#good morning~ what enjoyable weather!

[bookofbonbon]

ours is the hunt - daemon targaryen.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Warnings: 18+ Cheating. Hunting. Death/Killing. Mentions of pregnancy/ending a pregnancy. This is kinda fucked up, read the summary. Probably major spelling and grammar mistakes. Tense/POV mix ups.

Summary: Based on a request from the lovely @holy-minseok. like how westerosi kings warn the people of the consequences if they move out of line, reader presents daemons mistress to him on a spike with her swollen belly as a final warning for his betrayals.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: This took on a life of its own and didn't play out exactly as the request but, hopefully it's still enjoyable (well... as enjoyable as it can be). Italics section is a flashback.

The Kingswood is eerily silent in the minutes before sunrise. The party, like many of the woodland creatures, still slept, peaceful in their oblivion as servants moved quietly around the camp to prepare for the rush that daybreak would bring. You take a deep breath, the crisp forest air a welcome change from that of the stench of King’s Landing; the smell of the previous afternoon’s rain also lingers but it would dry with the promise of good weather and a bright sun. 

“My Lady,” Ser Eadric Qyle calls, your most loyal, your sworn sword. “Everything is prepared to your instruction.”

“How many?”

“Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.” 

The snap of a twig, a slight breeze, the distant wail of a wounded animal and the flutter of wings as the early morning bird sings its song as it flies across the waking sky. The forest whispers your name and you answer its call. 

“Let the hunt begin.” 

-

Your horse slows to a trot and eventually, to a stop as you approach the camp; an accompanying stablehand taking hold of the reins as a stool is brought to aid your dismount. 

“I had wondered where my wife had gone,” Daemon’s voice comes from beside you with a hand held out. “I should have known to check the woods.”

Your smile is wide, eyes lighting up at his presence as you take his hand and dismount. He is still dressed in his sleeping robes, the Targaryen Prince having obviously just woken not long ago. The thought that he immediately came to seek you out upon waking endears you. 

Steadying yourself with a hand on Daemon’s shoulder, you find your balance and firmly plant your feet on the stool; with the added height you find yourself at eye-level with him and greet him with a kiss to the side of his head. 

“Good morrow, my love.”

Daemon returns the greeting by leaning into you with a groan, head dropping into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his arms wrapping around you. 

“Remind me again why we must be here at this bloody thing?” 

You wrap an arm around his shoulder, hand soothing his back. 

“You cannot get out of this, Daemon,” you tell him with a small laugh. 

Daemon groans again, his breath hot against your neck as he attempts to burrow his face deeper, grumbling all the while. He doesn’t get far however, when you thread your fingers through his unruly hair and pull. 

“What was that, my love?”

“When you said you arranged a hunt for my name day, I thought it would be just us. Not a whole fucking camp for a Royal Hunt.” 

While Daemon was content to revel in celebrations of his victory, a Royal Hunt and a Royal Tourney were two entirely different things. Besides, he could think of much better things to do on his name day and he makes it known, allowing you to hold his head in place, a familiar glint in his eyes that you force yourself to ignore.

“Did you really think your Lord-King brother would allow that? You have him to thank for-” you release his hair to gesture at the several tents. “-this.” 

“Hm. How generous of him.”

You hum in agreement, adjusting the top of his robes.

“Very but, worry not, my love. Despite reports of only one stag, Ser Eadric and I managed to gain the trail of one other.” 

A grin pulls at the corner of Daemon’s lips.

“The Royal Hunt will track one stag and we will hunt the other,” you finish. Using your grip on his robes to pull him closer, you brush your nose against his, before pressing your lips to his for a brief moment. He tries to deepen the kiss but you don’t allow him. 

“Now, come,” you step down from the stool, taking his hand in yours. “Let's get you ready for the day.” 

“Very well,” Daemon agrees, pressing a kiss to your hand with a charming smile. 

You return the smile before turning and leading him back to the centre of the camp with a tight jaw. 

Daemon’s mood lightens considerably thereafter. The Rogue Prince noticeably happier after you broke the news that the two of you would separate from the Royal Hunt because while Daemon loved to hunt, he hated not being the one to actually do it. He didn’t need someone else to track down the game just for him to land the final blow in some false display of strength and authority. He could do it himself. He wanted to do it himself. He liked to do it himself. And though his mood had lightened, you noted that it didn’t stop his eyes from wandering around in search of someone else.

-

By mid-morning, the camp is teeming with life, the several Lords and Ladies of Westeros who gathered in celebration of Daemon’s name day dotted all over the grounds and inside tents. You yourself enter the main tent with Ser Eadric, the grand structure larger than that of most of the homes of the smallfolk. 

You don’t have to look far to find Daemon, Viserys’ great laugh leading you right to him; the two brother’s seated beside one another at a long table surrounded by other lords. 

Turning to Eadric, you place a cloth in his hand. “Release the last stag and give this to the bloodhound,” you instruct. He nods, taking it in hand and departing.

Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back to loosen them, a delightful smile gracing your lips as you approach Daemon and Viserys. Daemon immediately reaches out for you out of habit once you're seated, and you cradle his strong hand between your own. 

“Ah my Lady,” Viserys greets you and you, him, with a bow of your head.

“Your Grace.”

“I have been meaning to offer you both my condolences following the death of your brother and my congratulations, I hear you have been named heir of Blood's End.”

You tighten your grip around Daemon’s hand then loosen it, both hands releasing his as you begin instead to fidget with your own fingers. Daemon notices immediately, taking hold of one of your hands in his, his grip firm in silent comfort as he sends you a reassuring look. 

“A regrettable hunting accident,” you pull at the collar of your riding jacket. “But, please, accept my thanks for your congratulations, Your Grace. It is an honour and I can only hope to be half the ruler my Lord-father is of Blood's End.”

“Well, I cannot say what type of ruler you will be but, from what I heard you are double the hunter of that of what your brothers were and rival even that of your father-”

“Better,” Daemon interrupts proudly with a squeeze of your hand. 

“Better?” Viserys’ repeats in amusement. 

You breathe a laugh at Daemon’s antics, “I am able to hold my own somewhat.” 

Daemon scoffs at your downplay of your skill, “my wife is humble, brother but, I am not. She is the better between her and her father. Perhaps one of the best in all the land.”

You make a show of balking at the declaration, forcing a meek laugh “I- that is not-”

But, Viserys’ cuts you off, holding one hand up in surrender, “if Daemon says you are one of the best then I believe him. I mean what good is it if House Chase’ words are ‘Ours is the Hunt’ if they cannot do exactly that?”

Viserys’ laughs heartily at his own joke and you spare a glance at Daemon who grins at you playfully.  

The conversation teeters off soon after that as Daemon and Viserys’ listen to the report sent by the Royal Huntsman. You in turn, turn your attention to one of your Ladies-in-waiting, Lady Millicent. While the custom of having Ladies-in-waiting was unusual outside of the Great Houses, the custom was needed within your own House as it was in fact greater than even that of your liege lords, House Baratheon. House Chase commanded both a larger army and fertile lands that weren’t felled by the terrible weather that surrounded Storm’s End. House Chase was second to Baratheon in rank only. 

“My Lady, I’ve been meaning to ask but, where is Lady Gwendolyn? I’ve not seen her around the camp all morning, I fear-”

“Yes,” Daemon interrupts abruptly. “Where is Lady Gwendolyn?”

You delight at the question, ears burning as you turn your attention to Daemon about your newest Lady-of-waiting of six, maybe seven months. 

“I did not know you had such a keen interest in my ladies of waiting. Husband.”

“My only interest is that she attends to my grooming every morning and yet, when I needed her this morning, she was nowhere to be found.” 

Daemon shrugs the question off with a practiced ease while your lips almost pull dangerously downwards, mask hanging by a thread and nearly slipping completely at the brazen statement. Instead you fix your smile, reaching across to smooth the neck of his hunting attire. 

“I have given Lady Gwendolyn leave while we are here, she is likely with her kin in the woods.”

-

A dull light permeates from the lantern in your hand, bathing its immediate surroundings - including yourself - in a warm glow as you carefully navigate the unfamiliar bed chambers that your husband had come to frequent as of late. Shadows bouncing off of the walls, the silhouettes of the two figures in the bed become clearer the closer you get. 

See, you weren’t naive to the ways of men and their crude sexual appetites; the way they would seek out other women when their wives could not sate them. 

‘It is the way of men, he will have his whores and his playthings but you are his wife and no whore can take away from you.’ is what your mother had told you but, you would not heed her words. You would not lay down while your husband took mistresses and whores alike and you had told him so, warning him once of the consequences.

Placing the lantern down on the bedside table, you peer down at the Baratheon beauty laid in the bed with your husband; a few drops of milk of the poppy in their goblets and it was keeping both husband and whore sedated. 

The mattress dips slightly under your weight as you settle yourself beside her sleeping figure, hip to hip as you take a closer look at your Lady-in-waiting, who had also taken up position as Daemon’s mistress, stealing both his time and attention from you. 

Lady Gwendolyn of House Baratheon, the niece of a cousin of a second son nobody; a distant relative carrying the Great name of the Great Stags of the Stormlands. 

“Ser Eadric,” you call on your sworn sword; fingers ghosting over her abdomen. The swell is slight but it is there. “Our Prince’s name day is fast approaching. Ensure arrangements have begun at first light. We will celebrate like none before.”

-

The sun sits at its peak in the sky, streams of its light filtering through the tops of the forest's trees. The crossbow is heavy in Daemon’s hands as he sits astride his horse, sweat gathering on his forehead as he watches his surroundings; the reins of your own horse in his other hand. He had led the first few hours, and now you had taken over. 

As planned, the two of you went out with the Royal Hunt and eventually broke off under the guise of returning to the camp. 

Daemon’s ears perk at the sound of a nearby wail and the flutter of several wings as a group of birds seem to scatter. Dismounting, Daemon joins you on the ground, coming to stand behind you as he scans the woods for any signs of danger. There is no danger however, just your blood hound.

Daemon moves past you and calls the hound to heel at his side. 

“We’re close,” you toss the hours old droppings back onto the ground and pick up your own crossbow. “These droppings are fresh.”

“Very close.” Daemon calls you over to where the bloodhound sits obediently by his feet. There is blood around its jowl. A thrill goes down your spine at the sight, knowing that the two of you were close now. 

“We go on foot from here,” he declares, trying the reins of your horses to a nearby tree and you agree.

Moving silently ahead through the Kingswood, what was once vibrating with life, has now come to standstill with your approach. All the woodland creatures recognising the two predators hunting in their territory. 

Your eyes flitter from the ground to up ahead as you follow the Stag’s tracks, Daemon trailing behind you and then- the sudden trample of hooves to the left of you and a blur of brown and then silence. 

“Daemon,” you whisper and nod up ahead. 

There in the distance stands the Great Stag the two of you had been hunting for the better part of four hours, its mammoth antlers moving frantically as it turned its head over and over. 

Daemon places a hand on the small of your back and you turn your head toward him. 

“From here?” you ask and he nods, stepping carefully in front of you.

The Stag stumbles around clumsily, which Daemon can only assume is from when the bloodhound must’ve sunk its teeth into it but it otherwise remains in the same area, believing itself to be safe.

“Let us test out the might of these crossbows from here,” Daemon croons quietly. The armourer had declared it the single most powerful crossbow, capable of bringing down the greatest creatures from an even greater distance. 

Positioning himself, Daemon presses his body against yours, your hand touching his collar before you slide it down and place it on his waist. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of both of your breaths as you watched over his shoulder. He lines up the shot, finger on the trigger, your breaths in harmonious sync, his back against your chest as your hearts beat as one. You slide a hand underneath his arm, steadying his hold and with a kiss to his shoulder blade, he pulls. 

Thwack!

The recoil is slight as the sound reverberates with a sickening crunch. The Stag cries out but, before it can make a move to run, you’re passing Daemon your own crossbow and he sends another arrow straight through its neck with perfect precision. 

There’s a beat of silence as the entire woods including yourselves come to a halt, your breaths the only sound that could be heard. It’s soon broken however, by your laughter, the sound building into something hysterical as you step away from Daemon. Catching Daemon’s attention, he turns to you, initially in concern, it doesn’t take long however for him to join you when he sees how delighted you are. Catching you by the back of your neck, Daemon pulls you into him, his mouth covering yours in a searing kiss which you happily return. 

“Shall we claim our prize?” you break the kiss, foreheads pressed together.

Daemon nods, taking your hand into his and eagerly leading the way. 

You hum happily beneath your breath, keeping a keen eye on him as the two of you get closer, watching and waiting, watching and waiting until finally- there’s a catch in his breath, footsteps faltering as his head tilts, bemused. You feel the way his hand twitches in your hold, grip loosening as he glances back at you, confused until- a sharp intake of breath and the realisation of not, what he has killed but, who.

You slip your hand from his hold as he chokes on a gasp at the sight of his mistress, his whore, the Lady Gwendolyn. She is covered in a layer of mud, her usual gown replaced with a dirty and ripped tunic and pants, a strip of cloth tied around her mouth and gagging her. One arrow shot through her chest, nailing her to the tree behind her and the second through her neck; on the floor beside her lies the head of a stag. 

Three total. Two in the woods as we had hoped now, one. We will release the last one on your instruction.

“What is this?” Daemon speaks in abject horror.

“The last one,” you tell him grimly. 

Daemon continues to stare at Gwendolyn, dazed and not understanding what was happening as he watches blood drip from her wounds and onto her swelling belly.

“What have you done?”

“What have I done? What have you done?” you tut, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do not fret, I granted her this small mercy, my last mercy,” you inform him, hand adjusting his collar. “A quick and clean death.”

Your words seems to bring him back to himself, horror and confusion short lived and replaced with a fury you had never seen before. It does naught to frighten you though.

“She was with child,” he turns on you, jaw impossibly tight as he spits the words at you; crowding you against a tree. “My child.”

“I know,” you tell him softly with a nod.

Your placidness unsettles him. You can see it in his eyes and the way he flinches at your touch when you brush his hair back from either side of his face.

“So heed this as my final warning for your betrayals. I won’t be so nice if there’s another one.”

Steadying yourself with a hand on his arm, you reach up and press a kiss to the side of his head, “happy name day, Daemon.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[histrionics-and-haloperidol]

My hottest hot take is that George R R Martin has no obligation to finish the Song of Ice and Fire series.

Bro let his whole adult life be consumed by SEVEN thousand-page semi-historical-fiction books with a cast of near thirty well-developed, well set-up, well-characterized characters, and a complex and realistic geopolitical enviroment just because he thought a specific historical event should be better known. He deserves to enjoy the money he made in peace, and a lot of people (hell, a lot of WRITERS) whose only knowledge of writing is barely thought-out fanfiction populated by characters whose whole personality is to be horny for the character the author thirsts over, will jump at his throat and scream about how selfish he is just because he is taking time to develop HIS OWN GODDAMN NOVEL????????????

I know its frustrating. Believe me, I have no life, my only reason to wake up in the morning is that George MIGHT finish the series. But it's HIS intellectual property. HIS book. HIS characters. It came from HIS mind. If he wants to chill and just maladaptive daydream about it for the next decade than that is his right and he doesn't deserve the hate he gets just because ya'll can't accept the fact your favorite fictional war criminal who already has seven novels worth of content isn't getting an end? Well, welcome the plights of fiction fandoms. Sometimes, it's good enough just to not fix what isn't broken.

I'm sure plenty of writers here in tumblr can sympathise with the hope to not be harassed over when the next chapter for your story is coming. Sometimes we don't know. People have lives. Struggles. Health issues. Other interests. THEY ARE NOT YOUR FAITHFUL AI SERVANT. THEY DON’T PULL STORIES OUT OF THEIR ARSES. THEY HAVE TO THINK IT, THEN MAKE IT, THE EDIT IT, THEN SEE IF THEY LIKE IT. ITS A WHOLE PROCESS.

We are so used to immediate consuption that we cannot concieve of people taking time to perfect a craft that's meant to be enjoyable to them. And if we're honest, Martin has weathered a lot of fucking bullshit in silence. From fans, to editors, to bosses, to showmakers, he has had his fair share. Much more than its ok to take in silence. Please realize that just because something is out for the public to consume it doesn’t mean that it belongs to you.

[postmortemnivis]

spring was simon’s favourite season.

maybe because it meant rebirth, seeing the trees turn a vivid green again and the fields full of flowers and colours gave him hope. he loved to wake up and open his window in the early days of april, when the world was finally getting rid of the chilly morning breeze that always made him sick the first weeks of winter. every time he felt the air getting warmer, he couldn’t wait to change his heavy winter jacket into his windbreaker.

maybe it was because his birthday was in may, and despite not having celebrated it like he should’ve when he was a kid, he knew you would never forget to wake him up with a soft peck on the lips.

‘morning birthday boy.

if you asked him, he would tell you he liked spring better than summer because the weather was more enjoyable, not too hot yet not cold. spring’s light showers were his favourite noise to wake up to, after the one of the coffee maker he got you for christmas.

the real reason simon was so devoted to spring, almost as much as he was to you, were you. what did you expect from him?

he knew you probably couldn’t remember, but all those years back, you two met in early spring, after a particularly difficult winter.

simons life had been a deep, cold and dark winter for the past years. two, five, ten, who kept count anymore? his days would blend one into the other, seasons slowly bleeding into the next, he almost couldn’t tell the difference between august and february. seasonal depression was real, but somehow it lingered all around the year for him. that was before you.

you were the first shy sun ray that filtered through the clouds, quite literally. you, as fresh as the cold rain, and your heart, as warm as a late may afternoon, were all he needed to get out of his hibernation. you were what simon needed to wake up, the signal that spring and all beautiful things were on the way, that he needed to arise and get out of his hollow tree.

for the first time in years, simon’s eyes realized that spring was blooming everywhere around him, he was just too deep into his winter, blind, to notice; the flowers were blossoming, as beautiful as ever. he was grateful.

for you, for spring, for the sun finally caressing his face and skin and for your sweet kisses, each of them feeling like the first warm day after months of wind and snow.

“good morning, birthday boy.” you whispered as you kissed his lips.

simon squeezed his eyes shut before slowly opening them. he’d heard you get up, of course, the moment you started stirring in bed he was informed you were awake. you could try to keep the military out of the house, but the instincts followed him home, whether you liked it or not.

your bright smile was beaming at him, your hands on his bare broad chest as you sat on his hips, your thighs on either side of his waist.

“‘mornin’ beautiful.” he mumbled, resting a strong hand on your hip as he sat back, leaning against the headrest.

“breakfast’s in the kitchen,” you smiled, “i made coffee too.”

he hummed. “can smell it. i heard you too.”

you grinned.

“what’re grinning at?” he tiredly grinned back.

“want me to bring you breakfast in bed?” you said, “we can stay here in bed all day if you want to.”

he shook his head. “nah, love, i’m coming to the kitchen. i’ll be ready in a minute.”

you brought your lips to his again before getting off of him and caressing his cheek as you walked back to the kitchen, waiting for him.

his eyes followed your figure until you left the room, and he raised his gaze to the ceiling for a minute before shuffling his feet to the bathroom. he closed the door and stood in front of the sink, his hands on either side of the ceramic. his brown eyes, so dark they looked black, remained fixed on his reflection before he walked to the big window and opened the panes.

“simon?” you called. “baby, your coffee’s getting cold!”

his broad figure stood there, studying the nature outside. there was a small park in front of the flat, a little green heaven where mostly children went to play, he could hear from there the laughters and giggles. the trees, wild cherries and guelder rose followed the small street, their branches almost reaching the top floor where you lived.

“comin’ love.”

it was the middle of may, almost summer, and simon took a big breath of the fresh morning air before leaving the window open as he turned around and walked to the kitchen, right into his little piece of spring.

[cheritzteam]

[MM] You Who Make Me Dream of a Shared Future💙 Announcement for V’s Birthday and Chuseok Commemorative Event in September 2024

Hello, it’s Cheritz​.

Everyone seems to be struggling to return to daily life after a cool and enjoyable summer vacation 😅

This year's summer felt particularly tough, perhaps due to the prolonged humid weather. I'm sure we’re not the only ones who, despite the difficulties of the summer heat, look back on it fondly as time passes 🤭

Around this time, we start to feel the cool breezes in the morning and evening, realizing that summer is ending and fall is approaching.

As always, heralding the start of autumn with the cooler winds, September's protagonist returns 

It’s time for V’s birthday! 

If you're curious about what events are prepared for V's birthday, Please check the details in the announcement below ~ 😉

< ① V’s Birthday Event >

V says his feelings about birthdays are a bit different now compared to when he was younger. He feels like he's really becoming an adult, spending more time thinking about his future. He mostly thinks about the family he dreams of or his ideal life.

No matter what future V imagines, you know that when V dreams of his future , he's always together with you, Coordinator, right? 😆

There’s a repost event on X for  V’s birthday.

Among those who repost through a raffle we will be giving out 50 hourglasses​⌛♥ (15 people)

Also, there's a bonus event to celebrate V's birthday!

Use the hashtag #Happy_Bday_V to congratulate him, and don't miss the chance to win 50 hourglasses⌛♥ through a drawing.

Lastly, there will be a discount event on some V-related goods to celebrate his birthday.

For those who have been hesitating to buy, make sure to grab★ this opportunity!

Cheritz Market Discount Period : September 5th(Thurs) 2pm ~ September 12th(Thurs) 2pm 

< ② In-Game Login Event >

During the event period below, you can check out V’s Birthday Commemorative Title Image by logging into the game! Enjoy the game with the title image and celebrate his birthday. 🥳

(The full version of this illustration and bonus image will be available on the fourth Thursday of this month!)

Also, don't miss out on the Chuseok login rewards! 

Title Image Period : September 4th(Wed) ~ September 17th(Tues)

Chuseok Login Reward : September 15th(Sun) ~ September 18th(Wed)

Did you receive our September event news well?

We'd like to express our gratitude in advance to all managers who will participate in V’s Birthday Event and Chuseok Commemorative Event. 

We hope your upcoming September will be filled with joyful and happy moments, dear Coordinator!

Thank you!

Sincerely, Cheritz

[itsonlydana]

where snow falls and conversation strikes | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Your train gets caught in a snowstorm and when the first class gets moved into the normal compartments, a beautiful man asks to sit with you

warnings/tags: modern(ish)!AU, First Meetings, Fluff

wordcount: 3,7k

an: wrote this mostly on the train on my way to work every morning so it took a while and suddenly its 25° c and not 0°c anymore... oops? and lets ignore that my layout for fics is not even close to uniformly

+ masterlist + rules + read the fic on ao3 +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The view outside the train window was white in its purest form. The mush of white flakes went from gently landing on the glass to completely covering it, obscuring everything behind an opaque wall. 

A few hours ago it had been a wonderful sight of frost-tipped mountains, sloping meadows, and high-risen forests that made the long journey not only bearable but quite enjoyable. The hours had flown by just like the landscape, yet – as the newspapers had predicted it would happen – the gray clouds coming in from the seaside had caught up with the train weaving through the country and now, ever so slowly, it lost its speed. 

It couldn't have been long to the city. The last stop had been a while ago and if it weren't for the clouds hanging so low, coloring the sky ashen and the snow that just wouldn't stop falling, you could have probably seen the first small villages that dotted the outside of the city.

The train slowing down had been inevitable, you had known as much when you had boarded earlier this morning, though you had hoped to arrive at the destination fast enough that you would have outrun this weather.

Back in the city, back home, the weather would have been a small inconvenience but nothing that would hold you back.

The old speakers crackled just as you adjusted your seat, bringing forth another storm though this one ravaged through the inside: 

"We're mighty sorry 'bout this bother, but we kindly ask for yer patience. We've been movin' at a snail's pace 'cause of this darn weather, and now we're told we gotta face this blasted snowstorm 'fore we can carry on."

Even through the walls of your compartment, you heard the groaning and moaning of the other passengers. 

It wasn't surprising, the decision to travel onward would be foolish – everyone on this train knew – but the times you did travel like this you found that people seemed to bond over these expressions of annoyance toward something no one could be blamed for. The annoyed grunts that were passed along the rows with an eye roll made up for hours of silence daring the others to interrupt their own peaceful silence.

Your sigh fogged up the window, and you let your head fall back against the cushions, fixating your gaze on the white haze outside when the scruffy voice continued speaking after clearing his throat: 

"As it's damn impossible to know how long this weather's gonna last or whether it'll get worse, we kindly ask our first-class guests in the rear carriages to come through to the front. Heating there could be gone any minute. Make room for 'em. You'll of course be helped with your luggage."

Knowing that there is not much else to do than to sit back and wait, you picked up the book you had been reading, a collection of short stories by your favorite author that you knew by heart yet the familiar words provided comfort and you were quickly far away in those lands described.

Before you could finish the story you had left on though, a noise startled you and pulled you right back. The door of your compartment slid open by a tall man peeping his head in. 

"Good evening, forgive the intrusion, but might I trouble you for a moment? I was told I could find a seat here. Would that be alright?" The man raised his shoulder to stop the bag he was carrying from sliding down, it wouldn't do what he wanted and slipped to his elbow.

He was beautiful, despite the distressed look on his face that was covered by his long blonde hair falling into it as he glared at the bag; on its way down his arm, it had taken the coat he had hung over it with it so that it dangled close to the carpet floor of the train. 

You stared at him long enough that he arched a thick dark eyebrow and you flinched. 

"Oh, yes.. yes of course!" You prayed that your cheeks weren't as red as you feared they might be as you nodded.

There was enough space inside the compartment, your suitcase was pushed under your seat and the bench across from you had been free, but you felt the need to look like you would make room for him.

Since there was nothing in the way, really, all you did was pull the bag next to you closer and kick away a piece of lint that stuck to the carpet. 

"Thank you," the man slipped inside, coat, bag, and another suitcase dangling from his long arms.

You tried to look busy and lifted your book high up to your face while he stowed his suitcase away, a sleek dark blue leather one that unlike yours had no stickers on it or clothes sticking out. Then he entangled the coat from the bag to hang it on the door before he turned and stared at you. 

"Can… can I help you?" you asked when he remained silently scrutinizing you.

His eyes were an icy hue of blue and you would have compared them to the snowy weather outside, cold and unmoving, if there weren't the slightest hints of nervousness in them. 

"I don't want to inconvenience you any further but" – he swallowed and lifted a hand to brush some hair away, revealing the faintest of blushes on his high cheekbones– "I fear that I can't stomach traveling backward very well. Would you mind switching places or I could sit beside-"

"It's fine!" you interrupted him. Just him standing there seemed to affect the man quite a bit, he was swaying even though there was no movement, and what harm would it cause you to switch places?

You quickly gathered your back, closing the book with your thumb in between to mark the page you had left on and smiled at him as you sat down on the other side. "It's no problem at all, I have no preferences where I like to sit."

The upholstery was chilly under you and your legs groaned as you moved them for those few steps for the first time in hours instead of just folding them over each other

The man sat down, mumbling a soft "Thank you". His legs were long enough to brush against yours before he angled them toward the window, his slender hands resting on his lap. 

Silence fell just like the snow, with the man growing as still as a statue, his eyes hefted outside the window, and you finding a comfortable position to get back to your book.

Despite your best efforts to concentrate on the poetry, your mind couldn't stop straying to the man.

He must be one of the first-class-traveler, you would have noticed him on your short walks through the train whenever you got bored or had grown restless. 

His hair stood out, worn long enough to brush past his shoulders and over the cream-knitted sweater he wore, and then there were his eyebrows, the only dark spot of color in a face that could have been cut out of marble. He certainly looked expensive. He made the impression of a man who owned his own – equally perfect – bust.

He suddenly turned his head, not by much but he caught you looking at him nonetheless. Like a deer in headlights, your mouth simply fell open in a forgotten lie to excuse yourself for staring.

Thankfully he didn't comment on it, instead, his rosé lips curved into a smile.

"I'm Thranduil, by the way. I think I should tell you so that you have a name to complain about the stranger who not only stormed into your compartment but took your seat as well" He held out his hand. 

You took it after a relieved breath. His fingers were cold, his grip firm.  "Nice to meet you Thranduil," you introduced yourself and noted how his fingers flitted over your racing pulse point at your wrist, "Don't worry, I'd be a fool to moan about having a conversation partner, you've done nothing but turn this boring journey interesting"

"Ah, but you haven't realized how awful I am at small talk. I make a dreadful conversationalist," he admitted with a laugh and let go of your hand.

"We could simply skip that part then," you offered boldly and finally closed your book in your lap. "Tell me, what stop did you get on?"

He arched an eyebrow at you and rested his elbows on the table between you, placing his chin on the intertwined fingers. "What? You want to know where I came from and not were I'm going?" 

You shook your head, "No, I'll see where you have to get off, this is much more interesting."

Thranduil looked at you for a moment, his eyes taking you in like he wanted to figure you out. Then he huffed, giving in. "I got on right at the first stop," –you smiled, encouraging him to continue talking, which he did, his lips twitching to a smirk– "I stayed in Laketown with a friend over the holidays, but I didn't want to impose on him any longer."

"So you brought this weather with you?" You grinned.

"Oh, one hundred percent," he said, sounding so serious that you nearly giggled, "I had so much fun shoveling snow every morning for ten days that I simply wanted to continue at home." Thranduil tipped his head to the side, examining you once again. "And you?"

"God no, I don't get to pick up any tools while I'm on vacation," you said, knowing full well that's not what the question was about.

"No?" 

"No," you sighed, "Try being the youngest at the family reunion. I'm glad my parents let me shower and dress myself. Gosh, I think they would've cried if I even thought about helping with the snow."

Amusement lit up his face, lifting all his sharp features. "Tell that to my friend's little one. She's a fierce thing; knocking at my door at sunrise all dressed up and threatening me with her shovel that I better be outside before she had to come again."

"Oh my! Say, whatever was she threatening to do instead?"

Thranduil chuckled and shook his head, "I didn't stay long enough in bed to find out." 

A knock sounded from the door, interrupting the conversation as an older woman opened your compartment. "Hiya, loves. May I offer you some tea? Dreadful weather outside and with the heating back there gone completely, we don't want ya to catch a cold," she said.

"Ye–"

"We'll take two cups," Thranduil's directive voice overshadowed yours, there was an authority in it that even you wouldn't want to cross. He was already pulling a fancy black wallet out of his pockets, which produced a fresh note that gave no room to argue or chip in. "Keep the change," he said while the train service employee shuffled inside and placed a tablet on the table between you.

"Thank you, Sir Oropherion!" She beamed at him and slipped the note through the buttons of her blouse, "You're always too kind!" Then she turned to you and lowered her voice in a faux-whisper: "He's just as handsome as he's single. But you didn't hear that from ol' me." 

Thranduil scoffed, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. "You are a horrible gossip, Hilda! Go bother some of the other passengers or they'll freeze to death."

A little bit louder and glaring toward Thranduil, she added: "A shame his attitude is like the weather; he could use a sweetheart like you.

With a last wink, she turned and left you to stare after her, wondering what just happened.

"Impossible, that woman." 

Thranduil's low rumble pulled you back to him, leaving that poor – now again shut – door alone before your eyes drilled a hole through the wood in search of an explanation.  

The man across from you didn't offer you one either, instead, he was reaching for one of the silver spoons that the woman, Hilda, had given to you as well as a cup filled with milk and a small tower of cookies. 

Somehow you had the feeling this wasn't what the other customers would get but rather a gesture of whatever fondness the woman pledged to the blonde, who used the tiny tongs to drop two cubes of sugar into his cup.

"So," you said and cleared your throat. Thranduil looked up, nearly killing you on the spot with the daggers in his eyes daring you to speak on the matter. Of course, who would you be if you shied away because of that? "She seemed lovely. A friend of yours?"

"No. No, she's not," Thranduil said. He pushed the other cub toward you, encouraging you to take from the all-paid-for beverage. 

You wrapped both hands around it, marveling how beautifully and frail the cup looked and felt, and after taking a small sip, you smiled benevolently and waited for Thranduil to continue. 

He rolled his eyes, admitting defeat in his thickheadedness of remaining aloof. "I travel this route to Laketown quite a lot. Once a month, sometimes two or three times, or whenever my schedule allows me to actually. That woman made it her personal mission to get on my last nerve; chatting to me and leaving me sweets and tea without me asking for it. After a while, I could at least get her to accept my money for it. She's keen on finding me my soulmate so I no longer travel this much alone."

"Aw, but that's cute," you said and drank another sip of the hot tea. You didn't know what burned more, the tea or Thranduil's hardened eyes, "What? She looks out for you; the journey is long and she just doesn't want to be lonely." 

"Whyever you feel the need to defend her is unfathomable," he scoffed as if you taking Hilda's side was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard, "You don't even know if her accusations are true– if I'm lonely. Maybe I like traveling alone!" Thranduil placed the cup back onto the tray with such an energetic movement, that it clinked. His lips twitched.

"That…" you started and nodded toward the cup, "was far too defensive. Why, Thranduil, it's no shame to admit to something, especially not to a stranger." His expression was still unreadable though the sharp line of his jaw protruded even more like he was biting down on his teeth. You made sure to keep your tone lighthearted: "Dare I say this is even the perfect chance to get it off your chest? Who knows if we will see each other again. Time to spill all your deep, dark and dirty secrets."

He fixated you with his cold blue eyes. Your words had left an impression on him, that much was clear and you would even go so far to say he was considering them. 

Thranduil made a sound close to a "Humpf!" and you smiled and nodded, pushing him evidently over the edge for he rolled his eyes, clasped his hands together and leaned back into the cushions.

"Very well," he sighed though clicked his tongue as he saw your satisfied smirk, "You are right, traveling alone can–" lifting one finger, he punctuated the word "get a bit lonely. Not to say it's like that every time but I find that this conversation, despite the uncalled-for nosiness on behalf of my private life, makes it a lot more enjoyable than the hours I spent in the first class."

"Aww," you waved off in false modesty, "that's such a sweet way of saying I basically rescued you from a death of boredom."

"Bit of an overstatement"

"Okay, first-class, no need to knock my ego down like that." 

"Anyone ever tells you how cheeky you are?"

You smiled brightly, "All the poor, single, and handsome men I chat up on these travels."

Thranduil laughed out and shook his head more for himself than anything else. He extended his hand towards his cup once more, coinciding with the moment you brought your tea to your lips.

As your gazes met over the rising steam of porcelain, the black tea seemed to carry a subtle sweetness reminiscent of the shared smile between you, if only for a fleeting moment.

Or maybe it was the sugar, combined with the subtle loneliness that was your own travel companion nowadays, a constant bitterness coating your tongue. 

No matter what, another sip of tea flushed it down. 

"Now," Thranduil cleared his throat and dabbed the sleeve of his sweater at the corner of his mouth where a small drop of tea rested next to a shy smile. The tea disappeared – the smile stayed. "Do you want to tell me where you are going?" 

The answer was simple, you just had to tell him the name of your station, but you hesitated. 

This felt too good to be true, and maybe, if you disappeared without giving him any real information, there wouldn't be the urge to keep your eyes open when you arrived home, hoping he would be looking for that mystery woman he met on the train. 

Before the moment passed for far too long to be deemed anything but awkward, the train jolted. First, there was this one tug, then another one, and then, right when you looked up at Thranduil and understanding passed across his face like a ghost, appearing and disappearing right again, the wheels set in motion.

"Seems like we're off again," Thranduil said quietly, turning his face to the window.

He cleared his throat and you watched him swallow, not breaking away from the fuzziness outside that mirrored what you felt in your stomach right now. He was beautiful, even with that sadness settling heavy on his shoulders.

Why you couldn't just offer a piece of yourself now that he has given you some of him, that you didn't understand yourself because this trip had been the loveliest in a long time, the conversation quick and easy and nothing like the pestering questions about your romantic life that your brothers and your mother had poured over you, and while yes, you just met him, there was a connection between you. 

More than strangers on a train.

And you wanted it, so so much.

To have someone by your side wherever you go. 

"Thranduil–" you spoke so suddenly you not only startled Thranduil; the sound of your own voice frightened you as well.

"Yes?"

"This thing working again? Ah yes, now yer can hear me 'gain. Darn line cut off for a moment there. Next stop, Mirkwood Central Station, arriving in 'bout five minutes. We apologize for the delay 'n hope y'all get to your destination safely. To all those leavin' us: Remember to grab all your things before ya go. Hope to see y'all again real soon." 

The rest of the sentence died on your lips as you listened to the announcement. How they managed to be on time when you needed another delay, another moment to sort out your thoughts was an unwanted miracle.

Right when you wanted to panic and quickly pack up the book you hadn't opened up again, Thranduil got to it first.

"Five… five minutes?" he gasped and jumped out of his seat, knocking his long legs into the table resulting in you both reaching for the rattling cups trying to stop them from crashing down, hands brushing just enough for you to nearly smash the pot of sugar away as well.

"Wait. This is your stop?" 

Thranduil nodded, already throwing his coat on. "Yes, oh it's such a shame! I had hoped we had more time to finish our tea." He threw a sad glance at the half-empty cups; although the switch to look at you spoke of a far greater regret than simply leaving two cups of tea behind.

A laugh burst out of you, taking both of you by such surprise that you wondered if it had come off as discouraging or far worse: like you were making fun of him.

You hastened to explain: "This is my stop as well!" – the wide smile that shot to his eyes turned into a smirk – "This is me, Mirkwood Central. So if you want–" you interrupted yourself by standing up and grabbing your jacket, "we could get a tea later?"

"Yes!" Thranduil said quickly, "Yes, I would love to. Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?" 

You copied his smile. "The rest of the evening? Bit eager, aren't we?" You were teasing, mostly, because that seemed to affect that glimmer of playfulness in Thranduil's eyes that made them look like molten silver, but you couldn't deny that you wouldn't have canceled all your plans if you'd had any to begin with, to stay in Thranduil's company. 

"I will gladly take every bit of time you can offer me," Thranduil said, "Any man would be this eager to get to know you."

You were still blushing when you stepped into the narrow corridor of the train, the tight space and crowding of passengers waiting to exit as well making it impossible to stand anywhere else but close together, Thranduils taller body a warm presence in your back and whenever you swayed his large hand found your shoulder to steady you and his amused chuckling reverberated in your stomach.

The train finally made its way into the bustling train station, the smoke of other trains clouding up the window and excitement like only arriving at a special destination could evoke in one filled the air inside the train, the hushed talking growing as other passengers saw relatives or friends or lovers waving to them, children pressing their faces against the glass or tried to run past you with their parents following close behind.

One particular stormy child knocked you straight into Thranduil as the doors opened and cold air greeted you while your face lightened up with a blush. 

"I hope I won't lose you," you said, jokingly but the air was stolen right out of your lungs as Thranduils gloved hand grabbed yours.

"Don't worry," he said and helped you step onto the metal platform, watching carefully as you hopped onto the platform. He looked beautiful in the evening lights of Mirkwood Station, white snowflakes landing gently on his long lashes. "I won't let that happen!"

©itsonlydana 2024

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

BLOOD SUCKERS

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, described sex scenes, death, consumption of alcohol and blood, threesome, male and male intercourse, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, wax play, blood play, and more.

Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, angst, reversed harem, best friends to lovers.

🩸My Master List🩸

Intro;

I knew something was wrong in the small city I’ve been living ever since I was born here and after I graduated from high school I was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the whole year this small hell of a city called Spring Villa always rained every day.

Every god damn day.

Not that i was complaining, one summer during a high school trip to California was enough for me to realize hot weather was not for me. One day to be more specific, it was my first time and everything seemed so more alive and colorful. But all come to an end since i had to spend the rest of the trip at the hospital with an IV inside my arm due to being exposed to the sun for too long, just one afternoon which was the same as everyone else did but i was the only one who almost died that day for burning on the sun and end up looking like a hot Cheeto. After that i even started to enjoy the cold humid air hitting my face every day when i left to work, the only thing it didn’t change was my hatred for the rain every morning. Getting wet before work was not very enjoyable, everyone could agree on that note.

But the beautiful weather of the city was not the most uncanny thing about it, it has been almost ten years since a serial killer was circling around the Spring Villa. I was only a teen when everything became known to everyone in the city that something wasn’t right, so many bodies were found around Spring Villa along the years people began to stay at home locked away from everything. Some left the city for once and never came back, those who stayed were people who had nowhere else to go, like me.

My father was terrified of the accidents involving the serial killer in town and he too left before anyone else, leaving me and my mother behind. I couldn’t blame him especially after my brother ended up becoming one of the victims, when the police officer called for my parents to identify the body it didn’t felt real to me. I was not allowed to go since at the time i was underage but, I didn’t even got a chance to say goodbye either. My parents didn’t do a funeral for him, it was all too much to bear so instead he was cremated and thrown on a river on the west side of Spring Villa his favorite place to hide with his friends. Ever since that happened my parents have not been the same, I knew that sooner or later this was bound to happen. When father left it was the last straw of sanity of my mother, she became an alcoholic and well… not good.

I’ve been working at the Spring Grill ever since I graduated high school, apart from so many people leaving the city many others came from cities around the town to get a bit of incloser about the serial killer of Spring Villa, he was never caught and that mystery seemed to amaze many tourists around town.

People from all over came to my stupid silly little city to make videos about the killer of my brother, at first I was so angry at them I wished they just didn’t came at all but, over the years it became dull and empty inside my heart. I had more to worry about then that and since I needed money to pay the rent I was more then happy so many tourist came to Spring Villa.

After all I meet my best friend like that.

Notes: Hello readers! Here’s a new story for all of you I truly hope you guys enjoy this work as much as you all been enjoying my old works. This story has been going around my mind a lot and I thought what better time to write then now? So here it is! Taglist is open so leave your request in the comments and I’ll add you! Love all of you, Author. 🩵

[wooahaeproductions]

Viewfinder

Lee Seokmin (Dokyeom) x Female Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, photographer!reader x bf!seok

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: nude photography, appreciation of Seokmin’s body, a little thigh riding? and protected sex (its gentle and sweet)

Rating: 18+ MDNI!!!

A/N: So this happened…lol. Thank you so much to the lovely June @onlyhuis for brainstorming with me and betaing!

Also tagging: @highvern @wongyuseokie @the-boy-meets-evil for uh reasons lol

Your camera clicked as you snapped multiple photos of the sun's rays against the top of the water’s ripples. Spring was in its prime and when you woke up that morning, you knew the weather was perfect for an outing to the marina park. You stopped clicking the shutter and flipped open the screen to review the photos you just took with a small smile. You had captured several shots of the sun’s reflection, the halo of it spreading out across the water as it nearly blinded you with its brilliance.

As a magazine photographer, you enjoyed your work taking photos of models and fashion items. Still, sometimes it was nice to take photos for yourself, for your own enjoyment and the park at the marina near your home never let you down. Soon, the cherry trees surrounding the area would bloom, providing you with more of the nature content you loved photographing the most.

You stopped looking at the pictures you took and pulled out your phone to look at the time when you noticed a text from your boyfriend letting you know that he was coming to pick you up from the park. He sent that about 10 minutes ago and most likely would be waiting in the parking lot any minute now. You made your way to the lot where he was indeed waiting for you in the car when you arrived.

You opened the door to the back of the car, offloading the tripod you were carrying on your shoulder into the seat and setting your camera bag next to it. “Did you get some good shots today, love?” Seokmin asked you from the front seat. You looked up to answer him and were quite happy you hadn’t put your camera in its bag yet because your boyfriend looked so stunning in the glow of the sunset.

You lifted your camera and looked through the viewfinder, seeing the most perfect shot of him. He had the window rolled open to let in the warm breeze and it ruffled his bangs slightly. His head leaned back against the headrest, and his sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose just as the oranges of the sunset began to paint his face. You pushed the shutter closed and the camera clicked, taking the photo.

“Yes, Seokmin. I got some great shots today,” you grinned, putting the camera in your bag now that you had captured your favorite human.

“Including the one you took just now?” He said, teasing you and shooting you a devastatingly adorable smile.

“That one might be the best one of the day,” you teased back, although it was a true statement in your mind. You pushed your camera bag into the seat further, making sure it was secure before closing the door and making your way to the passenger side. Seokmin leaned over and opened the door for you to get in. You settled in your seat, putting your seatbelt on before he pulled out of the lot heading for home. You looked over at your boyfriend, marveling at how lucky you were to have someone like him.

A few hours later, you were finishing up dinner when you had an idea to keep the inspiration that you had during the day going. “Hey, Seok?” you started.

“Hmm?” he responded, gathering your empty plate from the table to take them into the kitchen.

“So there’s one type of photography I haven’t done yet and I think I’d like to try it today…” you said a bit nervously.

“Okay, well what is it? Let’s do it,” Seokmin responded enthusiastically before knowing what it was.

“Um, nude photography,” you squeaked, looking down at your hands.

You heard him let out a light laugh before saying, “Anything for you, baby”. You knew that was true, he’d do anything you asked of him.

“Okay, well let me grab one of my cameras and I’ll meet you upstairs?” you said and he nodded after placing the dishes in the sink to wash later.

He went up to the bedroom while you went into the other room that housed all your cameras, and you grabbed your favorite one, the one you knew would capture all his gorgeous angles that made you weak in the knees. You took a deep breath as you made your way up the stairs. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, it’s not like you and Seokmin hadn’t seen each other naked before. But for some reason, the bond between photographer and nude model held a different type of intimacy.

You walked into the bedroom to find Seokmin lying on the bed, peering up at you while his arms propped his head up on the pillows. You fought to keep back a gasp as you eyed the bareness of his back, thighs, and ass. The sunlight that had shone earlier had now changed to moonlight that spilled into the room, creating shadows against the lines of his shoulder blades. Just when you thought he couldn’t get more beautiful, you were proved wrong.

His eyes lit up as you looked at him through your camera, and just as he gave a wide toothy smile, you pushed the shutter down to capture the moment. “Like what you see?” he asked cheekily, albeit a little out of character. You giggled, knowing he likely was nervous too and was acting like that to dissipate the unease.

“I very much like what I see, my muse,” you said back, still laughing. You snapped a few more photos, capturing the planes in his face and the curves of his naked frame. You knew you would edit these photos to be black and white, to better accentuate the shadowing and finer details of his body. You sat next to him on the bed as he moved to pose so you could get a closer shot. His skin looked so smooth that you couldn’t help but reach forward and brush your fingertips along the top of his shoulders.

You went to pull your hand away, but he stopped it with his own. “Couldn’t resist could you?” Seokmin joked.

“No, I couldn’t,” you said, rather bluntly. He wasn’t exactly expecting that answer and tugged you towards him, capturing your lips with his. As you kissed, he slowly took the camera from your other hand and set it down on the end table near the bed. Your now empty hand moved to rake your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You continued kissing and found yourself further up on the bed, hovering over Seokmin. His hands had moved to the small of your back, pulling your clothed body flush against his naked one. He let out a whimper when your clothed core rubbed against the erection he was now sporting.

“I think we are a little uneven here, love,” he spoke, breaking your makeout session.

You smiled and leaned your forehead against his. “Should I even it out then?” you said, wasting no time and taking off your shirt. It was followed by your pants and undergarments, leaving you bare like Seokmin had been for the past twenty minutes.

“You’re so lovely,” Seokmin breathed out, leaving a peck on the top of your shoulder. You grinned at the notion of the subject complimenting the photographer. His hands found your hips, pulling you back against him. His skin against yours was silky and you couldn’t help but buck your hips against him.

He let out a sharp breath when his tip hit the edges of your folds and knew he couldn’t wait to be inside you. He rubbed his length against you, dragging it lightly as you gave a slight moan. He could feel how wet you were for him already. You reached your hand down to rub small circles on your sensitive nub, desperate for the sensation.

As if he read your mind, Seokmin reached over into the drawer of the end table and pulled out the familiar foil package. A minute later, he was pulling the latex over his cock and you had taken your spot back on top of him. You rolled your hips against his thigh, working yourself up even more to be able to take him soon.

“Please, baby,” He growled as you grinded against his toned thigh, hearing you let out whines. “I need to be in you,” He continued, taking more control now and moving you so your core was lined up for him.

You nodded, confirming that you were ready for him. He pulled you forward, sinking you onto him. He hissed, feeling how molten your walls had become for him. He slowly began pumping and you started a rhythm with your hips meeting his, going faster with each pump.

Moans and whines echoed around the room as you chased your highs together. Hands found purchase wherever they could, his on your ass cheeks pulling you as close as possible and yours digging into his shoulders for leverage. The coil in the pit of your stomach stretched more and more until Seokmin whispered in your ear. “I’m close.”

His warm breath against the shell of your ear and the knowledge that he was going to come undone just for you almost made the coil snap. One more particularly deep thrust later, he came with a groan. The feeling of him twitching within you brought your orgasm along with his.

You collapsed on top of him as he slowly pulled out of you, chests heaving as you caught your breath. Your vision that had gotten a little fuzzy at the peak of your high was returning, rewarding you with a glimpse of Seokmin’s gentle smile. He pressed a kiss to your temple and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before he rid himself of the condom, tossing it in the trash can.

You moved to lay down next to him, pressing yourself into his side. He turned over to face you, pulling the covers over you as he moved. His arms engulfed you, bringing you closer to his chest and he rested his chin against your cheek. As you snuggled underneath the covers with Seokmin, you knew there was no one else in the world you would want to see in your viewfinder.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

[katerina-marie]

The Tragedy of a Duality

Gojo Satoru x Female Reader and (Past) Ryomen Sukuna x Female Reader

Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6, Chp 7 (Final)

In the present, you are a sorcerer and the cherished wife of the Honored One. In an era long gone, remembered by only one, you were ordinarily human and the beloved bride of the King of Curses. How fitting it would be, in an evening of destruction, to have your heart torn in two.

Content: JJK Universe and Canon Events (tho tweaked to incorporate reader), Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Ambiguous ending, Violence, Death, Female reader but left descriptively vague, No use of y/n, True Form Sukuna in the past, Itadori Yuji is Sukuna's vessel in the present but nothing inappropriate b/n reader and Itadori as the vessel, Innuendos, Allusions to + Vaguely described sex so avoid accordingly. Will add more CW to each chapter if needed.

WC: 4.4k

A/N: A bit of a bridge chapter/transitive chapter, if you will.

Chapter 3

The distance between your village and the next largest market isn’t terribly far, but it still takes up a good portion of your morning on the best of days. When the sky begins to grey and thunder rumbles closer and closer, you know your trek is about to become even longer. The smell of wet earth and crisp air is always pleasant to you, but nothing about continuing a journey in robes that are heavy with moisture and cling uncomfortably to your skin sounds enjoyable, so you divert from the road onto a lesser traveled path. 

Sanctuary from the rain under the cover of thick trees is your only option, so you wander and weave between them, cognizant of your general location but unaware of exactly where you might be. Droplets of rain occasionally splatter against your cheek as the sky opens up, and you can hear the droll of it against the foliage above you. Thankfully, you remain mostly dry, and you continue to walk slowly and hum to yourself while waiting for the weather to turn. 

After a few minutes, you spot a bunching of trees that seem different from the rest, and upon closer inspection, excitement runs through you when you realize they bear fruit. You inspect the trail behind you and then side to side to ensure you are alone before hurrying over to one. It takes two or three attempts of you leaping from the tips of your toes before you are able to snag a pear from the lowest lying branch that is still almost beyond your reach. You rub it against your sleeve before taking a bite and relishing in the burst of sweetness on your tongue. You finish it rather quickly and are reaching for another when a voice from behind startles you. 

“Do you have a habit of stealing fruit that doesn't belong to you?” 

When you spin around, your face is contrite and your hands are held up innocently in front of your chest. You are ready to entreat the assumed owner of the land for forgiveness until your eyes fall onto who stands before you, and any logical words die in your throat. You immediately fold yourself into a bow and stare at the ground while you brace trembling hands on your thighs. 

“I beg your forgiveness, my lord.” 

Weeks ago, news of the being that usurped the ruling of the lands you live in reaches your small village. People whisper words of horror and fear about the monster that Ryomen Sukuna is. You know of his second pair of arms and the extra eyes that sit under the first ones. His size and strength set him apart from anything else, but it is his viciousness and ruthlessness that strikes terror in the hearts of anyone who goes near him. The description of him is something out of a nightmare, and the sight of him proves to you the truthfulness of what you hear. 

“You may rise,” Sukuna tells you, but you are slow to stand back up, afraid to find out what happens to those who steal from the King of Curses. You keep your eyes downcast out of respect, but you can still see the white of his robes as he stalks toward you. 

“Am I so repulsive that you cannot bear to look at me?” 

You let out a squeak of alarm and fling your eyes upwards, and you aren’t sure what to make of the interest coloring his face. 

���No, no,” you say placatingly, “that is not it all.” You pause before adding “my lord,” hastily. 

Sukuna laughs, and it is deep and dark from somewhere in his chest. He prowls nearer to you, and you gulp in trepidation. While the image he makes is as intimidating and heart-stopping as you know him to be, there is something otherworldly and enticing about him. The white fabric of his robes are edged in blue and they split open across the great expanse of his chest. You follow the black tattoos from where they trail down his jaw, loop over his shoulder and then continue down his torso. They compete with the muscles of his chest to steal your attention. 

“Tell me,” he muses, finally coming to a stop just an arms length away from you, “what brings you to my new estate?”

Your heart drops to your feet and you blanch. “Your estate?”

“The edge of it, to be exact, but yes—my estate.” 

You contemplate whether making up some pitiful excuse could earn you mercy, but the thought of getting caught in a lie and the punishment that would follow has you choosing truthfulness.

“The r-rain,” you stammer. Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue, and you step back in wariness. He pursues you, and his feet land in the place yours had just been. “I was on my way to the market in the town north of here when it began to rain.” 

Your hands flit about in front of you before gesturing towards the sky, and you note curiously that while Sukuna’s main set of eyes follow the path of your hands, the ones lower trail over your figure before settling on your face. 

“The trees would keep me dry while I waited for it to stop, but it seems I also felt a bit hungry,” you finish, and your arms flop ineloquently back against your sides. 

In an effort to appear deferential, you quickly clasp your hands over one another in the front of your stomach and hope that Sukuna can’t see how tightly you clench the fabric of your robes between your fingers. He makes a noise in the back of his throat as he weighs your words, and you cast furtive glances over his shoulder or to your feet, anywhere that isn’t his eyes and the intensity of them. They are predatory in their observancy, and you would worry for your life if they did not trace the dip of your collarbones or linger at the curve of your bottom lip.

“How about you return with me?” he offers, and you jerk your gaze back to him. “You may wait out the rain in the comfort of my home and I will repay your company with a meal.” 

No amount of critical thinking produces a plausible answer as to why Ryomen Sukuna is inviting you to his estate. You do consider your own mortality and how vulnerable it is in his presence, though you suspect that bringing you along to his home only to kill you would be excessive and unnecessary. In a similarly frightening, but shockingly alluring alternative, Sukuna could intend to make use of your company in a more salacious and carnal manner. Or it could be as simple as sharing food with one another and filling the time with conversation, maybe giving you the opportunity to deduce a possible explanation by the end. Either choice carries with it problems and difficulties to a varying degree, but the thrill of what is not yet known urges you to acquiesce.

To maintain some sense of propriety, you pretend to ponder his request just a little longer and let your focus flit about to the scenery around you, avoiding Sukuna entirely. From the way his eyebrow quirks upwards and his hands twitch at his sides, you suppose he has caught on to your teasing. 

“I might find that agreeable,” you say, and that draws a sly smirk from him as his eyes flare wide. He moves toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “However, I would like to request another pear before we leave.” 

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, but he takes two large steps forward until his chest skims yours. You tip your chin up to keep a hold of his eyes as he stretches an arm above your head. 

“Whatever you desire,” he croons, and when his hand appears again before your eyes, an unblemished green pear is trapped between his forefinger and thumb as he holds it out to you.

---

In the coming weeks, you are summoned back to Sukuna’s estate with some regularity after the first time he invited you in to ply you with food and drink while he peppered you with questions about your innocuous life. 

A being appears at your door with white hair cut short and an odd strip of red around the back. You have to come to know them as Uraume, unsettling and uninviting in their demeanor, and they hurry you out each time with nothing more than a placid remark of, “it is Sukuna-sama’s request.” 

This time, when the weather is a little warmer, you find yourself in the middle of an expansive garden. It stretches farther than your eyes can see, overflowing with abundance, and when Uraume vanishes after telling you Sukuna will arrive shortly, you take the time to study flowers and plants you are familiar with and wonder at the ones you are not. 

“Why is it no surprise that I find you enamored by common weeds?” 

Sukuna, as you have come to learn, makes no noise that alerts to his sudden appearances. His voice usually sends your heart racing and a gasp is ripped from your lips, though you gradually become used to the slight shift in energy that precedes him. As time passes, you might startle less and less, but until then, you give him an unimpressed look over your shoulder for the way he grins because he scared you, and for the mild insult.

“And why is it no surprise that you would think so lowly of them?” When he narrows his eyes at you, you smile coyly and bow your head just slightly. “My lord.” 

Sukuna is by your side and offers a hand when you begin to rise from your knees. Once you are steadied, he crosses his arms and tucks them back into his sleeves. 

“They are suitable decorations, I can admit, but that is the extent of which I appreciate them.” Sukuna lowers his head to peer into your eyes, and there is something playful and teasing lurking in them. “My interests lie in other more…invigorating pursuits.” 

You cut your gaze from him, shifting a little to be back in reach of the flowers, anything to escape the underlying insinuation of his words and the way they make you flush hot. The sun is also warm on your back, and it is anyone’s best guess as to which is responsible for the way a bead of sweat drips down your neck.

“I acknowledge your opinion, but I do not happen to share it,” you tell him. You turn your back to him completely to brush your hand over a bush of varying colors. “Some of these are medicinal. Others have a pleasant fragrance that I tend to enjoy.” 

You pause and pluck a particular flower from the bunch before facing Sukuna again. “And others simply serve no other purpose than being a beautiful sight to behold.” You lift your hand in front of his face, and cradled in your palm is a blossom the same shade of pink as his hair. 

It delights you to see the way he fights a grin, and in a move that you do not perceive as normally characteristic of him, Sukuna plucks the flower from your fingers and slots it delicately behind your ear. His hand lingers to dance over the apple of your cheek, and when his thumb catches on your bottom lip, you bat your lashes at him coquettishly. 

It is a powerful look you have discovered. The last time you pulled it from your arsenal, you had nipped a piece of fruit from Sukuna’s proffered fingers and let your teeth scratch over the joint of his knuckle. He kissed you breathless there after, and you yearn for it again now. 

It seems to be successful. Sukuna’s hands cup your jaw and tilt your head up. A second pair of arms wind around your waist to drag you against his chest, and your eyelids flutter closed on their own accord when you feel his breath whisper over your lips.

“Tempting,” he says, and a chuckle comes next. Your eyes snap back open, and he taps your mouth when it turns down into a pout. “Worry not, I have a proposition for you.” 

Your expression switches into one of inquisitive interest, and while waiting for Sukuna to continue, you twine your hands into the belt that keeps his robes tied shut. 

“Wed yourself to me.”

---

Two pairs of elaborately decorated ceremonial robes lie discarded on the floor. The storm clouds outside darken Sukuna’s bed chambers and you can hear errant drops of rain hit the ground. Your belly is still full from the celebratory feast that took place after your wedding, but now a deeper satiation makes your body languid and warm. 

You twine your arms under the pillow that cushions your head and stretch lazily against the bed. Your back is exposed to the cool air and it pricks at the drying sweat on your skin. Exhaustion is lowering your eyelids and sleep is beckoning. Before you get there, the side of the bed dips.

“Did you miss me while I was gone?” Sukuna murmurs, though it is playful and unserious. “I have returned to you now.”

A damp linen cloth drags over your lower back and legs before you can answer. You shiver at the chill it leaves, but the warmth of Sukuna’s hand follows behind to chase it away. The gentleness of it is a stark contrast to just earlier when you were under Sukuna and at his mercy to how his hands squeezed, and grasped, and kneaded your body. 

A breath of laughter escapes your nose. “How can I miss you when you were only gone for a moment?” 

Sukuna’s hands freeze and he grunts. “Cantankerous wife,” he mutters. But you smile into the pillow at the affection in his voice, and when he resumes his ministrations on your body, you let the feeling of his hands and the pattering of rain lull you into sleep. 

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

Four days pass before you see Itadori Yuji again. 

Much like the afternoon following the incident, you spend the rest of the week proctoring the training of Fushiguro and Kugisaki while Satoru keeps Itadori hidden away for whatever it is that he and Nanami have him doing. You hear bits and pieces from your two students about how Itadori seems to be faring well despite the circumstances, and that the three of them are getting along just fine. 

The scant details are enough to keep your worry mostly abated, and in the spirit of the approaching weekend, you release them from their training a couple hours early. Kugisaki is effusive in her rambles, and you barely catch whatever plans she describes as she hurries off. Fushiguro is much less excitable in his expression of gratitude and departs with a simple bow of his head. Their opposing personalities warm your chest with affection and leave you with a tranquil lightness as you head back to your shared office with Satoru (his insistence) to catch up on reports while you wait for him to finish his day’s work. 

Through the window at your back, the setting sun casts looming shadows into the room, and you have to shake yourself awake as you feel your eyes grow heavy. There is a knock at the door that breaks your concentration from the computer screen in front of you. When you look up, Itadori is standing ramrod straight in the doorway. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are wide, but the expression on his face is friendly. 

“Hello, Itadori,” you say as you lean back in the chair situated at your desk, and he waves at you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yup, everything’s fine.” Except Itadori’s voice is strained and he makes no move to step into your office, nor turn back to walk down the hall. Instead, he rocks on the balls of his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets. You purse your lips and fold your arms across your chest as you watch him expectantly. Itadori blinks back at you. 

“Is there something I can help you with?” you prompt him. Itadori shakes his head, leaving you at a loss, but this time he walks forward and sweeps his eyes across your office. He shuffles to the towering shelves on the right wall and looks closely at a couple books before meandering across the room to pick up various knick knacks you have sitting on a hutch. Your eyes follow him the entire time, and you notice how he quickly moves his focus away from various photographs of you and Satoru over the years that you have pasted on a corkboard hanging on the wall. 

With a sudden spin and jerky movements, Itadori finally comes to sit in the—in your opinion—unsightly black sofa that Satoru placed in the middle of the office and just a few feet in front of your desk so he would have something to nap on when he felt the urge. From it, all Itadori does is look at you. You glance at your computer, unsure what to do, and when the silence starts to feel awkward, you tap your nail against your thumb as you rack your brain for what to say. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?” you ask. “Or if you’re not comfortable sharing with me, I’m happy to call Nanami or Satoru for you.” You’re already reaching for your phone where it sits next to you on your desk when Itadori blurts out a hasty “no!” 

Your hand freezes, and when you look back up at Itadori, he’s rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, and his knee bounces rapidly. “So, how did you and Gojo-sensei meet?” 

The question catches you off guard, and you stammer as Itadori awaits your answer. It crosses your mind that the boy might simply be lonely and looking for some company now that the school day is over, but it’s nearing evening on a Friday, and you expect him to be finding a way to celebrate the incoming weekend. Just to be certain, you raise your brows in question, and even though Itadori grimaces briefly like he wishes he could take back his request, he nods at you in encouragement. 

“Uh, well,” you start, blowing out a breath and clasping your hands together. “He and I were once students at the school here together…”

It’s not as if you haven’t heard about “the Honored One” before. You’d be hard pressed to believe that anyone in the jujutsu world could have existed presently without knowing of the infamous white-haired sorcerer. Of course you know of his talent, how he is considered the strongest, and you suppose such a title would allow for the level of arrogance he is known to carry. More so, you’ve been subjected enough to the whispered giggles and gossip from the other girls in your school to know that Gojo is—objectively, of course—as attractive as he is powerful, though you didn’t view that bit of information as anything pertinent. 

When Geto Suguru spends two months at your school that was hours and hours away from his for some assignment, you find yourself paired up with him and thus privy to the details of his life as the two of you spend time getting to know one another. You resist asking him about Gojo Satoru in an effort to preserve your dignity, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you give in just a couple of days into the partnership. To your utter shock, as the two of you are walking back to the dorms after a training session, the first thing to pop out of Geto’s mouth about his best friend is to call him a “monumental pain in my ass—affectionately, of course.” 

The words come out warmly, but they cause your jaw to drop nonetheless. Geto laughs and proceeds to tell you everything about Gojo Satoru that you have never hoped to know. He’s goofy and surprisingly awkward at times. His constant craving for sweets is borderline child-like and more akin to an addiction than a simple preference. He sometimes uses too many Digimon references in a sentence, and even Geto can’t always figure out what he means.

When the laughter dies down and the two of you stop at the doors of the dormitory, Geto’s face goes somber and his smile is weak. “Satoru can be a lot, but…he is the biggest burden to himself, and I wish it didn’t have to be that way.” 

Now, half a year later, when circumstances move you to the Tokyo school, Geto Suguru looks mildly embarrassed as he walks you through the gates of the campus. The high bones of his cheeks are mottled red, though that could be explained away by the bitterness of the winter winds, but the hand that’s not carrying one of your duffle bags squeezes at the back of his neck as he chuckles nervously. You drag a suitcase behind you, another bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re grateful that Geto was willing to greet you outside the school to help you get settled in.

“I know I already kind of warned you about him, but I promise he’s actually harmless, if not a bit overly playful.” 

“Trust me,” you say amusedly, “I remember what you told me about Gojo Satoru.” 

“Yeah, well,” Geto mutters, “it’s a whole other thing to hear about Satoru versus actually experiencing him in person for yourself.” 

You roll your eyes and are momentarily perplexed about how lovingly Geto disparages his best friend, but before you can question him about it, someone enthusiastically calls his name from across the grass, and the both of you look ahead in the direction it came from. Gojo Satoru waves erratically before breaking into a jog, and Geto turns back to you with a pointed widening of his eyes. 

You ignore him in favor of watching Gojo eat up the ground with those long legs of his, and all those details come flooding back, even the ones you didn’t care to focus on. The blue of his eyes are breathtaking and unnaturally so. His height makes him lanky, and you figure that time will fill out the rest of his stature, but it doesn’t take away from the charmingness of his boyish grin and the fact that the girls at school are right; he is handsome.

“Suguru!” he exclaims in a greeting once he comes to a stop in front of you two, and Geto nods at his friend. He turns to you next, looking down at you over the rims of his darkened sunglasses, and the smirk on his lips gives you butterflies. And, maybe, you’re a little awestruck because he really is pretty and those eyes of his are unnerving, but you don’t particularly care and—

And then Gojo Satoru opens his mouth and the bubble bursts.

“Ha! He said that?!” Itadori crows, and he throws his head back in unabashed laughter and grasps at his chest. 

You giggle along with him. “He certainly did, but luckily,” and you pause to lift your left hand and wiggle your ring finger so the metal on it gleams, “things worked out just fine.” 

Slowly, both of your laughter disappears and you each look in different directions around the room to fill the silence. The clock next to your door says it’s nearly seven, and the grumbling in your stomach has you considering leaving Satoru to fend for himself in favor of finding yourself a meal. However, Itadori doesn’t make a move to get up, so you let go of your hopes for takeout and shake your computer awake with your mouse before typing away again at your nearly complete report. You’re happy to let the boy sit in companionable quiet if that’s what he needs.

“That was a nice story,” Itadori says a few minutes later, and you are so intently focused on your work that you’re startled into remembering that he is there. “Thank you for telling it to me.” 

  His hands slap against his knees and he springs up from the sofa, and you’re stunned by his abrupt departure. He’s nearly out the door when you finally find your tongue, and the firm way you say his name has him stopping in his tracks. You wait to see if he would respond, but when he doesn’t, you repeat his name a bit more gently this time. 

“What is it?” you coax, and when he turns, his facade of unbotheredness falls, and his face is tired in its place. The sight breaks your heart a little. 

“I don’t mean to waste your time,” he says regrettably and wrings his hands together. You shake your head to reassure him as his shoulders fall dejectedly. “He wanted to see you, is all.” 

The meaning of his words don’t strike you right away, and Itadori raises a hand to tap at his temple. Understanding hits you like a truck when you realize he’s referring to Sukuna, and your mouth falls open.

“Sukuna was really adamant about it for the last couple hours. He’s finally quiet now,” he adds, “so I guess…” 

Itadori trails off with a nonchalant shrug, and you find it entirely too casual for what he just said, but he seems unrattled by the request from the being inside of him. 

“Oh,” you breathe out, stupefied and way too tired to formulate a sensible response or thought. “Well, uh…okay?” 

The laugh that makes its way out of your mouth is a touch disbelieving and maybe a little unhinged, but it pulls a bigger smile out of Itadori, and he uses a hand to gesture vaguely over his shoulder as he begins to take a couple steps backwards towards the door. 

“I’m going to go find Fushiguro and Kugisaki,” he tells you. “I’ll see you and Gojo-sensei next week!” 

Now that you can see the tension has left his body and he appears lighter in mind and spirit, you’re content to return Itadori’s wave of goodbye as he hurries out the door. Once you hear his footsteps fade down the hall, you slump back in your chair and throw an arm over your eyes. 

The King of Curses had wanted to see you, even if only through the eyes of his vessel, so much so that it seems he was willing to pester him into doing his bidding until Itdaori finally relented.

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

A/N: Chapter count got upped by one, but it should still all come out in a timely manner. We'll get a part 2 to the Reader/Gojo flashback in the next chapter :)

Taglist (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 62

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5K

Masterlist

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

Friday, February 26; 9:00 AM - Zoo.

"Come on, hurry up," my brother urges next to the car.

"Joan," I tease. "Stop it, please, and stay here."

"If you don't listen, we'll turn back," Lucy scolds him.

That threat earns a grumpy response from my brother. He turns his back on us, crossing his arms. I smile, keeping an eye on him in case he seriously considers walking away. Meanwhile, Lucy grabs our backpack, which we prepared last night while Joan was already asleep. Since we couldn't go yesterday, we rescheduled the zoo for today. Joan was over the moon once he figured it out. We didn’t talk about it at all yesterday. We were too busy. We ended up at a small fair with our friends after visiting the local market. My brother had completely forgotten about the zoo because of that, and in the evening, when he asked, we pretended we weren't going anymore to surprise him. It worked quite well. He's very excited now. I hope today will be better than the fair. We came home late, in the late afternoon. We offered to have our friends stay for the evening, but they politely declined, likely feeling awkward about being invited again. Perhaps it was for the best. Joan was so exhausted that he fell asleep right after dinner. We managed to get him to sleep in the guest room thanks to that. Sure, he woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and squeezed in between us, but we couldn't hold it against him. At least we almost got an entire night to ourselves. Joan sulked all morning, but it seems like his bad mood has vanished. Now he’s beaming with anticipation.

"Alright, we’re good to go," Lucy announces, shutting the trunk.

Joan spins around excitedly at the news. His smile brightens, and he looks at me, waiting for my go-ahead.

"Go ahead, but stay in front of us, okay? I don't want to lose you in the crowd."

He nods and takes the lead. I smile, following him with my hand in Lucy's. Lucy sighs softly, probably relieved that we’ve finally arrived. Joan was unbearable the whole ride. I've seen him impatient before, but never like this. It felt like he was deliberately trying to annoy Lucy, and he succeeded. I had to keep him entertained, or else Lucy would have lost her mind.

"I hope today goes smoothly," she says.

"There’s no reason it shouldn’t. Though, there are more people here than I expected," I remark. "I didn't think it’d be this busy."

"It's Friday, the last day of school vacation before the weekend. Of course, it’s packed," Lucy replies. "At least the weather is warming up a bit. It’ll be more pleasant."

I nod. It’s still a bit chilly, but unlike what one of Lucy’s neighbors told us earlier this week, the icy wind has finally died down. The snow has also melted, and in a few weeks, the temperature should finally rise. I can’t wait for that. In Barcelona, we rarely experience bad weather, if ever. It’s the complete opposite here. It’ll be tough at first, but I think I can get used to it. There are perks to the snow and cold. First, you can have fun in different ways, and with the cold, you get way more cuddles. Not that we don’t cuddle in Barcelona, but it’s much more enjoyable here, under a blanket. We reach the ticket booths. We wait a bit before it’s our turn. I handle the tickets, not giving Lucy a chance to argue. It’s about time she lets me contribute financially, even though I’m not working yet.

"I could have paid," she says once we pass the security gates.

"No," I reply cheerfully.

"Yes."

"No, and that’s the end of it. Today, it’s on me."

She rolls her eyes with a small smile before Joan reminds us of his presence by tugging on my jacket sleeve.

"Come on, Ona! We need to keep moving!"

"The animals aren’t going anywhere, you know," I say with a small laugh. "Come on, give me your hand. There are a lot of people here."

"I'm not a little kid anymore," she complains.

"That’s not the point. I just said there’s a crowd, and I don’t want to lose you."

I accompany my words with a stern look. He’s been arguing nonstop since we got here, and I’m starting to lose patience. He sighs and eventually gives me his hand. In the meantime, I turn toward Lucy, but I notice she’s no longer beside me. A brief moment of panic sets in until I spot her at a nearby map stand. I sigh in relief before dragging us over to her.

"Hey, if I tell Joan to give me his hand so I don’t lose him, it’s not an excuse for you to run off."

She laughs softly, leaning her head toward me.

"Sorry. I saw the maps and thought they might be useful."

"Haven’t you done the zoo before?" I ask, surprised.

"No. It’s a first for both of us," she says with a little smile.

I return her smile. She finally takes a map and stops when she sees my hand extended toward her. She laughs but takes it without protest.

"Alright, let’s go."

"What should we start with?" Joan asks, looking around with excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"Well, let’s check the map."

As I speak, Lucy unfolds the map. Everything is super organized. They’ve laid it out by zones based on the animals’ origins. My attention lingers on the penguins. Knowing Joan, that’s what he’ll enjoy the most.

"I’d save that for last," I say, pointing to that part of the map.

"Okay, well, let’s start here then," she points to the opposite direction.

"Should we join a tour group?" I ask, noticing one gathering beside us with a guide.

"No, that’s boring," my brother groans.

"Looks like you’ve got your answer," Lucy says.

"Alright, alright," I reply with amusement. "Just us, then."

"Can we start with the lions?" he asks.

"That’s actually over that way. Let’s go."

We move forward through the crowd to start with the African animals. Joan might be excited, but so am I. I love these kinds of outings, just the three of us. I also love animals. We linger at some exhibits and pass by others more quickly. It’s our first time here, but the layout is really well done. I’m sure we’ll come back, just Lucy and me. The zoo is organized like small villages at various points along the path. They’re often animated by staff, and they even offer activities in certain spots. We managed to get Joan to participate in one of them. He didn’t really want to at first, but in the end, he seemed to enjoy it. Then, we had the chance to feed the zebras. We were lucky to arrive at the right time. That was definitely Joan’s favorite part. Of course, the activity was supervised by staff, but they weren’t obligated to involve the visitors. The African section ends with the lions, which he kept talking about the entire time, even after all the things he got to do. I mentally note that my brother is becoming more and more spoiled and that I need to talk to our mom about it. I’m not the one responsible for his upbringing, but it’d be good for her to keep an eye on this not-so-pleasant change.

"What’s the next section?" I take advantage of my brother’s distraction to ask Lucy.

"The Asian animals. Then the Australian ones. But I think it’d be a good idea to grab lunch before that since we’ll be near a restaurant."

"Okay, that works for me," I reply with a smile.

We’ve been walking for two hours now, so that sounds like a good idea. By the time we finish the next section, I imagine we’ll be ready for lunch just before noon. It seems less busy than the one we just completed, according to the map. That’s good news, considering the crowd around us. Lucy was right earlier. The weather is mild, and it’s the end of vacation, so people are making the most of it. We’ll have to consider these factors next time if we want a more peaceful visit. Lucy kisses me and then wraps her arm around my shoulders. I keep an eye on my brother, who’s been ahead of us for a while now. He’s captivated by the lions. He’s holding onto the railing, looking down as if he never wants to leave this spot. Unfortunately, I have to burst his bubble if we want to see everything.

"Come on, Jo, let’s go."

"A little longer, please," she pleads, pouting.

"No, we’re moving on," Lucy jumps in. "Otherwise, you won’t be able to see everything. There are other animals like leopards and jaguars."

"Tigers too?" she asks excitedly.

"Of course. We’re getting to them soon, but we need to keep moving. »

Finally, without further resistance, he complied. He walked ahead of us. From the start, he had been negotiating to stop holding my hand. It must have been torture for her to see the other children running around while he couldn't. I agreed on the condition that he stayed in front, didn't run, and didn't stray too far. I also didn’t want to spend my day holding his back. So far, he had respected my terms, which was a first since this morning. Lucy had gotten so fed up with his behavior in certain situations that she left him to me to handle. She was probably right. I had noticed that the more Lucy got involved, the worse his behavior became. I imagine it will take some time for him to adjust to having someone else in my life. After all, he had never really seen me with anyone before. When I was with Mapi, he was too young to remember, which was for the best. He would probably have made a fuss about us no longer being together, given how much he adores my best friend.

With these thoughts in mind, we continued along, taking our time to observe everything. The scenery was beautiful, a peaceful place where you almost forget the disrespectful kids shouting everywhere. Almost. Lucy might complain, but at least we didn't have to deal with that with my brother. As someone who dislikes drawing attention, I appreciated this.

Finally, it was time to eat. As planned, we arrived just before noon. There was a bit of a wait, but not as bad as it could have been.  

“I’m not hungry,” my brother mumbled. “Do we have to stop?”

“Yes,” I replied. “You’re not alone, and knowing you, you'll be hungry as soon as we leave.”

“But there’s still so much to see!”

“And we’ll have time to see it all.”

“But—"

“Joan, that’s enough,” my girlfriend interjected with a stern look. “My threat from this morning still stands.”

“Oh, stop. He’s been good all morning.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow at me, and I pressed my lips together. Last night, she’d told me it would be a good idea to support her when she said something to Joan, to avoid making her look like the bad guy. Admittedly, apart from a few grumpy remarks, which I had managed so far, Joan had behaved well this morning. My girlfriend sighed softly and turned back to Joan.

“We’re eating now. If you’re not hungry, you don’t have to eat, but don’t complain later.”

In response, my brother groaned, crossing his arms and puffing out his cheeks. It seemed like his favorite thing to do since he arrived, and it was pretty funny to watch.

“Come on, move along,” I guided him with a hand on his head as we advanced in line.

“But I’m really not hungry,” he insisted, looking up at me. “My stomach hurts,” he added, rubbing his belly.

“Really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes filling with tears. I sighed and glanced at Lucy, who shrugged. I knew she was aware, just like me, that this was probably a lie.

“Well, I suppose you can take some medicine beforehand. We brought those dissolvable sachets, just in case.”

In reality, we only had tablets. I would have crushed one if she truly needed it, as he can’t swallow them whole. It’s not like I don’t know how to do that. I also knew he hated it, which was clear when he grimaced at the idea.

“No!” he whined.

“Well, what? You’re feeling unwell, aren’t you?”

“I-I think I feel better now.”

A small laugh escaped me. I shook my head. So the negotiations were working after all. Lucy wasn’t wrong to have me handle this. It seemed effective. We finally reached the buffet, which reminded me a lot of a school cafeteria. I grabbed a tray for Joan and myself, while Lucy took care of hers. We helped ourselves to the food. Lucy and I got chicken cutlets with fries and a green salad, while Joan chose spaghetti Bolognese. For dessert, we picked cookies. I think I also slipped a few snacks into the bag in case we got hungry later. We finished with drinks—iced tea for Joan and me, and water for Lucy. Once everything was ready, I paid, and we found a table. The place was somewhat crowded but not so much that we had to wait for a table to free up.

The meal passed peacefully, with Joan chattering nonstop. It was the first time he’d talked so much, so we let him. He had just started his first year of primary school, and since I no longer lived at home, the change was pretty drastic. Not just in personality, but intellectually as well. This morning, he had fun reading all the signs to me, showing that he could read now.

“And then Paul got a new dog. It’s so cute! I wanted to go to his house to see it, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded with her mouth full. “I wanted to have a sleepover, but we already had plans that day.”

“I see,” I chuckled. “Maybe next time.”

“When are you guys going to get a dog?”

Lucy, who had been silent until now, nearly choked. I stifled a laugh. That question caught me off guard too. I’d forgotten how unfiltered Joan could be. If anything, he talks more now than before.

“Why do you think we’d get a dog?” I asked, once I composed myself.

“Well, I already asked Mom, but she said no. So now I’m asking you guys. It’d be great! I could take care of it when I visit.”

This time, I laughed out loud. It wasn’t like he would be spending half the year with us. Besides, knowing him, even if we had a dog, he wouldn’t actually take care of it when he was here.

“We’re not getting a dog, Jo, I’m sorry.”

“But why?” she pouted.

“Well, we’re hardly ever home right now. It just wouldn’t work.”

"Home." The word slipped out before I realized it. It didn’t seem to bother Lucy, though, as she kept watching us with a faint smile. I cleared my throat and continued, giving a more realistic explanation that Joan could understand.

“Don’t you think a dog would be miserable, locked up in an apartment all alone? And dogs require care, which we wouldn’t be around to give since we don’t live in the apartment during the week.”

“Or on weekends when you don’t have leave,” Lucy teased, continuing to eat as if nothing happened.

I stuck my tongue out at her in response. She had said that on purpose. The worst part was that she was the one who enforced this “punishment.” It was funny, though, and I appreciated that she still saw me as the person I was before we got together. It meant she hadn’t labeled our relationship or changed how she viewed me. Now that I think about it, our behavior toward each other hadn’t changed either. Joan’s voice brought my attention back to her.

“But yeah, not now, duh! You could get a dog once you’ve finished school and have a house. You said you love Lucy, so that’s what will happen, right? You could have a dog then, and you wouldn’t even need a baby!”

Lucy burst into laughter—literally. Meanwhile, I died of embarrassment, hiding my flushed face behind my hands. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say that in front of my girlfriend. I could feel Lucy’s eyes on me from across the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I forced myself to, though, and saw her smiling at me with amusement, clearly expecting me to respond.

“You’re really talking nonsense. We don’t know yet. And who says we won’t have a baby, huh?”

“Well, I’m already here. You don’t need one. And besides, you can’t have one anyway. I’ll just move in with you.”

Once again, Lucy snickered softly. Joan, who seemed very sure of what he was saying, pouted and crossed his arms. I bit my lip to hold back my amusement. He was definitely giving me plenty of stories to remind him of later.

“All that, huh?” I asked.

“Isn’t it a good idea?”

He was sulking. I recognized the tone in his voice when he did that.

“Where did you get all these ideas, huh?”

“Well, my friends say two girls together can’t have a baby.”

I ran a hand through my hair. He must have talked to them about me. I knew he often mentioned me to them, so it wasn’t impossible. Poor thing must have a lot of questions if he’s already discussing this with his friends—or anyone else, for that matter. It must be tough for him to understand everything at his age. I couldn’t wait for him to grow up, if only to understand this better.

“They’re right,” Lucy said. “But there are other ways.”

“That’s true,” I confirmed. “Like adoption, for example.”

I gave him the simplest version of the truth, something he could grasp. Lucy and I hadn’t had the chance to talk about it yet; it was way too early for that. But if I were to give my opinion, adoption wasn’t something I’d want to prioritize. Joan seemed to latch onto the idea instantly, and his reaction caught me off guard.

“Then you can adopt me!”

I rolled my eyes playfully and grabbed a napkin to wipe the tomato sauce covering his face. A few more seconds, and it would have dripped onto his clothes.

“And why would we adopt you, huh? You have a home with two parents. Adoption is for children who don’t have that, you know?”

I can see through his eyes that all the hopes he had thought so much about have evaporated. I don't like seeing that glimmer. I feel bad for him.

“So, you don't want me?”  

“We didn’t say that,” Lucy responds. “You can come see us as often as you want, and we’ll visit you in Barcelona too.”  

“But… I want to stay with you! You’re way too far from home, and Mom and Dad aren’t around much anyway.”  

I give him a sad smile. I know what that’s like, unfortunately. I run my hand through his hair before pulling him into a hug. He lets himself go without any fuss.

“I know, sweetheart, but we can’t do any better. It’s not that we don’t want you, but you can’t just leave home like that. Besides, Lucy and I will probably have another busy year ahead. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t take you in permanently.”

I think about the opportunity at the Art school for me and the opening of the gym for Lucy. This upcoming year will be just as busy and complicated as this one, if not more. I dread it as much as I’m excited to see what the future holds. I’m still waiting on a phone call, and I’m starting to worry that I haven’t heard back yet. Lucy says it’s normal, and I hope she’s right.

“Hmm… I would have preferred to live with you anyway,” he admits.  

I don’t know what’s going on at home, but there’s clearly something wrong. I think I’ll call my mom when I get the chance. If Joan isn’t feeling comfortable there anymore, I need to know so I can get my mom to react. There’s no way I’ll let him go through what I went through. I know how that ends, and if we don’t find the right person to help, things can go very wrong.

“Alright,” Lucy interrupts. “We should finish up quickly if we still want to do everything.”

This news brings a small smile to my brother’s face before he quickly resumes where he left off before our conversation.

“Slow down, please. Otherwise, you’ll really get a stomach ache.”

He nods but doesn’t slow down, which makes Lucy and me laugh as we exchange a glance. She may not have said much at the table, but I know she heard everything. I’ll ask her what she thinks about it all when we’re alone. We finish dessert, then head off to explore another area. Even though Joan claimed he wasn’t hungry, he still ate well. The day goes on, and surprisingly, Joan has become calmer than before, which delights my girlfriend. It’s understandable. As much as he pushes her limits, it’s annoying to have to constantly put him back in his place when we’re supposed to be having a good time. He must have realized that his tantrums don’t work with us. Maybe I should call Sofia as well to see how she reacts to his. Unlike my mom, I don’t doubt Lucy knows how to manage him as I do. It’s just that my mom doesn’t have patience for this sort of thing, so it’s very hard for her to react calmly. She loses her temper rather than defuse the situation.

“Hey,” Lucy calls out after a while. “Stop worrying. It can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t know,” I admit with a small, anxious smile. “We’ll see. I’ll call my mom tonight. I need to know what’s going on.”

She nods understandingly before giving me a soft kiss. Unfortunately, it’s the moment Joan turns around. His new habit is to let out disgusted noises whenever he sees us. But it seems he didn’t hear the rest. We change the subject as we finish this park, which Joan seems particularly fond of. It’s true—it’s very well done. We’ll definitely come back.

Friday, February 26th; 9:00 PM – Lucy’s apartment.

We’re back home. Everything is peaceful. It was six o'clock when we got back. The day was good. We all enjoyed it, especially Joan, who has already showered, eaten, and even gone to bed. He fell asleep in the guest room without even protesting. In fact, he went there on his own with his new penguin plush. We managed to finish the park, and it seems I was right—Joan loved it, and I couldn’t resist buying him a plush when he asked for it. He earned it with how well he behaved in the afternoon. As for Lucy and me, I had just settled on the couch with Netflix on in the background. I had already showered, and Lucy should be joining me soon. I hadn’t heard the water running in the bathroom for about five minutes. Now that everything is calm, I wanted to call my mom. Joan’s behavior wasn’t normal. I knew he had behavioral issues, but now we needed to figure out why. Nothing ever happens for no reason. It seems like everyone’s already forgotten what happened with me. I’m not going to let them forget. Just as I was about to call, an unknown number appeared on my screen. I don’t recognize it, but it seems to be from here, from Manchester. I frown, intrigued by the late call. Could it be Feli? Would she really come here? How would she even know where I am? The thought makes my stomach knot. I inhale slowly, glancing behind me to check if Lucy is around. Not yet. She’s still in the bathroom. After the fifth ring, I force myself to pick up.

“Hello?” I answer cautiously, my voice uncertain.

“Miss Batlle?” a voice asks.

“Yes...?”

“Hello, this is Bennett Fields! I’m sorry to call so late. I lost track of time,” he says with a small laugh. “Am I disturbing you?”

Bennett Fields, Bennett Fields... Oh! He’s the gallery director. I immediately sit up straighter on the couch, as if he could see me from afar.

“No, no! I’m at home,” I tell him.

“Good.”

If he were in front of me, I’m sure I’d be able to see his smile. It’s amazing how you can read him so well.

“How are you?”  

“Well, I’m pretty nervous now that you’re on the line,” I admit, which makes him chuckle. “And you?”

“I’m well, thank you. I apologize for not contacting you sooner. I had a rather busy week. I know I said I would get in touch with the person who sent me your drawings, but I preferred to speak with you directly.”

“No problem.”

In any case, I would’ve gotten the answer tonight since the other person is also in this apartment. I now understand why he asked for my number at the end of our meeting. He seems to like dealing with people directly, which is completely normal.

“I’m calling to follow up on our meeting.”

“I figured,” I reply with amusement.

I like the way we talk. I should be stressed, but he puts me at ease. His laugh is contagious.

“You impressed me a lot, Ona. Certainly not by your lack of experience, but by your undeniable talent.”

Blushing, I feel flattered to hear that from a professional.

“So, here’s the thing. I have a proposal for you. Of course, as we discussed, it would mean going back to school. Are you still okay with that?”

“Of course!”

We haven’t discussed next year much with Lucy yet, but we both kind of know what to expect.

“Good. However, the offer wouldn’t be for the Manchester gallery…”

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling a bit worried.

“Well, here’s the thing. My gallery is expanding. I’m developing new locations in the region. I’m about to open one in Cardiff, and I’m putting together a team. I think you’d be a great fit there, under the direction of my new manager.”

Cardiff? The news leaves me speechless. What should I say to that? I definitely can’t accept such an offer on the spot. My lack of response prompts him to speak.

“I know it’s a big decision to think about. You’ve already traveled a lot, but this would be an excellent opportunity for you.”

“It definitely requires some thought…” I murmur.

“I didn’t expect an immediate answer. I’ll give you time to think it over. Just so you know, there’s also an Art school there, and the program can last two to three years, depending on the student’s choice.”

Two to three years? My vision blurs. There’s no way I’m staying away from Lucy for that long!

“If you’d like, we can schedule another meeting in two weeks. Do you think you could get some time off from school for a weekday meeting?”

“I-I’ll have to check.”

“Well, call me when you know. That way, we can set up a time to meet and talk face-to-face. Can we do that?”

“Yes, we can do that. I’ll call you then.”

“Great! Well, I wish you a good evening. Talk to you soon.”

“Talk to you soon, Mr. Fields.”

I hang up, completely overwhelmed by the conversation. Damn it! I think I’d have preferred if he’d just rejected me rather than making me face such a decision!

“Who was it?”

I jump, not having noticed Lucy’s presence. I turn toward her as she slowly approaches to sit beside me.

“Ona?” she calls gently. “Is everything alright?”

“I think we need to talk…”

Concern flashes across her eyes. Oh yes, she has reason to be worried. If she only knew how I’m feeling inside right now... I almost feel like crying.

[wndaswife]

following your lead | taylor sloane & fem!reader

Taylor Sloane is the kind of person who gets what she wants, and she wants to be your girlfriend. But during your first date together, she begins to wonder if she's good enough for you at all.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, some angst, jealousy, taylor being a gigantic cutie who's obsessed with you

gif credit to vanessacarlysle

The dim white light of Taylor’s laptop was cast on her face as she scrolled through the website directory of the museum her first date with you was to take place at. She took the nail of her thumb between her teeth as she leaned forward slightly, squinting at the museum layout and its floors.

When you asked her out, she had been so excited that she just had to blurt a bunch of stupid and untrue things in the heat of the moment.

‘I totally love museums!’ she had suddenly said out of nowhere right after quickly agreeing to go out with you. ‘Nicky and I love to visit any sort of museum when we travel together. Like, there’s this one in Paris, I think. The Louvre. Super pretty. Like, really pretty.’

She’d never even been to the Louvre, and actually made about a billion excuses to avoid going on the day the famous museum was set on the travel itinerary. But things just seemed so perfect at the time, she could hardly stop herself from making up lies just to make the night go even better.

Dan Pinto was holding a camping trip to film one of his movies, and on the day of wrapping he held a get-together to celebrate having finished filming his first official short film, written and produced by him and his close friends.

Taylor didn’t know Dan all that well aside from the fact that he was Ingrid’s boyfriend, so she was initially against going out and spending a night with his band of friends when Ingrid invited her to go, not to mention that Taylor hated camping.

To her, there was nothing enjoyable about sitting around a dirty field of grass in the middle of nowhere to get eaten alive by mosquitoes and have your hair filled with all sorts of flies and bugs that you wouldn’t ever be able to get out of there until you showered — and although she made a point to shower right after being outdoors for a period of time, the idea of having bugs in her hair at all was a complete turn-off.

But Ingrid begged for her to go because she’d only been with Dan for about two weeks by then and she too knew very little of his friends, and didn’t want to go to the celebration without a friend with her. She finally gave in, and both Taylor and Ingrid went to the mosquito-infested forest party.

Taylor had met you several times before, enough to have gotten your number; you were a mutual friend of one of Dan’s mutual friends, and Taylor first met you at a Christmas party. She hadn’t any clue you were going to be at the get-together and the moment she saw you, she knew she’d weather as many mosquitoes and hair-bugs as it took if it meant spending the whole night talking with you.

And she pulled it off perfectly. She was able to get you alone for most of the night, talking with you while sitting with each other at one of the camping park benches away from the celebration, around the fire when they started making s’mores, and anywhere it was quiet enough to have a conversation. 

But she did like it especially when it was a bit louder, for that meant you had to step a bit closer to her in order to hear her when she spoke, and Taylor thought you smelled nice.

Because she had work in the morning, Ingrid ended up being the one to pull her away from the party, but not before you asked Taylor if she wanted to go out with you one afternoon when she was free. She was more than enthusiastic to set a date with you, which ended up being that weekend, and you suggested going to a museum you’d been wanting to visit.

She wanted to be completely prepared for her date with you and not come off as a liar so early into things, but most importantly, Taylor wanted to be able to impress you with all her knowledge on the things you loved. She spent about an hour and a half that night researching various things about what the museum was showcasing on different floors and exhibits so she had something interesting to say for just about everything. 

Taylor went to bed feeling assured in her preparation, knowing that she’d come off as an intelligent and worldly person who was not as materialistic and shallow as she seemed from her social media, and someone you’d want to go out with for a second date, and a third, and all your dates from that point onwards. 

In simpler terms, Taylor wanted to secure her chances at being your girlfriend. 

The day of the date, she woke up extra early to make herself a fulfilling breakfast and to take some extra time on her makeup and to carefully plan out her outfit for that afternoon so by the time you picked her up at her place, she was completely ready.

She tried not to think much of it, especially as Taylor wasn’t typically a nervous person, but she also felt compelled to wake up early to prepare for the date because she was rather anxious for her day out with you.

You hadn’t ever spent that much time alone with her before. What if you realised that she wasn’t all that you thought she was? What if you regretted asking her out?

But Taylor was skilled at self-control and self-discipline, and she told herself that continuing to think about the possible negative outcomes of her date left less room for the positives. So she kept herself busy from the moment she awoke until the second she stepped foot outside her house to wait for you.

Her nerves began to fray again and she picked awkwardly at her pale pink nail polish. Her mind was soon filled with heaps of questions that only made her feel a lot more nervous.

Taylor had always been a straightforward type of girl with straightforward answers to straightforward questions; she wasn’t an overthinker, she wasn’t a worrier. But standing in front of her house waiting for you to come around and pick her up for your first date together made her feel uncharacteristically anxious.

She didn’t think you were the type, but Taylor worried that perhaps you might change your mind halfway to her house. She wasn’t very much the kind of person she seemed like online and she never minded how she seemed like on social media until now.

What if you changed your mind about her? 

The soft hum of an approaching car came down the road and Taylor raised her head to see you driving towards her. Her worries were immediately done away with at the sight of you and she quickly raised her arm and waved excitedly.

You greeted her eagerly when she slipped into the passenger's side. 

“Hi, Y/N,” Taylor said in return and reached over and hugged you. You smiled at the warm enthusiasm that was typical for her and Taylor felt reassured. She buckled herself in and smiled at you. “I’m really excited,” she confessed.

“Me too,” you replied honestly. “I’m glad we finally get to spend time together on our own.” You put the museum’s address into Google Maps then went on your way. “I mean, every other time was really nice too but…”

Taylor tucked her hands under her legs and leaned forward a little to get a look at your face. “But it’s nicer to get each other to ourselves,” she said.

You nodded in agreement and Taylor smiled. She felt good about the upcoming date and on the way to the museum, she briefly went over in her mind what she’d researched last night to be able to keep it fresh in her memory.

“This place is so pretty,” Taylor mused after the two of you parked and were now standing on the steps of the museum looking up at the front. 

Beautiful sizable pillars stretched up into the never-ending sky, holding up the angled stone roof. The architecture looked Grecian though in the center of Los Angeles, a beautiful grand stone building that looked nearly like polished marble when it glistened in the summer sun.

“Do you wanna post this on your Instagram?” you asked then paused on the steps to allow Taylor to take a photo. 

Hesitantly as if considering whether to finish her response though she’d already instantly began to reply, Taylor drawled out a nervously prolonged, “No.”

Then she quickly supplemented by asking, “Did you want me to?”

“No,” you answered and looked over at her with a bit of a grin. 

Taylor ventured through your eyes with her own and found your implicit way of saying you wanted the date to be just for the two of you to be extremely endearing — especially your sincerity. 

You were genuine and kind-hearted and Taylor felt so trusting of you, and she was glad to feel that way too.

After watching her cheeks flush slightly, you walked forward up the stairs and looked back at Taylor who quickly caught up with you, her shoulder brushing against yours. 

Her eyes darted around the exterior of the museum as it grew larger and taller with each step towards it, green irises filled with childish fascination and what you assumed to be liberated vulnerability as you’d never seen Taylor look so comfortable. 

The two of you always had good conversations when you’ve spoken with each other and to some extent, being with a stranger you feel comfortable with nearly always warranted one’s guard to be let down, but this felt different. 

It felt like Taylor didn’t feel as if she needed to be alert and on her toes, always ready to have conversations with one person to the next, seemingly always being able to read those in front of her with charming ease. 

But today she looked relaxed with her guard let down, and you wondered if this was how it felt to be someone who was close with Taylor Sloane, the influencer with a beloved and infamous social presence. 

Taylor felt you staring at her and looked over at you when the both of you joined the line to pay for the museum tickets, and she felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of how intrigued you seemed just looking at her. 

She felt a little nervous having your undivided attention, which was uncharacteristic for her as someone who normally always had eyes on her. 

But it was different when it was you. 

For a good while, things went perfectly; Taylor could recall all the things she’d researched from last night and felt proud of how she could contribute even a little to how excited you were talking about the museum as you walked through it together. 

She felt that you thought she was intelligent and worldly, and that you were seeing how different she could be outside of social media. 

You seemed to be in awe of the museum entirely, and she couldn’t help but feel weak at the knees every time you went on terribly dorky spiels about things like the Roman Empire and the Italian Renaissance.

She was never into the kinds of things you were impassioned by, and in fact, Taylor was sure that if you’d met during any point of time before when she first met you at the Christmas party last year, the two of you wouldn’t have ever interacted — you were just so different in interests and friends and hobbies.

Even so, Taylor knew that she’d listen to lectures upon lectures on things she’d never even think twice about like the agriculture in the era of Ancient Rome or painting techniques used during the Renaissance so long as you were the one speaking.

She wondered if her cheeks flushed as much as she felt they did every time you looked over at her with the sweetest grin while you were talking about things you liked, and how it widened each time she expressed interest in them. 

Last night’s research took a few hours away from her sleep but she was repaid tenfold at the sight of your excitement when she mentioned things you loved.

Taylor didn’t often care about her impressions on people away from her life as an influencer as most times socialising was just business — promoting herself, making connections to better her interactions and reach, and encouraging brands to sponsor her. 

But she felt herself caring a lot about things with you that she couldn’t recall even considering with others, like proving to you that she wasn’t as shallow as she might’ve initially seemed online and ensuring you’d enjoy spending time with her. 

It felt like things would go just as Taylor had meticulously planned the night before, and if she was as charming as she hoped, she’d even get a kiss or at the very least the opportunity to hold your hand.

She didn’t anticipate in any of her preparations, however, to have her date with you interrupted.

Taylor had only ever talked with Elliot a handful of times and only within a group of people — and she wanted it that way. She considered him to be pompous and self-obsessed. 

He was the kind of vegan to blurt out much louder than necessary that he couldn’t eat a type of food offered to him because he was vegan, to have negative opinions on every infamous classical philosopher and writer to show that he was the intelligent black sheep, who abhorred every form of self-promotion and platform of social media because they were ‘part of a intricate labyrinth that supplied vanity to those who lacked true confidence in themselves.’

In every way, he and Taylor were complete opposites, and to put it frankly, she couldn’t stand him.

He approached you and asked what you were doing at the museum, to which you said you were on a date with Taylor for the afternoon. 

She swooned at your willingness to call it a ‘date’ to other people. 

Elliot looked over at Taylor at the mention of her. His height made it seem to her that he was regarding her from a position of superiority and Taylor bristled defensively at the sight. He seemed perplexed at the idea of her and you being out on a date and his eyebrows furrowed together then arched up as if he was humoured at something.

But a moment of silence passed wherein no laughter was exchanged and Elliot then knew that no joke had been told.

“Oh,” he said.

To be cordial or perhaps to mock, he asked, “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

“We are,” Taylor quipped.

Elliot’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit and he looked as if he was picking apart her response. It was a subtle tell, but Taylor could see the way he scrutinised her. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a friendly tone. 

Taylor refused to look at him lest it give him the hint that she did want him around and saw him as anything more than an irritating intruder.

As the two of you spoke, she looked around at the museum floor and at all the things she had yet to say about a particular porcelain vase that was in a glass case a few metres away, a history in which she’d researched in detail last night because of how pretty it looked. 

She thought you’d be pleased with how much she knew about it. 

From what Taylor was forced to hear, Elliot was waiting for his family to arrive at the museum for he was planning on giving them a tour; they were visiting him and they’d only just landed from Paris this week.

“Would you mind if I followed the both of you around until they arrive?” Elliot then asked, and Taylor could swear that she wouldn’t have felt worse if suddenly the museum ceiling crumbled down and crushed her under its debris and broke her ankle.

In spite of having just been told that you were on a date together, he had the gall to suggest that he intrude on your time together. He very evidently did not take the date seriously, nor did he respect Taylor as a serious prospective partner of yours.

She knew you’d say yes for although she was assured that you were certainly not as close with him as she was with you, you were friendly and warm — Taylor liked this about you a lot, so she couldn’t entirely complain about your resolve — and because she’d never told you how she felt about him.

But you turned to her anyways, much to her surprise, searching her expression for an answer. 

Taylor felt so warmed by your gesture, seeking her approval for a decision you easily could’ve made on your own and in doing so only further defining the time you were spending together as a date. 

It wouldn’t be for long, could it, if he was just waiting for his family? And what could possibly happen if you already seemed so interested in spending time with her?

So Taylor finally said, “That’s totally fine with me.”

Aside from the discomfort of having Elliot walking alongside you while she followed along the other side, things seemed to be going alright; there weren’t any disputes between Taylor and Elliot, and you still kept trying to make sure that she was comfortable with him tagging along.

It was only because of how you pulled her to the side at one point when Elliot was on the phone and quietly asked her if she was really okay with him tagging along that Taylor was able to subdue the bitterness she felt towards him.

Hearing you apologise for his intrusion and seeing how much you had in common with him — talking to him about old college friends and some interests you shared with him that Taylor didn’t share with you — encouraged her to bear his presence. 

As the long minutes passed, Taylor began to feel increasingly different from you. 

Initially, she’d believed that she and you were closer than you were with Elliot by a long shot, and yet there were references to jokes and memories that Taylor didn’t know about and discussions of shared interests that she couldn’t even begin to pretend she knew anything about.

For a few moments she felt as if she was only someone passing the two of you, no different from all the other people walking by who’d happen to brush your shoulder and who’d come with their own families and friends, people you’d never even met nor spared even a passing glance to — strangers.

You always made sure to include her in your conversations, always brushing the back of your hand against hers to get her attention so you could meet her eyes and silently check in on her to make sure she felt alright, so it wasn’t that you treated her like a stranger in any respect.

In fact, you were attentive to her and so considerate, and that only made Taylor want to try harder in earning your favour. So she decided she’d try her hand at befriending Elliot, to bridge that distance she felt laid between the two of you and win a better chance at becoming your girlfriend.

You excused yourself to quickly dash out of the museum and pay for an extra hour of parking that you initially didn’t think you needed but ended up having to go out and get lest you leave the date with Taylor with a parking ticket under your windshield wiper. 

So Taylor thought it was the perfect time to try and get closer with Elliot, who she was left with beside the museum’s food court.

Feigning a sudden realisation to ease into a natural conversation, Taylor said, “I think Ingrid told me that you met Y/N in college. How long were you in Miami for?”

“Miami?” he asked with a slightly humoured expression then looked over at her.

Taylor uncrossed her arms and replied, “Y/N went there for college, didn’t she?”

“Oh,” Elliot said and chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in Miami, chérie. We met in Paris; she studied there for a year.”

Taylor didn’t know you’d ever been to Paris. It wasn’t a major detail of your life, but a bout of uncertainty settled within her anyway. 

In the midst of the blanket of self-doubt that started to come over her, heavy and downcast, Elliot spoke. “I hope you don’t take offence to this, but I never expected Y/N to take up company with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Taylor repeated, evidently feeling a bit insulted as she looked up at him with a puzzled expression. 

“I only mean that I would’ve never predicted for Y/N to take a social media influencer such as yourself on a date,” he replied. His words were condescending and belittling of Taylor’s occupation, but she found herself wanting to know more about what he was saying. “The type of partner I always imagined she was interested in was… understated, in a way. And you have a lot of presence. That is all that I mean.”

Perhaps she should’ve brushed him off and made peace with not befriending him, but all Taylor could run through her mind was how much she’d been enjoying her date with you, and how all she wanted to do was have you like her.

So she asked, “What do you mean by understated?”

“The partners she had in college were the kinds of people you wouldn’t realise were attending a party until someone brought their name up by chance,” Elliot tried to explain. His accent made his recollection sound allegorical. “And yet, you are someone who everyone knows of, or if not you’d be easy to spot in a very crowded room, easy to get to know through word of mouth.”

Taylor bristled. How could he possibly know anything about her, having only had a handful of conversations with her and hearing more about her through others rather than from herself?

“I am only saying that I am surprised you get along so well,” he concluded.

It was clear that he thought little of her, and that he was being outwardly friendly with her as one would treat someone they pitied. He regarded Taylor from a position of superiority, seeing her as nothing but something to brush off with his twisted version of kindness whose bitter arrogance was guised as goodwill.

But in spite of all that, Taylor couldn’t help but think that perhaps he was right, in a way. She started thinking about all the things she had yet to know about you, and here she was envisioning being your girlfriend. 

She’d spent all day trying to convince you that she wasn’t what she seemed like at first glance, but Taylor considered that she was exactly what she seemed — vain, uneducated, and shallow.

And… you didn’t deserve someone like that.

“I’m back, sorry!” you huffed when you jogged back over to Taylor and Elliot. “Okay, I paid for another hour so there’s no rush.”

Taylor avoided meeting your eyes and she looked over to the side while Elliot told you that his family would be about half an hour, so he’d leave before your parking spot expired.

The three of you walked forward, picking up from where you’d left off when you had to quickly run out to the car.

You stepped back and let Elliot carry on before you circled your fingers around Taylor’s wrist carefully and kept her back with you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” you asked in a hushed tone, and it felt like it was just the two of you again. 

“I’m feeling okay,” Taylor reassured with a smile that didn’t look convincing. She looked up from the floor when you didn’t respond right away.

She saw the way you regarded her with suspicion and she insisted, “I’m okay. I’m just a bit tired from all the walking.”

Your hand raised and the back of your index finger ran down against the slope of Taylor’s jaw. It was so gentle and, oh, you looked at her with so much kindness in your soft eyes. 

For a moment Taylor considered letting the overwhelming feelings from the day catch up to her so she could cry and have you comfort her. 

“I’m gonna get rid of Elliot, okay?” you told her. “And we can just be on our own like we planned. Is that alright?”

Taylor let the warmth in her chest settle before she nodded happily. Then you wrapped your hand around hers and squeezed it before leaving her and catching back up to Elliot ahead. 

She watched as you exchanged a few words with him. He seemed shocked and even perplexed at being left, and that almost brought a sense of joy in Taylor. 

The bastard. 

You came back and took her hand, interlacing your fingers and leading her away. She stepped close to you so your arms brushed against each other every time either of you swung them in the slightest. 

“I’m glad we left,” you breathed out when you got down to the floor below together. “I’m sorry that he stuck around for that long. I had no idea how to get rid of him.”

“I thought you liked him,” said Taylor, surprised. 

You shrugged and looked over your shoulder a little to make sure he wasn’t still around. “I’ve known him for a while,” you told her. “We’re friendly, but not friends.”

You stopped walking and looked at Taylor, running your thumb against the back of her fingers. “Besides, I wanted to be alone with you today. It was supposed to be a day for just us.”

Taylor all but melted at your words, then felt a heavy pang of guilt spread through her stomach. She looked away. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked, following her eyes as she looked over at a group of people coming off the elevator. 

The concern you’d shown for her countless times today made Taylor feel like the worst person ever. She didn’t deserve your consideration. 

She took a breath before finally saying, “We’re so different.”

“So? I like that. You’re so outgoing and open and nice. I’m not as out there as you are, but there’s also a reason why everyone knows you. You’re… sort of magnetic,” you confessed, feeling a little bashful and awkwardly scratching at your cheek. 

“Plus, we’re not that different,” you told her with a smile. “I like you exactly as you are. I like you even more because of how you pretended to love museums and miraculously came to the date with all this knowledge about the most niche things ever.”

Taylor’s lips parted and she looked surprised. “You knew that I just… searched it up?” she asked. 

When you looked at her with a lighthearted smile, she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment and she redirected her gaze away from you. But you cupped her cheek and made her meet your eyes. 

“But I like that about you, you know? I don’t know if you know, but you’re really just as nerdy as I am. What kind of person does all that for a first date?” you said with a laugh, and Taylor looked into your eyes to find you staring at her with so much admiration and warmth. 

“So… You actually like me?” Taylor asked, perking up. 

You giggled a little — you couldn’t help it looking at her perk up like an excited puppy — and she hit your arm before looking away. “S-Stop… I’m being serious.”

With your warm hand still on her cheek, you made her look at you again before saying, “Taylor, I really like you. I think you’re so smart and really cute. I love how creative and outgoing you are, and I’ve really been liking spending time with you. But we’re always with other people, and I think it’d be better if we had time to ourselves. Don’t you agree?”

Taylor felt so much more hopeful now and she nodded excitedly. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d gotten going on a date with you. 

“Have you ever been to the zoo here?” you suddenly asked. 

She smiled. “No.”

“Me neither,” you replied. “Do you wanna go?”

She nodded and stepped towards you. She raised her hand to yours that was cupping your cheek and wrapped her fingers around your wrist gently. “Yes, please,” she answered.

The two of you left the museum together after taking her hand with yours again.

When you stepped down from the museum steps, you stopped for a moment and Taylor felt the tug of your hand. She turned around and you pulled her against you. 

You rounded your fingers to the back of her head, pulling her close and kissing her. You really did feel like doing it; maybe it was feeling how soft her hand was or watching how pretty her hair looked when she walked ahead of you or seeing the smile on her face. 

Her lips were so soft. She tasted like mint and grapefruit.

You pulled away and Taylor was blushing, eyes locked on yours and taking in how you looked at her. She eventually looked away from you when the wind blew a bit of her hair in her eyes and tore her away from her enamoured stupor. 

“Is that how you kiss all your friends…?” she asked with the intention of teasing though you knew her words had more meaning.

After a moment of admiring how adorable she looked, slightly pouty and jealous, you softly ran the pad of your thumb against her cheek and whispered, “No. Just you.”

Taylor looked back over at you and smiled. She got to hold your hand and got a kiss; she was the luckiest girl in the whole world. She couldn’t help the way she started laughing. She was just so happy. 

[d0youc0py]

A • Apprehensive • How apprehensive are they to get into a relationship?

Extremely. Not because he doesn’t want too but because he is actually very satisfied with the life he has now. He has his great group of friends who he sees often outside of work and he really doesn’t need much more interaction outside of that. He doesn’t want the stress of worrying about you while he’s away.

B • Bad Habit • Bad Habit they have when it comes to relationships

This man will look for any reason- any reason at all to jump ship. Once again it not because he doesn’t want to be in a relationship, of course he wants to love someone and be loved, but he’s so scared of you getting hurt because of him that he will nitpick everything you do in the beginning to find an excuse to distance himself. Yet something about you keeps him coming back……..

C • Cuddling

Touching actually comes very naturally to him. It’s his emotions that are a total roadblock. He thinks it’s the easiest way to get his feelings out without having to find a way to get his brain to connect with his mouth. He’s not a fan of PDA but if you grab his hand in public it will make his legs shake. Loves spooning! He gets to wrap his whole body around yours, breath in your scent, and he has access to kiss your shoulders, neck, head. He wraps his whole arm around your waist while the other is placed under your head like a pillow. Please hold his hand in this position. He also likes casual cuddling. You throwing your feet over his lap while on the couch. He always sits with his arm draped over the back of the couch/any where he can, so take the opportunity to nuzzle on in there.

D • Dates

Dates with him are absolutely wonderful. He does an amazing job focusing all his attention on you, making you feel as if you are the only person he has ever laid eyes on. Dates with him are always pretty simple. Dinner, or maybe a movie, maybe a day trip to a museum or maybe just a walk around a park if the weathers nice.

E • Emotions • How do they handle your emotions?

When you’re happy- he’s happy. When you’re sad he does everything he can to make it stop. He’s extremely fix-it oriented and may not understand that you just want a shoulder to cry on. Anger is a hard one for him because he doesn’t get too angry often. He comes across like he does but it really takes a lot for him to get heated. Anger always makes him uncomfortable too. He’s worried that he’ll somehow become an outlet for you anger. Because of this he tries to dismiss it in hopes you’ll move on but a lot of times this just makes you feel invalidate. Once he realizes that you just want someone to vent to and tell you it’ll all work out he’s there for you 100%.

F • fun level • how fun are they as partners?

This completely depends on your personal idea of fun. If your idea of fun is going out and staying out till two in the morning then he’s not your guy. But if your idea of fun is sitting out on the patio with a drink swapping banter and people watching then he’s your guy. He unknowingly makes typically boring things like cleaning, or waiting in line enjoyable with out of pocket comments. He’s a city boy and has a pretty good idea of all the true gems hidden around.

G • Games • do they play games with your heart?

Absolutely not. He basically got into this relationship unwillingly so if he’s in it- he’s in it. Extremely loyal. He saw what his mom went through and would never ever put someone through that. He’s not the type to flirt with other people just to get you jealous. Trust is a huge thing with him. If he can’t trust you- or if he senses you don’t trust him, it’s not gonna work babe.

H • Hot damn • what are they attracted too physically?

He’s a total sucker for rosy cheeks. He adores a healthy red glow. He’s also incredibly observant. If something about you catches his eye he’s going to just stare at you with no shame to see if he can get an idea of who you are. Edward Cullen vibes. Do you hold your head up high? Do you make eye contact with others? Do you curl in on yourself? He finds loads of people attractive- but he really needs to get to know you before he is attracted to you.

I • indescribable • what do they have the hardest time opening up about?

He opens up about his childhood in a slow- but not excruciating pace. It seems like everyone has some sort of childhood trauma so he doesn’t feel too frowned upon. He will absolutely never open up to you about his work though. You will of course meet the people he works with outside of work, hear a few funny stories, but he will never tell you how good he actually is at his job. He probably won’t even mention Ghost to you unless someone slips up and calls him that. Even then he’s extremely vague. He doesn’t want you associated with that at all. He keeps all of his masks and uniforms locked up in storage unit until he gets deployed.

J • Jealousy

He’s a fairly confident guy, so no he doesn’t get jealous. If you are actively trying to make him jealous to get a rise out of him than that’s a major turn off to him. He thinks it’s childish and honestly downright mean to make your partner feel that way. It’s rare when you feel jealous. He’s a handsome hunk of man so he gets hit on every once in a while. He makes it very obvious he’s in a relationship though. Wether that be flashing his wedding band, gesturing to you, or just downright saying he’s not interested. He hopes that by doing all this it eases your mind while he’s away. He knows it hard not knowing what he’s up to for weeks at a time and it would be easy to let your mind wander, especially when his so flippant and vague about his time away from you. Like stated above he is very big on trust and he really never gives you a reason to not trust him.

K • Kids • Do they want kids?

This might be controversial, but no. He’s doesn’t want kids. Kids stress him out and honestly bring up a lot of trauma for him. He has a lot of good qualities for parenthood. He reliable, protective, understanding, but he also has a lot of emotional problems that he will be working through for the rest of his life. He is gone at least 5-6 months out of the year, and he doesn’t think it’s fair to leave the child rearing up to you. Why would he want to bring a life into this world when it’ll be so hard for him to be there for it? Plus when he’s home he wants to relax- he wants to be with you. He’s very open about this at the beginning of your relationship so you aren’t blindsided.

L • Love • How fast do they say ‘I Love You’?

When you are both old and white haired you’ll probably be able to count on one hand the amount of times he has said I Love You. He’s not big on words. Anyone can talk. He likes to show. Also when he does say those words it’s so special because you know that he is literally overflowing with the feeling.

M • Money

He makes great money (as he should) so he isn’t cheap. He’s a practical spender though. He would much rather spend his money on remodeling the kitchen than go on a vacation. He has absolutely no problem paying for your dates, but if you wanted to pay every now and then it wouldn’t hurt his ego. You could absolutely rely on him to help you out financially if you ever needed it. Your car broke down and you can’t afford to fix it? He’s got you. If you hate your job and decide you want to stay at home or switch careers, he’s got you there too. If you make more than him it honestly doesn’t bother him. Surprisingly his guilty pleasure is clothes. The man owns fifty different tops all in black. T shirts, hoodies, sweaters. The only color he has in his closet are his white button ups. He also has a soft spot for jeans. He’s very picky about his jeans but once he finds a pair he likes he gets ten pairs of them.

N • No • Biggest turn offs

He absolutely hates over sharing right off the bat. Like on your first date you tell him every horrible thing that has happened to you- he’s running. If there is something he absolutely needs to know then it’s okay (he thinks?). He also hates people who aren’t self aware. People who will judge others for something they themselves blatantly do.

O • Over and Out• How he’d break up with you

He’d do it right before he got shipped off. If you two had just started going together he probably would just ‘ghost’ you and you’d think he fell off the face of the earth. But if you two had been going for a while it would complicate things for him. He’s torn between leaving you a half assed phone call or breaking up with you to your face. While you’re at work/out of the house he’d pick up the things he had at your place leaving a very cliche ‘not you but me’ not on your kitchen counter. Maybe when he got back he’d answer you phone calls and meet you for coffee- but it’s very unlikely.

P • Protective vs Possessive

He’s a unhealthy mixture of both. Some of his protectiveness is quite sweet. He always makes sure to follow the sidewalk rule and walk a little bit behind you. He gives off scary guard dog energy and he makes sure to put it to good use. Someone’s making you uncomfortable. Glare so strong it’ll make your knees buckle. Other times it’s annoying, and it feels almost like he thinks of you as a child. “Careful around the oven.” Duh Simon. You’ll get random calls from his burner phone with him practically begging you to lock the doors and windows over the phone so he can hear it. He has minor OCD. Teaches you simple- yet uncommon self defense techniques and make sure you feel confident using a knife. His possessiveness comes from from his ego and is deeply intertwined with his protectiveness. He firmly believes that no one else can protect you like he can. Which is kinda true. You are his so it’s his job to protect you. This means he’ll probably put up a fight if you want to go somewhere without him, even if it’s just to go grab the mail. He’s no stranger to how horrible people can be- he’s guilty of it himself.

Q • Quick • How quick do they actually fall in love?

It happens at a normal pace. That doesn’t mean he knows it. It takes like five different people to point it out to him before he starts believing their right. All he knows is that he feels bad when he’s away from you and fucking fantastic when he’s with you. He finds that he works harder so mission goes by quicker. He finds that while he’s driving over to your place his cheeks start to burn, only then does he notice he’s been smiling since he’s started the engine. When he does finally admit it, it doesn’t cause him to rush into anything. The two of you may still be friends for a few months before he acts on it. He genuinely enjoys the foreign feeling of butterflies and warmth in his chest. Just let him soak in it.

R • Relationship history

He’s been in a few relationships, about five. He’s never been in love but he has loved someone. That person was there for him during a tough time in his life (his father leaving and his brother trying to get sober) and he was there for them too during their own rough patch. It lasted a little more than a year and they both mutually decided that they would make better friends. Neither of them ever kept in touch. The other relationships would always last about 3-5 months. Mostly something to take his mind off of work when he was home. He enjoyed being with them but it just never worked out.

S • Sentimental

He is sentimental. He still has a soft spot for the outfit you wore on their first date and no matter how old it is he insists that you keep it. He will frequently drive past important places to the two of you. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are always so soft as he remembers whatever it was that happened there. He’ll never admit it but if you ever decided to make him a scrapbook/photo album he’d probably cry.

T • Tidy • What’s it like living with him?

He’s honestly a pretty wonderful roommate. It’s been drilled into his head order and routine. He cleans for about 10 minutes every morning, simple things like wipe down the kitchen, dust the living room, throw a load of laundry in. He finds great calmness in repetitive tasks. Clutter makes it hard for him to focus and it seriously makes his skin itch. He does hate vacuuming though so hopefully you’ll take that over for him. He’s also a decent cook, nothing fancy, but they are very much comfort meals. Steak with potatoes, stews, spaghetti, things like that. It’ll take him a while to get use to living with you, but it makes him feel safe. His favorite time of day is when both of you are settling into bed, mumbling things you just remembered about your day, his chin resting on top of your head, just being completely absorbed in you. Moments like these are things he never thought he could- or really deserved to have.

U • Ultimate • the ultimate way to weasel your way into his heart

The quickest way to Simon’s heart is honestly just paying attention to him. You notice when he’s feeling upset and instead of brushing him off as grumpy you take time out of your day to make him feel better. You had a rough day and say the only way it could be better is by him making you a cup of his famous tea- he’s melted. He shows up to a gathering and you show genuine excitement about his presence- might marry you right there. You were out shopping and bought a little something for him because it reminded you of him- someone sedate him. He knows he’s a tough nut to crack so when someone actually puts in the effort to get to know him it always shakes him to his core. You- someone who could have almost anyone- want him?

V • Vacation

His favorite vacations are small two-three day ones. Maybe both of you book a hotel a few towns over and spend the weekend exploring the quaint little town? Traveling takes a lot out of him. It sounds a bit silly given his profession but he isn’t the biggest fan of planes. In his defense he’s know some pilots who should definitely have their license revoked. Since he’s legally dead there are a few hoops to jump through when flying international. (Thankfully Price is the paperwork master) He also isn’t a fan of all the plannnning. Ugh. If you wanted to get him on a real week long vacation the whole thing will have to be a guided tour and he wants to have a buzz for most of it.

W • Wait • how long will they wait to marry you?

About three- four years. Small wedding. He refuses to say vows out loud but will absolutely write some and let you read them after the ceremony. Fighting back tears. He is actually invested in the planning portion of it- especially the cake. Price officiates the wedding and would absolutely walk you down the aisle if you requested. Johnny is best man. Gaz is the flower girl and the DJ. Your reception is fucking amazing (thanks Johnny) and you have the best wedding album ever.

X • eXtra

If you want this man in a pile of mush please for the love of god skim your fingers over his jaw and chin. It’s a sensitive area for him because it’s covered half the time and it’s also a way he self soothes. When he’s stressed or nervous he’ll rub at it and it really does physically calm him. It’s also a great way to get him to sleep or back to sleep on nights he’s struggling.

Y • You • How often does he think about you while he’s away?

With his job he is easily distracted. Nights away from you are hell though. He literally sleeps with one of your shirts. He has it balled up and tucked under his chin and tries his best to imagine it’s your head.

Z • Zzzzz

He likes to go to bed early and wake up early. He naturally runs cold- despite his size- and he needs the room like a meat locker to sleep. Big fluffy comforters are something that he absolutely indulges in. The two do you are pressed together all night to keep warm. He wears socks to sleep- fight him. He also wears a pair of tight boxers (he likes to be compressed) and a loose t shirt. He loves skin to skin contact, if he has a chance of being pressed against you naked you could probably get him to turn the thermostat up to a normal temperature. He doesn’t snore often but when he does it’s growly like a grizzly bear. He is a light sleeper so anytime you move or a loud car goes by he will wake up. It’s never too difficult to fall back asleep though. He does suffer from night terrors. You can tell when his having one because his body heat will rise and he’ll start to twitch in his sleep. At first he was very snippy when you tried to soothe him but that’s just because he was embarrassed. Eventually he comes to crave some of your touches to bring him back down to earth.

Hope you all liked this. If you don’t agree with anything you see here that’s fine too! This took me a ridiculously long time but I throughly enjoyed it. I’m debating on whether I should do Soap or Price next.

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

Ours to love forever.

Hantengu clones × Fem!Reader [Yandere]

Part two.

Y/N = Your Name

Synopsis: 𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚌𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝.

Warnings: manipulation, gaslighting(?), BLOOD, eating people (that includes a baby as well, fellas), coddling, isolation, monophobia, stalking, reader is naive and too sweet for her own good (T^T), suffering :D

You were warned.

This morning was rather... peculiar. The weather was pleasant, but the burning sun created a rather tiring atmosphere. At least, that's what happening to the sweet woman doing the groceries. Poor little Y/N doing all this work alone? Everyone saw that she was married. The absolute sweetheart of her village. The sleeves of her kimono indicated she is married. But the question with most is: When? When did dear Y/N marry and who is the lucky man? Well, it's quite complicated.

"Thank you!" Says Y/N before putting in the fruits and vegetables in her wicker basket. Suddenly however, she was approached by one of her male acquaintances whom she hadn't seen in so many months. However, instead of him being greeted by her bright, sweet smile and her infamous warm embrace, he was met with a nervous smile, jumpy body language and distance. "Y/N? What's wrong? It's me, Asuka!" The poor man is already dead, he just doesn't know it. But why is he already dead?

----

Far from the average human line of sight, in a near forest, are four interesting individuals. One in a tree in the East, eyeing his woman like a hawk. One in the North, glaring at the man who approached his woman. Another in the West, clearly eyeing the poor man with vitriolic glee. And the final one is in the South, his cold eyes simply scan the man's every movement. In short. Demons. Muzan's demons who had been given permission to keep their human spouse as long as they do what they were ordered to by Muzan. Now, which of Muzan's demons would Muzan himself grant the luxury of keeping anything human related to themselves merely for their own enjoyment? Satisfaction? That type of treatment is very likely to be reserved for an Upper Moon demon. Yes, the Upper Four, Hantengu. The tale of how they met is quite interesting, but right now, neither of the Hantengus seem happy that their woman is being addressed by a man. Hell, even looking is a crime in their demented eyes.

----

Meanwhile, the woman tries to run away from the conversation that she had with the poor man. "Hey, wait a minute, listen! Why aren't you writing to your old friend anymore? Did I do something wrong?" Oh how she wanted to tell him that he did nothing wrong. He hadn't done anything in the slightest. But it was the wrath of her husbands she feared. "N... No! You did nothing wrong, I just have places to be! I-I'm sorry!" So Y/N simply rushes away. She had gotten everything she needed anyways. Y/N takes the path that all four of her beyond insane husbands had told her to take and that would be the forest. With a slight anxious gulp, the woman entered the forest, the thick branches and many leaves providing shade and preventing any sunlight from entering. And that's finally when she heard it. The flapping of wings and a shrill cackle. She freezes in her spot, a bit of fear beginning to cloud her mind, but she remains calm knowing that they would never harm her. "Hi..." She instantly flinched and whipped her whole body around where she is met with the face of one of her husbands. Soon enough, the other three join and as usual faster than she can even register her own blinking. "Hello, dears." She greets with a small nervous smile, staring down the large frames of her four inhuman husbands. It's just them in this shaded forest.

"Why are you nervous...?" Aizetsu asks before grabbing her waist and pulling her close to his eerily cold body. "Indeed! Why? We'd never hurt our beloved!" Says Urogi who finally approaches her properly and buries his face into her neck so that he could inhale her scent. The moment seemed sweet until the gruff and vexed voice of none other than Sekido rung out in a painfully calm tone signalling that he was not in the mood for any meaningless excuses. "And would you like to explain who that thing was?" She felt a cold chill run down her spine while being in the arms of Aizetsu, who had an iron grip on her small body, but not nearly enough to cause her any form of discomfort. For a prolonged moment, Y/N said nothing, all that was heard and felt was the rather warm breeze and the sound of the leaves swaying together in a gentle manner. It's almost as if they themselves pity the powerless woman and produce the calming sounds of nature, though when surrounded by such terrifyingly powerful creatures, nature can only do so much. "We just want to know who that man was, sweet thing! He just seemed like someone suspicious for our delicate little lady and we just want to make sure you're safe and sound!" Karaku, who had already snatched the small woman away from Aizetsu and lifted her up in his arms bridal style, said so convincingly, yet there was a clear malicious undertone to his reasoning. His deep emerald eyes with constricted pupils stared straight into hers as if warning her to say something before they force it out of her. His smile unchanging. Sadly, she only thought that this was an extreme form of caring which, lightly put, is.

Feeling his cold chest on her soft cheek and his piercing stare, she had no choice but to speak. She was doing this out of guilt, feeling as if she's being ungrateful for not telling her husbands, who merely want to keep her safe. "He's a simple acquaintance of mine... My friend's friend." Y/N finally answers with a shy smile. Sekido however, did not like the idea of any man or woman even speaking to his wife. Urogi had noticed that Sekido was going to go off and quickly spoke up. Despite that unchanging, mischievous grin, and his joyous personality, he himself found not a hint of amusement in what she said. "Oh, but my songbird, we told you many, many times that no man is allowed to approach, much less even speak to you! You know we're only doing this because of the horrors we've seen humanity cause. We're over two centuries old! We know everything!" The tone of his voice remained the same, but his words express clear dissatisfaction. Now she felt an overwhelming amount of guilt for having disobeyed them. ["Why did I have to speak to him? Am I ungrateful?"] She wondered to herself while bearing an expression of deep shame. ["You disappointed them! They do everything for you and only ask one thing in return!"] The guilt of her simple mistake is causing her to feel cornered, just how they want her to be. Karaku's grin widens at her expression of shame, knowing he and his clone brethren have her wrapped around their fingers. She's so easy to break.

"So why, pray tell, did you speak to that man, Y/N? You know we don't like disobedience and punishment is something all of us wish to avoid. However, it would only be fair for you to understand your mistake..." Aizetsu's, expression had gone from solemn to stern and so had his voice. Y/N on the other hand, accepted that and would let them drag her home so that she could receive her punishment.

___

The punishment? Isolation. Which is what brings her here now in the cold, dark room, with only a futon and a candle light. The clones know she fears being alone more than anything. The fear of being in danger with no one to help is what scares her and even when in the comfort of her own home, she needs someone to be there with her. For the first few hours, all went well. She was fine. Until she wasn't. It started off as silent tears and sniffles, before that would turn into crying and eventually, her hitting the door to let her out. "I'm sorry! I promise I'll never talk to any man again! Please let me out! Please!" Her fearful sobs would continue and so would the banging on the locked door. The clones? Nowhere to be seen except for one. Urogi. In case she were to sneak out of her punishment and possibly the house, he would be there to catch her and put her right back. The sound of her sobs and her begging for forgiveness made him smile with sadistic glee. However, he feels as if she had not learned her lesson yet, so he would keep her there until the clones' return.

Which leads us to them stalking the unfortunate man's house. Asuka was going to suffer a horrible, horrible fate. "How shall we kill him?" Karaku asked while gently swaying his uchiwa though the air. Aizetsu, who observed with clear jealous eyes, looked at Sekido for a moment. He too is curious to know how they would put an end to the man who dared to speak to his wife. Sekido, though not the nicest of the quartet, cracked a small smile for just a moment. "Mutilation." The sound of that was very enticing. Without wasting another second, the three of them entered Asuka's house with blinding speed. They had already known where of the house he was and that was the bedroom... with a child. A baby. This would be more fun. Seconds later, they're infront of the shōji door where Asuka, who was playing with his child, could be heard. (Death incoming)

___

One second, Asuka was a happy father. The next, he was a headless body bleeding out before his infant child, with three extremely jealous demons feeding off of his corpse. Sekido was the first one to acknowledge the child's presence as well. Well, they've killed one, might as well go for two.

___

Hours later, Sekido, Karaku and Aizetsu return. All three are covered in blood but now bear expressions of satisfaction. "Ah, you're back already!" Urogi exclaims, immediately flying down to them. The four immediately entered the house where they would walk up to the room they had locked Y/N in. Urogi explained in detail how she cried and pleaded to be let out. Karaku couldn't help but laugh evilly at his joyous counterpart's little story. Aizetsu felt a little sad at that fact, but he thought it necessary for her to learn. As for Sekido, he simply huffed in response. "Good. That means she's learned her lesson." Just then, they arrive. They open the door to the dark room and are surprised she's not just laying in the middle in her futon. However, Aizetsu quickly spots her curled up and laying in the corner of the room. He and Sekido are the first to approach her. It's clear she had cried for hours on end, her eyes made that much obvious. "I hope you've learned your lesson, wife." The rings on the khakkhara rattle as he hits the floor once. Karaku kneels down next to her stroking her tear stained cheek while smiling like a maniac. Aizetsu kneels down as well, but caresses her hair, his expression more depressed than usual. The final clone waits for them to finish before picking her up bridal style and pampering her with affection. "Believe me, this hurt us more than it did you." His smile said otherwise. All she could do was stare blankly at whatever entered her line of sight. It was torture, but everytime, it would end the same. Sekido sighs heavily before silently telling Urogi to take her out of the room and bring her to their shared room where they would pamper her and treat her like a queen, as if they hadn't let her endure hours of silent torture. "We love you, dear. We'll never let you go." Covered by Urogi's wing, kissed and praised by Karaku, cuddled by Aizetsu, and worshipped by Sekido.

"I have a question I want to ask you." She had already melted into the affection so easily. Y/N looks up wondering what he wanted to ask.

"Would you like to bear us a child?"

~~~~~~

♧A/N☆

Well that was rather dark ( ._.)

《All rights reserved.©》

[yelena-bellova]

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x Reader - One Shot #3

Talking to the Sky

Plot: While doing some gardening, Y/n deals with unpleasant memories.

Word Count: 753

Warnings: loss of a child, ptsd, (16+)

A/N: Miss me? I know it’s been a while but to be honest, fic writing has just not been a priority. But I wanted to finish this one and get it out since I promised to continue this every once and a while. Since we’re all preoccupied again because of award seasons, I thought it was a good time to revisit Rosebud and Joel.

This one’s a bit more sad than the last few, but I really wanted to do one just of Rose dealing with some of her s-it. Hope it’s somewhat enjoyable!!

————

Winter was somewhere in that middle bit. Jackson had weathered the worst of the storms, but the fierce cold hadn’t let up yet.

Y/n cursed her gloves, two times too big for her hands, as she dug up the soil of her backyard. She was attempting to plant a garden, emphasis on attempting. She’d done a fair amount of gardening pre-Cordyceps, but that was purely for pleasure. This had more weight to it.

Those who worked the greenhouses had helped her during their shifts. They’d taught Y/n which plants grew during which seasons, some blooming best in winter and others in the summer. There was a science to it more important than ever to know.

Y/n was planting a medley of vegetables, fruit and herbs. She couldn’t feel her knees anymore, the cold having sept into her joints within minutes. She built a few mounds, burying the seeds below and allowing enough space between piles.

She sat back on her feet, struck by a memory she’d been trying to ignore.

Flower bushes.

The looming warmth of a Texas spring.

Sarah’s laughter.

Dirt under their fingernails.

Y/n sighed, her chest aching from something far sharper than the cold.

Finding Joel in Boston hadn’t been the catalyst to bringing back life to her memories. Sarah had lived in her mind every minute of every day since the girl had left the Earth. Etched in her heart till the end of time. But between settling in Jackson and marrying Joel, living some strange version of the life they’d wanted, it breathed new air into Sarah’s ghost. Sometimes it rendered Y/n speechless, frozen somewhere between the past and the present.

She looked up the sky, the cloud coverage shielding her eyes from the sun.

“You hated when I made you do this,” Y/n spoke to the air, “You never liked getting your hands dirty but you were smiling. The whole time. So there was never much weight to what you said.”

“I remember that time we were planting those flowers in the backyard,” she continued, “Daisies or roses…I don’t really remember, just that they were beautiful when they bloomed that summer. That your dad wouldn’t admit to them prettying up the place because ‘What’s there to pretty up?’”

Y/n chuckled, Joel had never made a big deal about the little changes Sarah and her made to the house. They both knew he secretly liked them and loved the two of them too much to ever say no.

“He’s gotten worse, if you can imagine it,” Y/n looked down at her shovel, wiping some of the dirt off, “If you thought he was bad in the morning then,” she whistled, “But he’s also…better. He’s him.”

Y/n sunk into the snow a little deeper. The cold didn’t matter anymore. “The other day, I caught him humming to himself. He was doing the dishes and I came in from patrol and…it just reminded me of all the times we’d catch him singing and he’d deny it,” she smiled, “We’d literally be standing right there and he’d say it was the fridge or something.”

Her little laugh quieted, turning somber. The sweet memory inevitably turned sad.

“God, I miss you,” Y/n whispered as her throat tightened, “I miss you so much. Everything I do in this house, I keep looking over and expecting you to be right next to me.“

She paused, beginning to feel just a drop of the sun’s distant warmth. “And then your dad comes in or Uncle Tommy and it’s like you’re there. Making us laugh, calling us old…and for two seconds, it feels okay. Not perfect, but alright, and I can get through the rest of the day,” Y/n rubbed her running nose and looked back up at the sky, “Just keep doing that. Don’t ever leave us down here on our own.”

Y/n had long lost track of time since starting her work, and she didn’t hear the front door open. Joel was home from patrol duty. He walked through the empty house, looking more and more like their home each day, looking for someone to greet.

“Rose,” Y/n heard Joel call from inside. She wiped a melancholy tear away and got to her feet.

Taking one more look at the grey sky, she smiled, as if Sarah was radiating her presence down from the clouds. Telling her to get inside and hug her husband. Help make dinner. Make their remote corner of the world a little brighter. Just as Sarah would have.

——————

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[milfjuulpod]

Guidance

a new job as a guidance counselor lands you at Abbott Elementary, and it doesn’t take long for a certain redhead to catch your attention.

The morning air was surprisingly enjoyable, August bringing out comfortable weather again. It was Monday, the first day of your new job. Luckily for you, students weren’t coming back for another week, giving you time to get used to the new environment and plan out the school year. The steps up to Abbott Elementary were short, and you took a deep breath in before entering. The halls were filled with character, drawings from students and back to school posters flooded the white walls. Finding your way to the principal’s office, you decided to introduce yourself. 

       To your surprise, the office was empty. Lights off, and no personal items found, you assumed she hasn’t arrived yet. “If you’re looking for Ava she won’t be here for at least—” You turned around at the sound of a woman’s voice, her accent thick and attitude evident. She stopped speaking once she looked up from her phone and met your gaze, eyes scanning your whole body. “Who are you?” She asked bluntly. “I’m the new guidance counselor, sorry I was just looking for Ms. Coleman,” You gestured back to the empty room. 

       “Nice try. She’ll be here in a couple hours.” Uninterested in the conversation, the redhead started walking away from you. “Good luck, kid,” She said as she fully left your view. She didn’t leave your mind, though. Disappointed at the lack of direction, you decided to retreat to your new office and start setting things up for the week to come. 

-

       By the following Monday, you had met most of the staff, made some plans for the year, and were excited to finally meet the students. You found yourself in a little friend circle with Jacob, Janine, and Gregory. All of them were sweet in their own ways, and they were quick to accept you in (mostly Janine). A few other teachers were a different story. Barbara was incredibly sweet, but she seemed distant. You didn’t take it personally, from what you’ve heard, not many people stay too long at Abbott, and she was probably expecting you to be gone by next year. Nonetheless, Barbara was always kind. And then there was Melissa, the first person you met. She was…different. Outwardly tough, internally soft-hearted. You still couldn’t tell whether or not she trusted you yet, but you doubt she did. She kept her guard up, and made her disdain for “newbies” quite obvious. 

      Right before the lunch bell, there was a knock at your door. In waltzed Ava, with a student in tears by her side. “Hey gorgeous, this little man has been pestering students all morning long, but last year was a totally different story. Kid had friends in all grades!” She explained, keeping a hand on the student’s shoulder. “That’s alright, come sit down honey,” You said gently to the student, and smiled a goodbye to Ava. As she exited, she left your door propped open. Distracted by helping the student in front of you, it went unnoticed. But to a certain Italian, it was certainly noticed. Melissa took her time walking the halls, listening in on you working with a student. As she got closer, she realized it was her student, and that was enough of an excuse as any to allow herself in. She definitely didn’t want to go in just to watch you in your element. 

       “And Aniyah? Is she still your friend?” You asked the child in front of you, still unaware of the visitor you had. You turned around to grab a book, and when you faced the front again, you saw her. “Oh! Ms. Schemmenti, hi. Is this your student?” You asked. “Yeah, that one’s mine. And Melissa is fine,” She told you, smiling small, but it was there nonetheless. Maybe she did like you after all. 

       Melissa decided to sit in on your session with her student, which certainly didn’t help your nerves. Maybe she’s just protective, you thought to yourself. The minutes passed slowly, every so often you would look at Melissa to find her already looking at you. It was like that the whole time, her green eyes watching your every move while her perfect lips stayed tight together. It wasn’t until the bell rang again that she spoke. 

       “I’ll take him back with me. You were good today with him, he doesn’t talk much to new people. I’m impressed,” She complimented you, and you tried your best to not let it go to your head. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you. Have a good rest of your day guys,” You waved goodbye to the student and teacher, and couldn’t help but watch Melissa leave and chat with her student. It had only been a week, and you were wrapped completely around her finger. 

[sebastianswallows]

Tom Riddle Headcanons

— WARNINGS: none, just angst

— A/N: So, @esolean asked for some Tom headcanons. These are just very random and scattered ideas about our problematic fave.

Has exactly three emotions: anger, indifference, and obsession.

The latter is primarily exercised in the context of magical artefacts and you.

Because he grew up so unloved, he can’t really conceptualise himself as worthy of being loved, and the fact that girls fawn over him because of his looks just makes him despise them more.

Growing up under constant criticism has also made him a highly critical (and self-critical) person. He would tell you exactly what’s wrong with you, and it wouldn’t even be out of meanness, it would just be as normal as remarking about the weather.

When he actually hurts your feelings at one point, it is the first time he even notices that about himself and wonders whether he should correct it.

He decides that yes, he should, because it was the horrible muggle women at Wool’s Orphanage that made him that way and that his hyper-critical way of thinking is a parasite instilled by them rather than a natural characteristic of himself.

The more he thinks about this, the less he likes it, because what is his real self, after all? Can he even know anymore? What would’ve he been like if he had grown up like all his other peers?

But this just leads him to hate his useless Gaunt relatives and the callous muggle side of the family more.

If he’s remotely fond of anyone, it’s his Uncle Ominis.

Without getting sentimental, he finds more enjoyment in the company of animals than of people, wizards or not. Animals don’t judge, don’t complain, don’t make it painfully clear they’d rather be anywhere else but in his presence. Animals just accept him as he is.

Which means that he excels at Beasts class, being on par with Rubeus Hagrid in spite of being a skinny little city boy with delicate hands.

The girls take this as a sign that he’s such a gentle, caring person. They don’t realise he’d rather pet a Kneazle than spend time with them.

You would be an exception, of course, because his being good with animals would not surprise you at all. Of course Tom is good at everything.

Has encountered all the snakes on Hogwarts grounds by his second year and stays informed on snake society gossip.

He may or may not ask little grass snakes to follow you around and report back to him if you’re seeing any other boys.

He’s more than once fallen asleep while reading.

Keeps himself awake while studying at night by sucking on sour candies.

Doesn’t like mornings. Doesn’t like evenings. Hates every single day that he’s alive. Lives out of spite, mostly.

Likes night time though, because he can sneak into the Restricted Section.

Pretends he’s ignorant of most muggle devices, like cars and radios, in the hope that his Slytherin colleagues will be more accepting of him.

Physically, a very skinny boy. His elbows hurt after laying them on the desk for hours and hours while writing. His hip bones show. He can count his own ribs. He doesn’t feel very confident about his body, so he decides to pay no attention to it.

His hands and feet are always cold. His body can never muster up enough blood that he could blush. He gets papercuts easily and heals quite slowly.

It takes him months to realise — during a random moment while he’s pouring himself a cup of pumpkin juice — that your offering to “kiss it better” was actually flirting.

The first time he got sick was while he was at Hogwarts. While he was at the orphanage, he seemed to have subconsciously known that he couldn’t afford to get sick, so at the first opportunity, his body reacted against everything that had built up in him.

He’s good at maintaining his health once he gets it back, mainly for practical reasons: the healthier he is, the more he can spend time studying.

The first time he’s invited to a wealthy friend’s home for spring break, he realises he hates wizards almost as much as he hates muggles. The parents in turn admire him for his good grades, are envious of him for his bloodline, and talk down to him because of his mixed blood and his growing up poor.

For the first time, Tom doesn’t feel any more at home in the magical world than in the muggle world. He has a touch of an existential crisis over it for a few weeks before he just channels that into feeling more angry and determined to beat them all at their own game (magic)

He ignores your encouragement, along with everyone else’s, that he should be employed by the Ministry once he graduates because what he really wants is to teach DADA and “collect” students just like Professor Slughorn did.

And he’s kind of surprised that you stick by him anyway and move into a squalid flat on Knockturn Alley when he gets that soul-sucking job at Borgin and Burkes instead.

[skelesunderthetale]

How about what they would do on a date? Like activities and stuff like that

What they would like to do with you

Characters: Blue, Dream, Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Goth

💞

Underswap (Blue) Blue would love to share his passion for sports and exercise with you! Going on a walk, at the gym, at the beach to play some volleyball and then cool off by getting in the water… Not only are they good habits, but also they are some things that he likes and wants you to enjoy just as much. If you aren’t used to sporty activities, if you had bad experiences, it’s okay! If you are willing to try stuff out, he’ll be empathetic of your experiences and make sure to be attentive and guiding. If you aren’t ready and prefer to stay in, he’s also fine with watching action movies, comedies, or even cheesy romance with you. At least he can cuddle with his favorite person meanwhile! Dreamtale (Dream) Dream doesn’t have much time on his hands, it’s obvious. When he has enough time, and when he can actually put all his attention on you, he likes to either stay inside your home to fully relax together, do some puzzles, cross stitch, read, or even watch documentaries. He only likes TV when it makes people learn things, good luck making him watch reality shows (he’s old). If you actually want him to take you out, he’d propose a nice dinner somewhere calm and cozy, or go on a walk in a special garden place. Dreamtale (Nightmare) Nightmare being himself, he hates going out during the day, or at least when it’s sickeningly sunny and pretty. He likes foggy weather, when it’s dark, and when you can look up and see the clouds almost hiding the moon. Speaking of the moon, that’s probably one of the calmest activities you can do with him: star gazing. If you are sleeping, he would bother waking you up so you guys can watch the sky together through the big window of your bedroom. Honorable mention to: reading! He’s an old soul (if he still really has one?) and can give you easily any definition you need if you have a hard time reading some of the classics he has in his bookshelves (you saw one that dated from… like… 1798…)

Something New (Killer) Killer loves cats. His hobby is to bring a new cat everytime he comes back from a mission at this point… So to cope with his lack of time that he can spend with you, he simply makes you take care of them with him. Feed them, make sure they are okay, pet them and play with them until they are all sleeping from exhaustion. If you are allergic… Well, he’ll have to think really hard to think about something else to do with you… Actually, he has a very enjoyable sport in mind :) He’s kidding! Unless…

Dusttale (Dust) Dust is a homebody, it takes him an enormous amount of willpower to actually get out of bed each morning to do whatever jobs he needs to finish before sunset. He loves you though, and his brother wants him to do what he can to make you happy. Thank his hallucinations, because they are probably the reason why you didn’t die during your first encounter… If you want to chill at home, well good for him! I mean… you guys! He’s not really doing anything though, he’s kind of just watching you do things. Will it be drawing, dancing, singing, watching a show or video, he’s silently watching. No judgment behind those eyes though, so don’t feel silly or embarassed. If you want to go out, well he just hopes it’s not somewhere like a festival or anything.

Goth (JessyDS comic version) Goth is funny to be around, and like his name can lead to think… he’s goth, and metal, and likes anything that sounds a bit louder than usual. He’s edgy, and it shows. If he was rich, he’d buy you guys tickets to every concert of bands he likes that isn’t a 10 hour drive away. And merch! IT’S EXPENSIVE. The number of times you saw him beg his dad for 10$ then beg his other dad for 100$ (Reaper understands his passion a bit more than Geno does…) When you go to a concert, it’s loud, people stink, the lights blind you, but it’s fine: at least you can feel his wings brushing your back. --- Author note : Im not a poser, and also comments are very welcome! Requests too! I love interacting with the community