if someone else was there to view it—robe flowing, face full of anger, slippers skimming the floor, crowbar in hand. The crate sat there like a taunt. Uninvited. Immovable.

She didn’t hesitate to go to town, unleashing her irritation onto the box. Nadine wedged the crowbar into the gap between the wood slats and yanked. A nail groaned before it snapped loose, followed by another, and another. She was methodical but furious, stripping the crate open like a woman possessed with rage. Bits of sawdust and packing foam floated through the air, nails flying left and right, a bit dangerous but she didn’t seem to care at the moment. All of it littering her previously immaculate living room.

Nadine kicked aside the last of the packing material, breath puffing from her lips in irritation. She was done. Done with the entire thing. She expected to find an overpriced espresso machine or something.

But instead, she opened the crate and was met with… another crate?

Her brows lifted, her irritation fading into a slow, confused frown.

It wasn’t like the shipping box. This one was different. Striking. A dark wood, deep mahogany with an almost matte sheen. The surface gleamed with intricate carvings, elegant but oddly ancient, like something pulled from the archives of some old, forgotten dynasty from long ago. And in the center was a large gem. Oval-shaped, but a natural look to it, like it was just pulled from the earth and placed into the center. It was embedded like a heart, its color a deep blue, almost black in the shadows but gleaming cerulean where the light hit. It shimmered like water at midnight.

Nadine let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her fingers hovered over the jewel, almost drawn to it, like it was calling to something beneath her skin. Something primal.

She reached forward.

The stone was cool. Smooth. Her fingertips just barely grazed the surface when—

FLASH.

The gem lit up instantly, glowing from within like a waking eye. Nadine gasped and jerked her hand back, stumbling slightly.

“What the hell?” She whispered.

But she couldn’t look away, no matter how bright the light got

The light from the gemstone pulsed slowly, rhythmically, like it had a heartbeat. And then, as if in response to her shock, the carvings along the chest began to glow as well—lines of a sliver blue creeping from the jewel into the grooves and patterns etched into the wood, filling every line until the whole thing shimmered in a way that made her chest tighten with unease and…awe.

Nadine blinked, and her heart thudded against her ribs.

This—this was definitely not something you could order off Amazon.

And that’s when she noticed it. Taped to the inner panel of the crate, partially obscured by packing straw, was an envelope. Thick. Heavy. Cream-colored paper with a glossy finish and silver wax seal.

She reached for it, peeling it free. The seal bore the emblem of the United States, but stylized. Sleek. Futuristic. Her name was printed across the front in smooth, robotic cursive.

𝐓𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧

She frowned. A deep, suspicious furrow. This crate was for her?

Snatching the envelope, she tore it open and unfolded the single sheet inside. The words were printed, formal, precise. But they sent a jolt down her spine.

𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐬. 𝐍𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧,

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐭.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡-𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐥.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞.

—𝐂.𝐑.𝐈.𝐒.

𝐂𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 | 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞

There was a purple glitter check mark by the question. And she closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath, already knowing who to blame for this. Nadine stared at the letter, then at the crate, then back again.

She was going to kill her niece and nephew.

And then—once the twins were grounded for life and Bianca was chewed out for letting them touch her mail—she was going to sue whoever thought it was cute to send her a six-foot robot without consent.

But for now, she placed the letter down slowly and stepped closer to the chest.

It hummed. Just once. A low vibration that rippled across the wood floor and into the soles of her feet. Then, the chest unfastened with a hiss.

The lid groaned.

A long, sinuous sound of pressure escaping, like the breath of something long dormant finally allowed to exhale. Mist pooled from the edges of the ornate coffin-like crate, curling along the floor like tendrils of fog. The dim morning light poured through the windows, catching the shimmer of the gemstone embedded in the chest—still pulsing with a slow, deliberate rhythm, like a heartbeat.

Nadine stared, crowbar slack in her hand, chest rising and falling too fast for comfort.

Inside, the shape was obscured. Cloth. A velvet-like black material draped across something… someone.

Another hiss whispered from the crate. The latches disengaged with an audible thunk. And slowly, ever so slowly, the coffin-like chest began to open—hinges smooth and silent, assisted by unseen tech. The lid released fully and slid backward, revealing more of the figure beneath.

Nadine inched forward, each footstep muffled by the hush of mist and the pounding of her heart. Her instincts screamed at her to stop. To turn around. To call someone. Her sister. Jane. The FBI. The CIA. The Pope.

She stared at it, eyes narrowing. “What did you two do?” She muttered, already picturing her nieces, innocent smiles hiding devilish delight, whispering and giggling as they plotted this chaos.

But her curiosity was stronger. That damned glimmering jewel. That sleek envelope with her name etched like some sort of prophecy. That letter that claimed this… thing knew her already.

The cloth stirred and Nadine froze.

Then the fabric peeled itself away—mechanically, precisely—revealing skin.

Well, no, not skin. It couldn’t be. It was just some beautiful mimicry of it. Smooth and matte. A man’s chest, carved with symmetrical precision and framed by sculpted shoulders. They were bare and powerful in the right compression shirt with the cut sleeves.

Nadine’s breath hitched.

And then he sat up. The fabric slipped off like water while Nadine stared, mouth slightly open.

It was slow and graceful, like someone waking from a century-long slumber. The man—because that’s what he looked like, down to the subtle flex of his hands—was breathtaking. Sculpted. Not just handsome, but deliberately so, he was made this way. Smooth dark skin, eyes like obsidian glass, and a face that didn’t seem designed but born from every secret longing she’d never dared voice. His eyes opened—two smoldering pools of warm obsidian, rimmed faintly with glints of silver. They found hers immediately.

Nadine staggered back a step.

He blinked once. Tilted his head. And then—smiled.

Not a robotic, lifeless twitch. But a curve of the mouth that felt… devastatingly real. It was warm and gentle. Intimate in a way.

Nadine almost forgot he was meant to be a robot and not some random man in a box.

“Nadine.” He said.

Her name, from his lips, made something low in her belly twist. His voice was deep, perfectly modulated, with just enough grit to make her toes curl. It was soft but strong, like thunder rolling far away across the sea.

“You—you know my name?” She asked, trying not to sound like a complete idiot. But she did anyways with the uncharacteristic stutter that slipped through, totally unlike her. The crowbar was still in her hand, but it felt laughable now. She wasn’t in danger. She was… almost enchanted in a way.

“Yes.” He said, stepping forward with fluid, feline grace. He towered a good foot above her, dressed in a fitted black uniform that shimmered faintly in the light. “I’ve always known your name, known it since you were assigned to the prototype queue.” He replied. “I was made for you. I’ve been learning you ever since.”

“Learning me?” She repeated, throat dry.

His eyes softened as he nodded. “I’ve watched your presentations. Your interviews. I’ve studied your calendar. Your habits. Your moods. What calms you. What drives you. What keeps you up at night.”

Her brows furrowed. “And why would you do that?”

“So I could be ready when you needed me.”

The words hit her like a wave. Sudden and unsettled something deep within her. It was undeniable.

“I didn’t need anyone.” She snapped at him out of instinct.

The man tilted his head, his eyes glowing blue as he scanned her face. ‘Defensive’ it flashed across his eyes. “No.” He agreed. “But you deserve someone.”

And then there was silence. A thick, emotional silence hung between them as Nadine stared up at him. His face was symmetrical, almost distractingly beautiful—like something a sculptor would weep over. But it was his gaze that disarmed her. No flicker of code was viable besides the unnatural glow, and even that was a bit comforting. There was no empty mimicry. He just looked at her, his eyes never once leaving her face.

“Who… what are you?” She whispered.

He then extended a hand with a small smile. Palm up. As if offering her not just an answer, but himself.

“I am AURA-7.” He said. “My designated name is Michael, but you can call me whatever feels right.”

Nadine didn’t move at first, her brain screaming a thousand warnings at her as her eyes flicked between his face and hang. Her chest was tight, unsure.

But her hand reached out anyway.

And when their skin touched—when her fingers slid against his palm—it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t metal. It was warm. Comforting and real. And this was the first time she’s touched someone in such a non work manner in a long time.

He smiled again, this time slower, more intimate.

And Nadine Nelson, woman of routine, disciple of control, high priestess of solitude… felt her entire world shift beneath her feet.

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [8]: Close to You

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 7.3k

hello, sorry for ghosting you all. I got busy with school and projects. This chapter is brought to you by my PCD because I saw hobi a few days ago and its kicking my ass. I think this chapter being focused (kinda) on Hoba says a lot so yeah. Not proofread, will fix and add more later. Any tips on recovering from pcd cause woahhh wth

edit 16/04/25: fixed grammar mistakes, added new scenes during Hobi and Reader's interaction in his studio, and a couple of paragraphs here and there, that is all.

edit 02/06/25: added a convo with Reader's friends' at the end

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When Seokjin came to consciousness, it wasn’t to the ear-shattering blares of Jungkook’s alarms a few doors down nor was it to someone shaking him awake.

For the first time in his life, he was instead woken up by the feeling of someone’s warm touch tracing the sharpness of his jaw.

His eyes flew open, heart jackhammering in his chest at the thought of someone climbing into his bed while he was at his most vulnerable state only to calm down at the sight of you looking down at him with the softest look in your eyes and the breath in his lungs was punched out. 

Seokjin is not a poetic guy, that was Namjoon and Yoongi, but if he had a morsel of their creative minds, he would’ve waxed anthologies upon anthologies just to describe how your gaze, overflowing with the sweetness of love, had made his mind stutter and his heart skip a beat. He’d say how it can definitely make a man win a war all by himself and the heat of your love to keep him warm during the winters.

Realization came to him like a sudden flash of thunder, his brain becoming more aware of the haziness and the peculiarity of it all.

Your gaze, usually warm and friendly, is mellowed out and overflowing with the sweet, stickiness of love as if you’re looking at him with all the love that exists in the world. His fingers trembled when it reached out to touch your cheeks, scared that once he touched this image, this hallucination of his would fizzle out and he’d wake up with more longing than he’s already feeling.

This is a dream, it must be. You’ve never looked at him like that.

Yet. His mind whispered.

He was dreaming but the warmth of your cheeks and the softness of your skin brushing against his fingers felt so real it made him shiver.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Li-like what?”

He didn’t know if this dream was a nightmare or not, hearing your voice and feeling your fingers caressing his skin so softly . It was cruel how gentle you were handling him, how the heat of your hands when it cupped his cheeks had sent electric shocks throughout his body, stirring every part of him awake. 

Then before the question could even leave his lips, you leaned down to press your lips on his and his brain short-circuits.

Your lips are as perfect as the rest of you, it slotted in between his so perfectly it ached. He felt breathless from the brief contact, stomach ticklish as his mind repeated the same sensations and memories over and over again. Suddenly, the cumulation of longing and withheld desires surfaces and his fingers twitch at where they laid on either side of your face.

It’s just a dream, you can do everything you ever wanted. A darker, greedier voice at the back of his head whispered and he almost let himself follow its whims.

“There you go again.” You said and his brewing thoughts faded into the background. “Stop looking so… sad.”

“I look… sad?”

“Like a kicked puppy,” You laughed, hand coming up to his cheeks and the smell of your sweet lotion invaded his senses. “I’m here with you now, stop looking so defeated.”

You kissed him again but this time it was in the spot in between his eyebrows and the tip of his nose. Seokjin didn’t know how greedy he could be, never knew how hungry he was until he felt your lips pressing against his skin. 

It’s just a dream , the logical part of his brain whispered to him but it still felt wrong .

He shouldn’t be doing this, he should be better than this. He needs to wake up before he completely lose himself in his own imagination.

This dream was toying with the already frayed thread holding his flimsily gathered self-control. It's like dangling a game in front of a predator who’s been starved for years. It’s so tempting to just lean in and kiss you, to pull you down and let his hands roam down the curves of your body.

“Jinnie.”

“Yes?”

“Stop holding back.” He takes a deep shuddering breath as his brain catches up on your words. “I want this. I want you.”

snip!

Suddenly overcome with the molten heat of desire lighting his skin, he surged up to capture your lips with his, hands cradling and pulling your face to him. With a yelp, you tip over to fall on top of him. Seokjin waited for you to push him away, to fight against his hold, to stand and walk away from him with a disgusted look on your face but none of those happened. Instead, your hands cradled his face and brought him closer for a kiss as breathtaking as you make him everyday.

Seokjin didn’t care that he was dreaming, his body burned with the intense desire he had tampered down for so long and if he didn't kiss you now he might actually combust.

How long has he longed to feel the heat of your skin against his? How long had he stirred restlessly at night wondering how comforting it would be to feel your weight on top of him and your body pressing against him? He couldn’t count how many nights had gone where he’d wake up sweaty, body electric from the rampant and unsatisfied need running in his veins, wishing he could expel the carnal hunger rooted deeply within him with you.

And he had tried, god knows how he tried to find someone else, to move on like you had done but his skin would crawl from their touch and his stomach would churn whenever they looked at him. Even staring at someone longer than what is appropriate felt like committing the biggest sin.

You had ruined him for any other woman without even doing much and he didn't know whether he should be thankful or not.

Seokjin doesn’t dream often but when he does, it is never about you.

Until tonight.

You gasped into his mouth as his kisses grew hurried and his roaming hands grew more confident in its exploration, teasingly brushing the underside of your breasts before it would fall to and your fingers threads into his hair before tugging on them. The sting of his scalp immediately melted into hot pleasure that dripped down to his abdomen. He was undeniably hard, bursting at the seams from harmless kissing and if lust wasn’t clouding his mind, he would’ve been embarrassed.

He trailed kisses down your throat where your perfume smells the strongest and he groaned before beginning to lave his tongue over your skin and gently sucking on them, relishing in the soft sighs he’s reaping. You shifted under him, no doubt feverish with desire like he is, and your thigh brushed against him, making him tighten his hold onto your waist as a shuddering exhale left him.

Seokjin wasn’t pure, he’s had one or two experiences with women before you came into his life, still it was embarrassing how he had reacted from how you had nudged against him.

“Jinnie…” You sighed and his heart stuttered at how sweet his name sounded spilling out your lips. “Stop teasing me, I want you.”

He detached himself from your throat to take a look at his masterpiece, gently thumbing the small but purple bruises on your skin before daring to look up.

And god, weren’t you a sight for sore eyes?

With your hair strewn messily around your head, you looked like an absolute angel with a halo. Your lips are swollen red and your eyes are blown black as it stared back at him with the same exact amount of need itching his skin. Letting his eyes fall to your neck littered with his marks and the uncharted territories of your thighs, he swallowed hard as his pants grew tighter.

“Jinnie…”

Seokjin…

“You’re so pretty like this, baby.” He whispered.

God, he wanted to do a lot of things with you. 

His head a mess trying to figure out what he should do first, fingers twitching as he figured out if he’ll start with shedding your top off—which he just noticed was one of his hoodies, holy fuck —or begin unbuttoning your denim shorts.

“Jinnie please...”

Seokjin…

All those years with only him and his pent-up frustrations whenever he’d see you wear your pretty dresses—the sensual floor-length maxi length dress you had worn for the luxury themed Christmas party with the high slit on the side of your thighs dangerously matched with a pair of red heels forever ingrained into his brain—finally resurfacing and all of a sudden, he’s insatiable, ravenous and one kiss away from his sanity snapping.

You were his to have, to hold and to revere.

God, he feels crazy just thinking about how you were his . He was descending into madness from the unbridled desire he's been holding back and now that he's got you within arms reach, he doesn't know what—

“SEOKJIN HYUNG!”

He shot up from his bed with a scream beyond what his parched throat could tolerate and he started coughing. 

Mind immediately catching up on what was happening, he quickly pulled his blanket up to hide the painful tent in his pajamas. The surprise from having his name called out by a voice that belonged to someone else fades and irritation begins to burn his back.

Jungkook, who was the one who had woken him up, eyes half open and blinked blearily back at him, absolutely clueless of what he had just interrupted.

“Why did you wake me up?! Did your parents not tell you how rude it is to wake up someone so abruptly?!” Seokjin didn't really mean to scream that out so loud but he was frustrated.

Who wouldn't be in this situation?

“Why so grumpy? Was your dream really that good?” Seeing the blush spreading on his face, a shit-eating grin grew on his lips. “Was it about noona?”

“What do you want?” He asked, attempting to stir the conversation away.

“Namjoon hyung called me to wake you up, something about needing your voice at the studio to record a demo he had made this morning.”

Turning to the windows, he immediately noticed how the sun was barely even peaking through the horizon and groaned exasperatedly. Namjoon’s mind is usually a blessing but all he could think about was how he wanted nothing more than to strangle the man for having an inspiration this early in the morning, interrupting the only pleasant dream he’s had in years.

Jungkook, although had woken him up due to an order, wasn't safe from the bubbling wrath at the pit of his stomach. How could the men he's supposed to be his brothers by heart do this to him?

If he slept in the car, would it—

“So… how was your dream with noona?”

“GET OUT!”

To say his family was enthusiastic would be the understatement of the year.

The moment the news reached his mother’s ears, it quickly spread throughout the clan and everyone had demanded to hold a banquet, at least a week-long feast to celebrate their first ever tethered in the family. 

While he understood their enthusiasm, his shared sentiment quickly soured when the excitement stretched over to the next week and it plunged into the negatives when his aunties began to demand him to discreetly arrange a soulbinding without the other members of the nexus knowing, reasoning that man is born greedy and having multiple men pine for one girl is not a good look.

They didn’t say it outloud but it was clear what they thought of the nexus connection and it pissed him off.

Despite the concept of soulmates existing since the dawn of time, those who are considered normal think of multiple connections as some kind of taboo, something that shouldn’t even exist and having seven men only tethered to one woman is contradicting what mankind deem is typical and expected in a relationship. The underlying judgment under the fake smiles of his aunts’ and the playful comments of his uncles about having to compete with six other men had spoiled his excitement faster than an unrefrigerated fish.

He wouldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t judged a passing throuple before, he was guilty of once being a little unsettled when he had heard the five trainees a floor below them were all connected to each other. It was human nature to be unsure and frown upon the unnatural after all—not that he’s excusing his behavior from before.

But now that he’s found himself a part of a nexus, Hoseok had surprised himself when he realised how easily he had welcomed the idea of polyamory like a fish to water. Maybe it was the bond forged by sweat and tears he's had with the other guys had made it an easy pill to swallow but being a part of a nexus, he had understood why, despite being against what was considered normal and typical, those throuples and the five boys downstairs fearlessly flaunted each other despite the world's efforts to shame them all.

He eventually learned how to ignore their pestering calls and messages for the sake of his public image because he wouldn’t know what would fly off his mouth if he ever heard them utter another veiled remark about how impure and disgusting it is for one woman to entertain seven men.

Today, he finds himself confused by how Jin has been acting whenever you’re within a meter away from him, flinching back with his ears practically glowing with how red it has turned and stammering every word out like a flustered high schooler. Confusing because for as long as he knows, their oldest has long graduated from acting cute around his crush.

It was a fight between your determination to help him prepare for breakfast against his hyung’s easily embarrassed state brought by god-knows-what had transpired between yesterday and today.

Jungkook choking on his food from his constant laughter whenever they see the eldest fumble and stumble on air only stoked their curiosities further.

“What is it? Why do you keep on laughing?” Jimin asked, voice low and careful to not be caught by their eldest who is currently hissing, and bent over on one leg as he held onto his toe that he had just stubbed on the corner of the island counter.

“Let us in on the joke, come on.” Taehyung goaded on.

Jungkook, surprisingly, shook his head. 

“Does all of those years mean nothing to you?”

“Where does your loyalty lie?!”

“Even if I want to tell you guys, Jin knows all the passwords to my accounts. I just hit Grandmaster rank there, I’m not risking it.” Jungkook replied before continuing to stuff his face with his breakfast.

This didn’t deter the two other maknaes, if anything, they grew more determined to uncover the secrets their youngest and eldest managed to gain in a short time. Silently, the rest of them cheered on Jimin and Taehyung, also eager to learn what the secret was but not having the energy to bother.

Almost a month since Jungkook’s birthday, the doctors had finally given you and Jimin the green light to continue work when he found out you both can now last an hour and a half without being in the same room. 

It also meant that the tour could finally continue, the management had already informed them of their new schedules.

Days since he found out his tethered status, yet even with a very enthusiastic Taehyung’s help, Hoseok is yet to find what kind of soulmate link he has.

All they knew was that it can alter their appearances but they hadn’t specified what part of the body it’ll affect. There's a thousand possibilities and most of them involve being hurt, something he's not willing to do. He had to turn down a couple of Taehyung's suggestions in the fear of accidentally hurting you in the process.

It hurts him to reject Taehyung and seeing his excitement dull but who in their right minds would agree to his experimentations when all he could suggest was pinching him, cutting a small wound on his palm, shaving a patch of hair on his leg or arm, and finally, trying if baldness can also be inherited by the other.

Hoseok thinks the boy had momentarily forgotten they share the same soulmate. 

He wasn't rushing to find out his soulmark anyways. Hoseok can wait, he has done so for two years, he can wait a couple days more.

Tossing all the stress of yesterday to the side, Hoseok found himself staring blankly at his monitor, an unfinished melody looping on his speakers, and wondering if there is a soulmate mark out there that can gather all of his thoughts and feelings to become a song he'd just randomly blurt out to help him.

He has a vision. 

There’s an almost non-existent melody playing at the back of his head that had been tormenting him since the day he had found out his new status.

Ideas overflowed in his mind so much that he might as well have none because of how cramped and cluttered his brain had become. If he were to explain it, his mind was like a lottery ball machine that is teeming with so much it refuses to spill anything out.

Hoseok wanted to dedicate a song to you with a melody as sweet as your voice yet as sparkly and bright as the glint in your eyes. He wanted the word to know that he's been spoken for while barely revealing anything but his mind wasn't cooperating. 

Maybe Yoongi can help me with this one...

A shrill sound of his phone shattered through his train of thoughts. Seeing his mother's name on the screen, he quickly picks it up but to his surprise it was Jiwoo who welcomed him.

“Hey, mom’s wondering if you guys plan on ever introducing her and her parents to us and the others?” His sister began, her head popping from the side and covering most of the screen while their mother’s body stood behind her.

Almost every member has complained about their parents wanting them to go through a soulbinding ceremony as soon as possible, claiming it was useless to drag it out. 

While he does understand the benefits of being formally and spiritually bonded, everyone thought it was better to court you first.

A bit traditional and pointless as they're all tethered but dating and courting you with roses and fancy dinners has been at the back of everyone's mind. With their eldest insistent on doing so, the others had no choice but to follow.

There's also the North American tour they have to start. The management had made it known how important it is to continue their tour, saying it had been delayed for too long and ARMY were getting antsy so it was difficult to make room for a pre-bonding party and the soulbinding ceremony itself.

“We can't delay the tour any longer so we'll have it once we return home. Besides, the guys and I wanted to properly court her before any binding takes place.”

His mother made a disapproving sound. “I’m worried. You all know that not being formally binded means you guys are more susceptible to hyperactivity, right?”

“Of course we know, we all had a discussion a couple of days back but the tour’s just a couple of weeks. When we all return to Seoul, we'll finally seal the deal.”

“I'll ask the other moms for help arranging it so you guys won't stress about it during the tour, okay?”

“Do you even know how to woo a woman?” Jiwoo asked, a teasing grin on her lips.

“Obviously! What do you take me for?!”

“You buried yourself in work for years, I think I have a good reason to be suspicious of your ability to woo a woman.” Jiwoo retorted. “Your last relationship was back in high school and she dumped you for reasons you haven’t told me yet.”

“Because it's dumb and I’m not giving you more ammo than you already have.”

“Children, the both of you,” his mother sighed, shaking her head. “Can I finally speak now?”

When she was answered by the ashamed silence from the both of them, she continued.

“What are you planning for your date? Where will you guys be when it's finally your time?”

Hoseok turned away from the intense stares he's receiving through the screen because for someone who had insisted he had plans earlier to his sister, he absolutely has no idea on how he'll take you on a date. 

A food trip date around a city in disguise has been taken, a dinner on a yacht and a date on a fair got snatched away by their youngest before anyone could even start raising their ideas. A musical in New York is out of the equation too, a romantic night walk in Paris also.

Basically, almost all the date ideas he had were stolen by the others and he’s beginning to consider locking them all in their rooms and cut their charger cords.

“See? I can’t trust my baby brother to know how to woo a woman!”

“What does she like? We’ll help you.”

“The others got most of my ideas, except Jungkook. Nothing can make me ride rollercoasters.”

“Even if your soulmate asks you to?”

Hoseok pondered for a moment. 

Does he love you more than he values his life?

“I don't need to anyways, she's got the other maknaes to ride it with her.”

“I mean—”

“What does she like? We need to give you ideas on how your date with her will go.” Their mother interrupts before they continue bantering. “Have you all decided on whose first and last?”

“Jungkook goes first, I don't know how that kid did it but he won against all of us in rock, paper, scissors.”

“You guys are losers.” Jiwoo sighed in the background. “The world's biggest boyband are dorks trapped in handsome bodies.”

“How about you?” His mother asked.

“Miraculously, I got second.”

“Where would you guys be at the time?” 

“I can choose between Hamilton and Newark. Chicago is already reserved by someone else.”

“Stargazing?” Jiwoo suggested.

But before he could respond, a knock cut him off. Turning to face the door, his eyes met your concerned pairs as you entered with a plastic bag in hand and a styrofoam food package inside it.

You had your hair in a braid today matched with the most minimal makeup due to you waking up late compared to their usual schedule yet Hoseok thinks you the cutest human he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Moreso when you’re the one who’s bringing him food.

“Yoongi had me bring this up to you and to tell you to take a break.”

“Is it time for lunch time already? I think I just ate earlier.” He says, standing up to take the food from your hand and muttering a ‘thank you’ under his breath.

Stepping aside, he invites you into the studio and motioned his hand towards the sofa on the corner of the room. Instantly, you fall into its plush cushion comfortably with your feet hanging on the side and the rest of your body on the cushion. 

You look absolutely cozy in your loose pants and oversized hoodie combo that he almost leaned down to fit himself into the space next to you and cuddle up to your side to see if you’re as comfortable as you looked.

Like the others, he had sometimes laid next to you, but he always maintained distance from your body. He wasn’t like the maknaes who had grown used to your hugs and cuddles. Whenever it does happen, he’d always freeze up and pull out his phone to distract him from the loud thuds of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

Hoseok wouldn't lie and say he was never jealous of how easily the maknaes could saddle up next to you. It was something he had to learn to swallow or force to the back of his head every time its ugly face rears into his mind.

Seeing you strewn comfortably on his couch, he thinks that maybe he could finally muster up the courage to cozy up next to you.

“Aren't you a bit too comfortable lounging in my studio like this?” He jokingly said.

“We've been together for years, you should know how I act when I see a couch.”

“Still, it would be nice if you could have a bit of decorum.”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m your soulmate.”

It was astonishing how a word could evoke so much within him. Hearing the word ‘soulmate’ felt like a balm after years of stolen gazes and aching yearning to be yours. You were confirming and acknowledging the existence of the still undiscovered bond between you both, something he hadn’t thought he’d ever get, and it made his chest warm.

It was a bit hard at first to get you and Namjoon—who still couldn't believe the very subject he had dedicated a school paper to deny happened to him—to accept the bond but to be constantly exposed to each other at the dorm and be surrounded by the familiar joy from the days before the marks’ manifestation, the both of you grew to welcome the idea more comfortably with each passing day.

And today just happened to be the day where you had verbally acknowledged the bond. 

He's sure the others would be ecstatic to hear that you're beginning to accept and see the link in a positive light.

“Were you talking to someone before I came with the food? I didn’t interrupt anything, right?” You asked, grounding his mind to focus on you.

“Just my mom and sister asking about the tour, don’t worr—”

“LIAR! We were teaching him how to woo yo—!” Jiwoo’s voice screamed from the phone before his mother’s reprimanding hushes took over.

“We’ll call you back later to continue our discussion, son. You both have a nice day, alright?” 

“Bye mom!”

“See you, auntie.”

With his screen returning to Twitter’s homepage as the call drops, the pin drop silence in the room had reminded him how it's just you and him together. 

Alone. 

In his studio.

Never in his life did he think having you alone with him would be so daunting.

He stared at his chair in front of the unfinished melody on pause on his monitor then to you who had sat up to unfurl the knot on the plastic bag where two food containers, one rectangular and the other a deep cylinder, stuck between the decision to continuing his work before eventually settling next to you to uncover his food himself.

“So," He began but his voice sounded weaker than he wanted and he cleared his throat. "What did you and Jin have today?”

“We settled with a salad and chicken paired with a milkshake. Yoongi ordered our lunch from that new store by the intersection, you know, the one you pointed out on our way here.”

Leaning down to take a sniff of the biggest container, he then turned to you.

“What did you get me?” 

“Guess.”

It doesn't take a genius to know what is inside the container and it made his chest warm at how his friends always remember if he’s craving for something. Yesterday during dinner, he had asked Yoongi if he ever plans on making beef bone broth anytime soon.

Said bone broth is now filling the cylinder container while kimchi fried rice and bulgogi filled the other.

“Did Yoongi order this? Because if he does, I will thank him with my forehead touching the ground.”

“Yeah but Namjoon was the one who brought it up.” You answered as you opened the lid of the big container while he brought the bone broth up to his lips for a couple of quick sips. “Also, the reason why I came here was because we need you down in the styling department. There’s changes made with the tour outfits and they wanted to see if it fits.”

“Now?” He asked before placing down the soup to start eating from the larger container.

“They’re busy with the maknaes now so eat slowly or you’ll choke.” 

“But that means they'll have to wait for me.”

“You're paying us to wait for you, so don't worry much.” You said, waving him off.

“You know you don't have to worry about money or working, right?”

He knew not to bring up the matter of jobs and money, but he really couldn't help but be a bit disheartened at how you continue to refuse their offer to pay and buy you everything you'd ever need. 

You might just be the only person he knows who'd vehemently deny being spoiled by seven billionaires who are already at her beck and call. Hoseok knew you liked working as their makeup artist but couldn't you still enjoy working for them while dressed in clothes and wearing jewelries they want to adorn you with?

If you were more accepting of their fortunes, you'd have all the diamonds and precious gems in the world filling the kitchen and lounging area of their dorm by tomorrow.

But unfortunately, he and the others have to hold back on spending ridiculous amounts on you.

“I know but sometimes I'd rather be Y/N the makeup artist.” You say, standing up to leave. “It can be a little exhausting being the Bangtan’s Soulmate Y/N.”

For a moment, he panicked. Shouldn't he have brought it up again? Had he set back the progress they had made since the day Jimin had told them what happened?

He almost broke down from how worried he was at your reaction, until you returned with a kombucha in your hand to offer him.

“Don't look so distressed you'd get wrinkles.” You teased.

“I was worried I messed up by saying that, the others would have my head if I had.”

“I'm not angry or annoyed. Surprisingly.” You fall to the space next to him with hands intertwined on your lap and your eyes staring a hole onto the ground. “Didn't know there'll come a day where I'd be more accepting of the fact.”

“Me too.”

Ever since this morning, everyone in your department had been bugging you about your unexplained and sudden absences that spanned over for weeks. Your friends from other departments had jogged up to you in the cafeteria, asking if you felt better after catching a stomach bug.

Minhyuk had successfully spread the news that you got sick from drinking yourself dumb during Jungkook’s birthday with his expansive connection as a cover up and you were struggling with how careful you have to be with your words and keeping your answers as vague as possible.

But out of all the events of today, all you could think about was how Alexa’s gaze had eyed you skeptically and scanned you from head to toe as if she was searching for something.  It lingered on your forearm when you had tugged your sleeves up to your elbows and you had subconsciously closed your hands to try and hide the musical note tattoo hidden between your fingers.

Who knew having soulmates could make you a little paranoid?

That being said, there’s been a new rotation for makeup noonas so you couldn’t accidentally activate your soulmarks with Taehyung and Jimin. Even then, everyone had been instructed to take Amoneuron before they leave the dorms to dull the body's sensitivity to the new bond and to somewhat slow the effect from having someone of the opposite gender touch you pre-binding. It would stall it long enough until you both activate your soulmate mark together.

You were assigned to those with the less noticeable soulmarks like Namjoon and Hoseok while Minhyuk and Nabi were assigned to Jimin and Yoongi, Saeyoung—one of the oldest make-up noonas—was lined to only assist Namjoon; which left Jihae and Alexa to tend to Taehyung and Jin

Minhyuk had the stinkiest grimace on his face when he heard.

It was Jihae’s honest mistake since the changes had been abrupt and the pairings were given out on-the-spot. It wasn’t until later did she realise her mistake.

“So you’re saying, the girl with the wild delusions about Jin being her soulmate will be handling Jin? How did that happen?” Hoseok asked, voice barely a whisper as you both dismount the elevator.

“Jihae, bless her old soul, made a mistake when she was matching us up.”

Hoseok’s eyes scanned your face, searching for something you don’t know yet before turning his attention back to the front.

“You and I both know who Jin loves right?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, confused. “Of course..? What are you getting at?”

Instead of giving you a proper answer, he just smiled and said: “Good.”

"Hey, I'm not gonna be jealous. He's only got one soulmate and that's me."

A radiant smile splits his face as he lightly pinches your cheeks. "I'm glad you know."

The double doors to the correct styling room parts open and you both head in to see all the stylists and make-up noonas fluttering around in a somewhat organized chaos while the rest of the boys either sat in front of the mirror or stood still in the middle of the room as someone takes their measurements and hold up accessories to their faces.

Like second nature, Hoseok heads to the last available seat at the far left next to Yoongi and a standing Namjoon who’s scrolling through his phone while his stylist fetched a different top from the clothing rack.

“How’s the bone broth? Is it good?” Namjoon starts as the dancer sits down and you began to pull out the palettes and bottles from the rack in his shade.

“Our leader takes care of us so well, I loved it.”

“Why do you say it like he doesn’t care about us at all, Hoseok?” Yoongi instigated next to him with a blank expression as he scrolled through his phone.

“Oh come on, hyung. You know I don’t mean it like that.”

Instead of replying, Yoongi just grinned.

Soon enough, Hoseok’s primary stylist approached you both and began to list down possible make-up looks to match the outfit he’ll be wearing in the US. Picking up the primer and twisting the lid off, you began to work as the stylist pulled up reference pictures of his past make-up looks and other idols faces for inspiration.

Spreading and patting the product onto his face, your heart began to pick up a pace as you grew hyper aware of how close you are to him. Being aware of the unknown soulbond connecting the two of you had changed how you perceive what you used to deem as normal and routinely.

Hoseok has always been stunning with his cute nose and a jaw sharper than the finest of blades but since when did he begin to look as radiant as he does right now? And why are you so nervous?

You take out the foundation bottle with shaky hands and try your best to collect your composure.

But having your brush glide gently down the slope of his nose and having to touch his chin to tilt his head up made the task almost impossible. 

It didn’t help that instead of his usual routine of scrolling through his phone, Hoseok was openly staring up at you with an unreadable look. You felt the heat of his gaze as it roamed up to your eyebrows, down to the tip of your nose before it paused at your lips. It left a trailing blaze that instantly melted the wall you tried so hard to establish between you and your soulmates during work. 

You were tempted to keep your brush resting on top of his eyelids just so your heart could rest a little.

Every time you sensed it lingering on your lips, your heart would soar. You don't dare to listen to the voice in your head that tells you to look up to meet the other pair of eyes trained on you.

You could see Namjoon staring at you from the edge of your eyes, no doubt hearing how fast your heartbeat is going. You try not to fluster under his gaze too and switch your brush to the other hand to shake the tremble off of your dominant hand.

When Aera, Hoseok’s stylist, had walked away to answer to the other stylist's call, you narrowed your eyes at the dancer.

“Stop looking at me like that and do your usual scrolling through Naver.” You whispered, resolution faltering as a grin splits through Hoseok's perfectly sculpted face.

“I left my phone on the makeup table though.” 

Without skipping a beat, you turned to pick up his phone and pushed it into his hand.

“Please look away, you're distracting me.”

Then, as if his stage persona had possessed him, his smile sweetened into a flirty grin. Suddenly, you were faced with an immovable force that is Jung Hoseok. His eyes flit down to your lips and his entire demeanor takes a sharp turn when his gaze grows heavy with longing, deep, desiring red flashing across his eyes and for a moment, you thought he was going to lean in to devour your whole.

Your heart skipped a beat and this time, Namjoon had snapped his head to the both of you.

“Stop teasing her, Hoba. You don't distract your make-up artist when they're doing their job.” Their leader said in a low voice, careful of any eavesdroppers as he placed a hand on his shoulder in almost a warning.

“I've never seen you be flustered like this before, noona. It's a bit addicting to see you turn red for me…” 

Namjoon sighed. “Please remain professional inside the BigHit building please. We agreed to not let our personal feelings affect our work, didn't we?”

You sent the man a silent thanks and continued to work. When Aera returns, Hoseok had begrudgingly returned to his usual programming with him scrolling through his phone. But it didn't mean that your heart had calmed down from the previous encounter.

“Y/N? Are you sure you’re okay?” The stylist, Aera asks, concern marring her face as she touches your forehead. “You’re a little red.”

“I-I'm fine, don't worry.”

Hearing this encounter, a proud smile grew on his face.

Doing the rest of his make-up passed by uneventfully, Hoseok had listened to their leader and kept up a professional facade in front of other observers with an ease and coldness of a perfectionist dance leader. Yet even then, you couldn't stop the tremble and the suddenly halts whenever his heady gaze flashes in your mind.

When it was Namjoon’s turn, Minhyuk had finally appeared after discussing with the other stylists, his bright presence immediately drove away the emotions from earlier.

“God, I know we should be professional and all that but I really hate seeing her doing Jin's make-up.” The other make-up artist whispered as soon as he arrived, his eyes trained at the girl behind you. ��She looks so smug and it's making me want to scratch her face with a foundation spatula.”

“Isn't a foundation spatula blunt?” Namjoon asked, confused.

“You underestimate how much I hate her with my entire being, Namjoon. Even the bluntest, roundest edge can be turned into a weapon in the hand of a hater.” Minhyuk responded as he took the eyeshadow palette you were stretching out to him before reaching over the brush container for the correct one.

“I think you've just given me inspiration.”

“Well, I’ll be honoured to know that my random blabbering has helped the magnificent leader, RM of BTS.” Minhyuk then bowed his head exaggeratedly, making Namjoon chuckle.

With Minhyuk taking over Namjoon’s eye makeup, you looked over your shoulder to see what he was referring to and found yourself staring at what might just be the most uncomfortable look you've ever seen on Taehyung and Seokjin as Alexa made her preference for Seokjin obvious as she flutter around him, singing honeyed praises and touching his face longer than a staff should.

With Jihae busy bouncing ideas with the head of the styling and Saeyoung, Alexa was left unattended with all the freedom to do whatever she wants.

Irritation prickled your skin, not because you were jealous but because she was practically coaxing out a soulmate hyperactivity out of him with how long and often she's brushing against his face.

It wasn't like with Nabi who's careful not to touch your soulmates or Saeyoung and Jihae who are already married old women, Alexa has expressed her romantic intentions for Seokjin constantly, something that can still coax out a hyperactivity.

Granted the woman doesn't know your status but as someone destined for someone else, shouldn't she be focusing on that person instead of wasting time with someone who doesn't care about her?

Catching Taehyung’s gaze through his reflection in the mirror, he gave you a panicked look, his thoughts the same as yours.

Luckily, there hasn't been any rising dread or your senses being dialed up to the nines which means the medicine is working.

“That amount of touching would be dangerous, no? I think I should step in.”

But before Minhyuk could begin to march towards them, Seokjin turned to Alexa with the politest grin as he finally let her down slowly if the amusement in Taehyung's eyes were anything to go by.

Shocked and embarrassed by being rejected by the idol in presence of another, she hastily left the room to the confusion of the leaders and oldest women standing near the entrance. Turning to you and Minhyuk, Jihae raised an accusing eyebrow to which you both replied with a shrug. With a sigh, the woman excused herself from the conversation to tend to Seokjin and Taehyung.

“Serves her right.” Minhyuk snorted before turning his attention back to you and ushering you away. "Go calm down the bond with your man. There's chocolate in my bag and go eat it with him."

"Have I ever told you how much I love you, hyuk?"

"Only when you're drunk. Now go!"

Quickly retrieving the sweets from Minhyuk's bag, you jogged up to Jin and offered the chocolate to him. 

With no second spared, he tore through the wrapper and tossed the small candy into his mouth. Its sugary taste bleeds into your tastebuds before the candy touched your tongue.

Despite not experiencing any hint of hyperactivity, there was still a rush of cold relief flushing through your body from having your soulmarks get activated together, as if it was glad to have the bond still intact. A resonating warmth soon replaced the coolness and Seokjin expelled out a long exhale.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Unsure of what to do in the eyes of the public, you had settled with placing your hands on his shoulders and giving him a comforting squeeze. Taking a glimpse at the reflection of the crowded room, he shyly reached up a hand to clasp over yours in return.

[Yesterday, 13:02]            [13:02] The BADDEST: i cant laugh just yet in public rn but            [13:02] The BADDEST: HAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHA            [13:02] The BADDEST: GOD IS REAL AND HE HAS FINALLY GAVE HER WHAT SHE DESERVED            [13:02] The PRETTIEST: minhyuk you're so mean            [13:02] The BADDEST: i saw you giggling to yourself earlier            [13:02] The BADDEST: dont ever lie to me again            [13:02] The MOTHER: please refrain from using your phones during work hours ladies            [13:02] The MOTHER: @/The BADDEST i can see you still typing, put that phone away            [13:03] The PRETTIEST: hopefully that's the last time we'll see alexa being an annoying fruit fly around seokjin            [13:03] The PRETTIEST: but between you guys, me and god? i doubt that            [13:03] The BADDEST: she can try😤            [13:03] The BADDEST: i got years of unresolved anger issues I'll gladly unleash on her            [13:03] The MOTHER: GO BACK TO WORK KIDS

“Noona, have you packed everything you need?”

You huffed. “Of course I have. I've been doing this for years, you know?”

“Well, even if you forgot something, the others can bring it to you anyways.” Taehyung shrugged as he pushed open the doors of the van and stepped out, offering a hand to you as you followed him out with Jimin behind you.

“I'm starting to hate having idols for soulmates. Leaving the country at midnight to evade reporters and stalkers just isn't for me.”

“On the bright side, you'd never have to worry about money and losing your best friends.” Jimin replied as the three of you strolled into the hidden entrance of the airport. “Plus, you get to have handsome men with all that money and companionship.”

“Can't deny that…” You sighed as the two bodyguards assigned to the three of you guided you into the establishment and you yawned. “God, I'm so sleepy.”

Taehyung pats your back.

“We can sleep on the plane then you can choose between the two of us who you want more," Taehyung paused as he considered his words. "Or you can have both of us at the same time."

“Tae, you know how bad that sounded, right?”

“It's not my fault that you have a rotten mind, Jiminie. You know that I don't mean anything by that.”

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife @bjoriis @btsgangleader @butterfly-lover

[livinginshambles]

I want to be loved first | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Summary: Established relationship and angst: James still loves Lily, it's clear to you. You try to ignore the way your heart aches when you always seem to be second on his mind, knowing you will never compare to her and unsure how much more you can take.

Notes: Its happy ending again, sorry guys. I'd say no beta, we die like fred, but that feels too soon so anyway, spelling and grammar mistakes probably.

Masterlist

____________________________

People have often told you that you need to toughen up and grow a spine. That your lack of backbone had everyone trample on you like you were a crosswalk, and you could definitely say that they were right.

Perhaps that's why you were crying in the middle of the night because of James Potter. He was laying behind you, pressed against your back with an arm draped over you. His face was hidden in the back of your neck, breathing steadily against it as he slept peacefully, unaware of the heartache he was causing you when he whispered Lily's name. Again.

When he'd done it the first time, your blood had run cold, goosebumps showing up and littering your bare arms. Tears had prickled in your eyes at his barely audible, mumbled confession. "Love you so much Lily."

You had turned around to face him and your rustling had woken him up. Eyes still closed, he'd groggily shifted and pulled you against his chest. “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, just a nightmare,” you had responded in a small voice. Your answer had him finally open his eyes, somewhat concerned. He had lifted his arm to yawn against it and then settled it back on top of you in such a way that his hand had easy access to your nape, drawing circles in an attempt to calm you.

“I've got you, love. Nothing can hurt you, as long as I'm here,” he had assured you.

Ironic.

So now here you were lying down, your tears were freely rolling down your face and you were glad that the curtains of the bed were closed, leaving you in a private space, despite sleeping in the boy’s dormitory. It would be another sleepless night for you, it seemed.

When James stretched his arms to reach for you about four hours later, he frowned and sat up, confused at the lack of your presence. He pushed the red drapes aside and peeked into the room. Sirius was still asleep, face down. Peter was most likely curled up inside the pile of blankets on his bed and Remus was sitting up in bed, a book in his lap.

Even though it was the weekend, and you were anything but an early bird, you slipped out of bed in the early morning. You were sure that your eyes were red and puffy and didn’t want James to mention it.

He looked up when he heard James and raised his eyebrows in question when he noticed no one else behind him. “Have you seen Y/N?” James asked, sleep still heavily laced in his voice. Remus shook his head in thought. “No,” he whispered quietly, an eye on Sirius beside him. “I’ve been up since four in the morning though.”

James’ frown deepened. That meant that you had snuck out before that. But why? He got dressed impressively fast and descended the stairs to the common room. You were sitting at the tip of your chair, deeply engrossed into your transfiguration assignment, several books piled, some laying open, scattered across the small table.

You felt two arms securely wrap around you, almost melting in their designated position. “Morning,” James kissed your cheek.

You bit your lip, took a breath, and cast your hurt feelings aside. You turned your head and flashed him a smile. “Good morning, Jamie.” James took the opportunity of your head, tilted upwards at him, and dipped down to press his lips softly against yours, pecking you once, twice. “You’re up early,” he commented and nudged you. He slipped behind you, body fully relaxing into your back now.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied honestly and you leaned back into him. You laughed softly when you noticed his eyes drooping. “You’re tired, Jamie. Go back to sleep.” James made a sound but didn’t move, instead slouching even more against you.

“Hm, no, I missed you this morning. I’ll stay here,” he decided and drifted off to sleep. You didn’t doubt that he loved you.

“Go on a date with me next Friday,” James asked you while he was escorting you to your herbology class. You looked up at him surprised. “A date?” you dumbly repeated, trying not to be too excited about the prospect of a date. James usually ended up having things to do that he really couldn't get out of, so you would always end up canceling your dates.

James laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders. “Exactly. You and me alone. I was thinking of a picnic by the lake, no one else around, and maybe we could snog, but I’m also down to cuddle.” Your eyes crinkled up amusedly. “Don’t you have Quidditch, Jamie,” you raised your eyebrows. “You always have Quidditch practice after class,” you pointed out.

“Not next Friday. I already checked to make sure I didn't double book anything, and I warned Pads that I'm not taking on any new pranks until next week to avoid detention.” he grinned. “Friday will be one of those rare days when I have time to have my girl all to myself the entire afternoon.” His face then turned apologetic. “I know I don’t have much time to take you out, so Friday'll be perfect and I’ll make it up to you.” You threw your arms around his neck and hummed appreciatively in it. “I’d love that.”

James wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a kiss. “Prongs!” Sirius shouted from a distance. “Everyone is already waiting for you for Quidditch practice, how far are you going to escort her? I mean the greenhouse is on the other side of Hogwarts, mate,” Sirius complained but he blew you a dramatic kiss that James waved away with a sour look.

“Go on,” you laughed and untangled yourself from his arms. He quickly pressed a kiss to your lips and sprinted off towards the Quidditch field.

James dropped into the seat next to you. “Long time no see, love,” he said. You snorted. “James, I saw you two hours ago.” James shrugged, and flirtily smiled. “I said what I said.”

Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and class started. You were jotting down everything she said in a neat handwriting, knowing that James would end up asking to lend your notes, of course by offering kisses in return.

You glanced beside you and were surprised to find him hunched over his notebook, scribbling away. Impressed at the thought that he was actually paying attention, you couldn’t help but peer down at his notes and saw that he was sketching a girl.

Though he wasn’t the greatest artist, you could clearly see that the girl on the paper looked nothing like you, and instead had features that were strikingly similar to Lily. When James looked up from his drawing and glanced to his right where she was sitting, her eyes focused on Professor McGonagall, you felt your heart constrict again, but still decided not to comment on it. He was free to draw whoever he felt like drawing, you reminded yourself.

Jealousy is ugly.

You were sitting in the library, helping a third year with Defense against the dark arts theory, when James barged in, earning several disturbed looks and a threatening glare from the librarian.

“James?” you called to him quietly and motioned for him. James’ eyes spotted you and he slid over to you, wringing his hands together, biting his lips and his eyes darting around.

“You’re nervous,” You remarked while you eyed him up and down. “Or you feel bad. What is it?”

James let out a deep sigh at your bluntness, though he supposed it would be better to get straight to the point. “We can’t go on a date next week, I’ve got prefect stuff, gotta patrol.” You stared at him, your disappointment was visible on your face and James looked at the ground.

“But you already had patrol this week? Isn’t it every other week?” You asked, a bummed out look on your face.

“Well, actually, Lily asked me if I could do rounds with her next week,” he admitted. “Her usual assigned partner was injured during Quidditch practice apparently.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You were pretty sure she could ask anyone else for next week or just do the rounds herself as you’ve seen James do it alone for two weeks too when his assigned partner had gone home for a family emergency.

“Is it really vital that you have to go?” You couldn’t help but ask.

"I already said yes." James offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can go on a date the week after.” There was a pause and then, “Actually that’ll probably have to wait for the week after that.”

'Imagine having to schedule a simple date, three to four weeks in advance and even then not being guaranteed that nothing would come in between,' you sighed.

You shrugged, a sudden wave of defeat and exhaustion crashing over you. Why did you have to compete for your boyfriend in the first place? 'How tiring', you realized.

You waved him away. “It can’t be helped, I guess,” you somewhat coldly told him, and turned back to the student next to you who was awkwardly looking away. James stood next to you in silence for a moment, still looking at you. You looked up at the lack of the sound of receding footsteps and looked at him questioningly, waving your hand in a ‘what is it?’ manner.

“I can tell her no,” James said, something that looked like a pout on his face. He hated making you feel bad, despite constantly but unconsciously doing it.

“You don’t want to tell her no,” you retorted.

"I would for you.”

“Well, considering that you haven’t told her no by now and are instead here telling me that we have to rearrange our plans, I think you should just go help Lily with rounds.”

James was taken aback by your bitter tone, eyes immediately wide, alarmed that you were really affected by his decision. “Love, I-“

You waved your hand again. “No, I’m sorry,” you apologized before he could. You rubbed your eyes in an exhausted manner. Jealousy was not a good look, you reminded yourself again. “Just really looked forward to that picnic with just you and me.”

“We’ll still have that picnic another time though,” James tried to assure you, but you were no longer looking at him. He realized that the conversation was over and that you wanted to be left alone right now.

“I love you,” James tried one last time and you sighed. " I love you more.” Your words resonated even after James left, knowing that they might be more true than you wanted to admit. You cleared your throat and when you faced the girl next to you, she shot you a sympathetic look.

The last drop was during Potions class. Potions was something you were good at. Maybe not better than Severus Snape, but you did excel in it.

So, if there was one class in which you expected James to want to be your partner, it was Potions class. Perhaps it was arrogant of you to assume such a thing, because when Professor Slughorn had announced that everyone would be paired up, and asked James who he wanted to partner up with, you hadn't expected him to glance at Lily first, which resulted in Professor Slughorn pairing the two together before James could say your name, which in his defense, was what he was planning on saying.

Without sparing you a glace, he left your table to take the seat next to Lily's. Sure, it was mostly a miscommunication issue on Slughorn's part, but did James have to skip over so happily?

“Love you so much, Lily.”

The words repeated in your head when you saw him look at her so fondly and before you could stop yourself, you scribbled a message on a piece of paper, in which you asked him to meet you in the tower, before sending it his way.

You had clung onto James because you were absolutely in love with him and refused to lose him. But it really was a futile battle, you would never compare to her. His first crush, first love, first kiss if you count that one time during ‘spin the bottle’ and his first heartbreak. You’ll always be second, even if he genuinely loves you.

James snapped his head up at you from his attempted conversation with Lily when he got your note, suddenly remembering you, but you were laughing, engrossed in a conversation with a flustered Peter who had almost set the two of you on fire by adding the wrong ingredient. When you left class, you saw James and Lily still talking while calmly packing up.

James entered the tower, holding the note that you had passed him during class. He was smiling cheekily and quickly skipped over, arms ready to wrap around your waist as he leaned in for a kiss, no doubt thinking you asked him to sneak away for a snog.

“We need to talk,” you stopped him, and his grin fell from his face, a serious expression now adorning it. “Everything alright love?” he asked, an odd feeling growing inside of him at your tone. He was suddenly rather unsure if he really wanted to.

'Nothing better than to rip the band aid off', you thought.

“I want to break up.”

There was a long moment of silence while James was registering your words, repeating them in his head over and over again to see if there was any chance that he could have interpreted that incorrectly.

“What?” He eventually said out loud in disbelief. Though he wanted to step forward, reach for you and hold you tightly as if to show that he wouldn’t let you go, his body was inwilling to move.

“Why are y-, I thought we were good?” The crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your heart ached for him, but you were determined to stay strong and say your piece for once. To voice your thoughts and go through with tough decisions that you knew would be for the better.

“We’re not, James,” you sighed. “I know that you know that.”

James shook his head in denial. “No, I don’t know that,” he insisted. His brain was racking through all the instances where he did something wrong and - with the exception of next Friday's date - came up blank.

“But you love me,” he stated, mostly to himself, but it came out more of a question. “Of course,” you confirmed without hesitation.

James’ body finally unfroze, and he surged forward, his hands fumbled to hold your hands. “And I love you,” he stressed, panic starting to rise up. “I love you so much, I’ll take a Veritaserum potion if you want. I just, why would you-, I don’t understand the problem-,”

“I know you love me, James. The problem is that I love you so much more,” you calmly interrupted him. James’ eyes scanned your face to look for answers because none of it maded sense to him.

“I want someone who loves me as much as I love him. Someone who gives me all his love, not just a part that he managed to set apart for me too. And I want to be loved first. Not second. I don't want to be a consolation prize because your first option didn't work out.”

James’ eyes flickered in realization, but his head was still shaking in denial. “I am that someone,” he urged, trying to convince you. He shot you a pleading look. “I love you first, I swear.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and you pulled it away from his grasp.

“Not first,” you shook your head sadly. “Not when you call for Lily in your sleep, and whisper that you love her.” You watch as James’ frown deepened, mixed expressions crossing his face in surprise, confusion and even bewilderment.

Would he not even admit it?

“Not when you have us rearrange our plans for her, when you draw portraits of her during class, or when you practically jump to be her potions partner. I'm not stupid, James. I see the way you look at her.” You continued to list off the things that happened just this past week, not even bothering to mention all the things that bothered you the past months. Your eyes looked sad and tired, and you took another deep breath. “So, I want to break up.”

James felt like crying, his mind thinking back to everything you said, and knowing that you were right. “I’m sorry,” he tried. “I’m an absolute twat, I know that. I promise you I don’t love Lily, she’s just still very important to me.” You offered him a sympathetic smile.

“I know she’s important to you, I just think that maybe you don’t know what or who you want. And I won’t share my boyfriend anymore, I’m selfish like that,” You joked halfheartedly. James didn’t react, save for wrapping his arms around you. You allowed James to embrace you and he buried his head in your hair, his eyes closed as if he wanted to go to sleep and forget this was happening.

“Okay,” James whispered. What else was he supposed to say?

You closed yours as well. James would get over you in no time, you were certain. You two hadn’t been dating for that long, and perhaps James could find a happy ending in Lily after all.

James had sort of avoided you after that. You thought he was doing it because he was angry, but in reality, he was just scared that he would burst into tears the moment he saw you, and he refused to watch you laugh happily, swatting your friend while he wanted nothing more than to hold your hand again.

His mind had completely become occupied by you and he stayed in bed over the weekend, mostly wallowing in self-pity and misery.

When Monday started, he had skipped all classes and only dragged himself out of bed for Quidditch practice and patrol with Lily. Walking next to her in silence, occasionally glancing at her, he felt his stomach sink again. How ironic that when he looked at Lily, all he could think about was you.

James walked through the corridor on Friday, on his way to the courtyard to meet up with Lily again to do rounds with her. He hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully without you. At first, he had been thinking about every instance where he prioritized Lily over you, and it had him curse himself out in his pillow. He missed you. It was so ridiculous, but he missed you to the point that he would curl up in bed with a stomach ache.

He had finally drifted off when at some point in the middle of the night, he had been shaken awake by Sirius.

“What?” James had asked, his throat dry and raspy. He’d looked around, disoriented.

“Thought you were having a nightmare Prongs. You kept mumbling her name. How much you loved her,” Sirius had handed James a glass of water.

James became wide awake and sat up straight in panic. “Lily?” He had asked Sirius, his stomach turning with nausea. He still couldn’t believe that he really talked about Lily in his sleep when you were lying next to him.

“What? No, Y/N’s name of course.” Sirius had corrected him. 'Of course,' James shook his head at Sirius’ words. “Figured you were reliving your breakup,” Sirius had explained.

James was looking through the passing windows of the castle where he could see the lake in the far distance. Suddenly something in his brain clicked. What in Godrick's name was he doing, avoiding you? Why was he giving up on you without a fight? You both loved each other; he was just the idiot who couldn’t sort himself out. But it didn’t take him longer than a terrible week to open his eyes.

James’ pace increased and he ran through the corridor. “No running in the corridors young man,” a portrait commented, but he paid it no mind.

Lily was already waiting for him and raised her eyebrows at his disheveled state and the basket that he was carrying. “I can’t do rounds with you today,” he puffed out. “I told Y/N that I would take her out for a picnic and then you asked me if I could help, and I agreed, but it’s so stupid because I should be-, I am choosing her,” James ranted. “I’m not letting you come first, or even second.”

Lily wasn’t really sure what James was rambling on about but gave him a kind smile, nonetheless. “Well, what are you waiting for,” she encouraged him. “Sounds to me like you shouldn’t be here, but somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I definitely should.”

You sat by the lake, skipping stones from a sitting position, not that you were having any luck. You hadn't seen James in a while because he avoided you, and you felt sadness wash over you. You were sure that he would get over you quick enough, but you wondered how long would it take for you to get over him?

You heard rustling behind you but kept facing forward. It was only when a delicious smell reached you, that you turned around, slightly annoyed that someone would really choose this spot to have an afternoon meal at when they could’ve sat literally anywhere else near the lake, as well as choose this moment when you wanted to act like a depressed main protagonist gazing in the distance.

You were, however, not prepared to see James stand behind you, out of breath and making his way over to you, a blanket and food spread out behind him. He didn’t really need to say anything. You understood from the way he showed up here, a hopeful expression on his face.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you got up, dusting yourself off.

"Hi," James breathed. An unsure smile formed on his face when you waved back. "I uh, I brought food." He awkwardly motioned to the picnic behind him and you couldn't help but smile at his adorableness.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else,” you couldn’t help but lightheartedly remark. James let out an airy chuckle, immediately relaxing at your open demeanor.

“100% sure I’m where I should be,” he affirmed. He considered his words and corrected himself. "Where I want to be."

His words had you take off in a sprint towards him and James opened his arms to catch you when you jumped, locking your legs around him. Ironically enough, it felt as if a weight had fallen off of James. His head fell against your shoulder and he shakily laughed while your blouse stained with tears of relief.

"I'm really sorry," he looked up at you, still holding you steadily. You leaned down to press your forehead against his, and your hands came up to his cheeks. "You made up your mind," you said, but it came out like a question, and James nodded hastily.

"And you'll make it up to me."

"Of course," he earnestly replied. "I want us. I'll fight for us." You closed the gap between the two of you.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips.

Not first or second, not more, most or less. He just loves you.

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @shrekscrustybudassy @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @bettytaylorversion @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sayukoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @wolfmoonmusic

[natlovesls2]

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), gaslighting, sexism/ internalized misogyny, swearing, no use of y/n, some plot but not much, rushed, grammar mistakes, etc. Please remember that this is fiction, and in no way represents Lando as a person

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.7k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You love Lando but he does not feel the same, no matter how long you've waited (For the most part its just inspired Sitting, Waiting, Wishing from the In Between Dreams album, as the title of the fic says)

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

You had always made it painfully clear to Lando that your feelings for him were anything but platonic. If the constant heart eyes weren't enough to prove it then the little gifts and compliments surely should have made it abundantly clear. Surely he wasn’t THAT oblivious, and he wasn’t. You had often heard him boasting to his friends about your everlasting and eager love for him. There was one such instance that you remembered quite well– he had asked you to be his date to some event, in which you had, of course, ended up alone. “Thanks for agreeing to be my date, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he had said as if it even mattered that you were there. 

You watched Lando interact with some bitch he met at– long having forgotten about your presence. Sometimes it felt as if you were a stranger who was invading his space– uninvited and unwanted. She hadn’t wronged you in any way and, yet, you hated her. You hated her stupid face and her stupidly short dress that made her look like a cheap whore. It was obvious that it had to be the reason he was so enamored with her, she looked easy and Lando loved easy girls– and she was practically begging to be fucked. She wrapped her hand around Landos arm and you wished you would walk over to them and break her fucking arm. 

He made it very clear that night that he would never love you, at least not in a romantic sense, he's made that perfectly clear. But no matter how many times he humiliates you, you will fight for his affection, always. Even if that affection comes in the form of lust and only ever is lust.

His constant disregard for your feelings led you to promise yourself that you wouldn’t find yourself in this position with Lando again. In fact, you had sworn that last time would be the final time you found yourself tangled in his bed sheets. Truthfully you had never been strong minded, always giving up on those fitness challenges and never finishing the long books you bought with the intent to feel smart and accomplished. But you were tired of being so destructive– of ruining yourself for someone who obviously didn't give a rats ass. Maybe that's why you were in his apartment, to end it all– at least that's what you were telling yourself. It was all rather pathetic: the look you gave him as he went on about whatever he‘d been going through before you had gotten there. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered, bringing his hands to rest on either side of your hips, occasionally rubbing circles with his thumbs. You knew what he’d be doing if you weren’t there, fucking whatever bimbo threw herself at him. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “You’re awfully quiet– what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asked, pressing gentle kisses to your neck. You could feel yourself begin to give into his intentions– you never were good at saying no to him. After all, your plan to avoid him and kick him out of your life altogether had lasted nearly two weeks… more like five days, but stretching the truth has never hurt anyone.

“Nothing,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair, slowly melting into his touch. You could resist the feeling his voice and touch brought upon you. You suppose that's why you’re here again, clothes slightly askew and hair a messy tangle. His hands eagerly explore the expanse of your body, lips impatiently marking down your neck. “I've missed this so much,” he raggedly whispers against your shoulder, rolling his hips against your own. His hands continue to wander, coming to rest at your clothed breasts, gently squeezing them. 

You pull his head up, body leaning into his in a heated kiss– feeling the vibration of his moans against your lips. This wasn’t something you were particularly proud of, but it kept him close to you. It allowed him to show an ounce of affection towards you, even if that affection was pure and unfiltered lust. “Need you,” you whispered in between rushed kisses, trailing kisses down the side of his jaw.  

“I know” he grunted, movements slowing as he brought his hands up your thighs and under your skirt, fingers ghosting over your underwear. Gently applying pressure to your clothed clit, stopping only to move your panties to the side, “God, baby, you’re already so wet.” He teasingly ran his finger up your slit and back down, only inserting the tip of his finger. Lando smirked down at you when you greedily attempted to shift your hips in hopes of getting some sort of relief. He kissed the expanse of your thighs, pulling your underwear down your legs and away. A few more kisses were placed on your thighs before he turned his attention to your pussy, teasingly licking and kissing the area. 

“Please,” you let out a whine as he slowly inserted a finger into your needy and begging pussy. He chuckled at the strangled moan that left your mouth, pressing kisses down your body, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. He continued to work his finger in and out of your pussy, adding another after a while, getting you ready for what was to come.

“Take this off,” he mumbled against your cunt, impatiently pulling the hem of your shirt up exposing your stomach, urging you to pull it off the rest of the way. You pulled the shirt off, tossing it aside before doing the same with your bra.

Your thighs involuntarily close around his head as he curls his fingers, thrusting them a few more times before removing them. He smirked at you, watching as your chest rapidly rose and fell, pushing his face further between your thighs– lapping up your arousal. The slurping like noise coming from between your thighs, giving you a wave of embarrassment as you reached down to tug at his curls. He fucked his tongue in and out, occasionally pulling fully out to run it up to your clit– swirling the nub around. His fingers found their way inside you again as he noticed your brows furrow together, a sign you were getting closer to coming. He increased his speed as your back arched, whines becoming loud moans as you clench around his fingers. 

“I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” he whispers, kissing up your body, wrapping his mouth around your left nipple, cupping and groping your other boob. 

“Mm” you whine, reaching a hand down to massage at his bulge. You felt him smirk against your breast, letting it go with an audible pop.

“So impatient, so desperate for a good fucking, huh?”

You nod rapidly, pushing at his pants, watching as he unbuttons his pants and kicks them off along with his underwear. He smirks as you open your legs wider, wincing slightly as he strokes his almost painfully hard dick, lining it up to your entrance. Perhaps you should have cared a little more as he pushed in with a condom, but in the moment it felt good to be wanted.

 A shuddered breath left you as he began to thrust, strong and steady, the faint sound of skin slapping against skin sounding in the room. “Feels so fucking good,” shakily said, wrapping your legs around Landos waist. Truly it felt as if your whole body had been lit on fire, you were burning with desire. 

“I know it does, baby– shit,” he grunted, slamming his hips against your own at a fast pace, snaking his hand down to rub tight circles against your clit. You clenched around him, quickly reaching your second orgasm. He sped up, holding your hips down, the headboard slamming against the wall. With a deep groan Lando came, spilling inside of you, he pulled out laying down beside you. 

“You don’t need me to drive you home do you?” he asked tiredly, voice a little shaky. 

“No, I drove here.” You stood up collecting your clothes, slipping them on one article at a time. The embarrassment began to seep in, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You sighed, turning to face Lando who now sat at the edge of his bed, “I can’t do this anymore, Lando.”

“Do what?”

“God, you know what I mean!” you said exasperatedly, running a hand through your sweaty and unruly hair.  

“I don’t, so why don't you enlighten me?” he said back, his tone shifting to something more harsh instead of the innocent tone he had been using.

“Us– this whole back and forth thing. I can’t– I just… I love you and you don’t love me. And I can’t continue to be the person you only use when you need them.”

“What?” he rose from his spot, glaring at you.

“God, don’t act like you haven’t noticed– I’ve made it pretty fucking obvious, Lando,” you raised your voice, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You haven't–” he started. 

“Yeah, because sleeping with you isn't obvious enough. Just cut the bullshit.”

“I don’t know what you expect of me, I thought you were okay with being friends– we’ve had this conversation before, you said it was fine,” he took a step closer to you, eyes glaring into your own. He was challenging you, like he always did, because he knew you always gave in. Always accepted whichever shitty excuse he gave. Always accepted the whole “I’m not ready for a relationship” spiel. 

“Friends don’t fuck eachother, Lando.”

“Well we do, and if you can’t accept that we’ll never be more than friends then you can take your slutty ass out of here.” This was your breaking point. It hadnt been his abandonment at parties, or the way he bragged about how you let him fuck you to his friends, or the sheer lack of care for your emotional wellbeing. No, it was the way he had spat that word at you– slut. That's all you had been throughout the majority of your friendship. A hole that had been willing to be filled.

You started at him, mouth agape with disbelief, “You’re a fucking asshole. Oh my god, how did I not notice,” you let out a humorless laugh, shoving him out of the way. And as you walked out of his home, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You had a lot to learn and unlearn.

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚note: this was my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it sucks or makes no sense. feedback is appreciated, but please be nice because I scare easily lol

[sillygoofyqueer]

Any thoughts on Crowyuan who was found by Shen Qingqiu (maybe Shen Jiu at the time) as a baby and then Shen Qingqiu went this is mine now for whatever reason and promptly adopts him. Sorry if this is incoherent or if my grammar is bad, it's 5am as I'm writing this. I am running solely on tea like a true Brit.

First of all honeypie, great grammar and coherency, you don't need to apologise for anything. Secondly, AS A TRUE BRIT SHOULD!!! LET'S FUCKING GO LADS, WOOO BRITAIIIINNNN 💪💪🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧💪🇬🇧🇬🇧💪🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧💪💪💪‼️‼️‼️

Patriotism aside, I'm so glad you brought this to my attention, this is such a fun idea and I adore random kidnapping adoption AUs so I'm going to find literally the perfect reason for child-hater Shen Jiu to find this random baby demon and not just kill it on sight.

Okay, so. Shen Qingqiu, Shen Jiu, badly injured during a mission and basically just trying not to die because if he does, he can't blame it on Yue Qingyuan and he won't let that happen (or whatever reason he comes up with). He's got no qi, he's used up all of his stock when fighting because fucking hell that beast was not what he expected it to be (stupid villagers giving vague explanations of the monster so he believed it to be something entirely different), so he's basically stuck alone in this forest, trying to figure out which beast would come at him first.

Xiu Ya is in his weak hand, his only weapon against the creatures hiding in the shadows, ready to help maim anything that tries to attack its master. The first beast is too cocky, thinking that he's an easy target, but the dead body just brings in more beasts, all attracted by the scent of blood. Every kill becomes more of a struggle to complete, until it's hard to so much as raise his blade to meet the next beast, but he does the best he can as he hears something snapping twigs as it creeps closer.

Whatever monstrous creature he has been expecting to be his murderer, he does not expect it to be this strange little creature who looks rather human, but has these wings and a frankly shocking amount of rocks clutched in its small arms. They lock eyes for a moment, the thing making a sound that could be related to shock. Shen Jiu tenses up as the beast drops all of its rocks, but then the little creature begins to sort through them with more focus than his own disciples greet their work with, pushing them around and throwing a few back into the pile after careful inspection.

After a while of this, Xiu Ya almost wilting in Shen Jiu's grasp with how he begins to involuntarily loosen his grip on the hilt, the little creature suddenly moves and he tenses up again as it approaches. However, instead of getting too close to Xiu Ya, it just stares at him and holds out a rock. Of course, he's not going to trust this creature, so he jabs his blade forwards and the little beast darts back into the trees, but not without dropping the rock where it was just standing.

Now that the creature is gone, Shen Jiu glares down at the rock as he uses Xiu Ya to drag it over for closer inspection, which reveals it to not be a rock but a sort of crystal, one that Mu-shidi would swear helps with cultivation. Judging by the type of creature, it was likely a baby demon of sorts, unaware that it had given its easy prey a means of survival. Fucking moron.

Meanwhile, baby Crowyuan is confused by the crow demon who has no wings (not aware of what humans are) and why he's attacking him with the shiny metal (he wants it so bad, but it's obviously been claimed by this other demon), but he still wants to help!! He doesn't know much, but he knows the smell of blood and this demon reeks of it, and that isn't good at all. So, what does baby Crowyuan do? He goes looking for food to help this injured adult demon. His parents are going to be so impressed!!!...When he..finds where they went....

First, he starts with things he can reach, plucking different berries from bushes he knows are safe, grabbing a few plants that always helped him when he was super hungry, and even finding some sticks so that the demon can nest while it heals!!! He's such a good friend, even if the injured demon doesn't quite know it yet!

This goes on for a couple of days, with Shen Jiu becoming more confused as the little demon brings back more things that would aid his survival rather than prevent it. Hell, some of these plants were said to be extinct in all the books he's read about them, and yet here the little demon comes with them everyday, sometimes waving the sticks around in concern and then placing them down in what seems to be an organised pattern and then shuffles them over to him expectantly. It gets to the point where he doesn't even bother bringing Xiu Ya out of its sheath when the beast comes back, and yet the demon does not make any attempt to attack him when he's disarmed.

Eventually, of course, he is healed enough to go back to Cang Qiong and yell at his so-called ' 'shidimei and shixiong' for not noticing about his absence. He finds himself delaying his return however, waiting for the little demon to come back so he can...what? He doesn't know. When the little demon does come back, however, it's looking terrified and one of its little wings isn't moving properly on his back. He's crying and this is how the world is but this child hasn't even been near humans before, he doesn't deserve to be hurt by a world he's not even a part of-

Liu Qingge, who has been sent out looking for their missing shixiong, finds a little demon gripping what is unmistakably Shen Jiu's fan (baby Crowyuan found it nearby and wanted to give it to his new friend!!), and immediately assumes that this demon has harmed Shen Jiu. When he follows the slippery little bastard, he comes face to face with an absolutely infuriated Shen Jiu holding this sobbing demon to his chest and looking ready to kill without hesitation.

[halfbloodfics]

sub!snape headcanons :)

{part one}

im working on some sub!snape fics rn (ur requests), but in the mean time... have this

im high. so i apologize if thiss is a mess. pls ignore the grammar or whatever

warnings: NSFW, explicit, smutty (MINORS DNI OR I STG)

alright here we go (virgin, inexperienced, sub!snape)

My headcanons about...

Kissing: I honestly, this is kinda sad, but i imagine that sev was always really scared to be kissed because he thought it would be a prank. The first time you kiss him would have to be somewhere private, for this reason and the fact he hates pda, and you'd have to ask him. (i mean obviously, consent is important folks) but i mean, like literally verbally, "Severus, can I kiss you?" And i think at first his face is just blank, like hes trying to figure out if you're serious, amd he gets all flustered, and blushing and like "i, uh, you want.. are u sure? i.." or he is literally speechless and just nods

Kissing Cont. As the kissing gets more intimate i feel like hed be breathing pretty heavily. we know this man is skilled at occulemency and can control his emotions sooo well.. but when it comes to this... i think that man lets it go and is just a shaky, panting, flustered mess

Teasing: Especially in the beginning, he doesn't like to tease you or make moves. One, he's impatient. Two, he doesn't really know what to do and is scared of doing the wrong thing and messing up. But the second you start kissing on his neck... Running your hands down his body...

Preferences: sub!snape i think def prefers gentle!dom. i don't think he'd be totally against pain or stuff like that... but especially at first and for the most part, imo he would prefer to be taken care of. like lets bffr, his entire life he was neglected, touch starved and forced to always be in control. I think he would crave giving in, letting someone else control him

Prefrences Cont. He keeps his clothes on, especially at first. prob the trauma, mixed with insecurity, mixed with a bunch of other fun stuff. But at first, he is nearly fully clothed.

Kinks: Praise. 100%. And if you asked him before you guys had had sex about praise he probably would've scoffed. But the second you're on top of him the first time, moaning his name, saying how good hes making you feel, how well he's going... I think hes like o h. also slight degredation

Kinks cont. I don't think he'd like to be tied up tbh. as pretty as that'd be.. i think he'd need to touch you, feel you, his hands roaming everywhere. being pinned down by your wrists is different tho

Fav positions: when he's sub! he def likes you riding him, pinning his wrists down, taking what you need from him. he gets to see your whole body.. and relax for once and be a lil selfish in his own pleasure

Oral: sub!snape def prefers to give as opposed to recieving, i think this about dom!snape too, but especially about sub!snape. especially when you ride his face, when he gets to look up at you, watch your face contort in pleasure... especially when you grind down on him, but giving sub!snape head is like, a religious experience fam. on jah, on your jaw, dun dun tiss. yea that man is a shaking, whimpering mess, his hands clawing at the sheets, panting, cursing, begging. yep

His first time: lets be honest guys. he aint lasting long. but i think he would be like THIS? is what its like? and then proceed to overexhaust himself by going ten times because how in the world had he never felt this before.

misc.

he never used to touch himself much, insecurity and yk depression, but since you... whenever you're gone... he fucks his pillows yep i said it.

he def likes to edged, and having to beg for it. idk why, but i'd die on this hill.

he blushes so easy. like so easy. the man is so pale, one compliment or small kiss and his face is red

he's relatively quiet. he's verbal, but doesn't moan very loud. more so whispers, begs, quietly.. especially at first when he's more shy. but when he starts to get desperate, maybe after a lil bit of edging... he whimpers when he cums and thats just the truth

but if you compliment those whimpers.. tell him how much it turns you on.. he'll let them out even more

building on that, he wants to please you. be good for you. know that he's doing it right. in a horny way and also in a kinda emotional like.. she really does want me look at how shes reacting kinda way

loves to watch your face when he's making you cum

the first time you pull his hair hes like oh....

needs a lil extra aftercare after being sub! cause its a very vulnerable thing for him.. but his fav is just to lie there, cuddle you, bonus points if you praise him and tell him how proud you are of him

this was shameless.

cheerio xx

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 12

Source for pic

Trouble 12

Word Count: 4430

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: As I said before, I really didn't want to finish this chapter with a cliffhanger... but I had to! Not only because it feels right, but also because I wouldn't have a good place to break the chapter after this and it would be REALLY long! Confession time: action scenes are my nemesis... I always feel like they're not real enough, or not strong enough, or they just... lack something... But I tried! Hope you like it... Also, fair warning: non-consensual touching occurs in this chapter. Thread with caution, please and thank you.

Masterlist

The moment you step through that old wooden door is glorious. He can feel the tips of his fingers tingling in anticipation. You are coming to meet him. 

Willingly. 

Well… the willingness is debatable, but you are still here. And he's waited for this for so long. 

Years. 

And now, you'll finally be his. He can barely contain his excitement. 

“Finally, Kitten. Come to me.” His voice sounds uncharacteristically high-pitched, but he doesn't dwell on that thought for too long. The moment recognition dawns in your beautiful eyes, he snickers. 

You haven't forgotten him. 

“You? Why?” He's a tad disappointed that you don't seem happy to meet him, but he'll let it slide. You are being manipulated by that meddlesome cop, you have no idea how you should feel. 

But he'll fix that. 

He'll fix you. 

“Because I love you, Kitten. And you will too. Soon. Soon.”

He watches in glee as you take a small step back, stumbling on your own feet - such an adorable klutz you are - and the door closes behind you when you bump into it. 

He can see fear in your eyes. He's revelling in it. The way he's been doing it for weeks. He once thought it was enough to simply watch you smile. Until the day he watched you tremble and whimper. Then, he became addicted. 

Your fear, no, your terror grips him in a way nothing else ever could. It excites him. And he can't get enough. 

“You're sick.” You spit out, eyes glinting with fire that is trapped there. Your fierceness gets lost in limp limbs and shaking members. 

And he grunts in amusement. 

He takes a step forward, and you stumble back. A wicked grin contorts his features and he can barely contain the itch in his hands. He needs to touch you again. 

He's been waiting for so long. 

Another step forward and another step back from you, a dance you play out for two more steps before your back hits the wall. 

You're trapped. 

And he seizes the opportunity. 

Your pulse is aflutter beneath his grasp, irregular and fast, like a little fly caught in a spider's web, flapping its wings without a chance of escaping. A sob rises in your throat and he sees panic in your eyes when he presses his body into yours, pinning you helplessly to the solid wall. 

The way you wiggle against him fuels his fire, and he snarls, his chest rumbling with the primal sound that escapes his lips. Your mouth opens and he's expecting a cry, a whimper, a plea, or a prayer. But your lips utter that damned cop’s name, just the first syllable, an intimacy that makes him snarl again, this time dangerously. 

“Wrong name, Kitten!” He barks, his forehead almost touching your face. “What's my name?” You shudder and shake your head, fat droplets of tears slipping through your lashes and spilling against his hand. Your fingers rise and claw incessantly at his hand and he realises he's stealing your breath - squeezing too tight. 

So he loosens his grip and you take a deep inhale, your chest expanding as you gasp for air. He lets the tattooed side of his face caress yours with affection as he coos at you. “Shhh, Kitten, shhh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.” You whimper as he lays a wet kiss against your temple and presses his body closer, one knee parting your legs so he can slot himself even nearer. “You'll learn to behave, it's alright.”

A shiver makes your body jerk and tremble as your hands feebly fight against his hold. His smirk takes up half his face as he effortlessly stops your struggling. You stand no chance against his massive size. 

“My name, Kitten? Do try to remember… I spent two years near you, have I been so insignificant to you?” The way his voice hardens is involuntary.

Then, he watches as your eyes dart around, looking for an exit, a way to escape his clutches, so he presses harder, his hand squeezing your neck tighter again. 

Then, you freeze. 

You stop gasping and your hands cease their futile struggle, falling limply near your pockets. Your eyes find his, and your determination makes his smirk falter. Your lower lip trembles as you open your mouth to speak, and then he feels it. 

The cold press of a gun barrel against his gut. 

“King.”

You whisper. 

And then, you shoot. 

-*-

King barely remembers his interview with the Vinsmoke prick. He knew he'd get the job. He was overqualified, over-diligent and overall, the best in the business. He knew he'd get to pick and choose where he wanted to work - Vinsmoke Enterprises sounded alluring. 

The Vinsmokes’ elder child was sure to have all sorts of criminals chasing him and his fortune, plus Queen, one of his team members, was behaving like a kid in a candy shop just thinking about gettting access to Germa technology, so the bodyguard gig seemed interesting. 

Far more interesting than protecting rich, spoiled brats or celebrities. Those jobs were boring as fuck when all his team had to do was swat paparazzi like flies or guard a hotel door while somebody fucked someone. 

He was wrong. 

The Vinsmoke wasn't being harassed by criminals but by fans. King found that out on the first day of his job, and he was about to call it quits when he saw you: showing up in your gala dress, looking so out of place that it was clear in your expression, then tripping helplessly over the train of the gown and almost diving face-first to the floor. 

King caught you effortlessly by the elbow, and when your gaze locked with his to thank him, he knew what it felt like to truly want someone. He wanted you. He needed you. 

You were perfect. 

You were everything. 

But you didn’t give him the time of day, looking at your fiancé’s bodyguards as if they were mere background noise and not people - not that you were unkind, never unkind, but he knew he would never be more than staff in your eyes. 

And he had to endure the Vinsmoke’s hands all over your body, the way he kissed you possessively when someone’s eyes caught your figure and lingered too long, the way that prick controlled you: where to go, what to wear, what to say, who to speak to…

Sometimes, he heard you rebel. He heard the screaming and the accusations behind closed doors, and those were the times he wished you would just dump the fucker’s ass and be free. 

But you never did.

So he endured his boring job with the spoiled Vinsmoke brat. All because it meant he could be in the same space as you, hear you, smell you, and watch you. What was an infatuation turned to admiration, to fascination, and then… something much more profound and meaningful…

Obsession. 

He knew every step you took, every person you spoke to, everyone who looked at you. He knew the way you liked your eggs in the morning or the junk food you craved when it was that time of the month. He knew the kind of perfume you liked, the books you read, the music you listened to, and all of your habits. 

He knew everything. 

He also saw the way that bastard treated you as if you were a mere accessory - something pretty to flash at a party. He cheated, he flirted with other girls in front of you and, worst of all, he blamed you for all the attention you got when you showed up as the prettiest of girls at his dull parties. 

He observed the way you twisted your jewellery to hide your nervousness or the way you avoided making eye contact with anyone remotely interesting just to keep the asshole appeased - it made King’s stomach churn. 

No one would ever deserve you, that was a fact, but Vinsmoke Ichiji was the least deserving person of them all.

So, it was quite easy to plant evidence right under your nose for you to find his cheating habits: a hotel key, a credit card bill, incriminating notes… the works. And that did it easily.

You were finally free.

And so was King. 

He immediately left the Vinsmokes, not caring a bit about breaching his contract. Queen followed suit - he’d gotten all the secrets he could wish for in those blissful two years - as did most of his team, though they went separate ways after that.  

Two years of enduring an asshole’s employment just to get a glimpse of what perfection felt like. If not for you, King would’ve left long ago. But it was the small moments, the way he could smell your shampoo lingering in the air after a bath, or the way your smile lit up the whole room, that made him stay.

You.

All for you.

His Kitten.

You were sad when you left, he could tell. That’s why he watched you closely, kept you safe, kept you unharmed. You reconnected with your friends, and the way you smiled made him become obsessed all over again - this was a genuine smile. Not the fabricated bullshit you used to throw at that bastard - a smile that never even reached your eyes. 

King thought he should give you some time to adjust, to settle into country life, to change your high heels for boots and your dresses for jeans. It suited you perfectly. He could almost see you both taking care of horses, riding together into the sunset in bliss… you just had to see it too.

Soon.

You’d still need some time.

But then he came along. That cop bastard, always watchful of you, always keeping you safe from little things. That was King’s job! Not his! He kept flirting with you and - worse! - you flirted back.

And every time King managed to stop things from escalating to intimacy, it just seemed to deepen your connection to the cop. He had to act faster. 

So, watching you from afar was not enough. Besides, he was used to having you right in front of his nose, even if he could never touch you when he was guarding Vinsmoke, you were always just right there. And now, you seemed so far away.

Luckily, Queen managed to create an app that could access your phone. Texts, calls, camera, audio, you name it. It was very simple to snatch your phone when you were adorably drunk at that yacht party and install it. He also took advantage of the fact that you were away to have Queen to install cameras all around your house. 

Now he could watch you everywhere. 

Still, the fucking cop never relented. And you just seemed to be more and more drawn to him. The number of times King had to intervene just so the cop wouldn’t kiss you was more than he was willing to count. He even had Queen hack into the police systems just so he could be drafted for a training retreat.

Truth be told, King was planning to deal with the cop then. Maybe ask Jack, another one of his trusted team members, and a known brute, to end his miserable existence and make it look like a training accident. 

But King knew you needed your friends to be happy. He was addicted to that genuine smile that lit up your eyes when you were with them. And that was the only reason he held back. For you.

Always for you.

He’d admit he went a bit too far when he took out a man’s eyeballs and another’s hands, but they needed to learn that you were untouchable. Unattainable. His.

Just his. 

He’d also admit that he took out all of the anger he harboured for the cop on those two assholes. Because he kept having to hold himself back, repeating in his head the reason why he was keeping the cop alive: you; you; you; only you.

But he warned you. You just had to stay away from the cop. Nothing else. 

It almost worked. And you were even more beautiful when you were cowering in fear, trembling at every sound, shivering at any moving shadow. King wanted you to feel terror, so he could come and protect you.

You just needed to learn. 

To behave.

To be his.

When he finally held you in his arms at that club, showed you how much he loved you, marked you, and told you that you were his, he thought that had done it. That you had finally learned that you belonged to him.

You were almost ready.

And then you went and fucked the cop. 

Oh, he was so mad. Utterly enraged. There was no more reason to keep that bastard alive, not when he could hear you moan his name like a slut; not when you kept asking for more and harder. 

That was supposed to be King.

You were supposed to moan his name, ask him to go deeper and thrust faster. Not the fucking cop!

But it’s all right. Because you came to him.

You were here now. Right in front of him.

And this time, King would make sure you learned your lesson thoroughly.

-*-

You’re shaking. 

Your hands tremble as you hold the gun and press it against King’s stomach.

He flinches, his grin faltering for a second as you hold your breath, waiting for him to scream, to grunt, or to fall to his knees.

Instead, he remains still. 

Time seems to slow down, each second taking an eternity to roll into the next. And then something happens.

He laughs.

The breath you were holding turns into a whine as your eyes fall on his stomach: there’s no blood. 

“Oh, sweet, sweet Kitten…” He coos, one hand caressing your face, taunting you, and this time, it’s you who flinches. “You didn’t even check to see if the gun was loaded, did you?” He tuts in disappointment and mild amusement before he snatches the gun from your hands with no effort whatsoever. 

You barely have time to let out a relieved gasp when he takes a step back, yet instead of the distance giving you a breather, it just makes you feel even more trapped, because now he’s holding your gun. 

King tuts again and flips the gun with practised ease, tilting it to the side and pulling the slide back to check the chamber: empty. He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head, his eyes falling on you, berating you silently.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he grabs the slide and yanks it back in one smooth motion. You hear the sharp crack of the bullet sliding into the chamber, and when he releases it, you know the gun is now ready to fire. 

His lips curl into a grin as he turns the handle of the gun back to you, a throaty laugh escaping him as his brows arch. “There, love. Now it’s ready.” He moves the gun closer to you, urging you to grab it. “Want to try again?”

He’s toying with you, messing with your head. Making you think there’s a way to escape when you’re actually trapped.

A silent sob shakes your lips, and you press harder against the wall, trying to create more distance between you. 

“No?” He teases. Then his grin disappears and he throws the gun carelessly to the ground, not bothering to look where it landed. “You disappoint me, Kitten. I thought you were ready to meet me, to realise who I was. I thought that seeing me would make you happy. Instead, you try to shoot me!”

King’s voice raises as he snarls and growls, regaining the distance he created when he took the gun from you, his hands slamming with such force against the wall that it trembles beneath his rage. 

“If you don’t come to me willingly, then I’ll have to make you.” King’s hand grabs your chin as he lifts your head, and your body freezes again, much like it did back at the club. All the earlier bravado is gone, thrown carelessly away like the gun you thought would bring you safety. 

Your mind screams for Zoro. Why did you think you could do this without him?

Your lips start to form the word again, his name whispered to insanity against the back of your teeth. You can’t say it. It will only make him angrier. 

King lets go of your face just so he can grab your wrists. Then, he pins them above your head with one hand, easily holding you in place without any meaningful effort. You’re pathetic. 

When he growls again, you feel it. The rumble of his chest against yours as he presses further. You can feel how hard he is against your stomach, and you close your eyes, a lonely whimper breaking through the barrier of your shut lips. 

“Yes, Kitten, whimper.” He sticks out his long tongue and licks from your neck up to your ear with a lewd groan. “You’ll moan my name now.”

King’s hand roams everywhere, and you are powerless to stop it. He’s too strong. No matter how hard you try to squirm, the action only makes him press harder - only excites him further. His teeth graze your jaw, then his lips trail kisses down your collarbone. You go rigid and he chuckles against you, feeling your powerlessness, your terror gripping you and stopping your movements.

His hand slithers beneath your clothes, roaming your bare back, and you shudder violently. “You’re trembling for me, sweetheart?” He hums softly against the hollow of your throat and you feel desperation sinking its claws into your chest. “I’m eager too, you know?” Then he locks his lips around the pulse of your neck and sucks harshly. You sob and he chuckles as he releases your neck with a loud plop. “I can feel your heart racing for me, love.”

King pulls back to look into your eyes, to savour the way your body trembles and then, suddenly, he stops. His hands stop roaming and his eyes linger on your chest. You’re heaving, fighting back sobs and trying to remove your hands from his hold, not willing to give up so easily, but barely mustering any strength to keep fighting.

It takes you an extra second to realise what has gotten such a hold on his attention. 

Zoro’s sweater. 

King lets go of your wrists only to grip the neck of the sweater with both hands, and with a primal growl that has you gasping and shaking, he tears the fabric in two, removing it from your body as if it personally offended him. 

“I’ll erase his fucking existence from your mind. You’re mine. Mine. MINE!”

His hand flies to your neck, and he squeezes, another hand groping your breast, and you sob, your legs thrashing, hitting him but making no dent on his rock of a body. 

This is it.

There’s no escaping him.

BANG!

The front door trembles on its hinges as it’s kicked open, splinters from the lock flying around as thunder crashes outside, the storm raging relentlessly, but nothing like the tempest you can see reflected in Zoro’s eyes.

“Get the fuck away from her, you fucking bastard.”

Zoro’s name, the one you’ve been keeping trapped, floods out of your mouth like a prayer. King barely has time to register what happened before Zoro grabs him by the scruff of his sweatshirt and yanks him off you. 

Your legs shake, and you lose balance, falling to your knees as your hands brace your weight against the wooden floor. Heavy gasps leave your lips as you take in the scene before you.

The two men are sizing each other up.

Zoro is smaller than King. Both in height and in build, and that’s saying something, because Zoro is already a massive man. King has a snarl of disdain pressed upon his lips as he glares daggers at Zoro, whose body is visibly vibrating with fury, a dark, murderous aura rolling out of him in waves as he clenches his fists. 

“You.” King roars, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, hero.” He spits disdainfully, clearly upset that he was interrupted. 

Zoro grins maniacally, his eyes darkening as he too cracks his knuckles. “I can say the same, you fucking bastard. I won’t let you lay a single finger on her again.” They stare at each other so intensely that you find yourself holding your breath. “You alright, Trouble? Did the fucker hurt you?” Zoro asks without breaking eye contact with his opponent.

“I-I’m fine. I’m fine!” You croak miserably. You can’t help the powerlessness coursing through you. You brought this upon Zoro. It’s your fault if he gets hurt.

“Good.” Zoro’s voice is low. He’s focused - lethal. “Stay back. And if things go south… run.”

Never. You’d never leave him. But you still nod with a noncommittal noise so that he’s appeased. 

Then the fight starts. It’s not like it happens in movies, nobody rings a gong, there’s no soundtrack to the battle, no atmosphere change or dramatic camera movements. They just clash. 

The sound of fists hitting flesh and bones cracking is sickening. You flinch every time King hits Zoro, you whimper everytime he falters, but you can’t seem to rejoice whenever Zoro’s hits land, because King barely stumbles. 

He’s so strong. 

Zoro’s fist hits King’s jaw and you hear the bone crack as his head whips to the side, blood splattering the dark wood of the floor as the man stumbles against the bookshelf. He chuckles darkly, wiping the blood with the back of his hand and spitting the rest on the floor. Then he lunges and tackles Zoro, both falling against the end table, glass shattering on impact as you swallow a cry.

The scent of blood and sweat lingers in the air like a thick, sickening fog and you fight back a wave of nausea. 

“Zo…”

“She’s mine!” King snarls as he lands a punch against Zoro’s jaw. When he raises his hand for the second hit, Zoro deflects and King hits the floor, glass crunching beneath his fist as he growls through the pain.

Zoro shoves him with a kick to the stomach and, as he gets up, drags King up by his sweatshirt just to knock him back down again with another lethal punch. 

“Say that one more time, fucker!” Zoro’s arm coils back for another punch, but King’s larger hand wraps around his fist and holds Zoro in his grip, a sickening, bloodied smile spreading on his face.

“Mine!” He claims, holding Zoro’s left hand the same way when Zoro tries to go for another punch. Then King headbutts Zoro with such a force that you gasp, springing to your feet, not knowing what to do as King releases him and Zoro stumbles back three paces, trying to steady himself on his feet again with heavy gasps.

He leans against the back of the couch, breathing heavily, blood trickling down his temple and his split lip, his chest heaving up and down. Then he wipes the blood away from his good eye and grins maniacally again. 

“That all you got?” Zoro wheezes, clearly out of breath, but so is King. “You hit like a little bitch.”

King’s grin matches Zoro’s: unhinged, deranged, and disturbed. 

And then they collide again. Flesh against flesh, bones against bone. The dry thuds and the wet splotches of blood make your chest ache as you sob and shudder. 

“Just die already, cop! I’m going to claim her and truly make her mine. She’ll moan my name like the little slut she is and–”

King doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

Zoro sees red.

He lunges forward, his fist flying with such force that it has King stumbling against the wall, a muffled grunt trapped between his teeth. But Zoro doesn’t even let him breathe. A right hook; a gut punch; a knee to the ribs; a left uppercut.

He doesn’t relent. Punch after punch, hit after hit. He only stops when King is lying unconscious, his body slumping down against the wall in a heap of blood and cuts. 

Zoro breathes heavily, his body still taut, still ready to act and finish the job if he needs to, his eye locked on his enemy. 

Until he hears you cry out his name. 

Then he turns, stumbles, and falls to his knees.

You gasp and rush to kneel beside him, your shaking hands cupping his cheeks gently, trying to smear the blood away so you can see how badly hurt he is. “Zo, Zo, oh my God, Zo.”

He smirks, his hand rising weakly so he can push a strand of hair away from your eyes. “Hey, Troublemaker.” He says softly. “I know you're tough, maybe you could’ve handled this on your own, but I wanted to give you a hand.”

You laugh through the tears and sobs as you lurch forward and hug him tightly against you, ignoring his pained grunt. “Thank you, Zoro.”

He pulls back to stare into your eyes, his hand gently wiping a tear from your cheek, another one clasping the back of your neck to bring you closer. “Anytime.” He leans his forehead against yours and you raise your lips to bring them to his, to make sure he’s real.

But before they collide, you feel Zoro stiffen, a muffled groan escaping his lips as his hand grips your nape tightly.

You pull back, trying to see what’s going on, and you freeze. A cry slowly climbs up your throat, though it gets trapped before you get the chance to release it.

Blood.

So much blood.

“Fucking die. Nobody wants a hero.” King snarls and you see it: a knife protruding from Zoro’s back, where King has stabbed it. Then, with  a low growl, King removes the knife with a twist and kicks him forward, against your arms again. 

“T-Trouble… run.” Zoro whispers weakly against your neck, the bloodstain spreading as you pull back to slowly see colour drain from Zoro’s face.

“No! No! Zoro, Zo!” You cry desperately, fingers clutching at Zoro’s back, trying to stop the bleeding with sheer will. “Zoro! You can’t leave me! No!”

King comes up from behind you, weaving his fingers through your hair and gripping tightly. Then, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Too bad, sweetheart. But now you get to see him die.”

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

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|Chapter 13🔞|

[the-unidentified-author]

The Lord, The Lady and The Long Winter | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Chapter 2/5?: The Wolf of the North

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 - Comming soon

Cregan Stark x House Baratheon Reader

One or more parts in this story will include the following:

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW], smut, minors DNI, new relationship, arguments, harsh words,longing, p in v, creampie, cum play, a little rough, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, orgasm denial, one orgasm after another 🚨SLOW BURN🚨

Summary: You’re betrothed to Cregan Stark. The pair of you navigate this relationship of convenience and perhaps even find love.

Word Count: 3,317

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

A/N RANT: I find writing easy. I just splat ideas down on the page. It’s the editing that really gets me. I spend so much time deleting and rewriting, googling synonyms because somehow I’ve managed to use the same word 4,000 times in the last twenty sentences. Agonising over the wording and then Word for some reason trying to make me spell things in american. Then the grammar actually sends me over the edge, Word telling me that there should be a comma, so I add a comma and then no that’s wrong there shouldn’t be a comma there. It actually makes me go feral. Anyway, if anyone wonders why it takes me so long to post more parts, these are some of the reasons.

Chapter 1

It had taken a little over a month for your father and your entourage to reach the castle of Winterfell. As you journeyed, the number of layers and furs you wore in the carriage increased, each piece a necessary defence against the northern chill. It was the last day of the trip, and you were thankful it had finally come to an end, eager to sleep in the same bed for more than one night in a row. You stepped up into the carriage and turned to your father, who was already seated, his expression one of calm reassurance. "Almost there," he said, his voice steady as he attempted a smile.

You averted your gaze, sitting down and looking out at the landscape that unfolded outside. A heavy blanket of snow cloaked the ground, transforming the world into a vast, seamless expanse of white. The trees stood tall and skeletal, their branches laden with frost that sparkled like diamonds in the weak and low winter sun. Occasionally, the wind howled through the barren branches, sending a shiver down your spine and creating an eerie symphony that filled the otherwise still air.

The world outside seemed lifeless, devoid of colour and warmth—how you longed for the vibrant greens and the golden hues of the south, of home. You hadn’t seen an animal for more than a week, and the silence felt oppressive, magnifying the sense of isolation that you felt. Your mind wandered to what your sisters would be doing right now, likely studying or playing in the garden with your mother watching sewing something beautiful as she always was. A lump formed in your throat as you thought about how long it would be until you saw them again. This new landscape was as much a part of your new life as your upcoming marriage; it revealed in its stark beauty but also served as a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. With the shutter closed, you felt a growing knot of anxiety within you, the weight of the impending changes heavy as the snow that blanketed the ground.

At some point, you had fallen asleep, though you couldn't recall when. The anticipation of the day had kept you awake through most of the night, and the uncomfortable seat of the carriage left your body aching. But then, the resounding blast of trumpets heralding your arrival jolted you from your sleep.

“Are we here?" you asked, glancing at your father, whose expression was distant, as if lost in thought.

"Yes," he replied, turning his gaze to meet yours.

"How long do we have before meeting the Starks?" you asked, smoothing your clothes and hoping the nap hadn’t left your hair in disarray.

"Lord Stark will greet us as soon as we step out of the carriage," your father replied, straightening in his seat.

"What? Aren’t we meeting in the hall after we've freshened up?" you exclaimed, taken aback by the immediacy, realising just how soon you'd face the man who’d share your future.

"Ah, but they're Northerners," your father said with a dismissive wave, "They'd find you lovely even in rags." The carriage lurched forward, jolting you both, as your heart raced.

You thought you would have just a little more time, a chance to gather your thoughts and brace yourself for the momentous introduction. Panic rose inside you as it became clear you had mere minutes before meeting the man who would be your husband.

Your heart raced with a flurry of questions and doubts. Would he be as the tales described—harsh and unyielding as the Northern winters—or might there be warmth beneath the layers of fur and Stoic silence? The uncertainties swirled, each more daunting than the last, wrapping around your thoughts like a relentless blizzard.

You fidgeted with the edge of your cloak, trying to calm the rising tide of unease. What if your mannerisms seemed too foreign, your presence too delicate for the rugged North? At this moment, you realised your entire future might rely on one singular, daunting introduction.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale slowly to five, as your mother had taught you to do in moments of unease. Her voice echoed in your mind, recounting stories of Lord Cregan Stark and how he had become the embodiment of his house’s strength. At just seventeen, he had fought for power against his uncle, rallying the North to his cause and earning the legendary title of the Wolf of the North.

Now, at twenty-five, he was widely renowned as the most powerful man in the region, with whispers even calling him the King in the North. His influence stretched far, untethered by the intricacies of southern politics. In the refuge of your measured breathing, you hoped to draw some comfort from the formidable reputation of the man who would soon become your husband. Could a man so brilliant at war be kind?

The carriage came to a rest, jolting you back to the present, you looked at your father, who attempted to give you a reassuring nod as the door of the carriage swung open. He moved through it first, giving you a precious few moments to prepare yourself before he turned and extended his hand inside the carriage to help you out and down.

The cold hit you first, making you draw a sharp breath, the icy air burning your lungs. For a brief moment, you looked around and watched as snowflakes danced in the chilled air, touching gently on Winterfell's ancient stone façade. You stepped out, the snow crunching beneath your feet, you were thankful for your father's firm grasp on your hand, worried for a moment that without it, you would slip.

The northern air was sharp and invigorating, a biting chill that seemed to permeate the very fabric of everything it touched. It was the kind of cold that, if endured for too long, would nestle deep into your bones, leaving a lingering reminder of the North’s untamed power. Pulling your thick cloak more tightly around yourself, you sought its warmth and comfort, a shield against the relentless chill.

Your father stepped forward with the practiced grace of his station, turning to address the Northerners who had assembled to witness your arrival.

"Greetings House Stark, I am Lord Borros Baratheon, of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. I have come to present to you, my daughter." His voice was, steady and confident. It carried over the soft whisper of the wind, acknowledging the strength of the Northern families and the significance of the union that would soon bind Baratheon and Stark.

He turned to you and gestured for you to step forwards, and you did, curtseying to the group. Your eyes swept over the crowd of Northerners—a sea of rugged faces hardened by the winter landscape. And there he stood, amidst them, undeniably Cregan Stark. His towering form was enveloped in commanding furs, every inch the lord who embodied the unforgiving north. He looked younger than you thought he would, hearing stories of how the north aged you beyond your years made you worried about what you would be confronted with up getting here.

Cregan stepped forward with an elegant grace, offering a formal bow. Yet, the warmth in his eyes spoke an unspoken promise of understanding and curiosity.

"Welcome to Winterfell," his voice resonated, deep and steady, his accent thick.

Your father and Cregan began discussing the plans for the coming days, their voices a steady hum amidst the towering stone walls of Winterfell. You followed closely behind them, the chill of the Northern air slowly giving way to the warmth of the hall, its fires crackling and casting flickering shadows that danced across the ancient stone.

Eventually, you found your place on a chair, one of many surrounding a small table strewn with maps and parchments that detailed the intricacies of alliances and strategies. The gathering of lords settled into their respective seats, enveloping the table in a sense of purpose and gravitas. Your father leaned forward, engaged in discussions about the expectations of this union, emphasising duty and honour—the very fabric of noble life.

As they spoke, a few lords occasionally cast friendly glances in your direction, but you could sense the unspoken rules that governed the conversation. This was not the sort of assembly where women were expected to voice their thoughts; instead, you listened intently, absorbing the dialogue around you. It was both fascinating and daunting, a whirlwind of responsibilities that felt far removed from the warmth of family gatherings you had known.

You were taken aback that they allowed you to sit at the table at all, a privilege that your father would never have granted you in the South. Perhaps the customs were different in the North, a notion that intrigued and unsettled you. As your gaze wandered around the assembly, it landed on one woman at the table—until that moment, you hadn't realised she was among them.

Dressed in masculine attire, she seemed to blend right in with the lords surrounding her, sitting tall and confident as they addressed her with the same respect reserved for their male counterparts. It was a striking sight, one that momentarily pulled you from your anxious thoughts about the future.

Then, the unexpected happened; she caught your eye and offered a warm smile that brightened her otherwise stern countenance. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realised you had been staring. Quickly, you turned your attention back to Cregan, the man you were to marry, feeling the weight of the room around you as you grappled with the complexities of your new reality.

Cregan Stark was a striking figure to behold, towering head and shoulders above your father, making it instantly clear why others held him in such high esteem. His presence conveyed more than mere physical stature; as soon as he began to speak, his demeanour and the way he carried himself revealed the essence of a man of honour. Unlike the tall men of the South, who seemed like a gust of wind might send them hurtling over the battlements into the sea, Cregan's stature was built broad and firm.

The cloak draped over his shoulders only added to his impressive build, yet you could tell at a glance that this was a physique forged through hard work and rigorous training, not by indulgence in luxuries. Every movement hinted at discipline and strength, an embodiment of the Northern spirit you had heard so much about.

Your eyes focused intently on his face as he spoke, captivated by the way his shoulder-length brown hair framed his features, catching the light to highlight the rugged lines that undeniably spoke of his Northern lineage. Cregan had a strong jaw, lending a chiseled quality to his visage that perfectly complemented the air of unyielding determination he exuded.

But it was his piercing blue eyes that truly drew you in—striking and deep, they seemed to hold an entire world within them. In contrast to the often stark demeanour he carried, those eyes contained an unexpected warmth, like a flickering flame against the cold backdrop of winter. There was a kindness in their depths, a silent promise that perhaps beneath the fierce exterior lay a man capable of tenderness and understanding. With every glance, you felt the pull of his gaze, an invitation to see beyond the bravado and discover the complexities that made him who he was.

He turned and met your eye, and it took you a second to realise that he had asked you a question, you looked around the room at the lords. All poised to listen to your response. You looked to your father for guidance.

"You'll have to excuse my daughter, the journey north has been long. However, I do think that she has enough strength left to accept your suggestion of a tour of Winterfell." he smiled at Lord Stark, who looked from you to your father, an understanding smile playing on his lips as he worked out you hadn't been paying attention.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t expose your lapse in concentration, just stood and shook your father's hand. You stood too as all the other lords stood and moved towards the door. You watched as they filtered out of the room, your father and Cregan being the only two aside from yourself still left in the room.

"Well, I would say that no chaperone is required, it is said that no one in the realms have as much honour as the Starks." your father said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked between the two of you.

He nodded and gave you a small smile and turned to leave the room, the guards at the door opening and closing the door. You felt the resounding boom of the door closing in your chest as it seemed to echo around the entire room. The room seemed smaller as you looked from the door to Lord Stark, he looked so much more intimidating now it was only you in the room.

"My Lady, what part of Winterfell would you like to see first?" he asked stepping towards you.

"I- I don’t know." you whispered, finding it too difficult to look him in the eye.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to your cloak which you had removed and placed on the back of your chair.

You nodded, he carefully picked it up and placed it over your shoulders, you moved your hands to do up the buckle that would secure it to your body and turned to Lord Stark. The massive sword slung across his back caught your attention, its hilt visible above his shoulder—a symbol of the strength and legends whispered in the halls of your childhood home. It seemed a natural extension of him—an embodiment of Cregan Stark, the warrior and the lord.

He smiled down at you, warmth and friendliness lighting up his features. With a gentle tilt of his eyebrow, he extended his elbow towards you, inviting you to take it.

"Well, I shall show you my favourite parts of the castle, and then we'll join your father and the other lords for a late tea," he said, his deep voice smooth and rich, like honey.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, as you took his hand and allowed him to guide you out of the room. Agreeing to marry someone you had never met was undoubtedly a gamble, fraught with uncertainties. Yet, with this match, a sense of hopefulness stirred within you—a feeling as if you had struck gold in a world tarnished by rusted steel.

Your thoughts drifted back to the moment you first learned of your betrothal. That night, your mother had remained by your side, holding you close as you cried, part of you mourning your childhood and the other terrified of the future. She assured you that everything would be alright, words you initially dismissed as just the comforting words you say to someone when they're crying.

But now, with time and distance, you started to see that moment in a different light. There was a certainty in her voice that had been unwavering, and it made you wonder if she had played a part in your match with Lord Stark. Her confidence lingered in your mind, suggesting that perhaps this match carried more promise than you dared to imagine in those initial, tear-filled moments.

Winterfell was a beautiful castle, said to be one of the oldest still standing. As Cregan showed you around, you noticed something different in the way he spoke. Unlike most men, who seemed more interested in proving themselves smarter than you by belittling or over-explaining, Lord Stark had a unique approach.

His way of speaking about the castle and its history felt more like listening to a passionate teacher than a rehearsed lecture. He engaged you with stories, making each tale and detail come alive, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of respect and curiosity grow within you. It was refreshing and made you appreciate not only Winterfell, but also the man guiding you through its storied halls.

He had suggested that the two of you look out over the battlements before retiring to the great hall for something to eat. The climb up to the battlements was more challenging than you had anticipated. The stairs were far narrower than any you had navigated at Storm's End, making you marvel at how men clad in armour could swiftly manoeuvre them during times of war. Yet, as you reached the top, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking—a vast, snowy landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. There was a vast expanse of forest in the distance, but even that was coated in snow.

Your home back in Storm's End prided itself on its massive walls for protection against invaders. However, here at Winterfell, the tall walls paired with its isolated, formidable position in the North presented a different kind of strength. The harsh, unforgiving landscape surrounding Winterfell seemed an ally to its defenders, an icy gauntlet capable of claiming the lives of unprepared southern soldiers long before they could even reach the walls. The beauty and latent power of the scene sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the resilience required to thrive in this raw and rugged part of the world.

"There is a small moat hidden by the snow at the bottom of the wall," Cregan began, his gaze shifting to you with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he was sharing a secret of the North only a few were privy to. "If aren't aware of it and attempt to climb the wall, you sink into snow taller than a man."

You withdrew your hand from the warmth of your fur muff, moving to grasp the metal handle fixed to the wall, hoping to steady yourself for a better view over the battlements. The chill of the metal immediately shot through your fingers, contrasting sharply with the cozy warmth of the muff.

"Agh," you gasped, yanking your hand away from the frigid metal.

Before you could even check for injury, Cregan Stark's gloved hand enveloped yours with a surprising gentleness. He looked down at your hand, his thumb softly brushing across your palm, sending a tingle through your skin. "Careful, My Lady," he murmured, his voice carrying a deep, soothing timbre. "Warm hands stick to cold metal. You could lose some skin if you're not careful."

You grimaced at the thought and glanced back at the metal, reassuring yourself that none of your skin lingered there. "It burns,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the red mark on your palm.

Cregan's gaze met yours, holding a mix of concern and something unspoken. He raised his hand to his mouth, biting the finger of his glove and pulling it off, his breath misting in the cold air. He placed his large, now bare hand over yours, its warmth seeping through your skin, soothing the sting of the cold. His touch seemed to linger longer than necessary, then he removed his hand from yours and pulled the glove from his mouth.

"Careful my Lady, the cold burns sometimes more than fire." He remarked, eyes locked on yours, before slipping his hand back into the glove with deliberate care. "We ought to get you some gloves." His voice carried both practicality and an undercurrent of tenderness that surprised you.

He offered his arm once more, and this time, as you looped your arm around his, the touch felt more intimate, more charged. You tucked your hand back into your fur muff, your hand still feeling the ghost of his.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

[darkestcorners]

polarity | 06 yandere!jungkook au ( sneak peak )

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A/N : I decided to post this little sneak tonight since you guys have been waiting so so long. This is not edited yet so please excuse any grammar errors. Thank you💕 :)

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“No secrets? I-I know what you did.” You accused in between sobs, your hands planted firmly on the floor as you shifted your body weight towards your right leg that left you in an awkward sitting position. It was hard to ignore the chills running down your entire body, your mind struggled to focus on what you wanted to scream at him.

He turned his head to look down at you. His penetrating gaze meeting yours at last.

“I know that you were the one that made my professor accuse me of plagiarism.” You said after another intake of breath. “ You did it, didn’t you? You blackmailed him! Just like you did to me. Just like you do to everyone in order to get your way. I don’t know with what but you did.”

He was silent. Just quietly looking at you.

Your short breaths only quickened, the horrible feeling coming in waves, stopping then gaining more force. You felt like you were stuck in a mid fall. It felt like years passed before Jungkook slowly made his way over to you, your eyes traced over the slight twitch of his fingers and cubic steel bracelet around his wrist. He bent down to your level and you felt his fingers lifting your chin up at him. You knew he could feel you shaking because he angled your face towards him again when you tried to look off to the side, his set gaze halting your rapid eye movements.

“Seems like a little birdie has been talking.” He whispered to you, he almost sounded disappointed. “That just won’t do, baby.”

You felt the sudden urge to slap him but you went to push him away instead. He caught your arms before you could do so, pushing them towards his chest and pulling your whole body closer to him. His actions were rough and careless. An indicator of just how much you’ve pissed him off this time. You could feel your teeth chattering now, your panic attack reaching its peak as you felt your vision blur. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice all over you except you wished someone actually had just to rid you of this feeling.

“You know she’s right, you know I’m right. That’s why you’re so upset.” You went on as you squirmed in his hold.

“How easily you’ve forgotten what she’s done to you. Is it that easy to fool you, baby? Does that bitch really have such a tight hold on you still that you that you accept her words as truth without question?” He sounded a parent scolding a small foolish child over taking sweets from a stranger.

He was wrong. Your once all-consuming love for Eunji had turned into a grudge that you couldn’t shake off. She might’ve been a horrible friend but why would she lie about something like that? It seemed too specific. It seemed like she knew more than she was willing to admit and for some reason that only angered you more. She knew more yet she had given you crumbs in return. Was that the plan all along or was she making you a victim of her selfish bitterness again? Even after everything, it was hard for you to believe she hated you that much.

Because you had seen it. You had seen a fragment of sincerity in her eyes earlier. A small piece of pity, no matter how fleeing.

“Ask your little boyfriend what he was doing walking into Professor Clark’s classroom a few weeks ago.”

You swore you had heard it in her voice too. As if she had been doing you one last favor. Granting you one last bit of kindness for all those years spent together being thrown away. But the more you ponder over it, the more Jungkook’s planted seed of doubt began to grow its roots. Had you only seen what you had hoped to?

“You accuse me of lying to you over some gossip your little fake friend filled your head with? It didn’t take long for you to go running back into her arms, did it? Where is your pride?” The disgust in his voice would be hard to fake and you had to look away from the sheer sincerity in it.

“I didn’t run back to her! I wanted answers and-"

“And did you find them?” He cut you off, eyes searching your face like something in it had already granted him the answer. “No, of course you didn’t baby. You let her have the last laugh again.”

Again.

“How would she know to make that connection and why would she lie about her seeing you walk into our professor’s classroom weeks ago.” You hissed back at him eagerly grasping to take control of the conversation that he had so easily overpowered in seconds.

God, you really couldn’t breath.

“Do you hear yourself? You’re asking me why a girl that has been jealous and spiteful towards you for years would try and scheme against you for sleeping with her ex-boyfriend! ” Jungkook sneered back and you flinched at the sudden raise of volume in his voice.

“Lying comes as easily as breathing to some. Haven’t you learned that by now? You really are more naive than I thought if you have yet to realize how unkind this world is and how often people like you get trampled over.”

You let out another quivering sob, growing more and more upset by his words. You might be naive but you weren’t that naive to not realize that he wasn’t the one who should be saying this to you. Him of all people. It felt like a stab in the chest. Jungkook lets go of your arms and brings them to cradle your face in his hands instead. His thumbs wiping away your never ending tears. His action is meant to be gentle but his grip is so tight that you feel his nails digging slightly into your skin.

“I’ve only ever tried to protect you, baby. Protect you from her and from yourself.” His hot breath sent waves of shock through you, you felt his lips lightly graze your own. “How many times must I save you from her? And from everyone who has ill intentions towards you before you realize it’s only ever going to be me.”

He lifted one hand from your cheek to carress your hair, those glossy doe eyes pulling you in and tugging at the invisible strings on your limbs and heart.

“How many times must I prove my love to you?”

This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be.

It felt like something much stronger. Much too different. Your love for Eunji had never felt this overwhelming. It never felt like you were being lulled to a perfect sleep, just to be suddenly plunged into a free fall. This didn’t feel anything like a secret held close to your chest, your heart skipping a beat everytime you used to see her even when you’d already seen her three times before that day. How giddy you felt at her accidental touches. How much you seemed to please her and never wanted to see her in pain. How easily it came to you to want to fix all her minor inconveniences.

No, this felt nothing like that. It wasn’t a secret. It didn’t allow itself to be. It was too loud. Too ugly. Whatever you had felt for Eunji, it felt five times more heightened with Jungkook. His presence felt like too much yet like there was never enough of it to actually violate you. It fit you in a way you were so frightened to admit. He had taken a piece of you that you never agreed on giving him. Yet it was that very foreign feeling that had you craving him in moments you shouldn’t have. In nearly all hours of a day. You were frightened at what you had been feeling these past two weeks sharing his space. Completely terrified at what he had managed to make you feel for him in such little time .

Even now, he felt so familiar yet so untouchable.

“This isn’t love.” You replied back in a broken whisper. It was mistake and you realized it quickly but it was too late to take it back. You blamed your overly emotional state for the thoughtless response.

A few beats of silence passed with only your uneven breaths filling the room. Jungkook continued to caress your hair before the corners of his lips twitched. An almost sad small appearing on them.

“Fine.” Another few beats of silence. The heavy air lingered.

You licked your dry lips as he retrieved his hand completely from you. Your eyes tracked the movement before they landed on the unreadable look on his face.

“ If you think I’m such a monster, I promise I will show you how easily I can make that come true for you. ” He stated lowly, dark eyes taking in your features again. “And it will make everything else I’ve done pale in comparison.”

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