#and only because its gonna be more then just a mere mention of the cat

[suempu]

HAI i forgot if i requested this already but can you do hc’s for laios or kabru with amab reader? gn reader is okay if not ❤️

dom reader for laios’ part + switch kabru + tall man reader + nsfw + amab !!!

<3

kabru.

he likes playing a certain push and pull game with you, the art of trying to be the more dominant one whenever you two get intimate. its similar to a wrestling match and a chess game to him, which makes it enjoyable and fun.

although if you asked him which position you’d like to be for the night, he’d agree (but not without a few cheeky teasing, its kabru after all).

he’s roughly your height, about 2-4 inches apart. loves to rest his forehead on yours because of it. just the feeling of closeness and warmth of your skin makes him happy.

like from my previous kabru hcs, he’s very attentive, especially as a lover. hugging, cuddling or just laying your head on his shoulder is your main source of comfort whenever he pulls you away from the party or during alone time.

if you’re as tall as him, he likes to put his head on your chest and just nap. kind of like a cat with the way he nuzzles into you.

regardless if he takes the lead in bed or not, he will always be unfair and cheeky. whenever you come out on top, he’ll be disobedient and bratty. but only in a way that gets you mildly annoyed.

“get on the bed, i’ll prep you.” you smile, huffing as you sit on the edge.

“but what if i don’t want to?”

you frown at him. “its gonna hurt.”

“what if i want it to hurt?”

you gave him a deadpan expression. “get on the fucking bed.”

he’ll laugh it off, he finds it fun to mess with you.

laios.

if you’re tall then he’s like about 4-6 inches higher than you, which is the perfect height for you to give him surprise pecks. you could literally just talk to him normally, look at him and just sneak in a kiss. he’ll need a few seconds to process it, making you laugh before he blushes and smiles.

laios loves your praise of course, especially in bed, but if you say it in a gentle voice, it gets him kinda giddy.

“so behave. thank you, baby.” cooing at him, you rub the space under his eyes.

he’s a grown man and he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but knowing that you love him and that you’re always there to support him will never fail to have an effect on his heart.

he loves to be loved and loves to love (if that makes sense.)

i’ve mentioned it before, how laios would accidentally break some stuff during sex but there was an instance where he scratched your back while squeezing too tight that it lead to you actually spraining a muscle.

he got so guilty afterwards, he refused to touch your dick or any lower part of your body for a whole month. laios was on the verge of tears but you merely laughed it off and kissed his cheekbone.

“i feel so bad. i’m sorry!” he yells hysterically.

you were in front of the mirror, turning around to inspect yourself before smirking at the red marks on your back. “i dunno, i kinda like this one.”

now laios likes being in your lap, not really sitting on it but he lays on it similarly to how a dog would. his torso is on your lap while his head rests on your stomach. he loves the head pats and the affection after all.

[missmeinyourbones]

WARM CONVERSATION (suna x reader)

cw: breakup heavy, light mentions of reader going through it, angst to fluff i promise!!!! best friend osamu <3 kinda long im sorry, titled from sad beautiful tragic by taylor swift because what else would it be  

You should've known he’d come over. Should've expected it the moment you sent the text turning down his offer disguised as a reminder. 

A sick part of you almost wants to laugh as you reread the texts on the phone in hand. 

From: Osamu

ur coming with me to atsumu’s stupid thing tonight, right?

To: Osamu

absolutely not 

Not even twenty minutes later (which is impressive, considering Osamu lives at least thirty away from your apartment), an abrasive knock is on your door and you don't even need to check the peephole to see who waits on the other side. 

The moment you open the door with unimpressed eyes, Osamu is opening his mouth to complain. 

“You're shitting me, right?” 

His tone walks the line of being in denial and being pissed, like he can’t quite be angry yet because he’s not sure if you’re joking with him or not. He does a quick once-over of your appearance—with pajamas you've been wearing for three days straight, dirty and unbrushed hair, and a more than half-eaten bag of chips in hand, you choose to shrug. 

“Can’t say I am,” you deadpan before turning your back to him, letting him huff his way into your apartment with urgency. 

“No,” he shakes his head to himself, laughing in disbelief, “no, you’re coming with me.”

Closing your eyes in frustration, your head falls back into a childish groan. 

“Osamu, I really don't want to.” 

“It’ll be good for you,” he's quick to try again. His eager words immediately have you scowling, but he can't tell if the waver in your voice is one on the verge of laughter or tears. 

“And how will celebrating your brother being awarded ‘The Sexiest Man in Japan’ be good for me?”

“Eurgh, not that,” he’s quick to clarify through an over exaggerated gag before reiterating, “just getting out there. Everyone’s missed ya.”

Your glare softens in the slightest at his sweet confession. He uses your hesitation from the sentimental moment to snatch the bag of chips from your grasp and raise his eyebrows in amusement. Instantly, your intimidating glare returns and you’re throwing your hands out at your sides in frustration. 

You whine obnoxiously, rubbing at your eyes with your fingertips before recollecting your stubborn self. 

“I'm no fun to be around right now,” you decide to remind him, crossing your arms in defense and letting him sit on your persistent words. 

Now, it’s Osamu’s gaze that softens at your harsh self-judgment.

“Yer the only one who thinks that,” he tries to match your sarcasm, but you’re sure to note the gentle tone weaving through his breath. 

Tired of the game of cat and mouse, you fold. Plopping yourself on the couch, Osamu cautiously sits next to you, where your head is in your hands and your nose is pinched in thought. 

“He’s back,” your voice is soft, barely above a whisper as your eyes meet the floor, “and he’s gonna be there.”

Osamu merely nods, as if he’s been expecting this point to be made.

“I know,” he agrees, before thinking out loud, “it’ll be the first time you’ve seen him since—” his voice loses its confident edge as his sentence trails off. 

With a humorless laugh, you bitterly finish for him, “Since we broke up?”

“Since you forced him to break up with you,” Osamu corrects through a smug grin, “but yeah.” 

And your eyes roll because he’s not technically wrong, there's just more to it—so you decide on biting your tongue and letting him have that one. 

When silence takes over, you assume that's the end of the conversation. Perhaps that was naive of you to think, as when you turn your head you’re still met with Osamu’s expectant gaze awaiting your response. 

“I don’t know, Osamu,” you give up into a sigh. 

Getting excited at your slipping determination, he sits further up on the couch. 

“I’ll be right there the whole time. I'll drive, we can leave whenever ya want, and if anyone says anything stupid, I’ll defend yer honor, per usual.”

Your silence speaks louder than your resistance, and Osamu can practically taste the victory on his tongue as he watches you loomingly mull it over. 

“You owe me a bottle of wine,” you declare as your head falls back into your hands. 

Osamu silently lunges his fist in the air at his success.

“Damn right I do,” he proudly agrees before tossing you the snack still held in his left hand, “I’ll even throw in a bag of chips, too.” 

…

Walking up to the door of Atsumu’s (disgustingly large) penthouse, the sickening memory of the last time you saw Suna intrudes your mind on repeat. 

You knew he’d be traveling. After officially signing with EJP Raijin, you had thought you braced yourself for this. The early training hours, the late night flights, the stealing time together just for it to be ripped away at any moment. You swallowed that pill and digested it fully.

And then he told you about America. About the year-long tournament and exclusive training program he’d been recruited into. You vividly remember him eagerly bragging about how not even Atsumu got invited. He was thrilled, and you were too, for him. 

But then came the unease, the insecurity that would eat away at your brain every night like a parasite. You couldn’t rest, couldn't live with yourself knowing that there could be more out there for him. You refused to hold him back from fully experiencing whatever this opportunity could bring him. You wanted him happy, whether that was with you or not. 

Needless to say, the breakup came as a surprise to him. Two weeks before he left, just when he had everything he’d ever dreamed of, the thing he needed the most decided to slip from his grasp. 

“You're being stupid,” he threw out in a panic. “You don’t get to just decide that for me when it affects both of us.”

“I already made up my mind,” you'd croaked out through teary eyes and a constricting throat.  

You remember Suna looking at you like he didn't even know you, like he didn't recognize the person standing in front of him. The person who held his heart in their hands, the person he has a ring hidden in his closet shelf for. Unrecognizable. 

Your shaking hands held out in front of you like a plea, you continued to use them to sever your red string of fate from him.

“You don't know what's out there for you. You could love it there, you could meet someone better than—”

“Why would you say that?” he winced at your words. He felt like he was going crazy, like this wasn't really happening. Not to him, not with you. “I don't want anyone who’s not you, I don't even want to think about that, I—”

“Rintaro,” your hand on his salty cheek was the last time he’d feel your touch. He didn't knows that at the moment, refused to believe it, but it was. He knows that now.

“I won't be able to live with myself if I don't do this,” your voice is barely audible behind your sobs. “I’d never forgive myself if I knew you had anything to regret.” 

Regret. 

He places his hand on top of where yours rests on his cheek. 

“I don’t want to do this,” he urgently begged, “I love you.” 

You smiled and it broke whatever was left of his heart.

“And I love you,” you ached. “So go to America, and don't think about me. And if there’s a world where you come back here a year from now and somehow still feel the same, then maybe things could be different. But we won't know that unless you go.” 

Two weeks later, Suna was on a plane to the states—and when he went to call you before he boarded, he was immediately sent to voicemail.

It’s been a year since it happened, but it feels like days when Atsumu opens his french wooden door with a brash welcome. 

The party in itself is fine, probably fun for the average guest invited. Atsumu thought it would be funny to throw himself a congratulatory party for being voted Japan’s Sexiest Man, though with the alcohol coursing through his veins and the hype from his past and current teammates, you’re willing to bet he fully believes it. 

The night passes like nails on a chalkboard, agonizingly slow and leaving you hyperaware of your actions. Conversation is easy enough. Everyone is kind and Osamu holds true to his promise of hanging by your side for the most part. You catch Suna’s gaze a handful of times, never holding it long enough to address it, nor feeling drunk enough to do something about it. You hate how foreign it feels. 

…

The balcony is a refreshing kind of cold on your clammy skin. The jacket you hold tightly against your torso is more so for protection than it is for warmth. 

You’d excused yourself from a small conversation with Iwaizumi and Osamu to escape onto a balcony of (one of) Atsumu’s guest rooms. Just for a moment—a moment to breathe, to stop thinking foolish thoughts, to bury yourself in the drink in your hand. 

The sound of the sliding door interrupts your sulking and your heart drops like glass on concrete.  

“Osamu said I might find you here,” the voice wavers, and you sigh in relief to hear that it’s Aran. 

“Fucking Osamu,” you curse behind a sip of your drink. “Remind me to kill him later.”

Aran laughs earnestly at your clear stress, “M’not that bad, am I?”

“No,” you're quick to correct, “no, I didn't mean it like that.”

Aran’s always been a good friend, to both you and Suna. From your high school days to the entire year you were barely seen in the public eye, he’s always been genuine and attentive. The conversation is natural, a nice distraction from the consistent thumping in both your head and heart. 

You congratulate him on his most recent win. He asks about your work. You tell him about a recent promotion and he manages to successfully tell you about his time in America without directly tying it back to Suna. You appreciate his earnest effort. 

That is, until he clears his throat into the crisp air. 

“He hasn't been with anyone since you,” Aran suddenly breathes. 

You don’t say anything, but he sees how your brow furrows at the sudden declaration.

“He didn't see anyone while he was away, in America,” he clarifies.

He watches your body stiffen at the realization of what he’s talking about. Drink in hand, your arms cross defensively across your chest. You’d attempt to play the pathetic action off as the cold weather if you cared. 

Your tone is a bit harsher than you’d like it to be when you respond. “It wouldn't have mattered if he did, we weren’t together.” 

Aren’t, you mentally correct yourself. We aren't together. It shouldn't matter, no matter the capacity. But with the way Aran’s watching you crumble like a leaf in the wind, both of you know that it does. It matters. 

“I mean—he tried, a few times,” he adds on, “but he couldn't go through with it.” 

Your heart sinks at the mere thought of Suna trying to get back out there, and you hate that you still feel this way because that was the whole point. The reason for the way everything went down the way it did is because you wanted Suna to explore all of his options before choosing you. So why does the mere insinuation of him doing the exact thing you told him to do make bile rise in your chest? 

You sniffle, hoping Aran dismisses it on the chilly breeze as you practically whimper, “Why are you telling me this?”

Aran smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. It drips of a melancholy coldness. “Because I think you deserve to know that even when he could’ve, he still didn't do anything.” 

His words grip you like a tight hug, almost constraining as they apply pressure to all the spots you'd numbed months ago. And he must feel it, too, because he decides that he’s said enough.

With a gentle hand placed on your shoulder, he makes his way back inside, but not before prefacing you with a foreboding, “I don't know if he’ll try and talk to you tonight, but if he does, just—think about hearing him out, alright?”

You swallow before nodding, “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

And once again, you're alone with your thoughts—but they're different this time. Less cruel and guilt-ridden, but more so clear and airy. 

You hear the door sliding open once more behind you, and your naivety assumes it’s Aran returning with another final word of wisdom. You’re turning around without a second thought. 

“Aran, I told you I’d–” 

Any blood not tainted by alcohol leaves your face as Rintaro now stands before you, taller than you remember, though you know it’s not even possible. His eyes still look right through your facade, his adam’s apple still prominent as he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Hi,” he bites first.

Your response is immediate, but far weaker, “Hi.” 

He joins you where you lean on the railing, practically shoulder to shoulder as the two of you stare at the dimming streetlights, sipping on drinks that suddenly don’t feel strong enough. 

“Congrats,” eventually falls from your lips, “on everything. You deserve it all.” 

“Thanks,” he returns, though you know it’s only to segue into what slips from his lips next. “You look great,” he lamely chokes out. 

Your response is immediate and cold, “You don't have to.”

“Don’t have to what?” Suna chokes out after a second of confusion. 

“Lie,” you breathe, eyes still focused on the street below. “I’ve looked like shit for the past year, I’m well aware.”

Within the entire mourning period of the breakup, you’ve barely taken care of yourself. You look unhealthy—sunken cheeks and dark circles and skin and bones and sadness. But Suna doesn't see it that way. 

Sure, you look different, but you always look different. You're always growing and changing one way or another. And while he might wish you looked like you got more sleep, that's for selfish reasons, not superficial ones. Your eyes still hold the same shape they did when he left you, your hands still smaller and cold. Your lips still the same mold against his, he hopes. 

“I always think you look beautiful,” he disagrees with a mere shrug, “you still look like you.”

You swallow back a whimper at his honest words, before clearing your throat and biting the bullet.

“Why’re you out here, Suna?”

The last name stings, but he chooses to ignore it for now. There are bigger issues at hand. 

He states the obvious, “It’s been a year. M’back from America.”

He watches you nod in agreement, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Do you remember what you said?”

Your throat closes at his words. 

“Rintaro—”

“I went,” his voice raises in desperation to get his point across, “and I had all the freedom in the world. Could’ve done whatever the fuck I wanted to. And I did, or I tried to, but I wouldn’t because it wasn’t with you.” 

“I know,” your pitch matches his, “that was the point. I wasn’t going to let you do something if you couldn’t do it properly.”

He shakes his head at your stupid reasoning, the same stupid reasoning that ruined everything in the first place. You were so sure that there was more out there for him, that he’d be swept off his feet by some American woman and forget you entirely. And because of his own fear, he was forced to go along with it and prove you wrong. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“Well guess what?” he takes a sip of his bottle before swallowing harshly, “I did it, and it sucked, and now I'm back and nothing’s changed on my end.”

He takes a step closer to you, shaky hand raising in slow motion so you see it coming, so you have a chance to flinch or dodge or run, and you don’t. You let him rest it on your cheek, just like you did that night, and you let him tilt your jaw up to look at him properly for the first time in a year. 

“Now I know what it’s like to be with you and to be without you, and I still just fucking want you.”

You take a moment to admire him, just as beautiful as the day you’d left him. He’s porcelain and tangible and here for the first time in a—

“And it’s been a year,” he reminds you through a sad smile, “like you said.”

You let out a wet giggle through your shaky core, “It’s been eleven months.”

Rintaro groans as if he’s been punched in the gut, and the feeling of your laughter erupting even louder shoots what he assumes must feel like drugs straight to his heart. Ever so gently, he swipes a stray tear from your lash line. 

“Don't make me wait another month,” he begs, “please.” 

Rintaro thanks whatever deity might've listened to his endless prayers these past eleven months, because for the first time ever, you listen to him. Obey him without complaint as you let him press his lips to yours, and he’s overwhelmed with warmth at the realization that they do still mold against his all the same. 

“I love you,” he breathes in between breaks from your lips, “never stopped loving you.”

“I know,” you match his hunger, “I love you.”

Between overdue kisses and eager gazes to ensure that you are, indeed, real, Suna lets go of all of his regrets. 

“M’never letting that happen again,” he shakes his head at his own stupidity, “never letting you go again.”

“Okay,” you mindlessly nod into his hands. 

“Never letting you make a stupid decision like that for the both of us.”

“Sorry—”

“Never letting you look at me like that from across the room just to look away. I mean, what the fuck was that—” 

You shove him out of embarrassment and oh, it feels like love. “Okay, I get it,” you whine. 

And when the night passes in eventual hours that feel like mere seconds, ending up with you in Suna’s lap and everything under the moon being discussed, he’s brought back to reality as you begin to rise from his hold.

Rintaro instantly ushers you back on top of him, “Hey, hey, where d’you think you’re going?”

You comply with his gesture, but not without rolling your eyes. “Shouldn't we go back inside? They're gonna wonder where we are.” 

“Let ‘em,” his head is buried into your neck, a feathery kiss placed as he tightens his hold on you. “I just got you back, lemme hold onto you for a little longer.” 

…

+ bonus scene!

Between tipsy laughter and friendly competition, the party going on inside should be busy with a handful of different things. But the leading contender of entertainment for the group of friends seems to be partaking on the balcony. 

Too lost in one another, you’re grateful you don't see the tufts of red hair peeking out behind the curtain, hoping to catch a glimpse of the long-awaited reunion taking place. 

“It's working, I think it’s working!” Hinata beams, bouncing from window to window trying to get the best view.

“She’s on his lap,” Kita, who traveled a decent way to see this (oh, and for Atsumu, too), notes. “Do you think they’ve kissed yet?”

Speaking of the devil, Atsumu pushes his old captain aside as he drunkenly whines, “Aw, we missed it?”

The crowd of overgrown men bursts into childish chatter. 

“Don't be a fuckin’ creep.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, you idiot.” 

“They’ve had to have kissed by now, we just weren’t paying attention.”  

“Yep, they're kissing!” Bokuto excitedly confirms, watching the two of you outside like a rom-com displayed on the silver screen. 

Osamu’s attention is finally sparked at this confirmation. 

“Oh thank god,” he impatiently shoves through the crowd to confirm the sight with his own eyes, and when he deems it to be true, he exhales a long overdue breath of relief. ‘‘That was the worst year of my life.” 

Aran tilts his head in confusion, “I thought it was only eleven months—”

“Eleven months too long.”

[ddejavvu]

Mei, if you're still taking dealer!remus requests for mvm could we maybe get reader who goes to him asking for whatever he's willing to give because she's never smoked before but she wants to feel something other than the pain and it ends with them smoking and her laying in his lap getting head scratches or back tickles? (they're friends)

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

--

"Please," You feel pathetic, standing in Remus's doorway with a jacket spilling off of your shoulders and a $20 in your hand, "I just- I need something. Anything!"

Remus frowns. The same expression has been on his face since you said the word weed, something sour in the way his lips had turned down.

He shakes his head, disjointed, "No- no! No, I'm not gonna load you with pot and send you home. No."

"But- Remus," You beg, tears brimming in your eyes, "I really need something to distract me. I know it won't fix things, I know it'll all still be there when I wake up, but I can't keep doing this. I just want a little peace."

There's something shining in his eyes besides concern. You think it's curiosity, he's never heard you mention any setbacks in your life before, but you know he's too polite to ask. Instead his jaw clenches, shifting the shape of his face to a sharper one.

"You have to stay here." He decides, arms crossed, "'M not letting you go home with it. You do it here where I can watch you and make sure you're okay."

You glare at him. It's got frustration and annoyance in it, but no real malice. It does nothing to sway him, and he stands firm across from you.

"Fine." You grit out, and his shoulders relax. His face does too, molding into a tentative smile.

"'Ever smoked before?" Remus asks. You're good friends, but it's not something he knows about you. You've seen him do it before, obviously enough to know he'll have some on hand, but he's never seen you do it.

"Only a couple'a times." You shrug, hovering in the doorway, "Jesus, Rem, you gotta clean this shit up."

His room is messy. Maybe not messy, but sloppy. There's clothes thrown over his desk drawer and a can of spray deodorant on the carpet. Paper plates litter the area around his garbage can, but very few are actually within its confines, and his curtains are drawn, giving the room a dim atmosphere.

"If you spend the night tonight you can help me do it tomorrow," He grins to himself, digging in his closet for his stash, "It can be how you pay me for the weed."

You stuff the cash back into your pocket, "Done."

"A little, for now." Remus comes out of the closet with a single joint in his hands, already digging into his pocket for a zippo, "If you need more, we can talk about it."

"I'll need more." You dismiss his arrangement, but he merely narrows his eyes. He's not going back for more.

"Well get comfortable," He gives you a light, teasing shove towards the bed, and you let yourself flop down onto it, the bedsprings creaking below you. You move further up the mattress, carefully avoiding a snoozing kitten in the bottom right corner.

"'Didn't know you had a cat,' You muse, fingers itching to stroke through the soft ginger fur.

"Jus' found her outside the other day," He shrugs, plopping down onto his bed with the same ferocity you had, nearly catapulting the poor kitten across the room, "She was nosin' around the flowers and my mum said to take care of it."

You snort, "She probably meant 'shoo it away'."

"She should've been more specific," Remus bears a shit-eating grin, leaning forwards to rub between the cat's ears gently, "I am taking care of her."

The kitten yawns, stirring at Remus's touch. She instantly curls into his hand, and you feel some of the terrible, horrible dread in your chest loosen as he scoops her up and cradles her.

"She's so little," You marvel at how she snuggles into his palm, eyes already closed again.

He hums in agreement, but now that one hand is occupied he can't light the joint he's still holding. You pluck it out of his hands and he kicks his lighter over to you, watching as you thumb the trigger a few times to get it to finally ignite.

"'Need a new one," He grumbles, scooping the cat into the pocket of his hoodie so that she won't be disturbed when he starts smoking, "Haven't nicked one from the corner store in a while."

You want to scoff, tell him to pay because they're only seventy cents, but you'd probably pocket one too if you were good enough at stealing. Instead of speaking you take the first drag, craving the uncomfortable burning at your lungs.

"She's lucky," You tip your chin towards the cat in Remus's hoodie pocket, "She doesn't have to pay rent. Or get a job. Or deal with mean people. She just naps and gets pet all day."

"Well settle in, then," Remus grins, arms open after he takes the joint from you, bearing his lap. You take the offer without much thought, settling into the space where his crossed legs dip the furthest towards the mattress. It lands your face directly beside the cat's, and you can't help but to pucker your lips and smooch the kitten on the nose.

She doesn't wake, but she does stir. In her sleepiness she snuggles further into Remus's pocket, but her head nuzzles into your own.

"'Think we'll have to share her," Remus decides, his hand smoothing tentatively over your head. It's reminiscent of the way he'd pet his cat, and you decide to pick up the slack for the poor creature. Your hand comes up to run through the kitty's fur as Remus strokes the smooth skin of your forehead down your scalp, and you notice yourself sitting up less and less for another drag.

It's Remus that finishes the joint off, tossing the roach out of his open window. You barely notice the way his legs shift when he does it, brain too blissed out from the feeling of his nails gently scratching at your scalp. You're fairly certain you're drooling on his thigh, but Remus doesn't care, leaning forwards to take hold of a blanket on the end of his bed. He stretches it to drape over you, from the tips of your toes to the angles of your shoulders that he hooks it over.

"Get some rest," He murmurs to you, though you're already doing it. He swipes his hand down from your hair to cup your cheek, the skin heated under his palm. He lets out a low chuckle into the silence of his room, glancing around at its filth, "We've got a long day tomorrow."

[yusuke-of-valla]

From the perspective of Persona 5 Royal as a standalone story I'm not necessarily against the ambiguity of what exactly happened with Akechi. I actually like it, there's lots of room for interpretation! The Third Semester had a sort of dream logic to it which fit well with how the cognitive world was bleeding into reality. I like the idea of Akechi being a sort of Schrödinger's cat. Is that actually Akechi or just Joker's mind playing tricks on him? If he survived, how? Was that Akechi or was it not? Will Joker and Akechi ever meet again or will they simply remain individuals who changed each other forever only for their paths never to cross again, with Joker forever unsure of Akechi's survival or even what happened to the boy he cared about enough to change reality? The open-endedness of Akechi's story as it relates to Joker isn't bad to me.

However it does cause a lot of problems for any Persona 5 game that happens afterward the 3rd semester which by its nature needs to have a canon answer to all of this if they want to bring back popular character Akechi (which is probably why Strikers apparently takes place in the timeline of the OG Persona 5 and not Royale). And the similarly "are they actually brought back to life or merely mental constructs?" question that the other back-from-the-dead loved ones in the 3rd semester raise are far easier to brush aside since their status as dead is never in question with incentive to bring them back for a later instalment of the series. I personally don't have much faith in Atlus explaining it in a compelling way that makes sense though.

Honestly, if you ask me everyone acts like Akechi is dead because Joker believes it. His wish is predicated on the belief that Akechi IS dead which is the information Maruki is acting on and the world then shapes itself to accommodate and with his memories so fuzzy, why should Akechi believe any different? Not to mention how Akechi's cognition of himself and the world might also have an impact on the evidence, Maruki's own perception, and his conclusions. But the choice still matters because Joker and Akechi were willing to make that choice even if it resulted in Akechi being dead, not necessarily that it ends with Akechi dead.

Yeah, basically. As a stand-alone story it's fine, and my issue with Akechi's death being a cop out is more along the lines of "by the fucking FOURTH fake out death (fifth if you count Joker's), it starts getting really annoying" than it being bad conceptually

But the problem is it's part of a series that has Spin-off games that continue the story, and like they should have known people would expect a follow up come Royal.

So really they shot themselves in the foot with that final cutscene because while I do find it annoying that people will go "where's Akechi?!" At every new thing, I don't think it's unreasonable for people to, you know, expect the very deliberate dangling plot thread to get addressed? From a very deliberate standpoint, why would you show him the way you did if it isn't supposed to be a sequel hook (because yeah the blocking of that shot is very deliberate "hey look at this")

It's not like this was originally gonna be stand alone story and then it got unexpectedly popular so you made a sequel, and now have to answer a question so plot can happen

Idk maybe it annoys me so much because to me at least it's SO blatantly stringing fans along I'm kind of offended on principle. Like you made your bed fucking lie in it, don't dance around it like cowards

[blitzgamev]

Happy four hundred and sixty months in limbo ghostbur :D

[zhongliologist]

Breeding Kink Pt. 2 | Dragon!Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader

Genre: SMUTTTT!!

Words: 5.2k

A/N: Oh god i have no braincells anymore. Zhongli fcked with my braincells as well. Here ya go. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Happy Birthday as well.

Warning: THIS IS AN 18+ FIC, SO MINORS OUT THERE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

PART 1 HERE

*

It was already deep into the night.

The last of the busy market kiosks has died down, the golden glow of their lanterns flickered off for the day, while the late-night loiterers had gone to rest at their station as silence and the sound of crickets settled in. The harbor has truly gone to sleep after a rough day’s work, and will rise once again at early dawn.

Yet inside the bedchambers of a certain married couple, things were still heating up.

“Z-Zhongli…! Please…!”

You held on to the silken sheets tightly with face flushed and sweating. Every now and then, a moan would escape your lips, savoring the moment where ecstasy was at its peak. It felt good—really good—as your husband Zhongli thrusted sharply into you.

“YN…” he growled beside your ear as he bent down, kissing the bare skin of your shoulders. “YN…I’m close…haa…”

He could feel all the pleasure welling up inside of him. You were holding on to him like a vice grip, as if wringing him out of his seed and coaxing him to come inside you. Zhongli felt his dick twitch at the thought of filling you up, pushing him closer to his climax.

“Aahhh…so g-good….mmnn….! Zhongli…! I’m gonna—”

“My love…I-I…!”

—!

“Mama? Papa…?”

A knock at their door, followed by a small voice stopped the both of them in their tracks.

Oh no, not again…

Looking at each other, you and Zhongli immediately scrambled to compose yourselves.

“Yuqing…ah, please stay where you are—"

“Honey, just a second! Let me…let me just find my slippers—”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your discarded robe on the floor and put on your sandals, while your husband raced to the adjacent bathroom to relieve himself. “Love, I’ll be there in a moment. Please take Yuqing back to her room in the meantime,” was what he said.

As you opened the door, you were greeted by curious amber eyes—the same as her father’s—who seemingly stared at you as if trying to assess the situation. She was carrying her favorite plushie, a geovishap hatchling, for some reason, while you knelt down and caressed her cheeks gently.

“Yuqing? What’s wrong?” you asked her, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“Something jumped from the window, Mama…! I…I don’t want to go back!” She replied, almost in a whisper as she held on to the plushie tightly.

Your daughter’s words immediately caught your attention. It could just be a squirrel, or maybe something more dangerous. Nevertheless, you have to go check it out.

“Alright, honey. Let’s see what it is,” you replied as you carried her on your arms. “Mama and Papa can easily hunt monsters down!”

Yuqing blinked at you. “Hm? But where’s Papa?”

“Oh, uh…he just needs to pee,” you replied awkwardly, not totally forgetting what you two were doing a while ago.

By the time you arrived at Yuqing’s bedroom, you were greeted by a calico cat which was carrying her own young into the room, staring at you both with scrutinizing eyes. It seemed to have taken a liking to the room and decided to take shelter there. You instantly knew what was the matter.

“It’s a mama cat!” Yuqing exclaimed happily, jumping from your grasps as you muttered “be careful!” at the ecstatic child.

“Don’t come too close to it, honey,” you told her, sitting on the bed as you watched your daughter crouch near the animal to observe it. “The mama cat doesn’t like it if you touch her kittens. She might scratch you.”

“Oh…” your daughter murmured disappointingly, and then returned to your side when she had enough watching.

Looking down to her, you could really see how much Yuqing resembled Zhongli—the same eyes, the same dignified yet gentle countenance. Her hair was a little lighter but it’ll probably turn as dark as Zhongli’s when she’s older. You smiled at the thought of watching your daughter grow—a few years ago, she was still so small and fragile as you held her for the first time, but now, she’ll be turning six, and then eleven, and then little will you know, she has become such a fine lady.

Pulling her into an embrace, you caught the child off guard as you smothered her with kisses.

“Mama!” She protested, but was giggling at the same time. “Mama…what are you doing!”

“I just love my dearest Yuqing!” you exclaimed, but then stopped to pat her head gently. “Now, are you still scared?”

The dark-haired girl shook her head with a smile. “I’m ok now, Mama! It was just a cat.”

“Alright,” you smiled as you began tucking her in again. “We’ll talk in the morning what we’ll do with the cat, but right now, it’s time for you to sleep. Little girls need to sleep for them to grow big, okay?”

“Understood! Good night then, Mama!” Yuqing replied underneath her blanket, as you gently soothed her head. The whole time, you continued to do it until she had finally fallen asleep, soft snores coming from the small child which made you smile warmly.

By the time you returned to your bedroom, you could see that the bathroom lights were still on. You were waiting for Zhongli to swing by Yuqing’s room earlier but for some reason, he’s been caught up in the bathroom this whole time. It also seemed like your husband had heard you enter the room and began calling for you.

“Dear…! Perhaps you could come here for a moment?”

Curious about what was going on, you then stepped into the bathroom and only to be greeted by a much larger, more draconic Zhongli. You could only stare at the large protruding horns on his head, the scales on his arms and legs, and the tail that was swinging back and forth between his legs. Not to mention the large thing on his crotch that made you do a double take at the mere sight of it.

Zhongli closed his eyes as soon as he noticed your stunned expression. Despite how he looks, he still had a bit of his self-control intact.

“YN, I think we have a problem here,” he told you as calmly as he could.

“I might be going into heat again.”

*

It was finally D-Day.

The both of you spent the last week trying to prepared for this, because unlike the first time, you had responsibilities. For one, Yuqing had to be taken elsewhere and away from the carnage. It will not bode well if your child is there while your husband is being one horny dragon.

The people both of you know where highly dangerous though. Among the rejected list was Childe, Hu Tao, and Venti, with the last one loudly lamenting how he couldn’t have fun with Yuqing in Mondstadt. Keqing and Ningguang would be great but they’re busy with work, while the adepti wouldn’t have enough skills and patience to babysit a child for a week, even if it was the child of the former geo archon. That’s why in the end, you asked Lumine and Aether to take care of your daughter for a while—they were at least, safe enough not to put Yuqing in danger. Hopefully.

On the other hand, you had to prepare yourself for another bang of your life. The first time had caught you off guard, but this time, you were prepared to satiate your half-dragon husband to the fullest. You had also prepared yourself to conceive another child. Well, you really were planning to, but it was the night when Yuqing interrupted you two.

“Dear?” A head peered into the kitchen—or rather, a head with two horns.

Zhongli’s dragon features seemed to be staying longer and longer the nearer his heat approaches. Luckily enough, it wasn’t much of a rare sight in Liyue.

“Oh, morning, Zhongli. Should I brew you some tea?” you asked, busying yourself with breakfast for your family of three.

“It’s alright. I’ll do it,” he replied as he stepped in beside you, preparing the hot water to be boiled.

For a while, the both of you stayed like this in silence. You were concentrating on not getting the congee burned while he was trying to get the proper temperature of the water.

In the end, it was Zhongli who broke the silence.

“Will you be alright later?”

You whipped your head to his direction. “H-huh? What? Me? Oh, I’ll be fine!”

“Are you sure?” he asked, turning to you and caressing your cheeks with the tip of his sharp claws. “If only I could assure you that it will be painless.”

“Zhongli,” you called his name firmly as you flipped an egg. “You have never hurt me, and you never will. I survived the first time, right? We have Yuqing running around after all.”

Your words seemed to have magically melted his worries away, no matter how tacky you thought there were. But you didn’t know that Zhongli simply needed your assurance that it will be okay, otherwise, he’d go into a spiral of worry. Comforted by your presence, he crept his arms around you, hugging you from your side.

“Ah, my wife…my lovely wife…” he muttered happily as he nestled his head on your shoulder, savoring your scent and your warmth. “You’re really my wife…”

You giggled at his sudden show of playfulness. “That I am, sir.”

For Zhongli to be this affectionate, it seemed his heat has really gotten to him. Normally, he’ll reserve these kinds of actions for the both of you late at night, but right now, he’s incredibly clingly and wouldn’t stop following you wherever you go. For the most part, he really loves taking in your scent and running his hands around your body.

Soon enough, you hear the loud and rapid padding of feet on the floor as it dashed towards the kitchen where the two of you were. In a few moments, Zhongli was face to face with his own daughter who grinned gleefully at him.

“Mama, Papa!” Yuqing exclaimed as she clung to you like her father.

“Now young lady, what brings you here early in the morning?” Zhongli asked mischievously, still hugging you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Lumine and Aether! They’re coming right? They’re coming!” she almost shouted, arm tightly adhered to your leg.

“In about half an hour, darling,” you replied. “Now, are you both aware that I’m trying to cook here? I can’t move!”

Instead of letting go however, Zhongli tightened his hold of you while nuzzling deeper on your shoulder while Yuqing did the same on your leg. You grumbled. “Like father, like daughter.”

Giggling, Yuqing glanced at her father who was tightly clinging to you like she was.

“Papa, do you like Mama?”

Zhongli, for a moment, smiled at her warmly before replying. “Very much so, my dear.”

You could only hide your flustered expression at his words. But of course, it made your heart skip a beat, even after marrying him and having his child, Zhongli could still make you feel this way with just a few words.

It was a good thing that Yuqing changed the subject before your heart could explode.

“Papa! You have horns!” she exclaimed and pointed at Zhongli’s head.

“Oh? Is this your first time seeing it?” he asked as he knelt to the floor. “Do you want to touch it?”

Zhongli could definitely see his daughter’s amber eyes sparkling with curiosity as she slowly inched her way closer to him. Yuqing may look like him, but she definitely has your temperament. The way she sees the world with so much wonder and excitement reminded Zhongli of you.

“Can I, Papa? Can I?” she asked, her small fingers reaching out for them.

“Yes, you may, my dear.”

Bending down, Zhongli felt Yuqing glide her fingers at smooth surface of the horns. “Be careful though, the tips should be sharp enough to wound you.”

Filled with wonder, the child gazed at Zhongli with amazement. “Papa, are you a dragon?!”

“I can become one.”

“Does…! Does that mean I can be a dragon too?!”

Aahh…You smiled at the two of them as you finished the last of your cooking. “Alright now. Let’s have breakfast. The twins will be here soon if we don’t hurry up!”

*

“Aether! Lumine!”

The dark-haired girl immediately ran towards the twins right after you opened the door to greet them, incredibly excited for the week ahead. Aether scooped her into his arms right away as Lumine pinched her cheek for being so adorable.

“We’re extremely grateful to you two for agreeing to take care of Yuqing,” you told them bashfully. “It was hard to think of anyone reliable and willing to do it in such a short notice.”

“It’s okay, YN,” Lumine replied, “We’d love to have Yuqing around anyway! Right, Aether?”

Distracted with playing with Yuqing, Aether turned to Lumine who was looking at him pointedly. “Huh? Oh! Oh yeah! We’re gonna play a lot!”

“Let’s play house again, Aether!” Yuqing interrupted, “I’ll be the mommy, Lumine will be the aunty and you’re the daddy!”

A large, tall shadow loomed over the twins from behind you. “I prefer if you’d arrange the designations in a different way.”

“Oh, Zhongli.” You turned to your husband who was menacing enough to make the male twin tremble like a leaf, especially in his half-dragon form.

“M-Mr. Z-Zhongli!” Aether immediately felt a chill run down his spine. If anything, he felt an overprotective dad is way scarier than all the monsters he battled so far.

“Good morning Mr. Zhongli,” Lumine greeted the man calmly with a smile. “You don’t have to worry about anything! Yuqing can be the mommy, I’ll be the daddy and Aether’s the dog.”

“Good.”

You could only smile awkwardly at the whole exchange. If this continues on, Zhongli might change his mind and insist his daughter to stay.

“Alright, here’s all her clothes for the week as well as other stuff she needs,” you interrupted as you shoved a bag on Lumine’s hands. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if something happens.”

Lumine only glanced at you with a plastered smile. Bothering them isn’t something she’d really want to do.

“We will, YN,” Aether replied and then exchanged looks with his sister. “I think it’s time for us to take off now though.”

“Alright. Come on, Yuqing, let mama and papa kiss you goodbye,” you told them as you reached out for your daughter who easily climbed out of Aether’s arms.

Crouching down, you and Zhongli embraced your daughter tightly, kissing her cheeks several times until she began protesting. With Zhongli chuckling, he patted her head gently while reminding her of several things.

“Now young lady, be of your best behavior. Don’t make Lumine and Aether worry too much.

“I will, Papa! Can I have almond tofu as a reward then?”

Zhongli smiled at her amusingly. “Alright. Do we have a contract then?”

“Yes! It’s a pinky promise!” Yuqing held out her pinky and linked it with Zhongli’s, who was careful not to scratch her with his claws.

“Don’t forget to drink your vitamins and eat your vegetables, ok? And sleep on time. Be careful not to go anywhere without telling Lumine or Aether!”

Yuqing sighed, “Yes, yes, Mama. I will.”

Ruffling her head, you finally kissed her forehead while Zhongli did the same.

“Don’t forget to have fun!”

As she ran off to Lumine’s side, the both of you stood up.

“We’ll be going then. See you after a week!” Aether exclaimed as they began to take the steps down the porch.

“Bye, bye, Mama, Papa!”

With that, the three of them disappeared and went off their way.

Glancing at your husband, it had finally dawned on you that this was only the beginning.

“So, should we get started?”

He asked, and you froze.

*

“W-wait…! Zhongli!”

“What’s the matter?”

Your husband asked you, as if he wasn’t pinning you against the wall, nuzzling against your neck as he took in your scent. You could feel his warm breath against your pulse, his hands on your waist as he continued to pepper small, faint kisses on your skin.

“It’s…it’s the middle of the day…a-and…and…!”

“You never had an issue with that… are you getting shy, my love?”

You could sense the teasing tone in his voice as he nibbled on your ear, without ever the intention of removing himself from you. Flustered, you pursed your lips as you bit down a moan.

“N-No, I’m not! It’s just…!”

“It’s just what?”

Zhongli smirked at your unexpected bashfulness, urging him to tease you more to see more of that adorable expression of yours.

“I-I mean, we just sent off Yuqing…and they might return or something—”

“Oh, they won’t.” Zhongli gave your jaw a small hickey. “Or at least I’m sure they are well aware not to bother us.”

“H-Huh…?”

Without furnishing you an answer, he simply knelt down before you and wrapped his arms around your thighs to hold you down. Looking down, you could see him smirking mischievously at you, making you gulp.

“Why don’t we get you ready, my love?”

Slipping his head underneath your skirt, you instantly felt his lips on your thighs as he kissed his way up towards your core. You could feel yourself melting at the heat of the situation; the sensation of his warm tongue prodding your clothed entrance.

“Z-Zhongli…! Mnhh…!”

Even with your underwear on, you could easily feel him stimulate your sensitive clit as he circled his tongue around before sucking it. Your knees buckled immediately as you found your hands holding on to his horns, careful not to pull too much.

“You’re so drenched here, YN,” he told you, his voice vibrating against your sensitive parts.

“D-Don’t say that! O-Ohh…! Fuck!”

You couldn’t even tell him off properly as soon as he slid of your underwear and began to tease your hole with his tongue. You could feel him go in and out as his warmth filled you up. But it wasn’t enough, of course. After getting a taste of the real thing, nothing could satiate you other than him.

“Zhongli…oh god! Ah—!”

Without stopping, he continued to lap on your juices and stimulate you until you were at the edge of orgasm. You could feel your legs grow weak and the only thing keeping you from falling to the floor was his tight grip on you as he ruthlessly ate you out like a hungry man.

Peeking from underneath your skirt, Zhongli watched as he gradually pushed you closer and closer to your climax. His bright amber eyes filled with lust as he stared at your half-lidded eyes and trembling lips; crying his name out loud over and over again. He wanted to take you then and there, push his cock inside you until you were filled to the brim; his hard on was excruciatingly painful inside his pants, but he had to be patient and get you ready for him.

“Come for me, love,” he muttered, circling his tongue around your clit once more and sucking it.

It only took an instant for you to shiver and tremble in pleasure as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave. Your skin felt like a surge of electricity passed over you as your knees buckled and your arms held on to his shoulders to stop you from falling over.

Removing himself from underneath your skirt, Zhongli then scooped your weak figure and carried you on his arms towards the sofa. He had you sitting on his lap facing him while you encircled your arms around his shoulders and waiting for your high to calm down.

For a while, the both of you stayed like this. Zhongli kept on giving you small pecks on your neck and shoulders, slowly divesting you of your clothes as he went around your body. It was slow and sensual; unlike the first time he was in heat.

“H-Hey…you too…” you purred, kissing the underside of his jaw.

He only hummed at you; his hands busy with getting your skirt off of you. “Yes?”

“Let me undress you too.”

Zhongli reigned in his urges as soon as he heard your suggestion. His face flushed as he watched you slowly remove his tie and unbutton his shirt to reveal his toned chest. Groaning at the feeling of your hands on his bare skin, he knew he only had a few moments left before all his self-control could fly off the window. But it was incredible, he could only feel himself grow even harder.

Soon enough, you were already on the floor kneeling before him. Zhongli felt himself tense up at what you were about to do, but had to strength left to stop you from doing it. Silently, he watched as you glide your hands on his things and then to the prolific bulge on his pants. You could feel him poke you earlier while you were sitting on his lap, which gave you the idea of blowing him off.

Gradually, you undid his belt and pants and finally take out his monstrosity of a cock. Zhongli gave a guttural groan as he felt your hands pump his shaft tentatively, his claws biting at the soft leather of the sofa.

It wasn’t the first time you saw his cock, and while it was impressive in normal days, the one right before you was definitely befitting of a dragon. You hesitated.

H-how did this thing fit inside of me before?!

Nevertheless, you continued on. It was massive but it was definitely hot, seeing Zhongli sitting there in front of you with a flushed face and his cock out. Timidly, you gave the tip a small peck as you slowly allowed your tongue to glide over it.

“Y-YN…that’s…!”

Empowered by his reactions, you then licked the underside of his shaft until it was glistening wet with your saliva. Eventually, precum began to ooze out of the tip and curiously, you began licking it as well, sucking it in the process.

“Ughh…! F-fuck…YN…! I’m really—”

Trying to bob your head up and down, you could only fit so much of him inside your mouth as your jaw tried to accommodate his size. But you felt your core tighten up and become wet, thinking that this cock will eventually fill you up to the brim with his cum.

Zhongli was rapidly losing it. He wanted to cum, but he wanted to cum inside of you and have you bear his child. He wanted to see your cunt filled with his seed until it oozes out of you, and then plug his cock back inside of you to fill you up once again.

No, this won’t do.

“YN…! Y-YN…! P-Please stop! Mnnh—!”

He held your chin to make you stop—the way your lips left a trail of saliva to his dick tempted him push it back inside your mouth—but he had to end it there, right before he came inside your mouth. Slowly he guided you towards him; confused as to why he stopped you right before he was about to come, you moved back to his lap where he gently caressed you and wiped his fluids from your cheeks.

“Let me kiss you, my love.”

In a soft and gentle kiss, Zhongli captured your lips. You could feel it radiating with love and warmth as he slid his lips over yours, his tongue darting inside, as if trying to fill his senses of you and only you. You both kissed until your lips were swollen, until you felt him rub his shaft against you unconsciously, making you moan in the kiss.

“Z-Zhongli…” you gasped for air. “Are you…holding yourself back?”

With those amber eyes, he gazed at you seriously—all the while keeping your lips closed to his.

“Is it a sin to treasure you so much?”

His words caught you off guard, but eventually, you smiled. Zhongli never failed to express his love for you. He was gentle and kind, a good husband and an even better father. Brushing a few stray locks of hair from his sweat-riddled face, you kissed his forehead as a way to show how much you appreciated his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you for thinking about me, Zhongli,” you remarked, “But right now, I really want you to let loose and fill me up completely with you.”

With eyes blown wide, Zhongli felt himself twitch at your words—his arousal no longer hidden. Grabbing the back of your head, he then crashed his lips against yours in a searing kiss lidden with passion and lust. He bit and licked on your lips while his hand groped your full breasts, pinching at your nipples to make you gasp against his lips.

“Then so be it,” he smirked. “I’ll make you completely mine.”  

Guiding his shaft to your slick entrance, he pushed himself inside of you in one go—making you squeal at the sudden sensation of being penetrated. It took some time for you to accommodate his large cock, but eventually, your cunt was drenched so much that it hadn’t become much of an issue.

“Z-Zhongli…! Oh god—fuck! …s-so big…!”

You began riding him, moving up and down on his lap while Zhongli continued to make you feel good by playing with your breasts. You could feel his sharp claws make indentations on your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood, but it was a strange sensation which only heightened the pleasure of having his dragon cock thrusted inside of you.

“Hnnghh!! Y-YN…!” Zhongli winced at the sudden tightness, and began to distract himself from cumming by licking on your pert nipples until they were red and sensitive.

With pleasure attacking you from different parts, you could only mewl as Zhongli gradually turned you into a lewd mess as you felt him twitch inside of you. Soon enough, he’ll be cumming inside of you, and that would the first among many others for this entire week. If his first heat said anything, Zhongli wouldn’t stop mating with you until you were fertilized with his seed.

The thought did nothing but coax you to your climax. You could feel yourself tighten around him as he pounded into you mercilessly, your juices mixing together. Zhongli was also close. He was already extremely aroused, and it wouldn’t take long for him to climax.

“A-Ah—! YN….! L-love…I’m…I’m close…!”

He muttered with face flushed and breath ragged.

“Yes…! Oh god, yes…! P-Please, Zhongli…! Ah—! F-fill me…fill me up…!”

In just a few thrusts, the both of you came at the same time. He pushed deep inside of you and came; his warmth filling you up until he was spent. You were still shivering with pleasure when he pulled you in for a kiss, his tongue once again ravishing you with so much intensity that it could be argued that he made you come once again with just a kiss.

Reeling in from the afterglow, you could still feel him hot and hard inside of you, as his breathed hard against your neck. You were no different though—the way your mind was still covered with a haze of lust, or the way his cock inside of you felt so good as it hit a particularly good spot. The aphrodisiac you got from Dr. Baizhu seemed to be quite effective.

Removing yourself from his embrace, you staggered to stand up with your limp legs, but managed to crawl on fours right beside him.

Zhongli was both bewildered and disappointed to have your warm body away from him, but when you pushed your ass before him and gazed at him with sultry eyes, he felt his heart rate pick up the pace.

It was embarrassing to show your cunt dripping with your juices and his cum, but you didn’t really care much. You were too entrenched with arousal to feel embarrassment.

“Z-Zhongli…let’s…let’s do it again…?”

Grabbing your ass, he spread you out even more, and even slapped your butt lightly. Zhongli could definitely see his cum dripping out of you and promptly scooped it up with his finger and pushed it back inside of you.

“P-Please…! Zhongli…I—!”

He smirked. “Very well.”

Without warning, he slid himself back inside of you; making you bite back the remaining words. It felt incredible having him inside. It was hot, as if you were burned and electrified at the same time. Your mouth hardly had the time to close as he continued to piston in and out of you.

This time however, Zhongli began playing with your oversensitive clit, groaning loudly at how you tightened your walls around him. You squealed in delight as his cock hit a particularly good spot, making you cum sooner than expected.

“Oh…o-oh god! Z-Zhongli….! Zhongli…! A-ah…!”

Yet despite your premature climax, he continued on—thrusting inside of you and prolonging your orgasm. It was so good you could feel tears pooling the side of your eyes as he plowed your sensitive cunt.

“You came, didn’t you?” he asked, his lips once again on yours. “I’ll make you come again soon enough.”

True to his promised, Zhongli picked up his pace and fucked you as roughly as he could. You knew there will be bruises after this but the pleasure was greater than anything for you to care about. The way his cock just fills you up, hitting your g-spot over and over again relentlessly, or the way his groans just sends shivers down your spine.

“F-Fuck…! Fuck…!Z-Zhongli! I’m—! I’m gonna…!”

“Yes, love...! Haa….come for me…! I’ll fill you up with my seed…”

Once again, you came from the overstimulation—your arms failing as the pleasure was greater than anything you experienced so far.

“F-fuck…YN…a-ah—!”

With that, Zhongli suddenly bit your shoulder as he pumped more of his seed inside of you, which only overflowed from your hole. You mewled at the mixture of pain and pleasure, unable to distinguish the one from the other, but you knew it felt extremely good.

Zhongli was silent for a while as he lapped on the bitemarks he had made. He was glad that he hadn’t bit too hard, but for some reason, he also liked how you were marked as his.

“Allow me to take you to the bedroom,” he whispered to you as you nodded your head groggily. Sleep was beginning to approach you fast.

Unsheathing himself from you, you winced at the sudden feeling of emptiness. But it was immediately remedied by the feeling of his warm body near you as he carried you to your shared bedroom. Slowly, he laid you down on the soft mattress and eventually joined you there, embracing you from the back.

“Let’s rest for now,” he muttered right before your eyelids fell heavy. “We’ll need it for later.”

And he was right.

For the next few days, the two of you tainted every room inside the house (well, except for Yuqing’s bedroom).

From the kitchen where Zhongli fucked you from behind, bending you on the counter as he emptied himself inside of you—to the bathroom where cleaning up turned into another round where he slowly entered you while underwater—or on the floor, which was only because you couldn’t reach the bed because he was too horny for his own good.

It was only then, as the both of you rested from the last round which took all night and early morning, that you realized how much time had passed.

“Mama! Papa! I’m back!”

Your eyes shot open, and glanced at Zhongli who was staring at you as well.

“Oh no.”

[familyagrestefanblog]

I looked through the Bible leak and it's a Eh on my part. Its 113 pages and the only part that actually managed to convince me to some degree that this could be legit legit are the s5 summeries at the end and the s5 mentionings althrough the whole thing. And thats only because I have no way to find out if these s5 informations are accurate and therefore I just have to accept them. If this is real then I'm let down but I guess I will enjoy the ride. But at the same time I'm not throwing everything away because of this one document.

Because not gonna lie, it manages to not say much at all while still speaking alot of words in ALOT of regards. Some show aspects are either hardly explained, simplified to the max, misleading or just straight up wrong. Like the relationship between Adrien and Plagg for example, something the show has put so much care into developing. And here the explanation of them goes hardly further than middle of season 1. Alot of these kind of things. Like, Rogercops (was that his name?) akumatization in Kuro Neko is acknowledged but Nathalie being Catalyst in "Ladybug" isn't? Or also in Kuro Neko the document says that the girl was akumatized... she wasn't.

Kuro Neko only had the Sentimonster and no akuma victim. That's like... who wrote this??

Then there are just straight up inconsistencies and errors in the document that shouldn't be present in these kind of documents. Here and there Cat Noir suddenly gets written CHAT again, Pigella is either Piggella or has a completely different name. Ninos brother Chris gets the mentioning that his name is Noël in the french original, but.... literally nothing else gets that?? Why mention this one french name and nothing else? Not from heros, villains or anyone? Nothing? Mkay.

The section of "rules for how an episode is written" is honestly laughable in how small and basic it is. If this is legit then I’m sorry wtf?? And overall it just doesn't feel like an document that got updated very often and now merely has received new informations on a solid enough quality level to piss people off before s5 even starts. Like, sometimes the tense-forms in which the story contexts are written in get very inconsistent and makes for a weird reading experience.

That's what Im going with right now. The way these 113 pages feel to me is that it's astoundingly little in alot of words. that often just leaves out crucial key elements of the story, gives them in the most basic form to the point where it becomes misleading or even straight up false. Unprofessional continuity errors are being made that have absolutely nothing to do in this work file. It's highly incomplete and a few times weirdly written.

Especially concidering that this is a show Bible it lacks points ESPECIALLY in the "how an episode is written" part (and in general the fucking LORE part) to absolutely ridiculous degrees. There is no more in depth structure, explanations etc of the world building, overarching narrative and magic system that a show Bible would explain. A show Bible is being pitched to channels, higher ups etc to understand, take and finance your project. Where are the explanations for things on more than a superficial level?

I dont want to say there is nothing in this document that shows it could be legit but it reads more like a dedicated fan analysis on a superficial level “because its already 113 pages long so we keep it to the absolute minimun”, than an actual work document. After reading this I honestly have the feeling like I could have faked this better lol

That isnt to say that I'm saying this document couldn't be real (I would be disappointed on more than one level if it where. Not only from how s5 will go but also from like... the quality standard of these professional show documents) but I will say that if it were to come to light that this ex-employee had this Bible document for a long time already (so its the bibel of the show in a much earlier development stage. It honestly feels like s1 where s2, 3 and 4 merely got added without changing the whole pov to the current season. Or at least ADJUST THE POV in the points where it makes SENSE now to properly get the show across. Which is the purpose of this document) and now just updated it with a couple of details they either know of s5, made up and/or laid out in ways to deliberately piss off the fanbase before s5 starts to turn the fans against the show and screw over ZAG (which I may add WAS the intention of leaking this bible, to get one on  ZAG)... then I would believe it

I acknowledge this documents existence, but to be honest I’m not impressed from too many angles and I will not loose too much sleep over this. If it turns out to be true than thats that and if it doesnt then I’m not surprised either.

[havenoffandoms]

Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it! 

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?” 

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road. 

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level. 

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber. 

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up. 

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words. 

“Huh?” 

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick. 

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months. 

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.” 

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer. 

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens. 

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden. 

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.” 

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…” 

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off. 

“You mean that?” 

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.” 

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again.  Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent. 

Lambert can live with that, he thinks. 

Request a prompt.

[hops-hunny]

College Girls

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: anon “How about Rodrick invites the reader to a party (he’s been crushing on her for the longest) but she plays hard to get and at the party her friends try to convince her to give him a chance and later it leads to them playing 7 minutes in heaven and they confess to each other and it goes from there ;) it could end in smut or fluff your way ly <3”

Summary: (college!au) College girls and their games, good thing Rodrick loves to play.

Warnings: Mentions of weed and alcohol, making out, teasing

A/N: Ok I forgot to make them confess but it’s implied sorry anon. I still hope you enjoy it!

If there was one thing Rodrick knew, college was a shit ton different than high school was. However, that wasn’t a bad thing. Unlimited booze and bud, hot chicks, and parties that never ended? He was practically in heaven! He had grown into himself, feeling more confident than ever since Heather had rejected him his senior year. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he thought about her but if he had to pinpoint it, it was a few months ago when she had hit him up, begging the boy to give her a chance. Oh the irony behind that. That was another good thing about college. In high school, all the girls thought he was just some loser who wasted too much time on a band that would always be shit. 

But with years of experience under their belt and more free time to practice, Löaded Diaper was beginning to become a big deal in their rinky dink shithole off a small town. God was he glad too because with clout, also came hot girls in skirts that barely covered their ass. The opportunity for endless amounts of hookups was an absolute dream come true, but all dreams lose their shine eventually. When fucking became a mere thing to pass the time between class, gigs, and parties, he realized that it wasn’t as great as he thought it was. He was starting to crave something more, something like or, someone like- her.

God she was a babe. Rodrick still remembered the first time he saw her. Löaded Diaper was doing another house gig, everyone in the crowd dancing and moving to the intense music. And all of a sudden, a strobe light glossed over her perfectly, almost like a halo of blue light and his eyes were hooked. She was there with her friends, one of them whispering something in her ear which caused her to lock eyes with his. Pretty (e/c) eyes meeting his own brown ones. It was almost perfect, almost. As soon as they had finished the last note of their song, without missing a beat she swiftly made her exit and he made his way after her. Rodrick jumped off the stage, chasing after her and her friends all the way till they reached the curb. He grabbed her arm causing the girl to look back.

“Hey, uh, did you enjoy the gig?” He asked, running his fingers through his sweaty hair nervously. He felt his nerves rise even more at the sound of her friends’ giggles.

“I wouldn’t have stayed the whole gig if I didn’t, would I?” she retorted, rolling her eyes as she began to open the passenger door of the black mercedes.

“Yeah, I guess that was a dumb question..” he trailed off as she closed her door. His eyes widened at the fact he hadn’t gotten her name prompting him to take off after the car. He felt relieved as the girl rolled down her window, looking up at him through her thin framed sunglasses. “Wait! I didn’t get your name, I’m Rodrick.” he smirked, watching as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.

“Didn’t give it.” she quipped, sending him a wink as her friend took off into the distance. Who was she? All he knew about her was that she had a mouth on her and lived on the other side of campus. A lot of girl’s fit that description so it wasn’t easy asking around about her. However, as he stood here in the corner of the party his fraternity was throwing, he’d recognize a pair of nice legs like that from anywhere. His eyes took in her appearance. She had on a denim mini skirt, black turtleneck and a pair of knee high boots that matched. The boy had to practically stop himself from gawking at how good she looked, curves clinging to every bit of the form fitting outfit. He cleared his throat as his friend nudged him, looking to see what he wanted.

“Uh don’t look now, but I think that girl you were eye fucking is definitely eye fucking you back dude. Is that the chick from the gig a few weeks ago that you won’t shut up about?" Rodrick glared at the man, shoving him into the wall before walking towards her. He watched as her friends “coincidentally” all began to head off in other directions, leaving her to offer him a flirty little smile behind the drink she’d been nursing.

“Well if it isn’t the little drummer boy! To what do I owe the pleasure, Rodrick?” she purred, sitting down her now empty cup. She stepped forward, leaving them to be pressed chest to chest. It could easily be blamed on the crowded room but the two knew otherwise. He smirked back at her, wrapping his arms around her waist securely.

“I’m a simple man. I see a pretty girl sending looks my way, I come.” his eyes widened as he began to overthink his word choice. “N-not like that! Like I come over not like cum in my pants. I-I’m not like some virgin...well I’m not some man whore either! I don’t fuck around a lot. Not like the option isn’t there bu-” he quit his nervous ramblings at the sound of her laughter. He relaxed, smiling as the girl wrapped his arms around her neck. He began to lean in thinking she would ask him for a kiss but instead she missed his lips, putting hers next to his ear before whispering,

“Wanna dance?” Before he could answer, the girl (who’s name he still didn’t catch) was dragging him to the dance floor, moving his hands to rest on her hips. He tried to keep his movements as fluid as possible. It took him a bit but eventually his movements matched hers, as they swayed to the beat of the song. She pressed her head against his shoulder, looking up at him as she continued the movements against his pelvic area. “I love this song, it’s one of my favorites.” she whispered. He didn’t know if it was because he was cross faded or his enjoyment of the movements but D’Evils by SiR was beginning to become one of his favorite songs too. How could it not when there was such a pretty girl pressed against his front?

“Yeah? It suits you.” he muttered, leaning his head down to hover his own chapped lips above the girl’s soft gloss covered ones. She hummed in agreement, both of them slowly inching towards each other before she stopped, letting out a cheeky giggle.

“Did you really think I was going to kiss you that easily? You’ve gotta earn it.” She said, dragging a manicured hand against the skin of his neck. He shivered a bit as goosebumps formed, watching as she disappeared back into the crowd. He swore some, groaning as he fiddled with the growing bulge in his jeans. Was he out of the game for too long or had girls always been this hard to get? Either way, he didn’t care. Rodrick was gonna get this girl and her name by the end of the night if it was the last thing he ever did. He broke out of his thoughts, keeping sight of her figure making its way through the beaded curtain which led to the basement of the large frat house. Quickly he chased after her, trying to keep up with her. And, as if on purpose, every time he’d get close she’d flash him that breathtaking smile and continue on her path. Finally, she reached her supposed destination, a small group of people on couches, discussing the plans to play something. 

“So, what’s the game?” He asked, causing everyone to look up at him as he sat on the couch farthest from her. He looked at the bottle in the center of the table, proud of himself and his seating choice. The further he was away, the more likely the bottle was to land on the pretty thing across from him.

“7 minutes in heaven. You down?” A brunette girl asked, a flirty look in her buzzed eyes. He ignored her small attempt at an advance, nodding as he locked eyes with the girl of the hour. He shot her a wink, smirking as she rolled her eyes, biting her lip to hide the smile that was making its way onto her face. For someone so adamant about playing this game of cat and mouse, she seemed to be fighting off her feelings very harshly. None of that mattered now though. If there was a god, he hoped he’d be on his side. Never had he wanted to be stuffed inside a muggy dark closet with someone so badly.

“Of course I’m down. Do I look like a pussy to you?” he asked, watching as the (h/c) haired girl opened her mouth. He gave her a pointed look, tilting his head at her. “Don’t answer that, legs.” The girl looked surprised at the nickname but didn’t say anything, trailing her acrylic nails up the curve of her thigh. His brown eyes followed curiously, jumping slightly as she closed her legs quickly giving him a mocking pout. Tonight was going to be a long night.

-------------------------------------------------

Round after round was filled with surprises, none involving Rodrick or the mystery girl of his affections. Sometimes, the two people involved would cheer or jump up excitedly, ceasing the moment that they were desperately waiting for. Other times they would groan in disgust and hell, he couldn’t blame him with the hygiene of some of these people. Have they ever even heard of a shower, deodorant? Only their BO could tell. However, his odds grew more and more as it was finally his turn to spin the bottle. He picked it up, kissing the empty beer bottle as he made up some prayer. He let out a deep breath before spinning the bottle. As he watched it spin, the only thought he could seem to form was, ‘Please, please please. Cmon, cmon, cmon!’

Finally the bottle began to halt, making a rumbling noise as it stopped. His eyes followed the nose of it, letting out an internal cheer as his eyes met the (e/c) eyes from across from him. He pulled up his jeans before walking over to the girl, holding a hand out to her. She eyed it before smirking up at him, allowing her to pull him up. Rodrick looked down at her hand before tangling his fingers with her own, pulling her towards the closet. Once they both were in there, silence overcame them leaving the muffled music from upstairs to be the filler between silent space. He cleared his throat some, catching the shorter girl’s attention.

“Sooo, um. Would this count as earning it?” He quipped, giving her a flirty grin. The girl rolled her eyes before moving closer to him, pulling him down to her own height as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Rodrick wasted no time, pulling the girl by her hips and planting his on hers. The kiss was everything he’d hope it’d be. Passionate, hot, and filled with every bit of desire that had built up over the course of the party. He nibbled at her lip, causing a moan to slip from her lips. He smirked a bit, pulling away some to look into her eyes a bit.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be a good kisser. You looked like you would give me a lot of teeth and too much tongue.” she giggled some, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. He rolled his eyes, smirking as he leaned in, nibbling on her neck a bit. He felt victory overcome him at the soft whimper that came from her lips.

“My pride’s a bit wounded, princess.” he purred, lifting her up as he pinned her against the wall. He leaned back in for another kiss, this one more deep and intense than the last. He groaned softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping at it slightly. He slid his tongue over her bottom lip, quickly tangling it with hers when she opened her mouth. They’re tongues danced a bit, fighting for dominance before he won. He absorbed her moans, sucking on her tongue as he slid a hand under her skirt, stroking the skin of her upper thighs. Rodrick noted how soft her skin was before gripping at it harshly, stroking her hips with his thumbs.

Just as he slid his hands under her shirt, a knock broke them out of their kiss. He groaned in annoyance, pulling away and fixing her clothes for her as the door was ripped open. The (e/c) eyed girl was the first to walk out, looking back at him as if she had something to say.

“(Y/n).” she said, causing him to look at her in confusion. “My name? It’s (Y/n). I hope this isn’t a habit of yours, making out with girls whose names you don’t even know.” she said, looking up at him expectantly. His mouth opened and closed as he stuttered, searching for the words to say. He cleared his throat before grabbing her hand, beginning the path to his own room.

“Not anymore it isn’t.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Cat Eyes (JJK x Reader) ❤️☁️🔞🐾

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Human!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Fluff/romance, Strangers to lovers?, slight angst, smut

Warnings: discussion of homelessness and unfairness against hybrids, mild mention of past abuse, trust issues, Sweet Koo, smut because duh, lovemaking it’s so sweet yall, dirty talk but only minor, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doggy style, mild biting, yeah that’s it this time wait for part two oh my

Summary: on the streets, cast out. Just another week for you, but somehow you wonder if this stranger might mean a change for you.

Or alternatively: Jungkook feeds you and you’re kinda grateful for that.

Its cold, but you've been preparing for that outcome for a long time already. Being born as a hybrid, a simple housecat at that, you had nothing special or rewarding about you, making you just a pet getting passed around from person to person as soon as you got too boring to keep around.

This was a regular thing for you. The fact that you got kicked out so many times already made you wary of actually possessing any belongings at all, not even owning a phone or clothes you could consider your own- merely the things you currently wore, drenched in the water that had been dribbling from the skies in rough speeds, hood over your head already useless at keeping your hair and ears dry. But it was okay. This was normal for you, after all.

Sitting down between two glowing vending machines located behind a small convenience store, you tried to warm yourself up with the small amount of heat radiating off of the two metal machines- not really being successful, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It's been three weeks already like this, trying to find a place to catch some sleep before roaming the streets again, searching for food and sometimes even finding a bit of money on the street. You didn't have a collar, so you had to hide your hybrid features well- not like you'd like to show your dirty fur anytime soon anyways.

Yawning before turning a bit, shoes squeaking a bit with the amount of water inside them, you closed your eyes, mind focusing on the buzzing next to your head, trying to use it as a form of lullaby to soothe you into sleeping a bit. Yet you were disturbed by someone pressing the buttons and inserting money into the vending machine, the loud noises of the soda can banging against the metal interior loudly enough to make you press your ears flat against your skull. You hoped whoever was craving the beverage was a human or didn't pay attention to you; but again- you were out of luck.

"Huh?" Came the humming question of a male voice, and you instantly tensed up as a warm hand was placed on your wet shoulder. "Hey.. you okay?" The voice asked, and you imagined his Umbrella shielding him from the rain, the pitter patter of it on the plastic fabric an indication that he probably used one. You weren't an impressive predator like a Tiger or a Leopard, but you certainly could distinguish noises from one another to see things around you, even without using your eyes. "Can you hear me?" He asked gently, and you wanted to turn around, scoff in his face that yes, you did, you just chose not to. "Do you have an owner.?" Well, piss. Seems like hiding your features didn't do much as well.

You only turned a bit, hood catching on a pointed piece of metal from the vending machine, making it reveal one of your wet ears to him, as well as a piece of the side of your face. You only saw him with one eye, but you already knew he was on the far opposite of the food chain- expensive suit and sparkling rolex on his wrist, connected to the tattooed hand holding his black umbrella almost mocking you as he looked at you with pity. You spotted his ears, or more lack thereof, already wanting to cry at them; a human like him didn't know the things you were going through. That's probably why he'd asked if you were owned immediately, and you wanted to laugh. Yet your croaky voice didn't say these things. It only stated the obvious. "No." Because you really didn't- the official timespan was two weeks, after that, a formerly owned hybrid was officially considered a stray if it went missing. You didn't belong to anyone other than the state itself- which was why you had to hide so well, to not get thrown into an adoption center again.

The stranger furrowed his brows a bit, before leaving. Well, at least he took the hint, you thought, before he came back again, placing a white bag with some plastic items down in front of you, before putting his umbrella over your head, the rain suddenly stopping from falling down on you. You looked downwards, at the plastic container- sushi? Dumplings? And another one that steamed a bit- rice? You didn't get it, but still turned around a bit, watching him warily as if you were waiting for him to yell sike and run away. Yet he didn't, simply scooting a bit closer to not get the rain onto his head, and waiting. The sound of cars passing by and some music being played somewhere was the only noise surrounding you for a bit, before you hesitantly reached out for the containers, always keeping an eye on him. He simply smiled when you started to unpack the plastic foil of the cheap chopsticks, digging into the hot rice as if it was a five star meal. You could practically feel it warming up your belly, making you suppress a sigh as you got lost in consuming the food he'd bought.

Only once you were finished, not being able to eat everything, did he actually move. He grabbed some of the leftovers, eating them until he took the boxes and put them into the trash nearby. You looked at him with a questioning gaze. Would he want anything from you now? You didn't trust his angelic features at all if you were being honest. "You're probably not gonna want to come home with me and thats fine." He said, before looking at you. "I'll leave the umbrella here, alright? Lets hope the rain stops soon." He mumbled, getting up, making you look up to him as he slowly turned around, giving you a small wave. "Goodnight. Stay safe." He simply said, before jogging to his car.

Huh. What a weird guy.

Jeon Jungkook was his name as he'd introduced himself on the second day of visiting you behind the convenience store, and he was indeed a weird human. He made it a simple casualty- visiting you every day after work with food, having full conversations with you, and asking about your day and life in general. He himself noticed a slight spark returning to your eyes, interest peaking in those orbs as you talked to him more and more. You were a quiet girl, not really giving away much about you, but managing to make him feel like he knew you. You were smart, and he liked that. After almost a week of daily conversations, he finally popped the question.

"Do you want to come home with me?" He asked, making you look up from your can of soup he'd bought you this time. You thought for a bit before shrugging. At this point he'd invested so much into feeding you that it felt like you had to- simply as a form of repayment. He smiled, before leaning his head a bit to the side, voice low and serious. "You don't have to. I'm simply offering." He said, and you put down the empty can, nodding.

"Alright." You said, and he grinned, standing up and putting the trash away before closing the umbrella still hanging over the vending machines, turning around. His eyes widened a bit at just how short you were, yet he found it endearing. He led you to his car, not caring that his cream colored interior could be stained with your admittedly dirty clothing and shoes. He'd pay someone to clean it the next day, and all would be fine.

"So uhm.." You began, unsure what would happen now. "What am I supposed to do when we get to your place?" You asked, and after a moment of realization, his ears turned red.

"No no no, I'm, oh my.." He cleared his throat for a moment, before he threw one leg over the other, as to make himself seem more sure of himself than he actually was. "I'm not that kind of person." He explains calmly, as he waves his hand to the driver, who nodded, before the window to the front closes, giving you two some privacy. "I simply saw you there and.. I don't know. I couldn't just leave you there." He said, and you nodded.

"So it's for your repuptation." You said. "I guess you're an investor then?" You knew people like him. Their initial thought was nice, but at the end of the day it was only for personal gain. Well, at least he'd keep you around for some months before the public would slowly forget about you again. You've been through that as a young kitten.

But he shook his head. "I am an investor, yeah- but I don't plan on showing you to the public eye. I don't want anything of you other than your company." You opened your mouth again, but he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. "Not like that." He began. "My apartment is.. big. Huge. But it's also empty. A friend of mine had told me I should get a hybrid, and I genuinely considered. I was actually at a shelter the day we first met." He explained, and you nodded. "I didn't find anyone I was.. okay with, I guess. I can't just let anyone into my life, you know. Most people only want something, just to leave right after. When I saw you, yeah, at first it was pure pity, I won't lie." You nodded, watching him. "But the more we talked, the more I realized how compatible we were." Well, this was new. "I won't be home much, because I work a lot, but I don't like being lonely." He turns to you, serious. "If you're comfortable with it, I'd like you to simply be a companion. Someone who shares my home with me, accompanies me to those absolutely boring dinners I have to endure every week or so, and who sometimes maybe comes to work with me. If you simply want to stay home however, that's fine as well." He says, and you nod.

"Can I.. think about it?" You ask, and he nods, a gentle smile adoring his lips. The rest of the ride is filled with comfortable silence, and you almost drift off to sleep, but you arrive at his apartment complex before you can fully float away. There's nothing said between the two of you as he leads you inside the hallway of the building, a hand on the small of your back as if to make sure you won't get lost, his figure always close to shield you from wary eyes of the security and other residents walking by. Inside the elevator, silence is still present, until someone joins you two; a tall man, a little older than your now soon-to-be Master, who looks at you, and then at your Master.

"Ah, so you have finally found someone for you? I'm happy for you Jungkook." He says,a smile on his lips. "My name is Kim Seokjin my dear, may I ask yours?" He speaks, and you look at Jungkook close to you as if you were expecting him to answer for you- like it was typical. But he only smiled as well, nodding towards you in encouragement, so you, quietly, answered with a small bow of your head. "Ah, a shy one isn't she? But very pretty, I have to say." He said, and Jungkook chuckled as if to accompany that statement. "Ah, well. Please think about the company dinner next saturday, and oh!" Seokjin said as he left the elevator, hand holding the elevator door open for a moment as he looked at you one last time. "Bring her along, yeah? I heard that Jimin is bringing Yoongi as well. A good chance for her to make friends.!" He said, before winking, and waving goodbye- leaving you and Jungkook inside the elevator to climb a few more levels higher.

"Don't feel pressured now, please." Jungkook said, as the elevator chimed, the two of you stepping out as he walked past you to open his apartment door. "You don't have to if its too soon." He said, before opening his door.

He didn't lie when he said his apartment was big, but you never truly saw a skyline like that. It was a breathtaking view outside the windows, and it took a moment until you could finally avert your eyes to scan the rest. It felt.. almost sterile, in a way. Nothing truly screamed his name at you, neither the furniture, nor wall decorations. A few pictures were hung up, but other than that, the apartment looked like it got pulled straight out of an interior design magazine. "It's pretty bland, isn't it?" He lowly said, as he turned on some of the lights, hanging up his coat on the hanger next to the door as he untied his shoes. "I know it does. I.. hope that'll change, maybe." He said, before he made his way into the open kitchen. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can just show you your room and leave you be as well, yeah, that would probably be a good idea. Let me show you." He said, and you followed him after taking your own shoes off as well.

It was a rare occurence to have a room for yourself- so much so, that you only remember having one as a kitten, when it had been necessary. Stepping inside, you noticed the crisp air; he'd opened the window to air it out, it seemed. There was a bed in the corner, a wardrobe and a mirror- as well as a door that connected to a bathroom, right now void of light. "I'll leave you be for now. There are some of my old clothes so you have something to sleep in- don't worry, I washed them so you won't get my scent on you just yet, I know it makes hybrids a bit fussy." He chuckled, and nodded towards you with a smile. "If you want to, you can come out, if you don't stay inside, I won't be mad. I'll have the day off tomorrow and after, so we should use that time to get you some clothes if you want." He suggested, and you nodded into his direction. He bowed a bit, before leaving the room, and you alone.

You waited a bit so his footsteps got out of reach, before you walked around a bit. The room was bigger than the one you had as a kitten, but still small enough to be considered a guest room. Your first goal however, was the bathroom. Grabbing the clothes he had left you, you noticed immediately that it had been washed with hybrid proof detergent- a brand called 'noscent' which was typically used for newly homed hybrids so they wouldn't get overwhelmed. How he knew of that was unclear to you, but maybe he did have a hybrid before, or a friend told him. It didn't matter though, because you knew this was timed. Better make the most out of it. So as you climbed into the bathtub, soapy scent around you as you washed yourself squeaky clean, you felt okay again. Now was the time to mend yourself together, figure out what your master liked so you could make your stay as comfortable for everyone involved as possible, and just enjoy the good sides while rushing the bad.

But somehow there was a weird feeling in your gut.

Maybe things were really about to change this time.

The next morning was calm. Apart from something clattering in the kitchen, you awoke by yourself, shocked to see it almost being twelve. Why had he not woken you up, when he so clearly implied yesterday that he had plans with you today? For a moment you wondered if maybe this had been a test, but judging by his whistling in the kitchen, he was in a good attitude still.

So you went for it.

Simply brushing your hair and tail, you stepped out the room, smell of food immediately meeting your nose. "I was about to wake you." He said without turning, as he grabbed another bowl to fill. "I figured I'd let you sleep after all that change so you could rest well. Good morning." He said, finally turning around, making you gasp internally a bit.

You knew that his hand was tattooed, but what now showed was his entire forearm covered in ink. Completely different from yesterday, he wore a simple grey sweater and sweatpants combo, hair in a messy tiny ponytail on his head. He looked so.. young, yet masculine, not at all like the businessman you had encountered before. But it was a nice change; because if he let you see himself like this, he really was intending to have you around for longer, and was working towards a more personal companionship. Maybe he really did want you as a companion for himself, not his outside persona.

You sat down at the table before stopping immediately, eyes widening. He seemed to notice this however, chuckling as he placed a warm hand on your shoulder, helping you on the chair properly. "You can sit at the table with me, don't worry. Please move around freely; my home is as much mine as it is yours now, okay?" He said, and you nodded. "Thank you." He said, and you watched him for a moment, before you started to eat.

"How.." You started, and he wiped his lips with a tissue before looking at you, attention now on your words. You were grateful for that small gesture. "How do you know that much about hybrids?" You asked, and he smiled.

"Yesterday, Jin-hyung said something about Yoongi, you remember?" You nodded, a bit eagerly, since you were used to remember things that your master said all the time. "Good girl." He said, and it made your skin tingle a bit, as he cleared his throat, a bit shy after letting that slip. "He uhm, Yoongi-hyung is a cat-hybrid as well. His owner is Jimin, who's my coworker. Yoongi was a rescue a few years back, who I asked a bit about what to do if I take someone in who.. you know, wasn't from a shelter. He told me a few things." He explained, and you nodded.

"Why are you calling him Yoongi-hyung though, if he's a hybrid?" You asked, before taking another spoonful. You liked warm food. It made your belly warm.

"Ah." He mused, as he finished his plate, leaning back. "I'm not really following the whole foodchain-order stuff, to be honest. Yoongi-hyung is older than me, my hyung, so that's that. Oh, that reminds me, how old are you?" He asked, and you answered.

"I think.. 22?" You said, and he seemed a bit sad. Did you say something wrong? Did he want someone younger? Someone older?

"Ah, sorry.. but, you think?" He said. "So.. you haven't celebrated your birthday, at all?" He asked, and you shook your head. "Ah thats no good. We'll celebrate it this year, promise!" He said. "You're a bit younger than me, by the way. I'm 25." He said, and you nodded, saving that information inside your brain for future reference. "If you're done we can either go shopping, or if you don't want to, we can shop online. We should do that now though, otherwise you'll have to wait too long for delivery and stuff." He said, and you nodded.

"Do you have a collar for me then?" You asked, and Jungkook grabbed your empty plate to put away. A collar wasn't something he could just not give you- he knew from Yoongi that it wasn't demeaning in any way. Wearing a collar was a form of comfort, it wasn't just an accessory, it was a physical evidence that you were claimed and safe.

"Yoongi gave me one of his older ones, but we can buy a proper one you like today." He said, and dried his hands on a dish towel as he looked at you. "Go and get your shoes, I'll give you one of my coats to wear, and then we can go, yeah?"

Shopping was always a hard one to crack.

This was when you would somehow have to figure out by simply picking the opossum on the road to know if its dead or not- in a sense of; simply point, and wait for the blow. With Jungkook however, there never was one, and it confused you how calm and somehow even happy he was. For example, when you pointed at a pretty expensive collar that wasn't your style just to see how he'd react, you didn't know how to react when he smiled. "Ah, let's look for something more delicate, yeah? The price doesn't bother me, but I doubt that heavy chains suit you kitten." He had simply said, and somehow, the petname made your ears turn towards him, making a nearby bunny hybrid and her owner chuckle.

He'd somehow managed to wiggle under your skin in just a day.

Because somehow, every time he looked at you, helped you reach something, or talked to you about what you liked, it felt so genuine. It felt like he really cared.

"Okay, how about.. oh, this one!" He said, pointing at a collar hidden behind glass- one covered in velvet, with a pretty pattern and a silver plate on the front where your name would be. It was expensive; absolutely mind blowing however, but what made your eyes glisten were his words. "There's a jeweler next door, so we can have your name and ID, as well as my emergency information stamped in." Because, until now, you only had the one's where you slide a paper with all needed info underneath a clear cover- it was easier to replace or give back. But, getting it stamped onto such an expensive collar was definitely something that would last- well, forever. "Or- wait, hey hey, whats wrong? If you don't like it we can buy a different one-"

"I love it." You said, and he led you away from all noise, into a more secluded part of the shop, where he squatted down to properly look at you. "I just.. I..it's..-" You began, and somehow he understood, and had this absolutely frustrating smile again, as he helped you wipe your tears a bit less harshly than you did yourself.

"I haven't said it clear enough yet, haven't I?" He asks, voice warm. "I plan on forever, not just for the moment. What I said when you first came into my apartment was directed at you. I hope you'll make my home feel like a home one day. How can I think about giving you away, when I just got you?" He questions, and you shrug. "I know trust isn't something you give away easily, and thats completely fine. I can also Imagine that you're not too sure of things right now, considering where you came from. But I promise you, I really do-" He says, and takes your hands in his. "I'll stay by your side for as long as you let me." He finishes, and you nod after a moment. "Alright? Alright!" He says, and takes your hand to buy the collar, your eyes still sparkling when you later on watch the lady at the jeweler stamp in your name- and his at the bottom.

Maybe this really was permanent.

At the dinner table with all his colleagues, and the infamous cat hybrid Yoongi next to you, you felt less awkward than you thought you would. Yoongi was a huge help, his calm demeanor helping you to stay composed as well, even under the watchful eyes of the rest of the people. Seokjin had been sweet as well, immediately making you feel welcomed. Jungkook never let you out of his sight, and it made you feel save as well.

It felt good.

Yoongi and you conversed here and there, and occasionally, Jungkook or Jimin, Yoongis owner would chime in, which made it feel as if you were always a part of this. You started to smile a bit, converse more openly, all until a waitress came and turned everything upside down.

"Would you like us to escort the pets to a different table, sir?" She asked Seokjin, who you had learned owned the company Jungkook and his coworkers worked for. He cleared his throat, and shook his head; almost an apologetic look in his eyes as he looked at Yoongi, you, and Taehyung- an independent Tiger-Hybrid with working license, he'd told you. He seemed to clench his teeth as to stay quiet, as the waitress left, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

"I'm sorry, please continue." Seokjin said, but the reminder of your status made everyone a bit.. uneasy the rest of the night.

"I'm sorry about the waitress, by the way." Jungkook said, as he helped you into your coat, when everyone was leaving. You shook your head, but he held his unsure expression. "No, I really am. It was uncalled for, and I'm genuinely upset that she phrased it like that." He explained, and you smiled.

"It's okay, Master." You said, which made Yoongis and Taehyungs ears shoot towards your direction, as if on instinct. They didn't look, no, they were discreet. But they still wanted to know what would happen next. "She probably didn't know- after all, it's still quite uncommon to keep hybrids as equal partners nowadays. Change comes slow." You said, but Jungkook suddenly seemed even more serious as he placed his hands on your shoulders, as you looked up at him.

"Jungkook." He said, and you leaned your head to the side in question. "Please, don't.. please just call me Jungkook." He explained, and you nodded, unsure why he was so upset by this. He sighed, before he traced your metal nameplate with his thumb for a fracture of a second, smiling again. "Let's go home." He said, and you nodded, walking after him as he lead the way, not noticing the way that Yoongi and Taehyung shared knowing glances at each other.

When Jungkook came home, he didn't know what exactly made him realize at first. Maybe it was the way your shoes were placed where there used to be none, or how the clothing hangers held your coats and scarfs as well now. Maybe it was the scent, or the rug that was placed on the lightwood laminated floor because your feet were always cold- or maybe it was your body on his couch, covered by a thick blanket he'd bought you recently when the winter became colder. No, it wasn't that- it was what came next. Your ears which flicked into his direction from their place ontop of your head, and the words you uttered next. "Welcome home Kookie!" You said, and he smiled.

He simply walked over to the couch, letting himself lean ontop of you as he squeezed himself behind your body on the couch, holding you securely to his chest as you turned around to face him. He looked tired, but happy and you took in his scent, so distinctive you could probably tell his from a million others just after a second. He sighed, before he ran a hand over your back, cold palm warming up slowly. You were both unsure what exactly you two were- but it was clear that this wasn't just an owner-hybrid companionship anymore. No, the way Jungkook looked at you had something in it that you knew only lovers had; which made you feel so comfortable around him, after all.

So it was only natural, in a way, that after a moment or two, or maybe more (you didn't really notice anymore), you two found each other in his bedroom, a place you had spent your nights before as well. But this time there was no sleeping involved, at least not in that moment, as his hands roamed around, lips chasing yours as you mewled underneath him needily. He wished he could record it, but even if he did it would never sound as sweet as it did right now. Everything felt so good he didn't even care about his own noises, as you two began to shed your clothes one piece after another, until there was nothing to cover you anymore.

"You're so sweet, you know that?" He hummed against your neck, as you squirmed underneath his hands, his inked fingers wandering down between your legs, were you were aching for his touch to make you fall apart. "Even right now, with my fucking hand between your legs, you look so cute." He chuckled, while you could only rut into his palm like a touch-starved pet. He was teasing, and in a way you hated it, but somehow you couldn't tell him to hurry. No, you didn't want him to hurry at all, because you were at the point of realization;

"I love you, Koo." You said, and he stopped for a moment, some seconds that made you feel absolutely humiliated, before he groaned, pushing your legs against your stomach.

"You can't drop something like that onto me like this, Kitten." He scolded playfully, with no harm intended. No, he simply took hold of his already leaking length to guide himself into you, making you squeal in delight before you sighed out. "I love you too, I adore you so much, I swear to everything I have.." He said, as he began to move, almost as if he was unable to quite control himself. Technically, you were the one to act like an animal; but instead, it was him nipping at your skin, and growling out curses that sounded way too filthy to be uttered out from those lips.

You loved it.

The way he held you, played you like a well tuned instrument, how he sped up his pace without warning because he knew you could take it. You were his good kitten after all, all his, and he knew you would be good. You were lost in your own little cloud as his hand went between your bodies again, fingers suddenly flicking your nub in a sadistic movement that had you scream without sound- pleasure shooting through your veins so violently you were unsure if it was pain or heaven that you felt.

"Ah- Koo- I-" You pressed out, but he simply moved his hand away, never stopping however. "I can't-" You said, but he pulled out before you could finish, flipping you onto your stomach where he pulled your lower body upwards, entering you again as he teasingly stroked your tail which flopped down to one side to make space and give him a clear view of where you were connected so intimately.

"You can, kitten. And you will." He growled out, noticing how you were slowly clenching again. "I can feel you, greedy kitty." He growled out, pace growing harsher and harsher as the sound of skin against skin got louder and louder. "Come on. Give me one more, yeah?" He said, and you were unable to answer him. "Come on- come on, there we go-" He pressed out, a whining sound leaving his lips as well as he grew more sloppy, more desperate as you came again, your clenching core pushing him over the edge as well as he spilled inside you, before he pulled out, watching almost hypnotized how his cum dripped out of you after a moment.

"I love you." He said, uncaring of how you two probably stained the sheets right now. "I really do." He said, whispered like a promise, as he pulled your body against him, palms still kneading your breasts.

Because if you thought he was done with you, you were very wrong.

I apologize for how short it was, but I only have my phone for now. Sorry if this sucks, it's not my best work, but I didn't want to leave you hanging and without content for this long.. :< Love, Bunny <3

[jawllines]

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

or

Harry still doesn’t like the other camp counsellors but Y/N’s an exception 

part 1

(tw: mentions of suicide) 

ii.

Psst. 

Harry was typically a heavy sleeper. When he was younger his mum used to joke that he could sleep through an earthquake-induced tsunami if someone allowed him to. An alarm would have to be pretty loud to stir him from his slumber, and unless he was on edge, a mere call of his name would not drag him from whatever dreamland he’d submerged himself within.

Psst. 

There had only been two things before that could notably wake him. His mum, who was the sweetest person on this planet yet managed to be the cruelest being on earth when he needed to be up for something, and his childhood cat Molly, who sits on his chest and makes it hard to breathe (which, from what he’s learned, encourages his brain to panic and wake him up so he could fix it). Other than that, he was blissfully unaware of the world for hours at a time. 

Yet, there was something stirring him now.  A low sound that puzzles him as he toes the line between consciousness and his dreams, aware of the blankets that cover him but still dancing on a stage with his limbs thrashing wildly and people shouting his name. 

Psst. 

Was it an insect? Maybe he was performing outside then -- a crowd of thousands in an outdoor field to see him for... .what was it that he did again?

Psst. 

Oh, he’s dreaming, isn’t he? How deep in his dream is he? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever been asleep and realized that he was asleep...he could probably conjure something up, right? Manifest something that he’s always wanted, try his hand in lucid dreaming. If only he could focus apart from the insect zipping past his eardrum. 

Harry, please wake up, we’re being haunted -- or murdered, or something. 

Harry’s eyelids flutter like swallowtail wings, his gaze blurry and unfocused as he comes to. He’s confused, piecing together the puzzle that always presents to him when he’s just woken up and has to readjust to the world around him. The whole process of it took nothing more than 10 seconds, maybe 15 if he’s really out of it, but that’s only because thoughts run through his mind at a hundred miles a minute. 

 What time is it? The room around him his pitch-black apart from a very small amount of light illuminating beneath the curtain covering the window he’s beneath, so it couldn’t be morning. Potentially early morning, but he would say that would be 3-4 AM. Did he need to be up? He didn’t think so, actually, because there’s no alarm buzzing him awake and as far as he’s concerned, he hadn’t signed up for any early morning shifts at the bookstore as of late. The last time he went in at 5 to open up shop while the owner was on vacation and Harry was more or less ran down by a mother raccoon when he’d stumbled upon her babies after getting out of his car -- Harry had been reluctant to go before sunrise since. 

Where was he? He knows he’s not at home, that’s for sure. The sheets smell like him but not him enough to be at his own place -- and the bedding isn’t as soft either. He knows he hasn’t passed out at someone’s house because he only does that if the person is close enough to him that he would recognize their scent, or if he was too drunk to get home, but that was usually accompanied by a wicked headache and a sour stomach. No, where he was smelled like wood and generic fabric softener. There was an air conditioning unit that rattled and rumbled from where it was fixed to the wall, he felt a tension in his neck that he only experienced at one place and, yeah, he was at the camp. 

He was at camp, in a cabin with Y/N, who slept with the lamp on because she hated the dark, was the owner of the voice that had woken him up in the inky black room. 

“Hm?” He hums, brows pinching as he lets his eyes shut again, only to open them a few seconds later, “Wha’s wrong? Why is your light off?” 

“I don’t know,” her voice is still just a bit over a whisper, and Harry wonders why she doesn’t just speak up now that she knows he’s awake, “I woke up a little bit ago and thought maybe there was a storm that knocked the power out or something, but I checked the weather and it’s been clear skies all night. I think our power line was cut which is like -- straight out of a horror film.” 

Harry sighs, a bit of him regretting the number of horror movies they’ve been watching once they finally got to watch Midsommar (in three days, they’d sifted through six different movies -- two movies a night and each one managed to horrify Y/N more than the last). He begins to press himself from the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them, making out slivers of shadows, “I’ll go check --” 

“No! Are you crazy?” He hears her bed frameshift with her as she moves, “That’s just asking for a maniac to come for us. Plus I keep hearing noises and I can’t tell if it’s like...like little raccoon feet or a one-armed hook man.” 

“Alright, then go back to bed.” Harry begins to lower back down to the mattress but a sharp whine leaves her throat, “It’s dark when you close your eyes.” It’s silent for a moment, but then Harry feels a bead of guilt dribble through his body. He sighs, reaching up and wiping his hand down his face, “What do you want to do, yeah? If you don’t want me to go out there. Do you want to stay up?” 

She’s quiet, Harry is straying further and further from the state he would’ve been in to fall right back into his dreams but he tries to wipe away the irritation the best he could. What he reminds himself is that four days prior, Y/N had trekked out in the forest toward a lake despite her unremitting distaste for the woods in the dark and slapped Jack clean across the face because he was being rude to him. And he was going to ignore her? Fall asleep while she’s frightened? Harry could be a prick, but he wasn’t the bleeding antichrist. 

“I...um, well, I don’t want us to stay up, no, we’ll be so cranky tomorrow,” she shuffles in the sheets, “I dunno’, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed, I’ll be okay.” 

Harry isn’t sure what to do but in his half-awake state, the next few words that leave his mouth seem like just the temporary fix necessary for them to get the last few hours of sleep that they can, “Do you want me to read you a story or summat?” 

She giggles quietly, “No, it’s okay, really, go back to sleep, okay?” 

What Harry could have said was I can’t now, knowing that you’re awake and scared, but instead he utters a simple, “No.” He sits back up, patting blindly for his phone in his sheets, slipping his fingers around it, and tapping it awake. His screen blinds him with its brightness, so he lowers it before finding the flashlight. It lights up the floor at his feet and subsequently at its edges, he can make out Y/N’s shadowy figure. She’s sat up, curled in her blanket, wrapped around her head, and giving her a pseudo-nun appearance. She waves at him lamely and he struggles not to roll his eyes, “Maniac be damned, I’m gonna go out there and look for the breaker. Maybe the arseholes broke their vow of integrity.” 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack or one of the others came around and switched the breaker off, just to be inconvenient for the morning. They’d left them alone for four days sure, but Harry figures that it’s not so much four days of silent reflection and questioning why they feel the need to be such pricks to him, and more so four days for their anger to fester and brew. If not for the fact that Y/N slapped him then made him find laundry detergent and commanded the others to go get his clothes, then for the way she acted like nothing had happened the day prior. Jack’s cheek was still a stingy, red splotch, Oliver and Brandon were straight-faced looking irritated, and Y/N -- well, Y/N had never been more content with her day. She was having a blast with her kids playing bean bag toss, they did their little dance when one of them got it in the hole of the board, and when they were all getting drinks, Y/N offered to grab Harry his. He watched as she went to the cooler around the same time Jack did, they both reached for the last Dr. Pepper, and Y/N plucked it up and handed it to him before grabbing both her, Harry, and Mitch’s lemonades. 

He thinks it’s the sincerity that she holds, that would aggravate him had he been in their shoes. Y/N was completely unbothered by the night prior and Harry could tell, just like when he doesn’t reciprocate their maleficent tendencies towards them -- it was digging under their skin.

(She makes Harry laugh when she comes back with their lemonades, handing him one and uttering, “I let the prick have the last Dr. Pepper, and I’m regretting it.”) 

And while he’s hoping that they haven’t turned their target to her out of spite, he wouldn’t change what had happened for the world. It had made the two of them that much closer, and in the following day’s Harry had poked and prodded Y/N’s brain a bit more. Especially after what he’d seen on her page, he was intrigued by her. Intrigued by how she saw life, why she came at things the way she did, what built her up to be the person that she was in these very moments that he’s speaking to her. Harry hasn’t asked her about her old college roommate and he doesn’t plan on it either -- he doesn’t feel like he could, or he should. 

Harry has lost people before and he thinks the worst thing someone could do was to bring it up unprompted. He knows that it’s probably always on her mind but even then, maybe it isn’t at the forefront of it. Maybe she’s just trying to have a good few weeks, separate herself from the real world for a while, and he would be cruel to dig up something that she may not be ready to just up and chat about. No matter how curious he is about the whole situation, and no matter how much he wonders if she treats him the way she does because of what happened. If the topic was brought up by her he would openly and freely discuss it as long as she was comfortable, but he wouldn’t give her the third degree. 

So he minds his business and focuses on trying to get to know her better instead. 

He can’t say that it doesn’t change how he treats her a bit though. Harry is much. . .gentler, than he had been. He tries to be less critical of her unwavering optimism and seeks to understand where it was coming from instead. If he’s in the right mood he’ll attempt to match it, which makes for a good day with their groups, who he finds -- despite the small age gap -- have begun to kindle very close friendships. Mrs. Graham had even commented on it one of the days after they had a riveting game of balloon tennis. 

“You two make a good team -- putting all these other counselors to shame. And to think you were pouty about having to share a cabin.” 

It was true, they did make a good team. Harry thinks that them sparking a friendship had made the whole experience much more enjoyable for everyone involved. 

All of this together gives insight into why Harry is willing to stuff on his shoes at 3 AM and go out in the dark, muggy night to check and potentially fix a breaker. And no matter the number of times he assures her she does not have to come out there with him, she keeps hold of her ‘no man left behind’ mentality, pulls on a pair of flip flops, and pads out after him. 

Had they been in any other cabin, finding the breaker would have been much easier. They’re typically on the backside in the upper right corner, surrounded by a little cage with a lock similar to that of an animal crate. The struggle with their cabin was that the backside was basically in the woods, so he had to dodge low hanging branches and tangles of ivy to get even remotely near it. He hands Y/N his phone and she shines the light over the metal box, her hand steady despite how she looks back and forth and all around them like she’s making sure there are no red eyes glowing at them. The world around them is silent apart from the chirp and groan of insects, the scutter of an animal somewhere in the far distance makes Y/N huff a weary sigh but otherwise, nothing comes out to attack them. Harry restarts the breaker, they go back inside, and the lamp on its dimmest setting is switched on how they had fallen asleep with it. 

They both breath out in relief, Y/N dives back into her bed and Harry flops down atop of his covers, giving himself a second to feel the cool air from the conditioner fan over him. 

“Theoretically,” Y/N begins as Harry lets his eyes fall shut, “If there were some creature in the forest --”

“There’s no creature in the forest.” 

“I know, but theoretically --” She continues again, but Harry is quick to cut her off once more. 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he tells her, “Go to sleep.”  

Once more, Y/N falls silent, but a quiet, “Thank you,” was the only thing to leave her mouth. 

                                                      .                               .                              .

A summer thunderstorm wasn’t abnormal during camp, which is why the recreation center and the art building are beneficial. It keeps everyone preoccupied and entertained with well-insulated walls to mute whatever carnage is taking place outside, which makes for less frightened children and an easier time for everyone involved. Harry liked being active and running around with his campers, sure, but he also really enjoyed a nice, calm, relaxing day trying his hand at DIY projects and abstract paintings. Plus it gave him the chance to wear the camp hoodie that he had spent a pretty penny purchasing, which was made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt and was far more comfortable than the t-shirts that they normally wear.

Y/N had also bought the hoodie, Harry saw as she stepped out in it after her shower this morning, and she seemed to be drowning in it but in the best way. The fabric pools off of her, but she looks cozy, and well-rested despite them waking in the middle of the night. He thinks she looks pretty cute, but he kept the thought to himself and instead asked her if she wanted his extra granola bar for breakfast. 

They alternate throughout the day, between the rec center and art building, and on the schedule, it appears that most the day he would be with Y/N’s group (which he prefers) and a few times he’s even with Mitch as well, which is nice. Mitch doesn’t grow to like many people, but he liked Y/N well enough -- he thought she was oddly entertaining (or so he’s told, Harry) and good for a chat. The only times he and Y/N were not with each other were when the activities were age-specific, but even then, it wasn’t like anyone was in a different room. They were all just at different stations within a big room in the art building and the recreation center was more or less free for all. 

Harry wondered when he started basing whether or not a day was going to be good by whether or not he and Y/N were able to be around each other, but he decided not to think about it too much. Lately, he’d been a little more on edge with whether they were together, simply because of Jack and the others. He didn’t want them fucking with her, and even though she’d proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried, especially knowing he would be the cause of it. 

Y/N doesn’t seem the least bit distressed about it, or as far as she was letting on -- she’d not expressed any thoughts or concerns that they would be spiteful towards her. Hell, the only thing she had told him the night after was that she hoped she didn’t make things worse for him. For him. Why was she so willing to defend him? What did she get out of being so kind? 

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.” 

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!” 

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?” 

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day. 

“I especially like how multidimensional it is — purple and pink stars? Beautiful, I love those two colors together,” she places her hand on Oliver’s head, and it’s then that Harry notices he’s holding something, “Harry, Oliver here wanted you to see the flower he drew because I told him how much you like lilies.” As bashful as he always is, he holds out the paper toward Harry. It was cute — a singular, yellow lily and he could tell that Y/N helped him draw it, but the paint and crayon marks all over the page suggested she left the color duties up to him. 

“Oh my goodness,” Harry gasps, looking at the painting, flipping it to Oliver and pointing at it, “You did this?” Oliver nodded excitedly, “It’s gorgeous.” 

“I think our groups are the best artists,” Y/N motions to her table, only a meter away from them all working diligently on their projects, “Charlotte is over there doing an artistic interpretation of the both of us, we are not allowed to see it until she’s finished. Mikey is doing his own rendition of Disney world, I see Maisey is creating a beautiful tree  -- Noah is that a cowboy you’re drawing?” 

Noah barely looks up from his paper, very carefully dragging the tip of the marker in a circle, “Yes.” 

“And Noah is drawing a cowboy! Modern-day Van Gogh’s, all of them.” Harry smiles as Y/N drags a stool up beside him, positioning it in a way so that she could watch both her kids and speak with him, “I heard they’re having one of them party things tonight, I didn’t know if you wanted to go or not.” 

“Hm, I dunno,” his brows knit together as he lightly scratches a mosquito bite on the inside of his forearm, “Do you feel comfortable with going after what happened last time?” 

She suckles her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it as she nods her head, “Mhm,” she looks around them for a second, making sure that none of the kids are paying attention to them before she lowers her voice, “Mitch said that you used to go to all of them last year, and would like -- have a good time. I hope that I’m not ruining that for you.” 

“How would you be ruining it for me?” It’s true, Harry hasn’t gone to any of the parties that they’ve been doing since the very first one he’d escorted Y/N away from. Not for any other reason apart from he was just spending time and hanging out with Y/N, or he’d be too knackered to even think about leaving the nice, cool setting of their cabin to be in the muggy heat with drunk college students. He had much more fun not attending, and other nights Mitch would come around and chill with them too. . .he had all he needed then. Didn’t need the booze for a good time. 

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know if you weren’t going ‘cos of what happened the first time and you felt like you couldn’t leave me out or. . or something like that.” 

Harry shook his head, “No,” he answers, “We can go tonight if you would like, but it’s unnecessary for me. I’m good either way.” 

Although Y/N appears unconvinced, they have little time to go further into the topic because Charlotte is running up to them, a big grin on her face, “I finished!” 

“Well give it here,” Harry holds out his hand, waving her over, “Let’s see it.” 

On the paper are stick figure versions of he and Y/N, with big grins and 12 other little stick figures surrounding them. Above Harry’s stick figure, there’s a pink arrow and a very five-year-old esque writing of HUSBAD (Harry presumes it’s supposed to be husband), and above Y/N’s in the same fashion, she’s written WYFE. It’s then Harry realizes that Y/N’s figure has a veil on and Harry’s has a bowtie, “This is for you twos wedding! So thens when they take pictures you can has this one.” Charlotte chirps brightly and Y/N and Harry both cast each other a disbelieving glance. 

“Whoaaaaa,” Y/N is the first to break their silence, a smile pulling at her lips, “This is really good Charlotte! I didn’t know Harry and I were getting married, though.” 

Charlotte nods quickly, still grinning at them, her bottom canine missing as she gleams, “Me n’ Mikey thinks you should!” 

Y/N turns toward him, nodding toward Charlotte, “Well, the god’s have spoken. Where’s my ring?”

Harry coughs on a laugh as he hands the paper back to Charlotte, “This is really good, Bug. Why don’t you and Oliver go help Josie finish her coloring pages, hm?” 

The both of them head the short way back to their table, hiking up on the small stools and Harry makes sure they’re all settled before he turned back to face Y/N, who was biting down on a grin, “Don’t start --” he began but she’s already started, shaking her head. 

“Listen, it’s okay to be in love with me, but you should really try to tone it down. . .the kids are starting to notice.” 

Harry scoffs before he proceeds to tease her,, “How d’ya know they aren’t basing it off your actions, huh? Giving me love eyes every couple minutes like nobody would see.” 

Y/N mocks offense to his words and he tries to keep up the facade, but his sheer delight for getting in a teasing match with her overcomes him and he can’t help his smile. Harry loved teasing people -- loved making them flustered or reducing them to a bashful mess by his words alone. Y/N, however, was much less into flustered gazes and sheepish tendencies, and more so ready and willing to give him it right back. He’d met his match -- if he teases her she’s teasing right back (if she hadn’t started it in the first place), and both of them found mutual pleasure in it. 

“You can’t use my love eyes against me, I can’t help but give them to everyone I’ve ever met” she tells him, feigning sincerity before an additional anecdote, “You know my college roomie always told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and she had never been more right, ‘cos they did once at a party. She wouldn’t shut up about it weeks after it’d happened.” 

Harry feels his body tense just a bit at the mention of her, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s surprised how she so casually brought her up, “Yeah? What’s the story?” 

“The little ears around us suggest that I tell that story later,” she checks her watch, before looking back up at him, “Oi, we’ve got five minutes until we’re in the rec center. You get to pick what we all do since I picked the last rotation.” 

                                                             .                           .                          .

This time when they’re on their way to the party, Harry lets Y/N walk in front of him as he directs where she was to go. Opposed to when they had first made this journey together, Harry feels far more protective of her than he originally had. Plus, he’d seen how clumsy she could be and after the earlier storm, the softened dirt and broken off tree branches from the billows of wind made for a much harder terrain to navigate, so he felt more comfortable being able to reach out to catch her if need be. 

Harry was wary of going to the party tonight but Y/N had been borderline insistent that they attend, “Mitch says he misses you at these things and Niall told me he could only stand Shaun theorizing about the universe and us not being the only life form so many times before he snaps. I say we’re needed.” Harry never minded free drinks, and a potential fuck at the end of the night, so he wasn’t all too worried that he would be having a good time. He just hoped that the others would allow Y/N to have a good time. And he knows he’s being paranoid, because they hadn’t necessarily targeted her for anything prior to or after the lake incident, but he still worries. . .he can’t help but worry.  

But he wouldn’t hover. Once they got to the clearing, he helped Y/N get her drink and she sought off after Niall while Harry went over to Mitch, the two of them promising to meet up again in a little bit. He didn’t hover, but he did watch semi-closely, eyeballing Jack and the others, making sure they were staying away from her. Apart from a few less than friendly looks thrown in his direction though, they seemed to be keeping to themselves which Harry was ultimately very thankful for. 

The night goes by as these nights usually do -- he and Mitch drank, had a laugh, gabbed about music for a while, some of the drama going on around the camp (Y/N had an ear for gossip and eyes that could make anyone tell her anything, so Harry’s had a door to all the melodramatic events happening throughout the counsellors). It was a bit weird when Stacey -- one of the counsellors he’d only ever briefly spoken to --  had come up to them, and a little weirder when she borderline propositioned him for something more than a chat in the woods, but Harry politely declined. Told her that he was pretty exhausted after a long day and was probably just going to have a few more beers and retreat back to his cabin. 

He passes it off as a fluke. . .maybe he’d been making eyes at her and hadn’t realized it. But then Mia makes her way toward him and Mitch, and this time Harry’s brows furrow when she starts chatting him up. This one he entertains for a little while before eventually ebbs away from the conversation, because he and Mia had a fling once, but Jack convinced her and the free world that he was a prick, so she called it off. He didn’t necessarily understand why she would want to start that up again, or what “little birdie” put a bug in her ear that he still thought about her (as she said one did). 

It was after Cara had finally left after coming around to chat with him, that Mitch began to chuckle lowly at his side, shaking his head slowly, “Jesus Christ,” he tilts the nozzle of his beer against his mouth, and when he pulls it away, his lips are shiny from the liquid, “She really is working hard.” 

“Huh?” Harry feels desperate for an explanation as to why three times he felt as if he were being propositioned for a romp in the woods when he was not actively pursuing one. He had a feeling that it was the others trying to get him alone so they could enact some sort of piss poor attempt at fucking with him without Y/N spotting and tearing them a new one over it, “Are you in on something that I’m not, ‘cos m’feeling pretty fucking lost here, man.” 

Mitch nods his head, and Harry follows his gaze to Y/N, who is speaking with her brows dipped inward to Cara, “A few days ago she’d been asking me and Niall what you were like last year, and we told her just the same, jus’ a lot more ‘fornication’ is how Niall put it,” he smirks softly with a shake of his head, “And she seemed all concerned, asking us if we thought she was holdin’ you back or something. Personally, I told her if you wanted to sleep with someone you would have whether she were around or not but she didn’t seem very convinced.” A snort leaves him as he motions towards her again, still as amused by her ideas as he had been when she’d first explained them,  “Guess she’s trying to set you up.” 

“Oh fuck me,”  he exhales so forcefully, it whips the delicate plumes of smoke from Mitch’s cigarette into a misshapen huff. Why was she so concerned with it? Harry hadn’t once expressed any avidity in needing to spend time with someone in that manner -- he could go without sex for three weeks. . .did she not think he could? Was he exuding nymphomaniac tendencies? He surely hadn’t thought he was -- a few quick handies in his nightly showers typically tide him over just nicely for a bit of a dry spell. And what was her business that he hadn’t slept with anyone since they’ve gotten here? Why was she speaking about him with the others what she could as easily ask him? What she had as easily spoken with him about, albeit leaving out a pretty large portion of it. 

For the first time since they had begun getting along, Harry was irritated with her. He’d never been one to brood, however. He liked things to be up front and honest as soon as possible if the situation allowed for it, to stop his mind from taking an idea and running away with it. He held little interest in playing mind games with people. 

Which is why he hands Mitch the rest of his drink, fixes his heavy cardigan around his shoulder, and sets off in her direction. He dodges many bodies, avoids an empty cup on the ground beside what he could only presume to be a sticky puddle of liquor, and narrowly makes it past a playful fight between Oliver and Brandon who were wrestling one another. Y/N doesn’t realize that he’s making his way to her until he’s just a meter or so away, when Niall catches a glimpse of him and attempts to be inconspicuous in the way he pinches her side. She gasps from the way his nails had accidentally bit into her skin, flinching from the pain before her gaze had settled on him, “Harry!” She cheered but his face doesn’t soften as it usually does when they see one another, which alerts her to his disapproving gaze, “Oh, what’s wrong?” 

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” He inquires, motioning out past the trees. Enough trust had been built into the foundation of their friendship for her to not question him. Instead, she passes her drink off to Niall and follows Harry into the woods -- he wouldn’t go so far that they wouldn’t be able to see one another from beneath the curtain of leaves shielding away the moon, but just far enough that nobody would be eavesdropping. In any other situation he might wait to bring this up until they’ve made it back to the cabin, but Y/N’s intentions had been clear that the person he was taking home tonight wasn't supposed to be her. 

She pauses with him at a particularly thick tree trunk, and places the arch of her foot against one of the jagged roots that carved its way through the earth, “Is everything okay?” She balances herself with a hand against the bark, wincing when it jabs into her skin, “I was keeping an eye on Jack n’ them I thought so they wouldn’t try messing with you, but did they say something?” 

That does melt him some, Harry was strong enough to admit that. Just as he had been concerned with her wellbeing, she was just as much concerned for him, and he appreciated that. And while it does threaten to soften him down to his core, he still had questions that needed answers, and he wouldn’t let up until she responded to them. 

“Why are you sending girls over to me?” 

Her brows raise, but less in shock of learning the information, and more so with wonder how he’d found out she was the one sending them their way. The surprise dissolves into embarrassment quickly, her shoulders slump and she casts her gaze deeper into the forest, “Dammit,” she doesn’t hide her disappointment from being caught, or even feign confusion to try and pass the blame off coincidence that every girl who had come up to him had subsequently talked to her prior, “I was hoping you would be less observant.” 

“Y/N.” He says her name sternly, and her shoulders drop dramatically further as she steps down from the tree root. 

“Listen, in my defense I just felt awful!” She admits, waving her hand toward the party, “Jack had tried telling me a few times about how you just fuck people and leave them, blah, blah, blah, right? And I wasn’t paying any attention to him, but it made me curious to what you were like last year, so I asked Mitch and Niall. You came to these things all the time and you had fun -- then I come ‘round, ruin the first one, and you’ve been hanging out with me since. I just. . . I wanted you to be able to have fun and not feel like you have to worry about me, y’know?” 

A ‘v’ sits between Harry’s brows, “What is it your business what I’m doing, hm?” He fixes his cardigan from where it slumps off his shoulder once more, “If I wanted to sleep with someone then I would. Do you think I can’t set something up myself?” 

“No, of course not, I just thought --” 

“You didn’t think,” he cuts her off, and Y/N’s arms curl over herself instinctively when a cold brush of air rolls past them, “You should have just came to speak with me about it, I could have told you that I didn’t need anything like that, and that would have been that. Don’t go behind my back trying to orchestrate things for me, okay?” 

He wanted to say it -- he needed to say it, because Harry wasn’t some sex driven lecher that everyone at this camp tried to make him out as. He thought Y/N had known that too, but he guesses he was wrong. 

But he wasn’t expecting her to look so fucking defeated by it. A guilt weighs on his being when she nods, tipping her head down, “Okay, yes, I won’t anymore. I’m sorry,” her fingers dig into her bicep, as she breathes out, a shiver rattles through her that she tries to be inconspicuous about it, “I wasn’t thinking -- I wasn’t thinking how it would look.” 

Harry sighs, peeling his cardigan off of his arms, revealing his bare arms to the chill but he ignores it in favor of holding it out to her, “Put this on,” he wiggles it some, “I know you’re cold.” She takes it from him carefully, looking up, brows raised slightly as if to ask if he’s sure, “Go ahead.” 

“I really am sorry,” she tells him, pulling the patchwork cardigan over her arms, it hangs off of her, and Harry swallowed thickly. She’s. . .cute -- Harry had always been able to admit that. Her face is sweet, her eyes exudes nothing but understanding, kindness, and such a soft glow that Harry couldn’t quite explain. He finds that those eyes give him great comfort and warmth, because now when they’re tinged with the contrition she feels and Harry feels cold. 

“I know,” he murmurs, he holds out his hand for her, and very carefully Y/N slides her hand into his own, “Do you want to go get pudding?” 

A small smile pulls at her mouth. 

“Yes please.” 

                                                          .                          .                         .

Niall lets them use the key after a few dozen promises to be careful with it. They trek the familiar way, mindless chatter fills the air around them until they get to the cafeteria and their voices quiet in case the security guard is looping around. Y/N reveals her hand from the shield of his cardigan sleeve, Harry watches as the fabric pools around her arm, toward her elbow, and produces the key (that Niall only trusted her with). They creeped into the kitchen, pulled open the large refrigerator door, and the pudding sat in rows on the bottom shelf. 

They both choose vanilla this time, having tired themselves out on chocolate, and they sit at the spot they had last time, across from one another. He can tell, despite his peace offering, that Y/N still feels upset about what had happened earlier and it sullies his mood. She’s still chatting but not with as much heart as she typically has, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He just wanted her to giggle as she teases him again, without feeling like she’s tip toeing on eggshells around him. 

“Hey,” Harry starts, dragging her attention towards him where it had previously been scooping the sides of her pudding container, “Would you stop being so. . .tense? Is this about earlier?” 

Y/N clears her throat, opening her mouth and furrowing her brows like she was about to deny it, but she relents, shoulders dropping, “A little. I still feel bad about everything,” she shakes her head, dragging the edge of the spoon around the plastic, “About everything, not just that you aren’t able to sleep with someone. I came in late, ruined you having your own cabin, woke you up with my alarm, made you get out of bed ‘cos I’m afraid of the dark and -- I just feel like this massive burden. I feel like this massive burden on everyone.” 

Harry is alarmed by this sudden confession, but his body ultimately rejects the notion that she could ever be a bother, “How are you a burden to anyone?” He inquires, shaking his head, “You’re such a ball of light that just swarms through rooms. The thought of you being a burden is akin to the thought of Satan being a saint. . .it doesn’t sound right.” Harry sets his pudding down, though he keeps his hands fixed around the cup and the spoon, “Don’t know what gave you that idea, but the last thing you are is a burden. Who gave you the impression that you were?” 

She wipes tiredly at her eyes, “Nobody in particular, it's just,” she shakes her head, “Even now, I wanted to make your night good, and then I fucked it, and now you’re here with me instead of having fun at the party. I just feel silly.” 

“Don’t.” Harry tells her simply, “I like to spend time with you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” 

The tension in her shoulder releases, “Thank you for this, I’m sorry m’just saying the same thing again and again. Back at home it feels like everyone is just. . .so hyper aware of me -- they’re always being so careful, or overly concerned and I always wonder if it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, like I’m forcing a piggyback ride.” She shrugs her own, reaching for the second pudding cup, “It’s just shit, so I overthink everything all the time to try not to be a burden, but I keep making it worse. Or at least that’s how it feels.” 

Harry tilts his head to the side some. He’s not usually someone who pries and probes people for information, but he’s never been more curious about Y/N than in this moment. When he thinks of Y/N at home, he thinks of sunshine pooling in the hallways through casement windows, her spinning around the kitchen in a dainty floral dress that billows around her as she stirs homemade jam. Harry imagines her amongst woodland creatures who coax her to the forest with songs, escorting her there as she gambols freely. 

He could not imagine her going home and feeling like a burden. Hell, he would have thought that she considered everyone else a burden -- that maybe it was draining to be the absolute light of everyone’s life. Yet here she stood, seeming worn, and broken. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is everyone hyper aware of you at home? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.” He says it delicately -- he means it. . .if she didn’t want to share this with him, then he wouldn’t force her, but he wants to open up the possibility. He wants her to know that he’s an open ear if she so chose to utilize him. 

“Um,” her gaze does shift downward -- she suddenly appears so small, “Are you sure?” 

Harry nods. 

“I just -- it's not that I don’t like bringing it up, I just don’t want you to treat me any differently than you would knowing it, yeah? I think that’s what I hate the most.” She notes, “So do you promise that you won’t -- you won’t start tiptoeing around me?” 

“You’ve got my word.” Harry vows, but he has a feeling he knows what she is to say.

The sleeve of his cardigan covers her hand as she brushes the hair from her face, “In freshman year of UNI, my roommate was Mrs. Graham’s daughter, Penelope.” She straightens out in her seat, “We didn’t like each other much at first but we had grown very close -- um, once she threw away my fruit snacks and so I dunked her toothbrush in the toilet, but I felt guilty and went out to buy her a new toothbrush,” a laugh leaves her at the memory, as she rolls her eyes at herself, “That was what we had going for a while, but a late night heart to heart kind of made us closer. She told me things that. . .she’d been through a lot that nobody should have to go through, you know? She was bullied a lot growing up—in high school it was bad, people used to always gang up on her over stupid shit.” Harry hums, encouraging her to continue, and she stirs the pudding around mindlessly, “And we were just close after that. We had a flat together sophomore year and most of junior year, she’s my best friend,” she swallows thickly, “I didn’t realize how sad she was. . .I didn’t realize what she was still holding onto, and she -- we went home for Christmas break, and she never came back.” 

Harry feels his stomach sour as her eyes bead with unshed tears, “Oh, Y/N,” 

“It’s alright. I’m okay, I’m fine as I can be --  I’ve -- I’m mourning and I miss her, but I’m trying to be strong. Most days I am, but everyone at home just expects me to be this fragile thing, y’know? The days I’m happy, and chatty, they think I’m faking it. And some days I do, yeah, but. . .it’s just disheartening when everyone pretends to know what’s going on in my head.” She plants the pudding directly in the center, leaving it there and retreating her hands to her lap, “Mrs. Graham told me she felt the same. That’s why I came in last minute -- I’ve got all my volunteer hours settled and everything but she said it might be nice to get away.” A slow, easy sigh leaves her lips as she blinks the tears away, not one drop trickled down her cheek, “It is nice, but I still worry that I’m a strain on people around me, even if not for the reason I am at home. And I’m sorry to like, info dump all this on you,” she laughs a little in spite of herself, “You can’t ask me things, unless you want an hour long explanation.”

Harry reaches out his hand for her, for the second time that night, and once again she slowly slips their fingers together, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it must have been hard,” he squeezes her hand, “But I understand you a bit more now. I’ll keep my promise, I won’t treat you any differently, but before that --” she blinks at him, waiting, “I think you might just be one of the kindest, strongest, most caring people that I have ever meant. I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or add stress onto my life, so you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to try with me. We can just exist together, yeah? We’ll exist without burdens and without worry.”

The look in her eyes, was one that Harry had never seen before. One that makes him melt in her touch. 

“I would like that.” 

                                                             .                                    .                                  .

 “I can’t swim.” 

Harry was crouched down to Maisey’s height, fixing purple mermaid floaties around her arms. The day was not unusually muggy, but there was an additional itch to jump belly first into the cool watered lake. He had woken with a revitalized need to pry a star from the morning sky as it shifted from an inky purple to an early, dusky morning blue -- and give it to Y/N. He had decided after their conversation last night -- after they’d gone to bed and Y/N fell asleep cuddled in his cardigan -- he had an overwhelming, and an all encompassing want to hold her. 

Which made it hard to part ways this morning, but he managed. And maybe he played out an image in his head where he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before they went to wake their respective cabins, or maybe he didn’t (but if he did that’s his own problem). He is quick to convince himself it was because she’d shared a piece of herself with him that he doesn’t think she lets many people see, and Harry always develops a bit of a platonic crush on his friends at some point or another. He questioned whether or not he was in love with Mitch for a solid four days once. . .sometimes he just let his heart get carried away. 

He had been enmeshed in these thoughts as he got his campers ready for their time in the lake. At first glance, a ton of children in the lake seemed like a horrible, and faulty idea, but they took precautions so that everyone was safe. Every child wore floaties and/or life jackets no matter how proficient their swimming abilities. There was netting about ten meters out so that the children and counsellors couldn’t float out toward the middle, and they worked it so that only three children could be in per counsellor at a time, so that they could keep an eye on everyone. Harry wasn’t so nervous because he was a strong swimmer, and his kids were a little older, but he could tell Y/N had been a little jittery about it. It’s why Harry told her that while she was out in the lake with her little ones to let him know, he would come out with her to bring her some additional comfort that even the floaties could not provide. 

Harry had been pretty sure all of his kids were excited to go to the lake and he was grateful for that, until he looked up to see the nervous, large blue eyes of Jackson, downcast after he had spoken the words. The unprompted admittance confused him as he turned to face him, “That’s okay, buddy, we’ve got floaties for that.” 

Jackson did not seem convinced, shaking his head fiercely, “No, I -- I can’t swim.” 

“J.J. is afraid of the water,” Noah exposes the truth just as easy as he takes a sip from his juice box, equipped with his own blue arm floaties, “He didn’t want to say though ‘cos --” 

“Noah!” Jackson cuts him off, betrayal laced within his features. 

“--’cos he didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but he almost drowned when he was little.” 

Jackson looked as if he could cry, and Harry shook his head quickly, “Hey, hey, hey, c’mere buddy,” he motions him over, and he comes easily, stepping before Harry who had not bothered to leave his already crouched position, “Explain to me what’s going on, yeah?” 

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a frown prevalent on his mouth, even as he speaks, “When I was little little, my big brother pushed me into the pool and I went under the water and my mom had to come in and get me because I can’t swim good.” 

Harry pulls his lips back, reaching out to squeeze Jackson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that buddy. I won’t force you to get in the water if you don’t want to, but I do want to tell you that if you feel more comfortable, we could try a life jacket instead of the floaties? It’ll keep you more buoyant -- more bouncy in the water.” 

“Aren’t those for little kids?” Jackson inquires, brows pinched, but Harry shakes his head and points toward Y/N, never more glad in that moment that she had the age group she did, along with her views on not making them do, wear, or say anything that she wouldn’t herself. She’s got the life jacket swung around her arm as she clips Oliver into his own. 

“Y/N’s going to wear one too, and she’s not a little kid. I’ll wear one as well if you’d like.” He promised him. Albeit looking reserved, Jackson nods softly with his hands in little fists, worrying his lip between his teeth. The poor thing, Harry thinks -- he used to be afraid of water too. Nobody wants to conquer that fear suddenly, let alone with a group of people that may or may not poke fun because they’re kids and kids are jerks sometimes. 

Harry finds him a life jacket -- a cute one with a shark on it, that he helps him clip on, and fits it to his body with the straps. Next, he needed to find one for himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they kept the counsellor life jackets, so he called for Y/N where she’d been a few meters away and she popped her head up from where she was like a meerkat. Her eyes softened when she realized who had called her, and a gentle smile pulled at her mouth, “Hey hubby,” she greets him, much to the delight of Charlotte, who claps giddily, “What d’ya need?” 

“A life jacket, please. Where’d you get yours?” Harry tries to be decent -- tries desperately to keep his eyes to himself, but he finds that this is surprisingly difficult when Y/N is in her swimsuit. It wasn’t obscene in any sense of the word -- in the pamphlet they get when they sign up, it is very clear that speedos and bikinis were not appropriate, and therefore not allowed. If a child couldn’t wear it, then you shouldn’t bring it -- was the apothegm that they chose to live by in reference to dress code. 

This, however, doesn’t mean that Y/N’s swimsuit didn’t suit her well. It was fitted in a way that wasn’t too tight, yet wasn’t too loose -- like it might have just been made with her in mind. A simple one piece of nylon and lycra colored a powder blue, that barely showed off that much more of what she wears to bed, and yet his mind still flutters elsewhere. To unwise places, that he drags himself from before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look around the lake so it appeared his eyes were just scanning everything. 

“You’re in luck,” Y/N jogged the short way from where they stood, back to where her kids were all gathered, playing happily in the sand. Beneath what Harry had assumed was just a cluster of towels, another life jacket was hidden beneath the fabric. She hands it toward him with a triumphant grin, “This was the last one. I grabbed it for you in case you just wanted to float rather than keep your legs kicking -- you had a big lunch, didn’t want you to get a cramp.” 

Harry hates how his heart balloons in his chest. There was no reason to be a melt because she had thought of him -- that she had him in mind, so she snatched the last life jacket, and hid it beneath towels so nobody else could have it. No reason to feel all mushy from the way that she unfolds it for him, a silent prompt that she’s going to help him pull it on. And there was certainly, absolutely no good reason for how stupidly affectionate he feels when she strokes her finger along the heart tattoo on his forearm mindlessly, before murmuring, “You make me wanna get covered in them. Maybe I’ll just go and get all of yours.” She looks down at the ground, “Maybe not the toe, my feet are ticklish -- think I would kick the artist.” 

He recruits Y/N for the process of easing Jackson into the water -- Noah and Elinor are floating and bobbing about happily at their sides, while Charlotte and Mikey playfully kick and float close to their older counterparts (if not practically on top of them). There was a chill bite to the water when they had first stepped in, but as they walked out further and sunk a bit deeper, the cold eases up. The cool air soothes them from the sharp bite of the scorching sun, Jackson holds his hand so tightly Harry thinks his fingers may go numb, and he figures Y/N is feeling the same way, if her soft, “Loosen your grip up a bit, Sweetheart, you’re gonna take off my hand.” 

Eventually, Jackson relaxes. He finally understands that the life jacket will keep him afloat and holding onto Y/N and Harry wasn’t a necessity. Once the idea of this settles in his brain, he is more willing to let go and enjoy himself. It feels wonderful to see that he’s having fun, and even better when he sees the smile on Y/N’s face from this small victory. Last year, he hadn’t felt this parental over the children last summer, but something had changed. . .something that made him feel like he was a bit of a parent. 

It has to be Y/N. There was something about her that just oozes mother figure for these kids, even if she wasn’t intending to do so. She kissed the bandages over their wounds to take away the hurt, she praised the ground they walked on, picked them up if they asked, danced with them, encouraged them, treated every single child as if they were her own. Harry believes she’ll be a beautiful mother one day, if that’s what she’d like, and whoever the father or mother was she had chosen to spend her life with, they were unbelievably lucky. He just hoped they would understand that. 

Y/N floats into his line of sight, “Are you okay? Ellie said you look like Maisey’s aunt again, whatever that means.” 

Harry snorts, before nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit tired.” 

An understanding gleam overtakes her, “Y’know, I did think you seemed a bit snoozy,” she reaches out for him, squeezing his shoulder softly, “D’ya want to have a sneaky nap? I could watch the kids.” 

“But I like having you both,” Jackson whined, shaking his head quickly, finding their hands once more, reassuring that his grip was tight as ever, “Please stay.” 

“Yeah,” Noah splashes over to them, sliding his arms around Harry’s neck, wetting his hair with the water clinging to his life jacket, “You two are fun together! We always have so much fun -- Brittany said her counsellor always yells at them when they ask her to play with them.” 

Elinor was quick to add, “And Ro’s counsellor falls asleep during art days! He doesn’t even help them stay in the lines, and they’re little like Oli, and Charlotte.” 

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in the prettiest little pout -- Harry finds himself wanting to pluck it with the pad of his thumb, “That’s silly, isn’t it? I have so much fun with you guys, I couldn’t imagine not playing. Right Harry?” 

Nodding his assent, he reaches up, settling his hands around Noah’s arms and bring him along with him as he kicks them closer to Y/N and the other three, “It is silly. Some people just aren’t as fun as Y/N and I, Bug, it’s proven fact. They did the scientific method and everything.” 

Oliver gleefully pushes himself up on Y/N’s shoulders, flopping back into the water and bobbing, “I love yous!” He chirped brightly, “Yous guys are my favorites! I love yous.” 

The sight is adorable, especially as Y/N wriggles around and holds her arms out so they could hug, which Oliver happily accepts, “I love yous too, button.” 

They have fun -- for hours, as they switch out which kids are in the water, spend time on the beach with all of them, making sandcastles, burying one another, chatting and playing. It was very freeing; Harry could easily tell that he and the others were having far more fun than any of the other groups were -- Mitch and Niall had gravitated their groups closer to them when Y/N and the kids began to pour sand over the top of him. Even Cassidy came around with her kids after they had heard them all giggling and laughing and wanted to know what was going on. Harry was having fun, and maybe he was just mushy, but he credited it to the joy Y/N was exuding. It was hard not to be in a good mood when he was around her. 

By the time the sun sat a little lower in the sky, casting the shadows of trees over the sand and cooling them to the point of chilling. The kids washed their feet and hands beneath the rush of water from a yard hydrant, wrapped up in towels, and headed toward the dining hall for their dinner. There was a taco bar today, and Harry found that Y/N and he had a mutual love of tacos as a whole. She showed him how she adds feta crumbles, even let him have a bite of hers to see if he would like it so he could decide whether or not to put it on his own (it was delicious, she was right). 

Once dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted. They all gathered around the campfire, one of the counsellors strummed a song on his guitar, they all had s'mores and then they dispersed. Not even the rush of sugar from the chocolate and marshmallow gave any of the children an umph in their step; they were all so sluggish and slow, dragging their feet through the dirt on their way to their cabins. Harry’s group barely kept their eyes open as they stalked to the showers, washing off the lake water and sand that had been clinging to their bodies. After they brushed their teeth, they all but face planted in their beds and snores soon filled the quiet air of the cabin. They only made him realize how exhausted he was from the day spent baking in the sun, floating and kicking in the water. 

He trudges back to his cabin, where he finds Y/N had already showered off. She was face down in her pillow, her back slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath she took. She hadn’t covered in her blankets -- no, instead she used his cardigan as a makeshift cover over her body, and Harry thinks it might just be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The patchwork swallows a good portion of her body, the sleeve flopped limply by her head. . .he could imagine her crawling into bed. Could imagine her putting her knee up first, dragging the cardigan that had been lying limply over the post with her and just letting it drape over her body. She probably wasn’t thinking she would fall asleep. . .probably thought she would just lay there for a minute before gathering the strength to get beneath her covers. 

It’s adorable -- Harry hates how adorable he finds it, actually. If he could crawl in beside her he would, but instead he ambles to the bathroom, starts up the shower, and climbs in. 

The water his hot -- boiling drops pelt his skin, washing away the grime and sweat that felt as if it’d been caked onto his skin. It felt good; to cleanse and scrub himself free of the lake, massage shampoo into his scalp, soften his curls with the conditioner, and just allow himself to revel in the feeling. Showers feel wonderful - a renewal that he deemed necessary by the end of the day. And when he gets the temperature just right, it soothes the aches and soreness in his bones, turning his muscles to softened jello. By the time he slipped out of the shower, he was practically boneless and thought he’d be lucky if he made it to his bed before dropping to the floor and falling asleep. 

He expects Y/N to still be asleep when he leaves the bathroom, but he’s surprised to find her sat up in her bed, his cardigan pooled around her body and a deep frown on her face. 

“Oh!” He’s started some -- he really thought she was out for the night, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

“It’s morning?” Her face further turns to that of distress and Harry bites down hard on a chuckle. 

“No,” he responds, “It’s not morning. Only about 10PM, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest still.” She looks around groggily, rubbing at her cheek with one hand while she fisted his cardigan in the other, pulling it closer around her body, “Why don’t you get beneath the covers, Babe?” He asks her, and she’s quiet for a little while. The only inkling Harry receives that she even heard him was how she tries to shuffle and wriggle the covers down with her still stretched out on the bed, stuffing her legs into the blankets first, then sliding the rest of the way smoothly. All the while she clings to the cardigan, holding it tightly, resting her cheek on it. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N’s just far more affectionate than he had even thought prior, or if she was just half awake and doing things she wouldn’t do if she was fully conscious. Vaguely does he remember her saying something about typically cuddling with a teddy at night -- how she stuffs her face against it because it always smells like her fabric softener. 

He wonders if that’s why she snuggles with it -- he wonders if she likes the smell of him, so she buries her nose in the fabric and breathes it in as she rests. 

Harry hates this. He hates how inconceivably soft he’s been feeling, but he can’t help it. Y/N had found him worthy enough to poke inside her brain -- she opened up to him in a way she expressed she’d not been opening up to many people about.  It made him feel closer to her.

But he told her he wouldn’t treat her any differently after finding out. And if he suddenly started expressing more affection, he fears she would think he was only doing it because of what she told him. He just wants to be. . .he just wants to be gentle with her. Doesn’t want her to ever think that she’s a burden to him, because the anecdote had made him question and second guess how he’d been treating her their entire time here. Of course, he was never intentionally cruel, but some of the situations he thinks about the two of them in, and how he responded, makes him cringe. 

He switches off the overhead light, her dimmed bedside lamp and muscle memory guide him to his bed. Harry climbs in, shivers as he adjusts to the warmth beneath his covers, and breathes a soft sigh of relief to have finished with the day. 

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice startles his eyes open, which he’d not been aware he’d closed. 

“Hm?” He hums -- he had thought she’d fallen back asleep already. 

“You’re okay?” 

A soft smile plays at his mouth -- she asks him every night before bed, he’s noticed. 

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?” 

She nods, “You did really good today,” her voice is muffled from her cheek mushed against his cardigan, “The kids had a lot of fun, they were telling me. I had a lot of fun too.” 

“Yeah? Me too,” he reaches to thumb the hairs of his eyebrow down, “And thank you. You always do really well with the kids.” 

She’s quiet for a minute, and once more, Harry thinks she must have fallen asleep, but the shift of the mattress tells him she’s changing position and Harry notices once more that his eyes have closed, “I’m glad you’re my roomie.” 

Harry utters the words, that two weeks ago he thinks he would have spit at. 

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re my roomie too.” 

                                                     .                                   .                              .

Harry was drunk. 

Typically, he didn’t allow himself to get very drunk at these little parties. He trusted the others so little, he had no doubt in his mind that any moment he was slightly impaired in some way they would take it upon themselves to prey on his weakness. This means he only ever gets mildly tipsy -- drinks enough to feel good but caps himself when he thinks he might start stumbling. 

But he just didn’t cap himself today. Not for any reason in particular -- their day hadn’t been difficult. They helped their kids through a mildly strenuous obstacle course throughout the morning, cooled down with them drinking juice boxes and eating popsicles and by 2PM they were inside doing little DIY projects. Harry burned his finger with some hot glue, but otherwise it was a pretty easy smooth kind of day that they didn’t get often. He and Y/N hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, which he wouldn’t admit loudly was a disappointment, but he and his kids had all agreed that they missed her. 

(And when they had seen her and her group walking into the art room, the lot of them had erupted in cheers, Noah, Eli, Maisey being the loudest of them.) 

They had a pasta dinner that was surprisingly filling, they told “spooky” campfire stories and ate s’mores, he got his kids ready for bed and he went off to the cabin. He and Y/N were going to one of the parties tonight, not because they had such spectacular luck with a good time before, but because they were coming up on some of their last nights here at camp. It was a bittersweet feeling -- Harry remembered being more than ready to flee last year, counting down each day, each hour dragging on longer than the last. This time, it felt like it was coming too quick. He would miss the kids, he would miss the busy days some. . .and sure, he was happy to go home and take a shower that stays hot longer than five minutes and rest on his soft, cozy bed, but he would miss not having Y/N right across from him. 

That was what he was having the most trouble coming to terms with, he thinks. The idea of them not having to spend every moment of every day with one another after doing it for three weeks almost sounds wrong. It's the same feeling he gets when  he knew he and Mitch wouldn’t have such easy access to one another once they went back home. Being at this camp sort of felt like being stuck in a time loop where the outside world doesn’t exist, so it’s very easy to forget that they all have lives outside of here. They all go to class, go to work, go home, study, eat and sleep. 

He and Y/N live relatively close to one another -- only about a ten minute drive up the street with only one turn and it's into her apartment building -- but he wonders if they’ll utilize it. He wonders if their friendship is tied to this camp and if that’s where it will remain, or if she even wants to be friendly with him after. Harry hadn’t considered that maybe she was only putting up with him because they had to live together and she didn’t want it to be miserable. Had he questioned if he was even enjoyable to be around? How does he ask her that without sounding entirely too desperate or needy?                   

So partially, he drinks to ease some of the worry in his mind. Harry doesn’t think he would “break down” or something like it if they weren’t able to continue being friends -- like a forgotten summer love that he might think about throughout the fall, and message her to see how she was doing -- but he certainly wouldn’t be delighted if that’s how it ended up. Harry thinks there’s so much more to Y/N that he would like to see, and know, and hear. Three weeks isn’t enough time, Harry decided, but in the same breath he wondered if she had thought it was more than enough. 

Harry knows she cares for him, at least a little bit. He knows that he cares for her and her wellbeing; he was fond of her. From what he knew of who she was fundamentally, down to her core, Harry knew she was selfless and kind -- it was hard to find people like that, who were that, without it being cakey or clouded by something else. She was transparent in who she was and her feelings regarding most things, and Harry valued her honesty. 

And she was just so damn fun. Every moment with her he spent, the air filled with laughter; she brought a slice of sun in her pocket wherever she went and Harry was consistently being warmed beneath it. 

The fact of the matter is, Harry doesn’t know how he could meet someone like Y/N, and get used to the idea of her not being in his life after three weeks. If he could refuse it he would, but what was he going to do? Kidnap her and take her home with him? 

He’s sat on the tree root, opposed to standing beside it like he usually is, with his back pressed against the bark of the tree and he ignores the jagged, uneven trunk against his skin. Mitch was beside him, leaning lower than he was with his jacket bundled up and stuffed behind his head, his legs kicked out as far as they would go and because of this, his foot rested against Niall’s lap. Niall was pleasantly gone himself, a bit louder than normal but also zoning out every so often. 

He was a good guy, Niall -- he had good opinions, and he chatted him and Mitch up about guitars often (he was typically the camp’s go to for an acoustic guy if they ever wanted campfire songs). Harry thinks they could probably be really good friends, if not for the fact that Niall was so barefaced in his crush on Y/N. 

It was obvious, Harry thought. He’d thought it was obvious from the first moment he spent a prolonged period of time with both he and Y/N -- his cheeks got rosy when she touched him, he stuttered over his gratitude if she complimented him, and if she went out of her way to do something (like when she’d stuffed her hand into a thorn-bush for his guitar pick that had flung from his fingers, and subsequently got all scratched up), he would look at her how someone might stargaze. 

Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out, if he likes her so much. It almost irritates him how skittish Niall seems to get at the prospect of it; to run away from those warm, nice feelings that she provides is silly. It reminds him entirely too much of himself and he loathes it. 

Tonight had been no different, only Y/N was dancing back and forth between them and a few other counsellors (Harry only recognized one of them , who was called Rosie and had been in his first year maths). Harry watched her most of the night, in the least obnoxious and creepy way he could, just because. . .well, she was nice to look at. He liked how her body animated as she spoke, or how she nodded her head as someone was speaking to her -- it was an encouraging nod, and her eyes locked onto theirs like they might be telling her where the fountain of youth might be located, or the secrets to the universe. 

She was cozy today -- it was cooler out than most of the nights that they had experienced, with a chill breeze that had even stirred goosebumps on Harry’s arms (and he was all but swaddled in his hoodie). Y/N had a light fitted sweater that she sometimes slept in -- not heavy enough to shield her from the icy terrain that winter would provide, but enough to fight past the harsh summer night breeze that threatened to help a storm roll in within the next few hours. Loosely, he let the images of her cuddled close to him invade his brain. What it might feel like, how the knit would brush against his skin, if she would hide her face in his neck or spider around him as the big spoon and burrow against his hair. Y/N struck him as someone who liked to do more of the cuddling than being cuddled herself.

He would miss her when they had to leave. Harry worried who would just exist with her, like they had been doing. He worried about her going back to a place where she felt like a burden -- he would be around, wouldn’t he? If she allowed him to, he could be there for her, but he doesn’t want to seem pushy. By all definitions, they had really just met -- Harry had known Y/N for approximately 17 days, but it felt like so much longer. He wonders if he had known her in a past life, or if it was the fact that they spent almost every day all day with one another for at least 15 of those 17 day -- he finally understands how everyone in the Love Island villa always goes on about how a day in the outside world feels like a week where they are. 

It’s not like he’s professing his love to her, for fuck sake. He just likes her -- whether it be platonic or not, Harry thinks Y/N is just delightful. 

“Your little girlfriend’s not with you?” 

Harry had forgotten how Jack’s voice sounded how grating nails against iron pipes might make someone feel, mostly because they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. After Y/N had slapped him, he had kept to himself, resorting more to disgruntled glares and probably pissy comments he was murmuring to his mates about him. If someone asked Harry, he would say that him and his friends were afraid of Y/N -- she posed a good threat to them. Sure, they hadn’t understood the extent of her words that night (like how and why she knew Miss. Graham), but they were enough to rattle them. No matter being in university, or within the range of 20-23 years old, nobody wanted to be scolded by a woman in her 40s, nor did they want to be kicked out of a camp counsellor position, or to have their volunteer hours revoked. 

So they had left him alone, which Harry thinks may have been such a strain for them he would be surprised if they hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Even if they wanted to, he was always with Y/N -- they never really had the chance, and if they did, they didn’t really take it. 

Which is why he is both surprised and incredibly annoyed with Jack’s sudden appearance. 

“Piss off.” Harry responds, nursing his beer bottle closer to him. 

“You’re always so ill-tempered,” Jack leans up against the tree, “Just wanted to have a chat. Like why Cassidy suddenly wants to break things off after chatting with you and Y/N. Got any ideas?” 

Harry’s brows dipped in confusion, “What? What are you on about?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know,” Jack rolls his eyes, “Cassidy and I are doing just fucking fine for six months, but we come here, she starts chatting with you and now all the sudden she’s ready to break up. What the fuck did you say, hm?” He nudged Harry’s side with his foot, “Fucking Y/N wasn’t enough, you had to fuck Cassidy too?” He kicked him this time, harder than before.

Harry, who did not take too kindly to being kicked, rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a stand, “Dunno why you’re so fucking insecure that you think me being around has anything to do with Cassidy finally seeing what a prick you are, but this needs to stop,” he handed his bottle to Mitch who took it wordlessly, “I’m not fucking Cassidy, I’ve never fucked Cassidy, so if you could just grow the fuck up and recognize that maybe she broke up with you, because you’re awful to be around, that would be great.”            

Jack, which Harry had expected, took more of a physical approach, giving a shove to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s back slams against the tree behind him, “Fuck you,” he spit, “You all holier than thou ‘cos you’re dipping your dick in Miss. Rainbow Bright? What do you know about me, hm? You’re just a dumb fuck who has to be here because you’re a no good druggy fuck with anger issues. How does it feel knowing you’ll amount to nothing after UNI?” 

There isn’t a lot that could get under Harry’s skin. A lot of people could say a lot of shit that he brushes off and lets go, but there are two things that he really just can’t. One of them is when people try to speak poorly of his mum, and the other, was when someone pretends to know his situation when they don’t have a fucking clue. Who was this trust fund bastard to tell him he was a druggy fuck? That he would amount to nothing after UNI? Harry worked two jobs to set himself through school and keep himself fed, with a roof over his head, just so that he could live the life he wanted to after university. 

Maybe it was silly to punch him, but it felt good to. Harry reared back his fist and it collided with his jaw, making Jack stumble backward, his hand flying to his face, “You fucking --” he swung in return, only he catches Harry’s shoulder because Harry moved out of the way in anticipation. Niall narrowly dodged being caught in the crossfire as he rolled out of the way. 

The fight didn’t get too far, however, because when Jack was gearing up to swing again, Y/N appeared and easily wormed her way in between them, “Are you serious right now?” Her brows were furrowed -- she looked legitimately pissed off, and, well. . .it made Harry take a step back at least, “Thought we had a chat about this, hm? You were going to leave him the fuck alone -- no, look at me, not him,” she grabbed at his collar, giving a sharp tug when his angry gaze had flittered back toward Harry, “I’m not an angry person, Jack, I don’t like being mean, or cruel like you seem to be so fond of, but I can and will be if I need to and I promise you that. Don’t you ever speak to someone like that again, yeah? What you were saying was just awful.” She lets go of his collar, taking a step back and sighing in a sharp huff, “I can’t speak for Cassidy, but if I had to guess she probably cut things off because you’re a jealous bastard who questions every interaction with another person and try this alpha male persona to scare other people away. It must be exhausting.” 

Jack shook his head, “We were fine --”

“You thought you were fine. Things aren’t always what they look like, alright? The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.” She nods toward the center of the clearing they were in,  “Go get some ice from the cooler, and go the hell back to your cabin. You’re not a fun drunk.” 

Albeit reluctantly, Jack follows her orders and slinks his way to the cooler. The others around them had grown quiet as they had watched the confrontation unfold, but they soon all lost interest once they realized nothing more would happen. Y/N turned to face Harry, the anger on her face immediately dissolving, as she shakes her head, “What a dick. I’m so sorry he spoke to you like that,” she takes ahold of his wrist, the hand that he had punched Jack with, running her thumbs over his reddened knuckles, “I told him -- after the lake, I told him that he needed to leave you alone or I’d do something about it. Dunno what I was gonna do, but I was going to do something -- I will --” 

“Hey, hey,” he cuts her off, “It’s okay -- it’s okay, come on, let’s. . .let’s go to the cabin, yeah? Should we go back to the cabin?” 

Y/N looks at him like he was batty, “No shit we’re going back to the cabin! I’ve got to give you like a full medical look over. He slammed you into the tree, and honestly, you bruise like a peach.” 

They make the trek back to the cabin, relatively quiet, Harry still attempting to process what had happened and what Y/N had said. Had she really spoken to Jack after the fact and threatened him if he messed with Harry again? The softest, probably sweetest person he knows, had taken Jack off to the side and told him if he didn’t leave Harry alone she was going to do something about it. Not only that, she grabbed him by his collar and told him off in front of everyone. It made his heart race, the thought of it, and his cock twitches in his pants at the moment on repeat in his mind. 

Once they get back to the cabin, Y/N has him take his hoodie off with her in the bathroom so she could visualize his back and shoulder. Jack may be short-tempered and smaller than Harry, but his punches still packed a great deal, so a nice, reddening bruise was forming quickly around his shoulder. On his back there were scrapes from the tree bark, Y/N tells him, and a ton of little bruises that had begun to form as well. She makes him stay still as she retrieves the first aid kit from their medicine cabinet. 

“Y/N,” he started, and she hummed to encourage him to continue, “When did you speak with Jack privately?” 

She clears her throat, plopping the first aid kit down on the sink counter and unclipping it open, “The morning after the lake,” she answers without hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to like, fight your battles or anything, but I needed him to know I wasn’t bluffing when I told them I would rat them out, and worse if the situation allowed it. I hate bullies,” she pulls out a small tube of bacitracin, tutting her tongue as she squeezes it out on the tip of her finger, “And I hate how they treat you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” 

“You didn’t at all,” Harry remarks softly, jolting when her fingers very carefully graze over one of the tender areas on his back, “Thank you, actually, for sticking up for me again.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I think I’m pretty scrappy when I need to be,” she giggles to herself, “Like, if need be, I would take on the Queen for you. Might be an uneven match though, she’s pushing 100.” 

Harry spins around to face her though, “Y/N, I mean it,” he tells her seriously, their gazes locking, “Thank you for everything. For dealing with my attitude, for sticking up for me, for helping with the kids, for making this experience bearable, for being such a positive light,” he sighs, “You’re amazing, you deserve amazing things.” 

Y/N looks taken by his words -- he wonders if she’s as lost in his eyes as he is in hers. Her mouth falls open gently, like she may be searching for what to say back to him but can’t come up with anything. He worries that he’d said too much -- that he freaked her out or something. He wasn’t trying to, he was just so grateful for her, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to express it. 

He is about to apologize for being too forward, when Y/N pushes the short distance and connects their lips together. 

Harry’s confused for a moment as his brain registers what’s happening, but when he feels that she might pull away, his body finally seems to wake up. His hands find her face, cradling her jaw in his hands as he reaffirms the kiss and lets the butterflies in his body take over in hoards. He’d given thought to kissing Y/N, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen. Not only that, he’d never thought it would feel this nice. She tastes like the pineapple wine coolers she’d been sipping on that night, her lips still a bit sticky from the residue of the alcohol on her soft lips.

She’s gentle in how she kisses, like Harry would have guessed -- careful too, and cautious with how her lips parted from him only to fix back together. A pool of heat had formed in Harry’s lower belly and rose to his chest, stirring his heart in flutters when her tongue slid into his mouth and met her own. Harry hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her until their tongues are sliding against one another, and his hands are slipping down from her jaw,  caressing the delicate skin of her throat, skating down her chest to her hips. He squeezes her sides and pulls her closer to him, feeling the knit of her top rub against his bare torso. It was as soft as he’d imagined it’d be. 

Had she been wanting to kiss him for as long as he wanted to kiss her? Normally, Harry could tell how badly someone wanted to kiss him by the act alone, but with Y/N he was so caught up he couldn’t focus. She was calm and soft, but the longer they kissed, the more ardent she became. It was the tiny moan that had left from her mouth into his own, that made him lightheaded. He had to pull away to breathe but his forehead pressed against hers as he breathed in, “Harry?” Her voice is low, she says his name like a secret, “Was that okay?” 

His response is to press their lips back together, but this time only for a moment, before he withdraws. Harry loops his fingers around her wrist and brings her with him back into the main room, flopping onto her bed since it was the closest and urging her to climb into his lap. She straddles him, and just as soon as she’s within reach, he slides his fingers at the nape of her neck and pulls her back to his mouth. 

It was good -- it felt so fucking good, Harry couldn’t begin to describe it. He held her close, and tried as he might to stave off his cock from ruining the moment, the longer they kissed the harder he got. How she was positioned at first made it so she couldn’t really feel him, but when she tried to get closer to him, she scooted her hips forward and rubbed up right against him. A gasp leaves her as she parts from him, looking down, having lifted her hips, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes and Harry gives a startled laugh. 

“I’ve got a stiffy, and you’re apologizing?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got a pretty girl in my lap kissing me, s’kind of hard not to get hard. We can stop if you want.” 

“I don’t want to stop,” she answers with no delay nor doubt, as she lowers back down, resting her front on his prick and with this she gives an experimental roll of her hips. Harry hisses in a breath as she does it again, her own little moan slipping from her mouth. She was only in a thin little pair of shorts, and Harry had chosen sweatpants for the night, so there was little fabric truly separating them. Harry was thankful for it as she continued to roll her hips against him, sponging kisses from his mouth, down his jawline, to the curve of his throat. She fixed her lips there, lulling her tongue over the skin before she started suckling at him and Harry’s hands danced along her back, stroking up and down it, feeling her, holding her closer. Each roll of her hips made him harder, and he was desperate to know if she was wet. If he pushed his fingers into her shorts, would they come back slick from her arousal? Would she watch him as he slid them into his mouth to taste her? Would she let him split her thighs and lick straight from the source. 

His mind was overcome with filth, smutty images entangle once innocent thoughts as she brought the blood to the surface of his skin. When one of his hands left where it had latched onto her hip and slowly maneuvered around to her front, she paused, but left her face dipped in his throat, “Are you wet for me?” He asks her quietly and she nods through a little shiver, “Yeah? Bet you soaked through your little panties,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers past the elastic bands of her shorts and underwear, but left his fingers just past them, “Answer me.” 

“Yes,” her voice trembles, she swallows thickly and the muscles in her abdomen contract beneath his fingers. 

Harry hums low, slipping his fingers down further and he dips between her slick folds, “Oh, Sweetheart,” he presses a chaste kiss to the side of her head, “Is this your first time getting wet for me?” She shakes her head, “Hm, really? So you’re like this often? Do you take care of it?” 

“I -- yeah,” she stutters over a moan as the pads of his fingers roll over her swollen clit slowly, feeling it flick beneath them, “At night, sometimes I will in the shower if I can’t. . .if I can’t wait anymore.” 

He feigns a gasp, “Oh my goodness,” he speeds up the slow lull of his fingers, “Your showers are always so fast, doll, you’re really that quick to cum?” 

Harry may not be able to see her face, but he can hear the pout clear in her voice, “It usually isn’t that fast! Just with you, it is -- when I think of you, it’s always quick.” 

He thought it would be impossible for his cock to be harder than it already was, but her words make pre-cum bubble at the tip, and when he dips his fingers back into her slick little hole, he gets even harder. Gliding his fingers from her panties, he draws them up to his mouth and presses them past his lips as he’d wanted to. Y/N has withdrawn from his throat, watching him do it with glassy eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders, digging her fingers into grape sized dents at the muscle. Her mouth falls open as he sucks her juices away, his eyes fluttering and a groan torn from his throat. 

“Get on the bed,” he instructed and Y/N followed without question, crawling from his lap and lying her head on her pillow as Harry stood, and repositioned himself. He takes a hold of shorts and drags them down her legs, wriggling them off her ankle and tossing them elsewhere. His lips finds her ankle first, before he’s peppering and sponging kisses down her leg, the parts that he had tended to throw over his shoulder. When he gets to her thighs, he makes the kisses slower, softer -- he suckles and nips at the supple skin until he’s right before her center, only to switch to her other thigh and push kisses up and down the length of it. 

Y/N’s whole body trembles with each shaky breath she gives. She’d spoken no words until he was positioned right in front of her core, looping his fingers in the waistband of the little cotton pair she had on, pulling them up toward her hips so the fabric stretched out over her. He could see her pussy beneath it, made out the outline of her swollen lips and engorged clit -- it made his mouth water. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” she tells him, and his gaze is pulled back up to her -- she looks apprehensive. 

“What?” 

She shrugs, “I know some guys don’t really like to so --” 

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Harry asks her bluntly, and he revels in the way her eyes widen, and how bashful her face turns as she looks away, “It’s a yes or no question, honey, if you don’t want me to, I can come back up and kiss you while I make you feel good with my fingers. If you do want me to, I’m g’na pull those panties to the side and make you cum on my tongue -- either I’m good with.” 

“I -- yes,” she answers, her voice meek, “Yes I want you to.” 

Harry smiles softly, “Poor thing, How many stupid boys were refusing to eat this sweet little peach?” He runs his thumb up and down her slit, visualizing where the wet spot had grown and soaked her panties so that the fabric thinned. Leaning in, he nosed at her clit and she inhales, “God, I’m so excited — you’re okay with this? You’re okay with me eating this little pussy out? Need you to let me know because once I start sweet girl, I’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, please, please lick me.”

“So polite,” he suckles a kiss at the very innermost part of her thigh, before licking one, long stripe up her center through the fabric. She moans, pushing her hips down toward his mouth as he drags his tongue over it again, and again, and again. He soaks it with his spit, teasing her — he wanted to pull her panties to the side and suckle and slurp between her lips until she came — but he wants her to beg for him. Wants to hear that she wants him just as much as he wants her. 

He smiles against her as he hears her getting impatient, little huffs between each moan. She whines, her hips bucking up against his tongue — he looks up to her, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. The fingers of one hand are dug into the sheets beside her, while the others rest between her teeth. Her brows were tilted, lips pouted, whimpers come more frequently the longer he suckles and laps on the fabric, drenching it. 

“Harry,” she finally works out, shivering when he pauses just over her clit and flickers his tongue over the top of it, “Oh, please just -- please.”

“Hm?” He hums against her, jolts, inhaling sharply, “What is it, baby? You’ve got to use your words.” 

“Please stop teasing me,” she tells him, “Please take them off.” 

And Harry may love to tease, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t a bloody monster, was he? So he slides his index and middle finger in between the fabric and her core and tugs them over to the side -- he didn’t want to waste any time wiggling them down her legs. No, instead he dips his tongue in between her lips and slides it flat and straight up to her swollen clit. The groan that leaves her is sinful -- it makes his cock twitch in his pants, his heart slamming against his sternum as he suckles and her fingers find his curls. She digs her fingers within the strands, rocking her hips up to meet his mouth, and for a moment, Harry just leaves his tongue out and flat for her to grind against. Harry thinks, if he could spend the day just strapped to Y/N’s bed, willing, ready, and waiting for her to come use his mouth how she pleased -- he would be inconceivable happy. 

Eventually he wiggles his face back into her, sliding his tongue back and forth before he latches his lips back around her silky folds. The swollen little button crying desperately for his attention was where he spent most of his time, lapping, or lulling his tongue in circles around it. She keens, her heel digs into the mattress and begins to slide down but Harry grabs a hold of her thighs and pushes both of them up, so her knees are to her chest. The new position makes her cry out his name raggedly, and Harry was teeming with carnal desire, and so horny he thinks he would barely have to hump against the mattress to cum. 

“I’m close,” she warns him, mewling, “I’m g’na cum, I’m -- oh, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

Harry doesn’t think he’d stop if he was paid to do it. He doubles his efforts, sucking harder, sliding down to tongue at her hole while his fingers wrapped around and spun little circles into her clit. His other hand he reaches up with and slides his thumb into her mouth and she accepts it graciously, as it muted her moans that grew louder and louder the closer she got. 

When she cums, it’s beautiful -- Harry wishes he would be able to see it on repeat, how her back arched upward and her hips bucked loosely as she pulsated around his tongue. Her mouth hangs open around his thumb, her eyes squeezed shut, the fingers in his hair tighten and her other hand wraps around his wrists and holds him tightly. The initial lurch of it subsides and she melts into the mattress, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath her sweater. 

After he thoroughly cleans her (until she’s twitching and jumping away from his tongue), he crawls up her body, pushing her sweater up over her breasts, “Can I fuck you, Darling?” He asks her, a small smile on his mouth when she leans her chest closer to him so he can reach behind her and unclip her bra. Tugging the cups away, he grabs them carefully, thumbing over her nipple, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, don’t feel bad about it, just let me know.” 

“I want you to,” she rushes to tell him, nodding, “Do you have a condom?” 

He dips his head against her chest, breathing out a sigh, “Fuck me,” he utters, shaking his head, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.” 

He usually does -- Harry always keeps a few on him, but he remembers very vividly he and Y/N had blown his last one up just a few nights prior and drawn a face on it. For a moment he feels hopeless, a sad pit forming in his stomach because the thought of fucking Y/N sounded like paradise and he only brought one bloody condom that he wasted. 

“It’s okay, we’ll do it next time then,” she tells him, and Harry feels a joyful spike in his overall demeanor. Next time -- she wanted there to be a next time? And if she wanted there to be a next time, then they would have to see each other after the camp. . .they would spend time together, Harry could learn what she was like in her normal day to day. He was eager and delighted, and not even just at the prospect of pushing into her (which he was also pretty damn excited for), “I mean, if you wanted to do this again, then, yeah -- right? We’ll hang out after camp is through?”

A smile threatens to split his cheeks, “Of course we will,” he tells her, nosing at her jawline, “And not just ‘cos you promised to let me fuck you. I was hoping we would see each other still but was worried that you might be sick of me.” 

Her brows pinch, “Sick of you? Dummy, I thought you would be sick of me!” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the both of them, “We’re so stupid, we ought’a communicate better.” Y/N presses at his abdomen, “C’mon then, I’ll spin around and you can fuck between my thighs. I did it once with a boy -- I just shaved in the shower last night too so it should be soft.” 

Y/N flips over, scooting her bum in the air for him as she cuddles a pillow to her face, her ankles locked in place and her thighs squeezed together. Harry wiggles out of his pants and boxers before he lets a glob of spit fall onto his stiff cock that had soundly slapped up against his stomach, slicking it up nice and wet so the glide between her thighs wouldn’t be too dry. One hand he lays palm flat to her bum, stroking the skin there with his thumb while the other hand navigates his prick, tipping it down and fitting it between her warm, soft thighs. 

It felt good; Harry groans wantonly as he pulls out and sinks back in, watching himself disappear between them. She wiggles her bum at him and Harry playfully swats it, chuckling when she squeals and giggles, “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos before bending over, stretching himself over her so his chest was pressed to her back as he started steadily fucking in between her thighs. One hand he uses to cup her breast and tweak at her nipple while the other he slides down to her pussy, finding her swollen little button and rubbing it. 

Harry’s skin prickles as she moans, her legs falling open just slightly but he tuts his tongue, “Keep them nice and tight for me, baby,” he murmurs, and she nods, tightening the channel for him once more. He won’t last long, he knows it -- he can feel that pool of heat crackling in his lower belly. His blood buzzes in his ears as he fucks his hips forward, their skin slapping together sound in their little cabin. Her breasts bounce with each thrust he gives, she’s beginning to cum again from the ministration of his fingers, and Harry’s nearing the end of his rope. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he’s just a breath away from her ear, “You’re gonna make me cum.” 

He nibbles at the shell of her ear and lets his eyes flutter closed, his senses on overload. All he can hear, and taste, and smell, and feel is her. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Harry feels as if he may burst at the seams. 

“Cum,” she murmurs, “Please, I want you to feel good -- I want you to cum.” 

That’s all it takes -- the little push of her words has his hips stuttering as he cums, spurting long stripes between her thighs, some catching her skin, some landing on her sheets below them. His world fizzles out, static splinters through his body as warmth rushes through his veins, and his toes curl hard enough to lock up. As he comes back to, he giggles, the last of his orgasm drooling from the tip as he pushes a kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, “Stay still, lemme go get us a rag.” 

His legs feel like jelly when he stands, fleeing arse naked to the bathroom and returning moments later with warm, wet rags. He cleans her first, careful in how he works her underwear down her legs before he pats gently around her thighs and at her center. She’s sensitive, so a few times she twitches and flinches from him but eventually relaxes as she holds tightly to the pillow. He wipes himself off a bit haphazardly, more concerned with getting Y/N somewhere to lie down as he gently tugs on her arms, “C’mere, poor thing, I came all over your bed.” 

“Yeah, you jerk,” she says puckishly, letting him guide her over to his bed, climbing in and immediately snuggling beneath his covers. Harry is not too far behind her, and at first she snuggles up close to him, she hisses and squeals before trying to shuffle away, “Why are your feet like ice?” She asks him, her words accusing, like he’d come in the bed with intent to freeze her. 

Harry shrugs, “I dunno’ I usually wear socks to bed to keep them warm.” 

“Socks? To sleep?” She slowly wiggles her way closer to him, despite the words that follow, “I don’t think we can share a bed, you’re batty.” 

“Guess you’ll have to go sleep on the jizzy bed then.” 

Y/N laughs, and Harry feels it vibrate through his body as he holds her close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re quiet for a moment, as they both settle, taking deep, slow breaths, allowing themselves to slip towards sleep. 

Before Harry could get there, Y/N murmured his name. 

“Thanks for being my camp ‘husbad’.” 

Harry smiled to himself, and held her a little closer before he teased her. 

“You can say thank you next time with an 18 carat diamond.”  

[maatryoshkaa]

merry christmas, kiss my a** | lee minho [teaser]

✒︎ in which both you and minho get dumped by your partners on christmas eve, run into each other on christmas day, and begin to find yourselves grudgingly confronting all the reasons that made you enemies in the first place.

ryu says: i can explain the title—i wrote out the plot while listening to “merry christmas, kiss my ass” by all time low 🤡

genre: enemies to lovers, college!au, holiday!au, fluff, drama, romcom, all that good stuff--and a pinch of angst if you move your bang to read it again. 

tags/warnings: fratboy!minho is your typical playboy asshole, perfect student!reader is all business and no-nonsense, mild profanity, mentions of drugs/marijuana/alcohol and addiction, unsafe frat parties (never let go of your drinks, guys), slightly (?) suggestive, but more chaotic than anything, some unhealthy relationships, reader and minho have bad blood, a long history paved with misunderstandings, and lots of unpacking to do.

length of excerpt: 1.6k

With the remnants of a ruthless migraine still wrenching your skull, you pried your eyes open. A weak groan left your dry lips, muffled by a mouthful of fabric. As you came to—brain feeling like jelly sloshing around in your head—you realised you were lying nearly face-down on a queen-sized bed, white comforters tangled around your very sore body. Bright sunlight was filtering in from a window somewhere, and you vaguely registered a green velvet couch sitting in the corner. Frowning, you tried to roll onto your side—and came face-to-face with the yellow eyes of a ginger cat.

You didn’t own a cat. Or a green couch, for that matter. Blinking in confused unison with the feline, you looked around the room—just as the bathroom door swung open, and a very naked Minho stepped out from the wisps of steam.

You screamed, scrambling back on the bed, and grabbed for the first solid object your hands could find—a rusted candelabra on the nightstand. Brandishing it at Minho in horror, you stammered, “Did I—did you—did we—”

Minho looked just as bewildered as you, one hand shooting up as if in surrender. With a yowl, the ginger cat leapt onto the green couch, but neither of you spared it a glance. Minho’s other hand, you realised, was gripping the towel wrapped around his waist as if his life depended on it. Okay, so he wasn’t naked—thank heavens—but that did nothing to stop the sour panic steadily rising in your throat. His gesture sent a vague memory rippling through your muddled mind. That’s right. Last night—the Christmas party at Changbin’s fraternity. You had bumped into Minho, just your rotten luck—the boy you’d despised since high school, and under the mistletoe, to boot. Your mind flashed back to how you’d furiously chugged the drink a frat boy had handed you to fill in the awkwardness, and had desperately tried to eject yourself from the conversation.

Then police sirens had sounded throughout the frat house, students scrambling like cockroaches and hurriedly hiding their marijuana—and that was the last thing you remembered before you had blacked out entirely.

You turned back towards Minho, one hand clamped over your eyes and the other around the candelabra. Two more cats had slinked out from under the bed—a tabby, and another ginger—and were joining the first one in watching the commotion. You put two and two together, voice growing shrill. “Did you—drug my drink, Lee Minho?”

He sputtered, and you could almost imagine his eyes bugging out. “Did I—” he raked a hand through his wet hair, composing himself. “I thought you took something—you were out cold the second you finished your drink.”

Fragments of the night before were slowly returning to you, and with increasing dread you recalled the solo cup you had taken without looking twice, the frat boy who had winked at you with a greasy smile.

“I think you got roofied, princess,” came Minho’s voice, surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t call me princess,” you snapped back automatically, but grudgingly lowered the candelabra. Cautious, you peered through your fingers, and immediately regretted it when you were met with Minho’s shit-eating smirk agaain.

“Not gonna lie, it took me by surprise. Since when did you become a party girl, showing up to Changbin’s parties?” He reached back into the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair with a smaller towel. “Here I was, thinking you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, well, you clearly haven’t,” you shot back coldly, counting off your fingers with a biting laugh. “Treating people like your personal toys or stepping stones. Messing around with multiple girls a night. Drinking like there’s no tomorrow.” 

If your words stung Minho, he certainly didn’t show it—only raising his eyebrows in that way that had infuriated you for as long as you’d known. The typical Lee Minho look of nonchalant contempt, spiked with a shot of amusement to give the impression that he didn’t give a single damn. You hadn’t run into him since—well, since that incident back in high school, and the memories his mere expressions could still rouse made your skin crawl.

Minho watched you curiously—sheets still wrapped around you like makeshift battle armour, your hand wielding the candelabra he’d thrifted from a garage sale, Rapunzel-style—and he had to fight the genuine smile tugging at his sneer. His chest felt...funny, fluttery, even, and not in the gut-wrenching, hangover way he had grown so used to. He almost wished it was, because this new feeling made it seem as though the ground had suddenly been ripped out from under his feet, and that terrified him.

The party. Some snitch had called the cops on them, and that had promptly shut the party down. The flood of panicked students evacuating had shoved Minho flush against the wall, and you flush against his chest. When he hadn’t felt you shoving him away immediately, Minho had almost felt his heart swell with a strange, terrifying shred of hope—until, upon closer look, he had noticed that your entire body had gone limp, glass empty and eyes fluttering shut. 

Panicking, Minho had carried you out of the house, clawing out of the sea of elbows and overheated limbs until he had reached the main road. Mind racing, he had fished his phone from his pocket and called the only mutual acquaintance the two of you had—your boyfriend.

But when Minho had explained what had happened—hey, uh, your girlfriend’s out cold at Changbin’s party, so you might want to come pick her up—Taehyun had scoffed, a harsh bark of laughter that had made Minho’s ears hurt. 

“Yeah? The hell’s it to me? That bitch’s your problem now.”

Before Minho could choke out a surprised reply, Taehyun had hung up. 

Trouble in paradise? He had thought to himself amusedly, before remembering his own situation. Then, the fact that he had no idea where you lived, and he couldn’t very well leave you, unconscious, out on the street. In the end, he had brought you to his last resort—his apartment. 

Carefully stepping over the trail of shattered ornaments his ex-girlfriend had left behind during their fight, Minho had lowered you onto the couch—then, with a second thought and a deep sigh, he’d lifted you onto the bed, tucking the white comforter over your slack body. Sipping a hangover concoction, he’d stood over your sleeping figure contemplatively, a mix of bemusement and worry churning in his gut, before deciding he was probably being mildly creepy and collapsing for the night on the velvet couch. 

“Look,” Minho began, shaking his head as though clearing his thoughts and turning his attention back on you, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but I—we—didn’t—do anything. You were out cold last night.”

Hands shaking, you peeled back the covers—and the smallest sigh of relief left your tightened chest when you saw that you were still wearing the same jeans and top as last night—albeit creased, stained, and reeking of marijuana and booze, but completely intact. The next moment, though, a wave of anxiety washed over you and you clutched the sheets closer, fingers trembling. Someone had still slipped something into your drink at that party. And if the party hadn’t come to a screeching halt—no, you realised, with an inward groan of frustration, if your sworn enemy hadn’t been there, there was no telling how much worse things could have gone. 

The thought made you shudder, panicked tears pricking at your sore eyes. Damn it ll. Here you were, sitting in Lee Minho’s bed, of all people—about to cry in front of him while he watched. Your humiliation—a belated Christmas present for him, no doubt. 

But when you glanced at his face, you were startled at the expression on his face. It was unfamiliar—not exactly condescending, or vicious, or even mildly smug. His lips—rosy from the hot shower—were pressed together slightly, eyebrows almost knitting together in a frown. 

Maybe he was holding back laughter?

Minho’s eyes had caught the way your lips had begun to tremble as you curled in on yourself, and had instinctively moved forward before freezing. What could he do? Give you a hug? He was sure he would end up with a candlestick in his eye if he tried. Comfort you? The words seemed to dissolve to sand on his tongue. He cursed himself silently. Words and actions came so easily with all the other girls—endless sweet talk and flirting, until he had them wrapped around his finger. With you—even after all these years—he was left frozen, mind blank, and only that damned feeling in his chest.

“She’s not yours,” came Changbin’s voice from the previous night, ringing in his ears.

“I know,” he had replied. But why did acknowledging it feel like ripping a Band-Aid off of a nearly-healed wound? Like he had reopened the scar, along with all its pain once again? 

Maybe it was because after all these years, Minho still clung onto the hope that you would hear him out, just once.

Gesturing helplessly, he found himself offering the only sort of comfort he seemed to know how to. “Do you want—uh...some wine? The fridge’s empty, and maybe it’ll calm your nerves a bit.” He tilted his head when you didn’t reply, trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Do we need wine?”

Forgetting momentarily that he was nearly naked, you lifted a withering, exasperated gaze at him, getting an eyeful of his bare chest before yelping and burying your face in the covers again. “No. You know what—I need wine—you need to put some damn pants on.”

You could hear his devilish grin return to his voice then, even through the covers. “But life is so freeing without them.”

“Pants. On. Now.”

to be continued

[renjuseyo]

I guess i will try requesting then~

Chan

No one ever give male reader chocolate before on valentine day so he's surprised when reader find a chocolate with a note on his desk. It turns out to be chan, who is also jihoon younger brother and reader underclassmen. Reader ask for a time because he never date before and don't know how to do about it. So maybe story about their relationship after the confession? I will leave how it's gonna be turn out to you because i think you're better at this ☺️ 💞

sweetest thing ; dino

group: seventeen

pairing: lee chan / reader (male)

synopsis: you’ve never quite stood out at school, being more of a wallflower. so on valentines’s day, you’re a little more than surprised to see a box of chocolates and a note addressed to you.

genre: fluff, crack if you squint

ahhh my first request!! this prompt is very cute, but i’m not sure if i did a good job with it and i kind of wrote the last part in a rush if you couldn’t tell ^^” i hope this satisfies you, and as always, feedback is much appreciated~

- reader is a part of the ‘96 line. order goes as junhui > hoshi > wonwoo > reader > woozi

title inspiration: sweetest thing by seventeen

“...and of course, like the confident leo that i am-”

“-confident? you dropped, ducked and rolled in the convenient store the other day because i mentioned their names. look at me, i’m choi seungcheol who’s head-over-heels in love with yoon jeonghan and joshua hong, but i’m a coward who watches from afar!” wonwoo mocks.

seungcheol sends him his most threatening glare, but wonwoo nonchalantly blinks back. “that’s a thing of the past! i’m a changed man now, wonwoo.”

you walk up the stairs to the third floor laughing. “hyung. i barely know the two of them, but they made more progress establishing a friendship- well, relationship now- than you ever had. you are literally a coward.” seungcheol makes an offended noise as wonwoo cackles behind you, and you spin around to fist bump him. having known the two of them since childhood, you and wonwoo have made it your sole duty to shoot seungcheol down when the opportunity presents itself. the perks of being friends for so long, you suppose.

seungcheol jogs up beside you two, glaring at your smug smirks. “you two are just jealous you’re single! at least i gained the courage to confess to them!” he exclaims, exasperated.

you and wonwoo exchange incredulous looks, and he knows he’s only digging a deeper grave for himself. “firstly, we were the ones that pushed you to even meet up with them,” wonwoo begins.

“and secondly, they were the ones that confessed, because you kept on getting tongue-tied!” you finish. you turn to fist bump each other once again.

the older of you three visibly deflates, throwing his hands up in defeat. “i actually hate you two. can i not have my moment of glory?” he whines.

you roll your eyes as you approach your classroom, sliding the door open. seungcheol’s lingering at the wall, since his class is a few doors down from your’s and wonwoo’s. “you’re getting a little too cocky there, my boy. maybe in five years you can try boasting again.”

“i’m older than you?!”

you stick your tongue out at him, who storms away from you and wonwoo in a huff. your jabs at him have always been made in lighthearted fun, and you know he’d tell you and wonwoo to stop if he truly felt uncomfortable. but making fun of his love life is always amusing, especially since it provides you something new to look forward to amidst the mundane hours of school. it’s not like you and wonwoo have anything going on in your usual life, much less your love life.

but apparently the fates has something in store for you today, because the moment you step into the classroom, you notice two of your classmates lingering by your desk. you recognize them as jeongyeon, your friend and the class president, and soonyoung, a mutual friend of you and wonwoo. “what are you two doing?” you ask, approaching the duo.

“oh, hey (name). we were just passing out papers for ms. park when we noticed this on your desk!” soonyoung explains, pointing towards your desk. your eyes trail towards the small box neatly wrapped with a note tucked in between the ribbon. it’s not surprising to see gifts popping up on people’s desks, especially since today is valentines’ day. but you’re a wallflower, and you’ve never actually received a gift aside from the candy that kids in elementary school passed out to the whole class. if it weren’t for your name written in thick letters, you would’ve mistaken it for someone else’s.

jeongyeon gives you an apologetic look. “sorry (name), i tried dragging soonyoung away, but you know how curious he can be.”

apparently wonwoo knows you’ve never received a gift before either, nudging you with that unmistakable grin on his face. it’s the one he has whenever he makes fun of seungcheol, but this time, it’s directed towards you. “it seems our little (name) here has gotten a valentines’s gift~!” he teases.

you seat yourself at your desk, curiously staring at the present. you have five minutes before class starts, so what harm is there in opening it up? your fingers make quick work of the ribbon, unfurling its shiny restraints off the box. you’re about to unfold the note before you notice three pairs of curious eyes staring at you. “do you mind?” you ask. soonyoung and jeongyeon quickly apologize and straighten up, but wonwoo merely smirks. you make a mental note to apologize to seungcheol for your relentless teasing. reluctantly, you unfold the note and read its contents.

happy valentine’s’ day hyung! i hope this letter reaches you safely :)

~ your secret admirer

ps. i know you don’t like nuts, so i advise you don’t eat the ones on the bottom row! they all have nuts in them. on the other hand, if you don’t like chocolate or are allergic, feel free to give these to someone else! i wouldn’t want to poison you!

you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, because even if you don’t know who said admirer is, you think that he’s incredibly endearing, if his note is anything to go by. you refold the note and place it on top of your desk. when you remove the lid of the box, you’re surprised to see an assortment of chocolates all with different designs.

jeongyeon gasps in awe. “those are the pricey chocolates from carat, that patisserie! they sell pastries, but i hear their chocolates are wicked good.”

like the best friend that he is, wonwoo leans towards you, wiggling his eyebrows. “expensive chocolates, eh? this admirer of yours must mean serious business if they spent money on you~” he teases.

“he,” you correct, plucking a piece out. “he used hyung.”

wonwoo sighs, wiping away a fake tear. “our son is all grown up now. i feel like a proud dad,” he whistles.

you don’t have time to smack him because the bell rings, signalling the beginning of first period.

when wonwoo approaches you during lunch, you know he has something to share, if the mischievous glint in his eyes is anything to go by. “(name), have you eaten your chocolates yet?” he asks.

you’re already wincing, feeling seungcheol’s piercing eyes at your back. “chocolates? what chocolates?”

wonwoo gives you a knowing smirk, the corners of his lips lifting up like the cheshire cat’s. “he didn’t tell you? our dear boy here-” he pauses to smack your back, though it comes out a little too hard than anticipated. he seems to notice this too, hiding behind seungcheol’s back as you send him a withering glare. “-received a box of chocolates and a confession during first period today,” he explains.

seungcheol gasps with wide eyes. “what! and you didn’t think to tell me?”

you shrug, looking away. “i didn’t think it was-”

“-do not tell me it isn’t that important, because it is! now i get to tease you about your love life,” he cuts off, cackling. you lean forward to steal a kimbap from his lunchbox, eliciting a scream from him. nearby students shoot you three weirded out looks, though you could care less, shoving the kimbap into your mouth.

you roll your eyes at seungcheol’s sullen expression. “to answer your question, wonwoo, no, i have not finished the chocolates. soonyoung helped me eat a few though.”

wonwoo gives you an offended look. “why would you give that leech anything? he’ll just come back for more. plus, they’re a gift from someone else! why would you just give them away?” he asks.

you shrug, pulling a piece out from the box. “eating that many chocolates isn’t good for me. and i don’t really like the nutty ones, so i gave them to soonyoung. it’s not like i’m dumping them away altogether.”

wonwoo shakes his head. “you have no soul. it’s no wonder you’ve been single for so long.”

“i’m sorry for not swooning over a confession, mr. i-know-everything-about-romance,” you retort. you pluck out a diamond-shaped chocolate decorated with hazelnuts and pass it to seungcheol, who devours it the moment he sees it. “plus, that’s not the only gift i’ve gotten.” dragging your backpack towards you, you unzip it to find it overflowing with more boxes. “it seems that at the end of every period, a new box just presents itself on my desk. so far, i’ve gotten chocolates, peach-flavored gummies, a can of iced coffee, and a stuffed dinosaur. they all have cute notes attached to them, too.” the duo coo at the gifts, though you can see them specifically eyeing the consumables.

he seats himself beside you, stealing a piece of chocolate from you. “well, you know jihoon, your neighbor? he said he found another box on your desk and wanted me to give it to you.” he rummages through his backpack and slides out another box with a note attached to it. you and seungcheol curiously eye it before you grab it from wonwoo’s backpack.

“open it!” seungcheol whispers, eyes gleaming with curiosity. you roll your eyes; why are your friends more invested than you are? reluctantly you untie the ribbon and remove the note, but this time you open the box first. you’re surprised to see a slice of strawberry cake nestled inside a plastic container. judging from seungcheol’s dramatic gasp, you guess it’s from the same patisserie. you pay no mind to him though, moving onto the note.

i hope this letter reaches you safely! i got you this cake because i know you like strawberries. do you like them because they’re as sweet as you?

~ your secret admirer, lee

“wow, he’s getting bold! putting out a last name now,” wonwoo chortles.

you turn back to the slice of cake. so far, you know that your secret admirer is younger than you with a last name of lee, and he knows you well enough to know you dislike nuts and like strawberries. before you can narrow down potential admirers, you can hear someone yell out. you barely have time to register a basketball slamming down beside you, startling you so much you nearly fall over.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you look up after recovering from your near-death experience to see chan. he lives right across from you, yet you only know he’s your underclassman and is jihoon’s younger brother. he looks awfully concerned, though you suppose that’s natural, considering how he nearly crushed you with a basketball.

you send him a reassuring smile. “it’s okay.” it may just be your imagination, but you swear you see a blush creeping up his cheeks. perhaps it’s just the heat from the sun, you guess. he bends forward to pick up the ball, apologizing once again, but you catch his eyes lingering on the slice of cake on your lap. you don’t have time to question it though, because he’s already jogging towards his other friends.

wait a minute. your secret admirer is someone younger than you, has the last name of lee, and knows you well enough to discern your likes and dislikes...

“i think i know who my admirer is,” you blurt, staring at chan’s retreating silhouette. seungcheol and wonwoo look surprised; you’ve always been quick at solving problems, but having done so before the end of the school day is an impressive feat, even for you.

“well? out with it!” seungcheol exclaims, eyes wide with anticipation.

you don’t have time to tell him or contemplate your next move, because then the bell rings, signalling the end of lunch.

you’ve laid out a solid plan: confront your secret admirer, turn him down because you have no dating experience whatsoever, and continue your last year smoothly. there should be no hitches in your plan, because having no experience and not wanting to hinder them should be excuse enough. plus, you doubt you’re worthy of being someone’s object of affections for a long time.

it seems your secret admirer isn’t done with his gifts, because even after lunch the gifts have been reappearing. they’re all very sweet, though you wonder why he chose you of all people, especially if the feeling may not be reciprocated. however, there aren’t any more hints that could lead you to him other then the cheesy compliments he writes you.

the school day has officially ended, and everyone is bustling around, desperate to leave. you’re sipping on a bottle of strawberry milk your admirer had gotten you while listening to a heated debate between soonyoung and wonwoo about the superiority of mint chocolate chip ice cream. “you actually have no taste buds, wonu,” soonyoung retorts.

“it tastes like toothpaste. of course you would like it,” wonwoo snaps.

“it tastes like toothpaste,” he mocks. “you haters use the same excuse every time. come back to me when you have a valid reason.”

 “it tasting like toothpaste is reason enough!”

you chuckle at wonwoo’s exasperation. personally you’re on soonyoung’s side in this new debate. wonwoo just doesn’t have taste buds. you’re about to support soonyoung’s side when, from the corner of your eyes, you see jihoon lingering by his desk, as if he’s waiting for something. “hey guys, i’ll be right back.” you excuse yourself from their conversation, eyes never leaving jihoon’s frame.

“wait! (name), mint chocolate chip, yay or nay?” soonyoung hollers.

“yay,” you answer. you can hear soonyoung cheering behind you, probably breaking out into his little victory dance. wonwoo’s muttering something about having tasteless friends, but you’re only half paying attention. you push through clusters of students before stopping in front of jihoon’s desk. “hey, can i talk to you for a moment?”

jihoon looks startled to see you, which only furthers your assumptions. “me?” you nod. “...sure.”

the two of you step out of the classroom and into an empty part of the hallway. a trio of girls passes you two, chatting about their plans for valentines’s day. one girl is talking about taking her girlfriend out to hotpot, while another is talking about binge-watching romance dramas with her boyfriend. you wonder how people can just jump into a relationship with no experience whatsoever. there isn’t a manual to it, so how do people know they’re doing it right?

you’re pulled out of your thoughts when jihoon clears his throat. “listen, correct me if i’m wrong, but i have an idea on why you brought me out here. but my answer is no. i’m sorry, i have a boyfriend, but i have a younger brother who-”

you turn to face him with wide eyes. “wait, what? what did you think i came out here for?”

jihoon gives you an incredulous look. “well, it’s valentines’s day, meaning everyone’s confessing to people they’ve liked. is that not what you’re doing? i’m flattered, but-”

“-i thought you were going to confess to me!” you exclaim. he gives you a blank stare, and suddenly you feel like you’ve been transported to some corny romance comedy. this is obviously the big comedy part. sighing, you pull out the most recent note, waving it around. “you’re younger than me by two months, your last name is lee, and we’re neighbors and classmates. you’ve probably heard me express my disdain for nuts and love for strawberries before. plus, you were the one who gave wonwoo the cake! who else could my secret admirer be?”

all of a sudden, a loud laugh rips out from jihoon’s chest, and you feel like you’re missing something very obvious and very crucial right now. “i admit that you’re handsome, but i have a boyfriend, and i’m very loyal to him.” he pauses to give you a mysterious smile. “but i do know who your secret admirer is.”

you widen your eyes in surprise. “really? who is it?”

he approaches you, pulling out a slip of paper out of his pocket. “i have been the one putting gifts on your desk, but only because i was told to do so.” he hands you the note, and you unfold it and read its contents.

the final note of the day! can you guess who i am? if you so desire, meet me at the basketball court beside the cafeteria after school today :)

~ your secret admirer, lee

“he’s waiting for you.” you look up at jihoon, who’s folding his arms. “now if you’ll excuse me, i’m off to get some boba. oh, and can you tell him he owes me twelve-thousand won? and no skimping this time!”

you’re standing by the cafeteria entrance leading to the basketball court, heart beating at a fast pace. you aren’t sure why you feel so nervous, especially with a solid plan in mind. as you lean against the door, trying to calm your heart rate, you catch chan at the court, shooting hoops. with wobbly legs, you start making your way down the stairs. at the sound of a newcomer, chan stops dribbling the basketball and turns to face you. “oh, hi hyung.” he pauses, watching you nervously look around. “are you waiting for someone, perhaps?”

you nod, eyes wandering the horizon. “you could say that, yeah. what about you?”

“yeah, i’ve been waiting for you.”

today has just been filled with surprises, you note, turning to face chan. he’s giving you an innocent smile, ball tucked between his arm. “i beg your pardon?”

he shrugs, shyly fiddling with the hem of his school uniform. “um... surprise?”

seeing how bashful chan is has you piecing the puzzle pieces together. your secret admirer is younger than you... chan’s your underclassman. his last name is lee... chan’s full name is lee chan. he knows you don’t like nuts but like strawberries... your parents are friends, and his mother always brings over fresh strawberries for you to eat. he’s jihoon’s little brother, so it’s no wonder you came so close. now that you think about it, it makes perfect sense.

...but it doesn’t. because aside from the times you drop food over at their place, you never talk to him. how can he like someone he barely knows?

chan inhales, straightening the wrinkles of his shirt. “um... hi hyung. i’m your secret admirer, and i’ve liked you since i was a first year. it would be really cool if you accepted my confession?” he frames it as a question, probably to make you feel less nervous, but it does nothing to ease your nerves. from the way you’re standing before him, frozen in place, his smile falls. “or not...?”

“i’m flattered, chan, i really am...” you glance up at him, and the sad smile he has on his face, the one bracing for rejection, breaks your heart a little. “but... there’s a few things we have to take in account. first of all, i barely know you. i don’t know about you, but i’m not quite ready to jump into a relationship, much less with someone i barely know, even if we’re neighbors. i also don’t have any experience in dating. and there’s also the age difference. i’m graduating this year. chan, you’re a cool guy, but do you really want to date someone who you barely know, who has no experience, and will be away before you know it?” you ask, listing out the different factors.

if seungcheol or wonwoo were here, they would reprimand you for coming up with excuses. but what else can you do? you’re being realistic, even if it may sound harsh. you look up at chan, who’s sad expression is replaced with one of determination. “all of your reasons do make sense. but hyung, i don’t think you should make judgments on who i am. like you said, we barely know each other, but i would love to get to know you more. you’re really nice, and you’re someone i look up to.” he approaches you with such confidence that you feel yours knees getting weak. “i don’t have any experience, either. and about the age difference... i can always wait. because i really like you, hyung. i understand if you can’t accept this confession, but i just wanted to tell you before you graduate. and truthfully, i’d appreciate it more if you just told me you didn’t like me instead of listing excuses.”

well, your whole plan is thrown out the window now. you gulp at the bitterness seeping through his voice. “the thing is, i don’t know you well enough to make any conclusions.” you pause. “this may sound selfish, but... could you give me some time to figure things out? i wouldn’t be opposed to learning more about you, but i don’t want to make it sound like i’m leading you on. that being said, just because i’m figuring things out doesn’t mean i won’t be upset if you decide to move on. you deserve someone who’s made up their mind, anyways.”

there isn’t an immediate response from chan, which makes you feel anxious. but then he approaches you with a wide grin, his whole face alight with hope. “i can give you all of the time in the world!” he chirps. you aren’t quite sure why he’s so happy... does he really like you enough to behave this way? “i promise you won’t regret being friends with me.”

you smile at his giddiness. “thank you for understanding. i’m really sorry about not being conclusive.”

he shakes his head with such fervor you’re reminded of a golden retriever with his blonde hair and all. “it’s okay. i’ve long accepted that not everyone can be a hundred percent sure about everything like i am. that being said...” he pauses to extend a hand towards you. “hi there, my name is lee chan, a second year. what about you?”

you chuckle. might as well start this friendship on a new foot, you suppose. extending your hand to shake his, you smile. “hi, my name is (first name) (last name), a third year. pleased to meet you.”

and that was two years ago, when you and chan were in your late teens, still navigating the hardships of high school and paving a path towards the future. truthfully, you had forgotten how your relationship with chan began in the first place, considering how you two are close-knit best friends now (though not as close as you are with seungcheol and wonwoo. they wouldn’t allow it, anyways). now, you’re a second year in university, still trying to navigate the trying hardships life throws at you. chan attends the same school as you, majoring in dance.

you’re sitting inside a booth in mcdonald’s with seungcheol and wonwoo, along with the new addition of jihoon. ironically enough, you two had gotten close after that event, and he had quickly assimilated himself into your little group. to seungcheol’s dismay, he’s a carbon copy of you and wonwoo, and now his tormentors have increased by one.

“so, valentines’s’ plans anyone?” you ask, taking a sip from your soda.

seungcheol dreamily sighs. “hannie, shua and i are going to a drive-in theater. aren’t they the best?” you exchange looks with wonwoo and jihoon. even now that they’ve graduated, he’s still hopeless as ever.

“yes. very cool,” jihoon deadpans. seungcheol throws a fry at him, but he catches it in his mouth with scary accuracy. “i don’t understand why people glorify valentines’s day when it’s just a corporate holiday.”

wonwoo snorts, taking a bite from his chicken sandwich. “and yet you’re the one with the most extravagant plans. aren’t you the one who’s going to treat jun to a fancy restaurant and then take him shopping?”

jihoon shrugs. “i’d much rather go to a ramen shop or do something low key, but junhui likes to do fancy things for holidays.” he turns to face you. “what about you, lover boy?”

“who are you calling lover boy?” you ask, stealing one of seungcheol’s fries. “and no, i have no plans. yay for single people.” all of a sudden, the booth falls silent. when you look up, you’re startled to see three pairs of eyes intensely staring you down. “what?”

“you have no right to say that. that’s wonwoo’s phrase.”

“hey!” wonwoo splutters, glaring at jihoon.

“don’t listen to them. but dude, you’re still single?” seungcheol asks.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at them. they all look at one another, and you recognize that look. it’s the one you and wonwoo would give each other whenever seungcheol said something embarrassing in front of his crushes. well, boyfriends now.

seungcheol sighs. “it’s been two years already, (name). you’re telling me now that you and chan are just friends?”

before you can protest, wonwoo takes out his spoon out of his mcflurry, waving it in front of you. “and don’t give me the i’m still thinking crap, because i see the way you look at him. that’s the gayest look you could give someone, and i’m surrounded by gay people.”

if you’re being honest, your impression on chan has improved since becoming friends with him, and you’d be lying if you said you only saw him in a platonic light. but chan has been waiting for you for a while now, so even if you were to jump into a relationship, it would probably take forever to make any progress considering how neither of you have experience. chan deserves better than having to wait around. “he doesn’t-”

“-deserve to wait around for me and he deserves better. we get it, dude, we really do,” jihoon interrupts. “but i’m his older brother, so i know him better than he knows himself. and let me tell you that he’ll wait for you like a puppy until you give him a definitive answer.” he stares you down, and suddenly you realize he’s entered protective brother mode. “if you like him, just tell him. so what if he deserves better? if he thinks so, he’ll tell you. worst comes to worst, you have three other guys to comfort you.” he gestures at seungcheol and wonwoo, who nod.

really, you do understand that the worst that could happen is you feel heartbroken. you know chan isn’t the type to throw you away like trash, botched confession or not. and yet a small part of you is afraid of telling him, because then you’d have to tell him about your insecurities, too.

“i’ll think about it, okay?” you tell them. the trio all give each other another knowing look; the last time you told someone you’d think something out, two years had passed.

“just two guys, sitting five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay~” chan sings from the kitchen.

you roll your eyes, sitting on the couch. “i can’t believe you came here just to raid my fridge.”

he hums, reentering the living room with a bowl of strawberries in hand. he flops down beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulder. you think back to the vine he had been reciting moments ago, because they are definitely not five feet apart, and you’re very much gay. “come on, it’s valentines’s day. you won’t even spare some room for your favorite dongsaeng? what happened to singles for life?” he asks, throwing a strawberry in his mouth.

that’s the problem, you bitterly think to yourself. i kind of don’t want to be single for life. he’s oblivious to your turmoil though, grabbing your phone and scrolling through netflix. you decide to distract yourself by eating your bitterness away, but now your favorite fruit just reminds you of the botched confession from years ago.

you two had decided to binge-watch naruto again, and before you know it, the whole evening has passed by. you’re watching team seven make their way through the forest of death when you feel something on you. chan’s head, you discovered too late, is resting on your shoulder, and now you’re feeling bothered. the problem is, he isn’t even sleeping. “what are you doing?” you ask, nervously laughing.

chan doesn’t say anything, instead moving to lock your hands together. now you’re really bothered. “a little birdie told me that you had something to tell me,” he hums.

you clear your throat. “jihoon wouldn’t appreciate you calling him little,” you laugh. chan giggles at that, but his head or hand never leaves you. he must know about your not-so-platonic feelings now, because before establishing a friendship you two had clearly stated there were to be no hugs or hand holding until you had figured out your feelings. well, here goes nothing, you suppose.

“do-”

“-i think i like you but i’m not experienced and i don’t even know if i want a relationship and you deserve better than waiting around for me,” you blurt. the room suddenly falls silent, the sounds from the television more prominent than ever.

you’re already going through the several stages of regret until chan nuzzles into you, nosing your neck. at this point you might as well die from embarrassment. you’re supposed to be the cool, suave upperclassman chan looks up to, not the flustered puddle he’s reduced you to. his breath is fanning your skin, goosebumps dotting your body. “what did i tell you when i first confessed, hyung? don’t go making assumptions for me.”

you scoot away from him, releasing his hold on your hand. “i don’t even know if you like me still, and even if you did, jumping into a relationship is already going to take time. i’m just wasting your time.”

at this, chan furrows his eyebrows. “you are definitely not wasting my time, hyung. i told you before, didn’t i? i would wait for your answer. and,” he continues, gripping your shoulders. you’re shorter than chan by only a centimeter, yet you feel impossibly small in his hands. “i still like you. the way i feel about you hasn’t wavered once.”

you gulp, face a bright red. “so... what does this mean now? are we boyriends?”

he shrugs. “i’m just as clueless as you, hyung. are labels really a necessity?”

you laugh. “i suppose not, are they?”

“we can figure this out in five more business days,” he jokes, causing you to giggle. he leans forward to wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder again, surprising you.

you grumble, digging your warm face in his shoulder. “when have you gotten so charismatic, chan?” you ask, voice muffled. “you’ve really grown up now.”

chan hums in satisfaction, tightening his grip on you. “learned from jun-hyung. how else do you think he and hyung started dating?”

[juniorgman187]

Malchance (Reid Fic) - Part 2

Summary: The only thing reader can count on is her bad luck and what it’ll get her into. In this case, it’s the lioness’ den - the lioness being Cat Adams.

Category: Angst, Fluffy Ending Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Canon-consistent trauma, brief mention of daddy issues, blood, manipulation, yelling, deceit (Let me know if I missed anything) Playlist: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd Word Count: 5k

READ PART 1 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

“There’s going to be a key to cracking Cat,” Ms. Prentiss explained to me. 

“A key?” 

“You’ll know it when you find it.” 

That was probably the most ambiguous advice I could’ve gotten, but it’s the one she sent me into the field with and the one that loomed in the back of my head as everything unfolded.

The plan the team and I agreed upon, which ironically Dr. Reid knew no part of, was that after Cat and him went to the rink, they’d come back to his apartment, where I would be waiting. Posing as his concerned girlfriend, the unexpected presence of competition would enrage Cat. With the wrath of a woman scorned, she’ll be furious enough to slip up and make a mistake. 

I’ve heard that she’s done her best, or arguably her worst, when she’s prepared, so this curveball might just put an end to the reign of Queen Cat. 

As far as the outlined plan of events went, sure, it was simple. As for me? 

No shot in hell that I’d be able to pull this off.

There was seemingly no feasible reality where I could outsmart her until she made a mistake or keep on the facade long enough to deceive her. The entire success of the plan hinged on my abilities or her lack of propriety. Not exactly betting odds, if you ask me. 

And yet, against everything, I was still walking into the lion’s den on my own volition, making myself right at home, acting like this was exactly where I belonged. When in reality, this was the last place I should’ve been.

“You got this, okay?” Someone in my earpiece chirped. Just out of paranoia, I pressed the device further in, un-tucking the strands of hair behind my ear to better conceal it. Even that wasn’t enough to lower the specter of my doubt. I prayed that she was lax in her vetting tonight.

“Spencie!” A giggly shriek from outside the door sent one large shock wave through my entire body. It was so sharp like they were right there. The sound of heavy footsteps followed, and my stomach churned in anticipation. I already hated this.

How did I even get here? 

Oh, right - malchance. 

I contemplated cracking my knuckles to self-soothe, but then I remembered what Ms. Prentiss told me about ‘tells.’

“Bodily tells are how people can read the emotions you’re not directly expressing. A majority of what profilers use to study behavior is your body language. Unfortunately, some of the best profilers are the unsubs themselves. She’ll know what you’re feeling if you show her. So stay strong.”

Stay strong. 

Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the fear from washing over me when the pair of muffled voices outside became clearer as they entered the apartment. 

I must’ve caught them in the middle of something, but I couldn’t exactly deduce what, seeing as they stopped when they saw me, which was before I turned around.

Dr. Reid was floored by my being there, but at least, he had a look of recognition. It wasn’t enough that he merely distinguished me to settle the worry I had about the fact that the BAU hadn’t told him I would be here. If I could, I would have, but they each advised against it. They needed his raw reaction just as much as they needed her’s. 

One ghastly look up and down and I could tell she came to the exact conclusion the team anticipated she would - that I’m her new competition. 

“Spencie - who is this?” 

Her dehumanization of me made Dr. Reid viscerally guilty for having extended an opportunity to let yet another person suffer the corollaries of her cruelty. He shook his head softly at me as though to say, ‘I’m sorry.’ An interesting choice - that that was what he chose to nonverbally say to me first. He didn’t even ask me with his eyes why I was here or what I was doing - he just apologized. 

What has this poor man been through?

“I’m his girlfriend,” I answered for him before the silence could get suspiciously long. By inserting myself in the conversation, I was following what the BAU suggested I should do earlier. Stand your ground. You can’t be afraid to speak up to her. “I’m (y/n). You are?”

I held out my hand for a handshake that was never returned. Instead, all I got back was an ice cold stare. 

She’s reading your body language, an inner voice I didn’t even recognize called from within me. Soon after I realized it wasn’t my conscience speaking - it was Ms. Prentiss. I’d forgotten I had an earpiece, much less that there were micro cameras littered all over the apartment so they could have a firsthand view of this train wreck. How could anyone voluntarily watch this mess unravel? 

“And when did this happen?” Her voice went up an octave as she tilted her head with morbid curiosity, then let it roll back in Dr. Reid’s direction. “Spencer?”

“Five months ago,” he replied without missing a beat, keeping his eyes steady on mine. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve believed him, but that stare he was giving me said something more. What’s going on? He wondered.

Oh, Dr. Reid, if only I could tell you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” She asked through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Suddenly, the surface of her expressions liquified then melted away until I could see well beneath the anger, revealing the bodily tells of humiliation. 

I was profiling her, and I didn’t even know that I could. 

“You made me promise not to talk about anyone else except you tonight, remember?” He remarked with an uncharacteristic amount of edge behind his words. 

His outer mask was liquefying and transforming in its own right, too. As Cat became easier to read, the Doctor was slowly morphing into the man I first met - the man who was furious enough to throw an entire set of books off a table. The man who’s darkness made him impossible to read - made it impossible to think he’d ever been seen or touched by the light. 

She huffed and spun her head around so fast, it made her hair whip up and over her shoulder. The stern look upon her face fell for the briefest moment, and if it hadn’t been for everything I knew about her, I would’ve thought she looked pretty. She was pretty. But her soul, her sensibilities, they just ruined her. It was a shame really. 

She was tainted by wickedness in a way that I never would be, and for that, she had already come to the decisive determination that she hated me. 

“So how old are you, (y/n)?” Like a hawk hovering over its prey, she began to walk around me in a tight circle so she could scrutinize my every angle, discover every flaw, and poke at every button she could find. Precisely why she asked that question, too. She wanted to know where the similarities started and ended between us. She wanted to compare herself to me. Size me up, tear me down - lioness v. lioness. If she was gonna play dirty, then so be it. Two can play that game. 

“I’m 28.” A flat out lie. I’m 26. 

“Wow, I didn’t realize you had a type, Spencer,” She ruefully chuckled.

“And what’s that, Cat?” I couldn’t see him, but he sounded so unamused. 

“Jailbait.” 

There wasn’t much I could do besides move on from the subject. “Cat? Is it?” Considering she hadn’t told me her name before, I think Dr. Reid purposefully included it in his response so that I’d have a reason to know what it was. 

Smart move, Doctor. 

I wanted to smile from the way he was helping me out and working together with me, but my poker face stayed on.

“Catherine Adams,” She drew out the name to assert herself. I didn’t get to call her Cat like Dr. Reid did. That was his name for her and his name only. She made that point crystal clear. When I finally shrugged, she pounced once more.

“You really have no idea who I am? I’m hurt.” She fake pouted and put a hand to her heart to feign offense. “Spencer’s never mentioned me? Not once in your five months of dating?” Her emphasis on the timing of our ‘relationship’ showed her knowledge of the deceit, but she needed to do more than just put stress on one word. I wouldn’t back down that easily. 

“Why would he? You mean nothing to us.” Nastier words have never left my lips, and yet, I still made sure they were coated in the harshest tone I could muster up the courage to use. 

She scoffed and stopped walking around me to pull on Dr. Reid’s arm and force her mouth to make contact with his ear. Despite the closeness, he still refused to meet her eyes. He kept them locked on mine. 

“I mean nothing to you? Is that so?” Her breath was a jarring enough sensation on his neck to make his eyes shut. He was beyond uncomfortable. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell her what you told me at the rink?”

“What did you tell her, Spencer?” I was forcing him to speak, not because of the case, but because I wanted to know. Was that wrong?

“I …” The words got caught in his throat. “I told her that there’s some part of my brain, some part that she somehow inhabits.” 

A pang in my chest told me there was still more. That pang would be correct.

“No, go ahead, Spencie. Tell her the rest. Don’t be shy now.” 

He forced himself to look away from me as he said, “And no woman, no matter how good, no matter how kind, no matter how …”

“Say it,” She demanded, firmly tugging on his arm harder. 

“No matter how sexy she is, can ever get her out.” He looked repulsed by his own admission, and if I was being honest, so was I. 

“Are you in love with her?” Although I was venturing far off script, it felt like an appropriate response as his ‘girlfriend.’ It was my response. 

“No. I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you.” 

He’s such a pretty liar. 

Cat must’ve been annoyed by her lack of involvement in the conversation as she felt compelled to step in. “Prove it. Kiss her like you kissed me out there and I might believe you.”

Pretending to be hurt wasn’t hard. Not when I didn’t have to pretend. 

“You kissed her, too?” I had to ask.

Imagine if I were actually this poor guy’s girlfriend. Forget me - God help that girl. Even if this was all for the sake of the job, that wouldn’t have made it any better hearing what he’d confessed to her or what they did. 

Dr. Reid looked incredibly apologetic for someone that had nothing to apologize for. Sure, I was playing his girlfriend, but I wasn’t actually anyone of value in his life. So why did he look like he felt so goddamn guilty? 

“Ugh hurry up and kiss already!” Cat stomped her foot impatiently. 

As she released Dr. Reid, she gave him a strong shove in my direction, causing him to stumble right into me. He’d caught himself by grabbing onto my hips, while I stabilized him by clutching onto his forearms. 

His eyes were piercing through mine. I won’t kiss you unless I have your permission. His eyes read. 

Fighting against every reflex in my body that was resisting, I leaned closer. Then, right as I closed my eyes, I felt it. 

Not his lips. 

Blood.

My blood.

The coin-like taste shocked my eyes wide open so fast you would think I never even closed them in the first place. Abandoning my grip on his arm, I used my hand to block the sight of my bloody nose. 

(Y/n), what’s going on? Ms. Prentiss asked in my earpiece. 

“My nose is bleeding,” was my answer for everyone listening - Dr. Reid, Cat, and the BAU alike. 

“Are you alright?” He unhesitatingly shifted out of the role he seemed to be playing. His guard fell down to the point where it felt like nothing else mattered but to know that I was okay. It wasn’t Spencer and his fake girlfriend talking anymore, it was Dr. Reid and me again. 

“HELLO?! What’s going on?” The minute Cat’s shrilly voice hit the air, Dr. Reid shut it down with a steadfast hand. 

“Not now, Cat! Time out.” He motioned a T before he let an invisible magnetic force freely connect his hands onto my hips again. It seemed like he didn’t even touch me on his own accord but instead, it was the mere gravitational pull that brought his body back to mine. “This isn’t a game anymore.” His tone was unwavering as he walked me away from Cat and into the bathroom. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He whispered in a familiar tone after shutting the bathroom door behind himself. “You can leave now. You don’t have to keep doing this.” As though I were his grandmother’s delicate china, he hoisted me in the air momentarily to help me onto the sink with an almost unnecessarily large amount of caution. 

“I’m fine.” While I attempted to wave off his concern nonchalantly, traitorous butterflies swarmed my stomach at the feeling of his touch. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fine!” He scolded through an outpouring of laughter. “I can see the blood!” He underlined his words by pressing the toilet paper he retrieved on the spot under my nose where the blood was centralized. 

“Then don’t ask!” I just as playfully responded. 

“Alright, fine, fine,” He jokingly put his hands up in surrender. “What should I ask you then?”

I wish I was more uncomfortable than I truly was. Maybe then it would’ve been easier to lie to him. But there was something about how close he was to me or how unrelenting his stare was that made sincerity spill out from my every seam. 

“‘Why are you even here if you’re just ruining things?’” 

He looked so hurt despite the fact that the depreciation was directed at me. “Why would I ask you that?” 

“Because it’s true, isn’t it?” My eyes flashed to the door to ensure it was closed, but without the ability to guarantee that Cat wasn’t right outside listening in, I lowered my voice. “I’m way in over my head here. I have no idea what I’m doing and I feel like I’m just making things worse.” 

“None of that is true,” It sounded like a reprimand, the way he was defending me to me. “The team wouldn’t have asked you to be here if they didn’t think you could do it … and anyway, it’s kind of nice having a partner in crime.” 

He needed to watch his step before he began charting dangerous waters from which he could never escape. I was already playing with fire by allowing any real genuine emotion seep out around Cat. Except now that he’d thrown me a lifeline with his insinuation of liking my company, I knew, at least to some degree, that the feeling was mutual. I briefly calculated the risk until I ultimately decided to let my boldness rear its ugly head.

With the speed of light, I clicked off my earpiece with one hand and turned off Spencer’s with the other. He caught my wrist only after I’d successfully disabled the devices from allowing the team to hear us and us to hear them. 

“What are you doing?” “Why didn’t you kiss me?” 

Our questions came at the exact same time, and yet I didn’t repeat myself. 

I knew he heard me.

It was out of turn for me, given that I’d only briefly calculated the risk of asking this before doing it. It came out suddenly and then I couldn’t take it back. But I blame his gaze for my oversharing. It brought me so much comfort that I failed to recognize the discomfort my question had posed. 

He sort of laughed, saying, “Your nose was bleeding.” 

Under any other circumstance, I would have believed him. Unfortunately, he was exceptionally unconvincing, precisely because he didn’t look very sure of that explanation himself. 

While I’m sure my nose bleeding was a reason not to kiss me, it was most definitely not the reason. My honesty itself felt something like a nose bleed. For one thing, it annoyed me and was beyond my control. But for another, I wished I could find the source and pinch it off to make it stop. Stop it before I spilled out the words, “Oh, I get it ... you just didn’t want to kiss me.” 

“That was definitely not the problem,” He said a little too quickly and a little too adamantly that it made my head spin. In that response - he sounded very sure of himself, a complete contrast to his previous demeanor. 

“So why didn’t you?” I wish I could tell you why I was pressing the subject so hard. I’d like to think that if you were in my position, you’d want to know the answer as badly as I do now, which is the best rationale I could possibly come up with to justify what I said next.

“If you weren’t scared and if you didn’t not want to, then why didn’t you?” 

“(Y/n),” He averted my eyes by turning his head to the side, revealing a side smirk of contempt. I should’ve been mad that he was visibly frustrated because if anything - he was the one being frustrating. Instead, all I could think about was how I wanted to kiss that smirky mouth. Maybe to make the smirky-ness disappear. Or to control it.

Make it mine. 

“You’re running out of excuses, Dr. Reid. You’re going to have to kiss me eventually, so let’s just get this over with already.” Did I really just say that? 

“I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Kiss me!” Yes, I really did. 

“I’m not going to kiss you.” 

“Just kiss me!” 

“(Y/n), stop.” 

“God, Spencer, just kiss me already!”

“No!” His eyes found me again; This time they were wider. “Not like this!” 

Silence. 

Then he cleared his throat as if they’d somehow cover the confession that had already been said. 

“Not - I didn't mean - I just. We can't like that because that's not … do you know? Like it's very ... that's not what-" He continued to stammer until he mouthed one last “What?” to himself in complete disbelief of the words that had left his lips and the words that were still struggling to. 

Our brains must’ve been working at the exact same speed because while he couldn’t find the right words to say, I was still trying to process everything he already had. 

Without waiting for my response, he fled from the bathroom. When the door slammed shut, I whipped my body around to face the mirror, my fist tingling with the urge to punch the stupid girl staring back at me in the reflection. 

I knew I couldn’t take refuge in here for much longer unless I really wanted to piss Cat off. Which I totally did, but not if I couldn’t guarantee that Spencer wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. As confused and pissed off as he made me, I never wanted to hurt him.  

Once this realization dawned on me, another one had followed.

This was the key to cracking Cat. I’d found it. 

Like an overexcited bull bursting through the gates, I pushed my way out of the bathroom door seeing red. I saw Spencer first, standing in the corner of the room to monitor Cat from a distance. The aforementioned lioness herself was perched in an armchair, slouching in it comfortably as though she’d sat in that very seat a hundred times before. Not a single display of care in her conduct for the people whose lives she was actively trying to ruin. 

“So you finally ready to kiss your boyfriend yet?” If sarcasm were a liquid, it’d be dripping from her lips. She was so casually destructive when she spoke, like a loose-lipped bomb capable of going off at any minute but deliberately delaying the blow until it was guaranteed to wreak the most havoc on the most number of people. Seeing her in that light only made things easier.

“Forget the kiss, Cat. In fact, forget Spencer all together,” I waved my hand in his general direction behind me. Like him, I was standing, giving me all the power I needed to assert myself effectively. “It’s just you and me now. Exactly what you’ve wanted since the minute you stepped in here.”

She laughed ruefully, if only to make me insecure. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you scoped me out. You were doing that to figure out how alike we are, right?” 

She straightened a little more to sit up in her chair. She was hooked. “Why would I want to do that?” 

With my right foot, I swiped the foot rest out from underneath her legs, making her feet fall flat against the floor. Caught off guard by my swift movement, her upper body hurled forward while I took my seat on the foot rest, placing me directly across from her.

It wasn’t for a lack of dominance that I sat down. No, it was that I knew I had power over her, and I didn’t need to stand up anymore to prove it. 

“Feel free to stop me when I’m wrong,” I told her emphatically, knowing that would never happen. 

“You have always wanted Spencer. That’s just a fact. But deep down, you know he’s never truly wanted you. Sure, maybe he likes, even loves, the allure of your forbidden connection, but he doesn’t like or love you. And now that I’m here, the person he claims he loves in a way he’s never loved anyone before, you want to know just how similar we are. Because the more similarities you find between us, the more it kills you inside to wonder why he would love me over you if we’re practically the same. But you’ve only judged me from the outside, and we both know looks only go so far. So I’ll make it easier for you, Cat. I’ll tell you anything you want to know that way you can come up with an answer to the question you’ve been asking yourself the entire night: ‘Why her and not me?’”

She couldn’t pretend to be unfazed anymore. I had moved her beyond that. She was finally starting to react. 

“You would only be this confident if you already knew the answer to that question.” She concluded through gritted teeth. Her body was shaking all over, like the rage inside of her was boiling and her body was the feverish, bubbling water. “Do you know the answer?” 

I had nothing to hide. “Yes, I do.” 

“Tell me!” She threw down an iron fist against the top of her thigh. “Tell me what the answer is.” 

“You have more confidence in my answer than you’re ability to figure it out yourself? Come on, Cat. You couldn’t have gotten this far without your intelligence.”

“I don’t want to figure it out. I want you to tell me.” Her fist clamped around itself harder. 

“You don’t trust yourself to ask the right questions?”

“Just. Tell. Me.” Jaw clench.

“Alright, I’ll give you one similarity to start. We both have daddy issues-”

“I don’t care! Just give me the answer.” Foot tapping. 

“My grandma used to call my dad a ‘Bastard’ in French actually -” 

“Tell me!” Bodily tell after bodily tell, and I knew, I had done it. 

I beat the betting odds. 

“Fine, Cat. I’ll tell you what it is,” I had her undivided attention, and if I had eyes at the back of my head, I’d see I had Spencer’s, too. 

“The fundamental difference between you and me is that no matter what - I would never, ever, do anything to hurt Spencer. I have no compulsion to hurt him as a way to assert power over him or to make him fall at my feet. I can do that without ever having to go to the lengths that you’ve gone to. The power you wield over him is borne from a long-standing vendetta, whereas the power I wield, I resist using against him for revenge because that is what a morally sane person does. While I use my influence to help Spencer believe that he is a good person worthy of good treatment, you are constantly trying to prove that he is a bad person deserving of bad treatment. That he is anything like you.”

Her eyes just barely starting to water marked the last semblance of emotion I’d seen from Cat before the team swarmed the apartment and whisked her away. Then, the proverbial veneer of her mask had glazed back over her face, never to come off again. 

As Luke escorted her out in handcuffs, she gave me one last look over her shoulder. 

“How did you know about my dad?” 

You might think I slipped up when I told Cat that we were similar because of our daddy issues, therefore accidentally revealing that I knew more about Cat’s backstory than I led on, but that was purely by design. I had done that with the specific intention of setting this exact moment in motion. 

This moment where she would recognize that she’d overlooked my ‘mistake’ because of her lack of propriety. This moment where she would have to face the fact that she’d been deceived and outsmarted by me. 

This moment that she would think about until the day that needle went into her arm - the moment she realized - she let me win. 

_ _ _ 

As twisted as it may seem, the end to the reign of Queen Cat called for celebration. Penelope - she told me to call her that and not Ms. Garcia - had prepared cocktails galore in the round table room, which I’d actually been invited to enter this time. 

“You exceeded any expectations we had. The best we could’ve hoped for was no casualties, so I’m thrilled with the way things turned out tonight, and we couldn’t have done it without you,” Ms. Prentiss pulled me aside to say. “If you want it, there’s a spot waiting for you here on the team, and I really think you should consider taking it.”

To her proposal, I said I’d have to think about it, given that I’d hate to bestow my bad luck upon the team, but after tonight, I was about ready to declare my malchance a thing of the past. 

At this rate, I couldn’t distinguish whether I was dizzy from the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream or the job promotion from Secretary to Supervisory Special Agent. In any event, I knew I needed air. I slipped out of the conference room, past the glass doors of the bullpen, and waited patiently for the elevator. 

I must’ve caught Spencer after coming back from his ride with Cat to the prison because when the elevator doors opened, he was standing just on the other side of them, looking lost in thought. 

“Oh, hi!” I chirped, realizing then that he and I hadn’t said a word to each other since the “Kiss Me Bathroom Incident.” 

“Hey,” he called back, his voice already sounding unfamiliar after its lack of use towards me.

“Long time no see,” I joked to first lighten the air that seemed heavy between us. “I was just going to go down to get some fresh air.” 

“I’ll join you.” 

Because I hadn’t expected him to say that, I fumbled awkwardly into the tiny space that seemingly got smaller by the second, especially now that he was filling the space with me. 

The silence was a little too suffocating for my taste, and I couldn’t afford to have my breath be any more restricted by that than it already was being in this slender cage next to Spencer. Just to occupy the absence, I started rambling. “You know I was thinking -” 

No sooner did I start speaking than my words were cut off by the sweet, sweet shut of my mouth because of Spencer’s. His lips wholly encompassed mine just as his hands did to my face. I was surrounded by him and for that my breath had truly been taken away this time, but in the absolute best ways possible. 

There was simply no air. 

His ivy-like enclosure around me somehow made the claustrophobic elevator expand. Or maybe it felt like it had fallen away entirely. Nothing else around. Just us. 

His hands moved wherever they pleased and I followed suit, letting my hands go where they wished, never staying stationary in one place for too long. 

I had to feel him everywhere. Filling everything. 

He’d pulled away first, biting my bottom lip with blunt teeth to take me with him, and then he forced my lip in its place by kissing it back, pushing his lips impossibly closer like he wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t just trying to restore my bottom lip, but rather fuse ours together forever.

He pulled away for real this time but not far. His face and mine were centimeters apart, our breathes mixing in the microscopic air betwixt us. 

Still breathless, he rasped, “I meant something like that.” 

Now, I can say with absolute certainty that my malchance was a thing of the past. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

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[kuekyuuq]

Gloria, Jet-lags and Imps [6x11]

Let’s jump right in:

Kinda love how Kara lamp-shaded addressed the fact she didn't tell the gang about her adventures in the PZ. She’s not wrong, tho.

...what do I want to say about Mxy using what's basically a well-known gay-anthem to tell his tale? I mean, it didn’t lead anywhere. The original song is about freeing oneself, liberation, stepping out of a (gone bad) relationship and moving on, stronger for it - empowerment. The only connection I could make, is that originally it was Nyxly’s aim to just do that (freeing herself and her kind from an oppressor), but in the way Mxy performed it, that part of the parallel was long over before he even reached the chorus. It’s also a popular Karaoke song, tho, so... he chose it because it’s catchy? I’ll try not to overthink it for now. At least, the Superfriend’s reactions were fun.

Nia exiting the elevator, "And what's this Old Stone?" I love it when ppl enter a room / situation and pick up on words that they couldn't have possibly heard. I think cinema sins ding such... Are we to assume, she dreamed Mxy's rendition of ‘I will survive’? Or is the elevator not sound-proof at all? (If it’s the latter, Nia later apparently telling Brainy “in private” between scenes / during the elevator ride about her Nyxly adventures, was a silly thing to do.)

So, "Jared" created the ring Old Stone to rule them all, it got shattered into the Paragons totems? Nyxly needs the totems and to get them she needs a crystal which also belonged to "Jared" - who happens to be Mxy's ancestor, which is why she needs Mxy / his blood, too.

I have one important and incredibly relevant question here, tho... 

With the introduced imps and their names... Why’s dude named Jared of all things?!

Really, did I mishear that? If so, I’ll leave it as is and never edit, bc that would be hilarious in its own right 😋

...

Not sure what to make about Supergirl paraphrasing a Dirty Dancing quote.  "Nobody puts Mxy into a power crystal on my watch."  ...is he Baby now? (Seriously, though: Which of the writers thought that was a fitting quote to use in that particular context?)

...now, is the exposition section of the episode over yet?

Sensitive Brainy sensed something was up with Nia. He can relate... Nia doubting Kara would understand, too, is ridiculous. But I get it... insecurities and all. But, I mean, just 5 minutes later Kara announces she wants to save Nyxly despite her wrongdoings. And yet Nia still remains convinced, Kara wouldn’t forgive her own personal mini-me... After having witnessed Kara forgiving Lena for a whole season of the writers being stupid messing up to the nth degree. But I digress, Lena’s Lena.

...how old is Nia meant to be again? Just asking out of completely unrelated curiosity.

F*ck. They really went with NewFoundland...

Imma assume it was an executive choice after realizing they couldn’t find enough actors and actresses with a convincing Irish accent... maybe. Again, no offense to Newfoundland! Just... we got the insinuations of Ireland, not Newfoundland... And truthfully, when I think of magic, Ireland is an easy association. Whereas I only due to this whole debacle learned Newfoundland has Irish ancestry. So, okay, the show forced me to learn something new... I give ‘em that.

An easy journey, she said.

Lena's been off-screen for two whole episodes, Kara announcing at the beginning of ‘Dreamweaver’ [6x09] Lena being “back east” (at least insinuating Lena’s left the west-coast already), which span over at least one full day (feat. a scene at night), and ‘I still rise’ [6x10] at least another a whole day (the whole Nia’s mom back for a day deal). And, now, after at least 48 hours she barely just arrived.

Lemme check how long a regular plane would need to fly from California to NFL......... ... .. .. So... approx. 10 hours with at least one layover. 

Yeah, using a private jet made it easier, but apparently also much, much slower...

Or, Lena randomly went some other places / did some sight-seeing in NFL before she decided to finally visit her mother’s hometown...  [Either that or the timelines don’t match up and Lena’s scenes are flashbacks of sorts.]

Optimistic and relaxed Lena is a sight to behold. I rewound 3 times, just to enjoy it for as long as possible. We all knew it was going to be short-lived... 

Let’s check off a few more items...

OMG, Kara hiding behind Alex at the mere sight of the PZ-projector broke my heart!  😢

"Elisabeth Walsh" is the new 'the one you shall not name'. ...poor Lena. 😭

Oh, so Mxy wants to be Patrick Swayze instead of Baby... gotcha.

...is this going anywhere?

KITTY!!! Okay, this must be the best opponent in the history of CWSG. 

Despite the horrible CGI, SG using her heat-vision to project a laser-beam to distract the cat had me in (happy-) tears! 🤣

Gotta love the civilians of National City quickly returning to business as usual once the giant cat is gone. Even the police officers looked rather chill...

Nyxly did look fabulous this episode ^^ 

Andrea being Lena's rock is both great and annoying. I can't fault Andrea. It's just, that we still have to see an on-screen interaction between Lena and Kara and that bugs the heck out of me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Andrea.

Nia: "...is my fault." Kara: "Nu, is MY fault!" J'onn: "Stop fighting, kids!" Space-dad has spoken.

Mxy used an LuthorCorp copy machine... and of cos it's faulty. It's not an L-Corp product.

Kara forgiving Nia came as a surprise to her... Oooookay. I mean, the show has been writing Kara a bit inconsistently the past two seasons... so, yeah, maybe being unsure which of her traits apply this week was not such a far stretch...

Maybe it's the hair, but I wished, Florence was played by Alex Kingston.

So, not-Alex-Kingston shows Lena herself with a funny wig and tells her how her mother was still watching her...

If it wasn't for Katie's acting skills (I love her.) I would have already hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Something about these scenes had me constantly cringe and I made it through 5.5 seasons of this show already... Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was highly distracting from the story that explained Lena’s mom was special even to another witch, where there was domestic abuse, and an accidental murder. Y’know, important stuff, deep-cutting stuff! 

At least, poor widddle Lena got some closure there. Elisabeth was a good cookie. And filled with magic. And Lena’s gotta have that ‘spark’, too... 

....so... Lena’s gonna stay in NFL for how much longer, to train becoming a witch?  Please, just hand her a how-to manual and send her back home, to figure it out on her own, please... (Yes, that would be horrible decision-making, but I need her back with the team!)

On to the finish line: 

So... Mxy IS Nyxly's brother? Wait, that doesn’t sound right... then Nyxly would have the same blood... Did I miss something? Can someone explain, please? Or is he her ex, and that’s where his rendition of “I will survive” makes sense?

Hnn... I can't help, but think Kara's speech for Nyxly was 85% based on her experiences with Lena in s05.

Awww... he said "stronger together"... Mxy... I hope, you'll be okay!

Lena believes in magic now. And I absolutely love how Lena wants to science magic XD

...but apparently magic isn’t science that hasn’t been explained yet, but parallel... powers? concepts? ether strings?

Nyxly has a loyal henchman now. Which was a bit heavy-handed. Took way too much of screen-time, so it better leads to something interesting.

And Kara is on a warpath now. Wooooot! Girl’s got enough.

...what else? 

Did I miss a third Patrick Swayze hint / quote / mention?  I learned, these things come in threes... Y’know, basic writing rules... 

I guess, for once the episode title was meant to be taken literally, Mxy popping up between characters, to try and help. (I need in-show footage, of Mxy sneaking up on ppl, without his powers, on all fours / crouched, just to get the desired effect.) I mean, I’ve never really watched Malcom, but wasn’t he like what Mxy usually is? A bit of a trouble-maker, prankster, chaos-ensuing wherever he goes? ...well, in that case, the episode title didn’t hold up, as Mxy’s scenes were not fun or really goofy. Yes, there was some superficial humor, but just to serve Mxy dealing with not being able to use his powers, which in turn was only barely scratched at (although it turned out to be his final character development crisis, appreciating not having powers and - in turn - facing consequences for once). Again, a whole lot going on in the episode, so a lot of that may have ended up on the cutting-room floor.

...where’s Kelly? Secretly adopting a kid, maybe?

...Kara’s still a reporter, right? I mean, whenever it serves the immediate plot, yes? ...Not even a throw-away line, that she has to pop up at CatCo for appearances sake? Since Andrea is already upset with her AND looking into her friends’ identities? At least, Kara should take a peek to make sure Andrea hasn’t uncovered anything yet... No?

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Kue out.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 05

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of grumpy jealous werewolf!Jaebeom who gets a wee bit violent, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, werewolf courting, sexual tension, werewolf!Jaebeom acting like a pup, and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV. Bam and Jinyoung make a cameo.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

Wonderful as a trip abroad might be, there’s nothing that can compare to the secret feeling of relief when returning home. No longer there is luggage to drag along, languages to swap between, or cultures to assimilate to. While it is in good fun, it’s also physically and mentally exhausting. Henceforth, coming home is like a cozy blanket to wrap around your shoulders by the fire on a cold November day. And once you’re bundled up, it is time to breathe easy and rest.

Although, home is not necessarily a place. In fact, mine has made good on his promise and puppy dreams, standing in the crowd to pick me up.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out as we enter the hall of arrivals, “over here!”

Manes tucked away under a dark red beanie and wearing a simple black jacket over an oversized black shirt, Jaebeom waves to pull attention to himself.

“Who’s that?” Bam follows my gaze to the adorable tall man as we make our way through the crowd of trolleys, suitcases, hellos and goodbyes. “Is that the dude you’ve been texting and calling?”

“He is,” I whisper in reply as we approach him. With every step, the storm of butterflies in my stomach worsens although I feel light as air at the same time. Happiness in Love is a strange thing. 

“So that’s your boyfriend,” my colleague purrs. He sounds pleased in the way I imagine he’d sound if he was my older brother.

I whip my head around, tongue-tied but not enough to protest the assumption. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Bam merely chuckles to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he continues. “Sure he isn’t, Y/N. After all, you’ve not been touching your lips and turning into a blushy mess afterwards. Or keeping those books you have with you close at all times, looking at them fondly.”

“Of course I am.” Jaebeom jumps into the conversation when we’ve reached him, acting as if he’s heard our conversation perfectly through the ruckus of the crowd. The sparkle in his eyes dims and turns into a poisonous glare when he notices the guy besides me. “Who are you?”

“JB, this is Kunpimook.’’ I gesture from one to the other, jaw clenched in the hope the wolf man won’t actively show the hostility harboured in his gaze. ‘’The colleague I told you about.”

“Just call me Bam.” Politely, he holds out his hand.

“Im Jaebeom,” the other man introduces himself, fortunately accepting the gesture howbeit with a strained expression. “Her boyfriend.”

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” Holding a tray with three coffee cups in it, a young man joins our company. 

Like Jaebeom, who has proudly proclaimed himself my boyfriend, he is tall, slender yet muscular in build and has black hair. Nevertheless, whereas Jaebeom has a flair of being unapproachable, the stranger has a boyish air around him that’s open for contact.

He moves the carrier from his right hand to his left for a handshake. “I’m Jinyoung.”

Immediately, bells start ringing at the mention of his name. After all, there hasn’t been a single call the past week wherein he wasn’t mentioned. “Jaebeom’s told me about you. You’re a professor at the university here, right?”

“I am,” he beams, his proud tone indicating how much he likes his job. “I teach Mythology. It’s a course that encompasses folklore around the world, so it’s fairly broad.”

“You teach only one course?”

“I do, but I’m also a doctor. Well, still studying to be one officially, but I’m allowed to work at the university’s clinic already.”

 “Wow.’’ A professor and a doctor. There’s little else I can say as a mere travel journalist, so I just try to remain casual despite being utterly gobsmacked. 

“I know, it’s a lot. Nevertheless, somehow I manage to do it and occasionally write an article.”

How does he do it? He’s likely not that much older than I, but he’s evidently busier than I am.

“Show-off.” The grumbled insult interferes with the friendly conversation. The focus of Jaebeom’s glare has changed targets from Bam to the professor. However, the latter doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m simply introducing myself, Jay. Here,” Jinyoung hands him one of the paper cups from the carrier, “your apple and cinnamon tea.”

“You drink tea now?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised. It sounds like a strange concept because I’ve never seen him drink anything but black coffee.

“Doctor’s orders,” JB murmurs in response, discontent and keeping a close eye on Bam as he nips the warm beverage.

“I’ve put him on tea, preferably green, to lower the caffeine levels in his blood. Otherwise, he’ll be staying up all night reading and trying to cook. Oh,” he reaches for something in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle like the one JB showed me in the park and handing it to his friend, “you forgot your meds.”

“You’re on medication?” Bam asks without any implications or judgment. The funny thing is, despite being extroverted and extravagant - extra, in general - he actually studied psychology and thought about becoming a psychiatrist for a while. Therefore, he has a general interest in medicine and its function of helping the human psyche.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaebeom sneers sarcastically, his voice closer to a growl than human speech. Then, he turns his attention to Jinyoung, who continues to hold his calm. “Why are you giving this to me now? Couldn’t you wait until we’re back? I’m not gonna take them in front of some stranger, especially not someone close to her. Besides, what does skipping one time or by a few hours matter?”

“Jay, don’t be like this,’’ the young professor sighs. ‘’You know how important timing is, especially with this new treatment.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

A nudge against my shoulder distracts me from the fierce bickering, Bam lowly whispering he’s leaving for home as well as an apology for what he has unleashed. I answer in a similar fashion when promising to call him later and apologizing for putting him into this situation. He merely waves dismissively, unbothered, and disappears in the crowd of trolleys and journeying strangers.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I intervene lest the situation gets out of hand. A hand on his chest, I try to distract Jaebeom by shifting his focus to me. “Let’s go search for somewhere quiet around here where it’s just us. It’s important to me too you take your meds.”

“Let’s just go home.” His features soften, compromising like I did that day in the bookshop and didn’t want to eat. “I’ll take them in the car, alright?”

“Why do you have to be cross with me about it when you readily accept to take them when Y/N tells you to?” Jinyoung crosses his arms in defiance, lips pulled into a displeased pout.

 “Because she’s my mate,” Jaebeom argues, sure to show his teeth. Withal, he turns into a gentle giant again once he wraps an arm around my waist and looks down at me with so much adoration I feel my cheeks burning up. “Girlfriend, I mean. We’re dating, so she’s my girlfriend.”

“We’ve only been out together once,” I sputter. It’s wonderful to hear the affirmation we’re an item, although I still think it’s a bit too early to claim we are.

“Twice after today. And we’ve kissed,” he corrects me, tone indicating there is no use in protesting. Nevertheless, the sternness wavers as it warms into merriment. “I got you something. I’ll give it to you once we’re home.”

Jinyoung leans in as we head to the exit, whispering. “He went kinda overboard.”

“I didn’t,” Jaebeom growls. “Stop embarrassing me. Know your fucking place.”

“Boys,” I sigh in warning.

Both lower their head and let out a whimper in apology. “Sorry.”

“This is where you live?” Jinyoung parks the car in front of the tall white brick building overlooking the quay at the edge of town.

“Wow...” Jaebeom murmurs in the passenger seat, awed by the fact I live on the east side of town. It’s a recently redeveloped area, the warehouses refurbished into apartment complexes to help combat the growing housing issue.

“I do. Not for much longer, though.”

Both men turn in their seats, looking at me as if I’m insane.

 “You’re moving out?” The professor asks, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. “Why would you leave this place? It’s one of the most desired places to live within the city.”

However, JB doesn’t care about the reason which makes me want to leave the neighbourhood behind. Instead, he’s anxious to know where to find me. “Where will you go?”

“Do you know those orchards on the outskirts of town? With the old cottages?” Both nod as confirmation. “Well, that’s where I’ll be moving to. I’ve been meaning to get out of the city for a while. Granted, the harbour district isn’t as busy as the city centre. But, despite being only twenty-two, I crave the silence of the countryside. Or, rather, its tranquility which I can also find in the suburbs.”

“You’re twenty-two?” Jaebeom asks, head tilted to the side.

 “I am,’’ I admit as I pull my knees up to make myself as small as possible. ‘’I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it’d matter. Does it, though?”

My voice is hardly audible, a frog stuck in my throat. Why did I have to be the one to bring this up?

“No, not at all! I still like you. A lot. A lot, a lot. But, I’m older than you. Quite a bit, I think.”

“How old?” The question barely rolls off the tongue, pale with dread.

Please, don’t let there be too big of an age gap.

“I’m twenty...” He looks at Jinyoung, brow furrowed.

“Twenty-eight,” the good doctor whispers, unconscious of the fact that the well-meant reminder is loud enough for me to hear.

“Twenty-eight,” Jaebeom confirms, staring back at me in anticipation. “Six years difference. Does it matter? To you, I mean. In how you see me?”

“It doesn’t. Do you see me differently?”

“I never did.”

“Age is only a number, after all,” the professor pitches in to cheer us up further. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off here.”

“Can’t you stay?” Surely I can’t let him leave without at least thanking him with a cup of coffee or tea.

“I’d love to, but- Don’t you snarl at me.” He points an accusing finger at JB, who’s showing his teeth and lowly growling like he did at the airport.

Caught red-handed, the wolfish man feigns ignorance and stares out the window. However, his sulky expression and scoff betray his true feelings.

“As I was saying,” Jinyoung continues after an exasperated sigh, “I’d love to, but I get to attend an interesting transplant operation today and have a bit of research to do for a new article.”

“That’s a shame. I owe you a cup of coffee, then. That’s the least I can do to repay you for driving me home.”

“I’ll make good on that promise soon. But for now, go on, you two.” He motions for us to get out of the car. “Don’t make it awkward by making me the third wheel.”

“Jinyoung.” Hesitantly, the big wolf man holds up his fist.

“No hard feelings.” He bumps his fist against JB’s.

“Good.” The seat belt comes undone, but Jaebeom doesn’t move to step outside yet. Instead, he leans in towards Jinyoung and takes a whiff, squinting as invisible question marks float in the air. “You smell weird, though.”

“Really?” The other man sniffs the collar of his jacket, shrugging casually in jest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jinyoung.” Despite still looking a bit pale with remorse, the wolf man says the professor’s name harshly, his voice deep as he chastises the turn to humour. He grows still, gaze focused on his friend as he tries to look for what’s unspoken in the other’s body language.

However, there is nothing to see. Although, if there actually is something off, the professor hides it well. But Jaebeom doesn’t get the chance to scrutinize him long enough to see for himself because Jinyoung turns back to the wheel and waves dismissively. “I’m alright, Jae. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

His friend nods, a strained look on his face, and opens the door. I follow behind, having silently observed the conversation from the backseat.

What’re you worried about? Jinyoung looks fine. Nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, barely have we opened the trunk when the doctor hangs out the window. “And don’t forget your present!”

“Got it right here.” In confirmation, Jaebeom holds up a neat-looking paper bag, chique enough to originally have been used in a boutique.

“That’s my boy,” he chuckles before he resumes his seat.

With a dull thud, Jaebeom closes the trunk again. 

The engine roars to life and the car pulls out of the parking lot, Jinyoung honking a few times as we see him off.

I look from Jaebeom to the bag, leaning in to try and sneak a peek of its contents. “What did you get me?”

You promised me a shirt, but do you really need this big of a bag for one?

“I’m not telling you,” he muses.

I straighten my posture, a smile building as a golden opportunity presents itself. “Aw, what’s in the box?”

“Box? Y/N, it’s a bag.”

“I know, but- Never mind.” I wave the apparently obscure allusion with a dismissive gesture, disappointed he doesn’t get the reference. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you upset?” he asks as we walk to the entrance of the building.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another reassuring question burns on his tongue, but before he can ask it I stand on the tips of my toes to peck him on the lips and nose. “I’m not going to get upset simply because you didn’t understand me. Besides, it’s just a trivial matter. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

Though I failed the first time, I again try to get a better look at the mysterious bag. As before, the attempt is in vain. “And curious.”

“I think you’ll like it. In fact,” his lips pull into a smug smirk, “I’m fairly sure you’ll look pretty in it. More pretty than you do now.”

It’s prettier.

I let the mistake slide.

To let him have his little moment of triumph.

There is no place like home. Truly, not a single hotel room or bed and breakfast in the world can substitute the small studio with its minimalistic interior in shades of white and grey.

I breathe in deeply, glad to stand in the familiar narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and space beyond. A faint musty smell cuts through the fragrance of the Nordic leather diffuser sticks I bought before going to Belgium.

Guess I’ll be cleaning tomorrow.

Luckily, it’s been only a few days so the level of dust isn’t too bad. Notwithstanding, the place could do with a little clean-up.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” Jaebeom replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes on me.

“No, I mean, this,” I gesture around as I walk into the apartment, “is my place. My house.”

He murmurs something under his breath, seemingly contrasting two words as he tries to understand them or, rather, the difference between them.

“It’s nice,” he remarks when he has figured out his train of thought, looking around appreciatively.

“The cottage will be nicer, I think. I can’t wait to decorate it, make it cozier than this place. Maybe get some plants, hang up a few photos-’’

“A few of us together, maybe?” He proposes as he, too, takes his shoes off and follows me into the living room.

“For example.” I nod at the bag when we settle down on the couch next to the window overlooking the quay. “Can I open my present now?”

“Say ‘please’.” Arms crossed, he leans in so our faces are mere inches away from each other. His breath ghosts warmly over my lips when he continues in a tender yet playful babying tone. “Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy. Manners, young lady.”

“Can I open my present, please?” Regardless of the chance to finally satisfy my curiosity, I don’t dive into the gift directly. Instead, I stay my hand, bothered by a nagging feeling his words are familiar to me. “What you just said, isn’t that a quote?”

“It is, but,’’ Jaebeom bites his lip, eyes averted to the ground, ‘’to be honest, I can’t remember who said it.”

Funny, how you can remember quotes. Maybe that’s how we can communicate in the future if your condition gets worse. Although, let’s hope that’s not the case for a long time.

“Ralph…’’ I start, trying to recall who originally said it. ‘’Ralph Waldo? No, that’s not right. He went by his middle name. Wait, his middle name was Ralph so it was him.”

“Have you read his work?”

“Honestly speaking, I haven’t. However, I have a friend who studies American literature and poetry and she sends poems, quotes and the occasional snippet. I think I’ve seen him in passing. Anyways,’’ I pull the bag onto my lap, giddy as a child in a candy shop, ‘’let’s see what’s inside.”

The present catches me off-guard because the bundles of clothing are both what I expected and yet not. “You...” I trail off, checking and double checking the amount of shirts. “Seven?”

“One for every day of the week,” he beams, proudly barking his reasoning.

These will last me two weeks if not longer. Minimalism isn’t his thing, is it?

I pull out a big grey hoodie and hold it up to my nose to sniff it. A wild forest of which the air is faintly scented by a cologne with fruity undertones and the musty smell of books. I hum contently, enraptured by the scent. By him. 

From the corner of my eye, I see Jaebeom grinning in unadulterated amusement. Albeit not without effort, I lower the article of clothing. “I know this is likely stupid to ask, but eventually they’ll have to be washed so what if your scent fades?”

“I’ll just scent them again.’’ He shrugs casually before he points inside the bag. ‘’Also, what’s in the little box on the bottom might help with that too.”

In my astonishment, I missed the cardboard square at the bottom which turns out to be the packaging for a bottle of cologne. “You can spray it on. Sure, it’s not really purely my scent but hopefully it’s still rem- remi- a reminder of me.”

You meant reminiscent, didn’t you?

“Or I can go to you and have you scent them,” I joke, only half-serious.

“If that means more time together,” his mismatched eyes sparkling with gleeful stars, “sure, why not? I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you.’’ Absentmindedly, I fidget with the folds of the hoodie. ‘’I really like it.”

Jaebeom ruffles my hair, letting out a chuff. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you just sit tight and I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Don’t set my kitchen aflame, though,” I warn him as the wolf man gets up from the couch.

“I won’t,” he answers smugly before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I promise.”

With a spring in his step, JB sets off for the kitchen with the bag of groceries he pulled from Jinyoung’s trunk. The two must have dropped by the supermarket before coming to pick me up.

A pillow propped up against the armrest and the blanket formerly draped over the couch now covering my shoulders, I lie down for a nap.

As consciousness fades, a warm affectionate wolfish smile pierces through the growing haze. Jaebeom murmurs something unintelligible and turns his gaze back to the chopping board.

I am home.

Dreaming of two little pups running around an orchard.

“Dinner’s ready!” The loud remark barely filters in until it’s repeated up close, the merry bark lowered in volume. A hand shakes my shoulder, but what does the trick in waking me up is the warm wetness nibbling away at my ear. However, it doesn’t stay there, but travels down the side of my neck and ends its journey at the hem of my shirt, giving it a gentle yet fierce tug.

“Y/N, come on. Get up,” JB whines, the words distorted thanks to keeping the fabric firmly between his teeth. He tugs at it again.

What on earth?

I turn onto my other side, causing the big wolf man to let go. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat.” He makes himself smaller, gaze briefly averted to the side before looking at me again, continuing in the same tender yet stern tone he uses whenever food is involved. “With me. This is my first time cooking for you and I practiced really hard while you were away. So, please, eat with me. I want to know whether I did a good job.”

“Do you have to drag me by the collar for that?” I reach out to scratch him behind his ear, tracing his jaw as my fingers work upwards.

Jaebeom’s eyes mist over, his expression turning dreamy as he leans into the touch. “Want- Don’t know… know how to- Come to… kitchen. Although, maybe, just...”

“Feels good?”

A hasty sheepish smile flashes on his lips as he nods in agreement, eyes closed and speechless.

You really are a wolf. Weirdo. My weirdo.

A whine slips out when I stop. JB slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times before he clears his throat. “Can we do that again? After dinner, maybe?”

 “If I liked what you made, sure. However,” I kiss his forehead, “since you asked so nicely, we can do this again after we’ve eaten. So, will you eat with me?”

Will you stay with me?

“What’s wrong?” Picking up on the worrying thought, he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes my face as he did Jinyoung’s earlier today.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought since we’ve already said everything there is to say about it. “Just a silly thought.”

His expression falters. “I’m being over- overbear- too much.”

“No, not at all! Don’t say that, silly.”

Jaebeom nudges my nose with his, his tone sweet in an attempt to make me confess what’s bothering me. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” I admit at last. “No one’s ever cooked for me aside from my mom and grandmother or had a guy proudly proclaim himself as my boyfriend. This is simply new to me so it makes me feel, well, a bit awkward. It’s unreal, like a dream that might go up in smoke any second. That’s maybe a better way to put it.”

“I’m really here. Also, remember what you promised me? You’d stay by my side until you can’t anymore and I promised you the same. I’m a wolf, after all. Loyal to my pack or, rather, my- uh- my bi- no, that’s wrong. My lady,” he grabs my hand and lifts the fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss, “I am your gentleman and I won’t go anywhere without telling you first. And, if possible, I’ll take you with me because I refuse to leave you behind. But for now, let’s go eat. Together. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

Don’t cry, Y/N. Don’t you tear up right in front of him.

I take in a shivering breath, swallow hard, and try to regain composure.

We’re here together and wherever it is we’re going next, we’ll be there as we are now.

Side by side.

Even though I’m hungry and the table is literally three steps away, I groan as I get up from the couch. Travelling takes its toll, no matter how short the distance might be. All the same, I shuffle towards the chair facing the kitchen and plop down on it, watching JB plate up. “What are we having?”

“Steak with blanched vegetables and sweet potato mash,” he proudly announces while serving the food.

“Uhm, that’s very nice. However- it’s alright if you don’t remember, but I’m vegetarian.”

“I remembered.” A bright smile forms on his lips, eyes alight with triumph and joy. “That’s why your steak is soy-based. I found it while doing groceries or, rather, Jinyoung pointed it out. He’s been teaching me how to cook and bake. Well, we’re still working on the latter, but I did bring homemade cheesecake for dessert. I still wonder why they call it cheesecake when what’s going in it isn’t really cheese.”

“Beats me too.”

“You got slapped by cream cheese?” Visibly gobsmacked, he leans in with an expression that holds the middle between curiosity and utter confusion. “How did that happen and was it painful?”

“I mean I don’t understand either,” I reply, shaking my head with a low chuckle, and cut into the steak. As the knife sinks into it, a rosy fluid oozes out of it as if it’s been cooked medium-raw which is exactly how I liked it back in my non-vegetarian days. “But baking hasn’t been a success?”

Jaebeom sits back, shoulders hunched as he pokes the carrot on his plate with his fork. “I burned a cake, pulled it from the oven as black as charcoal. Then there’s the case of the exploded soufflés and marble cake that turned out to have no marbling at all. Not to speak of the melted... what’re they called again? There’s also a song that’s got to do with them. Jinyoung sings it a lot. Rocky road! Melted rocky roads and millionaire’s breads.”

“Maybe stick to cooking instead of baking. Not everyone has a knack for both.”

He sighs in defeat. “Maybe I should, but I’ll still try to make you something every once in a while that’s actually good.”

“As long as you don’t blow up one of our kitchens.” I include my kitchen as well because the mere thought of baking together spreads a rosy flush throughout my body that leaves me warm with affection. Besides, it’s another excuse to see him wear an apron, maybe pull some shenanigans myself and have something to eat with a cup of tea or coffee and a good book.

That would make for a nice date. We should do that soon.

“I’ll try.” He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

The adorable genuineness of the determined gesture is what drives me to seal the promise by wrapping my pinky around his. “I’ll hold you to it.”

While eating the simple yet well-made dinner, the conversation is about novels, the shop, Jinyoung’s cooking lessons and the weary stories of how Kunpimook and I crossed Bruges in search of the best chocolate. Jaebeom hasn’t done much in the time I was away it seems. The bookshop’s been quiet, so he’s had plenty of time to read and work on his cooking. Nevertheless, his expression turns dreamy when I show him the pictures from the trip, but right beneath the surface of it floats a form of sad longing which is too unclear to be certain of or to be properly described.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you got to see this,” he murmurs as he takes my phone from my hand to leave through the collection again. “I’m kinda jealous, though. It’s been so long since I went somewhere other than here. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been somewhere else.”

Brows furrowed, he tries to remember the last time he travelled. Withal, he comes up short, the melancholy of missing memories staining his voice. “I’ve been nowhere except here. Chained.”

“This place clearly is your home, that’s why it’s keeping you here. It knows you belong here and I’m glad you’ve remained.”

He lets out a breathless laugh which oddly holds the middle between a growl and a giggle. “I’m happy you showed up at my doorstep, then. But, the cottage you’ll be moving to... it’d- it’d be nice if I could make that my home too.’’ His cheeks grow pink like rose petals. ‘’Well, maybe not literally, but it would be nice if it would become our little somewhere.”

“Our little somewhere,” I repeat, charmed by the sound of it.

“Our home. Well, concretely speaking. Abstractly, and most importantly, you are my home.’’ He gets up to move to my side, where he crouches at my feet. Foreheads rested against each other, he easily nips at my nose and nuzzles it affectionately with his. ‘’You are what breaks the silence, makes me able to hope for better days.”

“The same goes for you because even though you sometimes still intimidate and freak me out a little bit, you make my days more interesting than they have been in years. So, thank you. For being here, spending your time in my company.”

“Thank you for the same reasons. Now,” JB leans away to get up and starts to clear the dishes, “how about dessert?”

Before either of us is aware of it, the clock on the wall notes it’s already ten past eight when we finish off the homemade cheesecake. Naturally, partially to also do my fair share, I stand up from my chair before the big wolf man does in an attempt to clear the table and do the dishes. However, when I’m about to walk to the kitchen with them, Jaebeom unapologetically takes them from my hands.

“What’re-? JB, you don’t have to do everything! Let me at least do the dishes.” Flattered yet a tad annoyed by the kindness, and poorly conveying my appreciation, I protest in a harsher tone than I intended to use.

Fortunately, though also a bit comically, he remains unperturbed. Notwithstanding, an unyielding sternness underlines his voice when he responds. “You’ve had a long journey, so sit down and relax. I’ll be right with you after cleaning up.”

Henceforth, unable to protest and rendered comatose by the delicious food, I plop down on the couch. Nestled into the corner, I have a proper view of the man who’s claimed my kitchen for himself.

Although it’s an intrusion to a certain degree, it’s quite soothing to watch Jaebeom defy classic gender roles. Contently humming a song and barely shy of skipping, he cleans up the mess with a tea towel tucked into the side of his pants. 

When he’s done, he hangs the tea towel over the stove’s handle, washes his hands, and settles down next to me. On a whim, though it’s maybe because of instinct, I get up from my little corner and nestle against him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as I drape my leg over his thigh to get into a more comfortable position.

Situated snugly in his safe presence, I close my eyes and sigh in pure content. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone and rest?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I can recharge with you. Besides, you’re nice and warm.” I snuggle up to him more, basking in the mixture of wild wood and cologne. “A perfect pillow.”

He pulls me on his lap, wraps his arms around my body and pulls me flush against his chest, which feels sculpted but not hard with muscle. Abs are nice and all, but I prefer the softness of a defined though not hardened chest. 

“If it brings you rest,” he curls his finger under my chin and lifts it, compelling me to look at him, “I’ll stay.”

I run my fingers along his jaw and up to his ear, immediately reducing him to the puppy-like state he tends to get into apparently when being touched like this. “Thank you.”

“My pl- pleasure.” What would have been a normal response is lost in a growl when I accidentally brush against his crotch as I shift my weight and sit up a little.

His eyes snap open, the hazelnut brown and ocean blue irises darkened, devoid of any sense of their former satisfied tenderness. With his thumb he traces the outline of my lips, lowly purring. “Pretty.”

“Jaebeom,” I place my hands on his shoulders, maintaining a bit of distance between us. We shouldn’t rush this, but the sensation of his growing bulge against my thigh, throbbing against the inside of it, convolutes every thought. Somehow, his scent seems to have gotten stronger too, overwhelming me with the same clear message the firm grip on my hips has. 

I don’t push him back as he leans in, bridging the emptiness I initiated. Foreheads rested against each other and his calloused hands on my cheeks, he guesses what’s essentially withholding me. “Scared?”

“A bit,” I whimper against his palm, the words muffled by the rough warm skin.

“It’s me, Y/N. I won’t hurt you.” Feverish yet sweetly with persuasive conviction, he kisses me. “I’m your gentleman, your boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt. That we’re going too fast.”

“We’re not. I want this. I want more of you. With you. But,’’ lips pulled into a straight line, he clears his throat while looking as if he is restraining a wild beast that can easily get the better of him if he lets go, ‘’I’ll leave it up to you.”

So, what you’re asking is… 

Jaebeom takes a deep breath to regain his composure, though it has little effect. His breathing remains heavy, close to panting. Nevertheless, the gentle stars return to his eyes as the strained expression softens. “Will you have me?”