#i spent so long staring at these hoping i could make the editing look cute

[citrlet]

[catiuskaa]

Yeah, Flowers Follow.

You have always been committed to your duty at your mom's flower shop since she got hurt carrying bags of dirt over a month ago. It was mostly just you and the flowers, until he barged in one day, slapped 20 bucks on the countertop and with a passive-aggressive tone, asked: "How do I say fuck you in flower?"

because seo changbin + fluff will always have me in a chokehold. And a flower au? fuck yea, bring it on, babe.

inspired by this pin which I'll link here

edit: omg guys you loved this so much I just couldn't resist making a part two, still, this can be read as a stand-alone, although I hope you guy's like this one as much as its 'second part', which I'll link here

Word count: 5k. Binnie isn't mean, ok? He's just emo and tough-looking. And kinda introverted. fluff fluff fluff. swearing. kinda horny towards the end, but no spice added. Lol

You wiped your sweat from your forehead, rolling your sleeves up with a huff as you took back in your hands a big old water can. You watered the lilies and small ivies that remained outside of the flower shop, quickly waddling back inside for more water.

Your mother was usually the one who took care of Lilac, the flower shop. At first, it had been her and your aunties, but it all flew away after your grandma's passing. You had been young, so much that your memories of the time were mostly made of blurry faces that were not present in your life to this day. Your mom had been okay taking care of the small flowery world she built, but an accident with a heavy bag of dirt over a month ago made you complain. She reluctantly let you handle the store until her back got better, which was coming along slowly.

After watering the plants, sweeping the floor, pruning the bonsais, and preparing the several bouquet orders you had for the day, you ran out of things to do, settling to play some jazzy music while you reviewed your class’ notes as you waited for clients.

Your evening was quite calming. Clients came in like droplets, so the shop never felt too crowded. Most of them asked for flowers for their loved ones, some even speaking about their partners, how they had met, or the dates they were excited to have.

It was cute. You had always been fond of the small flower shop and shared the interest with your mom, reason why you didn't care about taking the lead for a while or doing your homework there. You loved the way the flowers brought people together, and the stories and meanings that they had behind them.

Just as you figured out the answer to that one question you had been stuck on, the bell rang, indicating someone's presence inside. Someone that approached you in a rather passive-aggressive manner.

"How can I say 'fuck you' in flower?"

Words that you had never imagined coming out of someone's mouth —which was something, considering the wide range that your imagination could reach sometimes—.

You carefully observed the man's gestures, who didn't stop scanning the place. Years spent helping out at the flower shop had given you a kind of sixth sense, one that allowed you to easily see through people's appearances.

"Do you have anything in mind, or do you not care as long as it is full of loathing?" You inquired with a sweet smile.

Changbin found himself suddenly falling into the harmony of your eyes without realizing it. You quickly left the books on the shelf under the counter, lowered the music and turned to him. Your eyes rested on his, brown and limpid, to which he adopted a belligerent posture in response, an action that —to his surprise— did not unsettle you. He quickly shook his head, focusing on the anger that remained inside of him.

"Make it striking. Something so colourful that can even hurt to look at." You giggled.

"Intense." He held back a smile, his lips twitching. "One second."

He stared at your figure as you went to the small workshop behind the counter. The feeling that Changbin had at first had nothing to do with what he was perceiving at that time. A pleasant floral smell, mixed with mint and lavender essence filled the building. It wasn't only the exquisite aroma that captivated the man, but the beautiful colourful landscape that that small establishment hid. The white wood decoration made any bouquet or flower pot stand out as if it were the icing on a cake. The large windows allowed a large amount of light to enter, and they gave amplitude to the small place.

It was a beautiful place, but strange. Peculiar, for sure, and it was due to the chromatic order of its flowers. Sorted by colour scale, regardless of the species. The red roses were with the poppies, the tulips with the clivias and the orange jasmines. The ferns, aloe vera and fittonias were also together, despite having nothing to do with each other. The coves, cherry blossoms and hydrangeas shared a common space that at first glance, they should not have. It was a beautiful chaos, but it was still a floral hustle and bustle.

"Do you like it?" You asked sweetly when you came back.

"It's not bad." He replied vaguely. "It's..." Ravishing "...small."

From his attitude and the way he studied the place, almost as if he expected some kind of danger to appear among the pots and leaves, some would say he was not to be messed with, but to you, he looked like someone rather shy and quite sceptical, nothing to do with what he might seem as, considering that tattooed bad-guy build and the killer stare that he carried around. A thought occurred that his somewhat murderous look did not allow him to say what he really thought.

Nevertheless, you could agree with him. Not only was it a small store, but it was a disarray of varieties. Nevertheless, to Changbin, above all, feeling watched all the time was something he was used to, yet your stare felt different, making him feel more goosebumps the longer he was under your eager gaze. He couldn't help it, but when you looked at him so kindly, he felt strange.

He wanted you to stop looking at him.

"Orders arrive on Wednesdays," you mentioned, already arranged behind the counter. "Shop opens at nine, so feel free to arrive whenever. I will need more flowers for your bouquet, so until then, I'm afraid I can't have it. Either that or..."

Changbin interrupted you. He couldn't stand to have those deep-coloured eyes immersing in his own.

"Wednesday is fine." He said in a huff.

You smiled, dimples on display. "Okay! Then as long as you stop by on Wednesday, we can arrange the bouquet. I'll be here, spraying water to the chrysanthemums, alliums and hydrangeas."

Changbin felt his chest tighten, his eyes wandering around your features, your dimples, your lips. He stopped himself, took back his cash almost in a hurry, and left almost as quickly as he had arrived.

"See you then, and thanks for shopping in Lilac!"

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

Wednesday. The delivery truck was parked on the street facing the back of the store to unload the flowers you had ordered for the week.

To your surprise, Mystery —the nickname you had chosen for him, that sounded way better than 'fuck you flower boy'— came back precisely at nine am, and again, surprisingly enough, he wasn't alone.

He looked way more relaxed with his friend, the anger that almost shocked you looking long gone as his features didn't remain tense.

The bell rang as you were preparing the workshop for the arrival of the many flowers.

"Wow, this place is lit." His friend had good taste, judging by what you could hear.

"Thank you!" You mentioned with a cheeky smile, startling both men when you came out of nowhere. "Sorry, the truck’s outside, but I’ll be here in a minute."

You approached the delivery guy, who was opening the truck and setting the ramp so lowering the different flowers wouldn’t be too hard.

“Hey, Jerry!”

A comfortable chat took place between the two, who had met each other several times ever since your mom got hurt.

Inside, another conversation was happening. “Remind me, what are we waiting for, buddy?” Han asked as he wandered about in the colourful building.

Changbin sighed, frustrated at the reminder.

“The boss said something the other day I didn’t like. As a matter of fact, I despised it,” he grunted. “He looked at my desk and saw the bouquet I kept there, the one we got for that other show, you know?” Han hummed, paying attention. Weirdly enough, Seo’s eyes never left the backdoor you had gone through, not even when he continued. “So he mentioned how untidy my desk looked, how disgusting it would look when the flowers died, and hinted that flowers would look way better in his studio. It made me fucking angry. I don’t care if no one likes you that much to give you pretty flowers.” Han cleared his throat, allowing Changbin to return from his hating cloud. “Yeah. Uh. So we’re here to plan his bouquet.”

“Sheesh, I get that. The boss can be such an asshole sometimes.” Jisung mentioned vaguely. “But why nine am?”

Because I needed the excuse to see her. “I want to get this over with. If I’m lucky, he’ll even brag about the flowers.” He smirked, hiding his true intentions.

He suddenly heard some giggles through the door you had crossed. Han arched his brows.

“So you offered to pay for coffee and takeaway tonight for me just so I’d come with you here only to get flowers for the big man? Really?” He said, faking innocence as he settled his elbows on the counter, holding his cheeks in his hands, almost like a toddler.

He gave Han a side-eye. He shrugged. “Give me one more sign, and I might start thinking that…”

Bin covered his mouth. “Don’t. And that also goes to don’t lick it, or I’ll make sure Minho air fries you.”

Jisung lifted his hands, giving up. “I wonder what’s going on back there.” He smirked, teasing.

Changbin didn't want to flutter around you two, but he knew that putting the flowers in the store wasn’t that hard. He clenched his jaw unconsciously.

"If I had known that you were looking for an employee, I would have come running," said the boy, putting his cap back. “If you are looking for more staff, you know where I am.”

"It's very kind of you, but I never looked for anyone in the first place. Mom wouldn’t even dare to accept it,” you laughed. “Also, I wouldn't bother you knowing that you have your own trade. In addition, I get to put my skills to the test, but I can get quite moody sometimes. I bite, you know.”

He arched an eyebrow. "Don't worry about any of that. Working with you would be a thousand times better than distributing flowers throughout the city.”

Maybe it had been how you laughed or the snarky reply he had just heard, but Changbin needed that man to leave. Now.

Your eyes landed on that buff silhouette who entered the inside of the truck. Seo continued to unload the flowers. You tried to finish the conversation, but the guy wouldn’t stop talking while there was a client of yours doing your fucking job. You grew tired of Jerry, and you got up inside the trunk, willing for the man to take a hint and leave already.

Han couldn’t believe his eyes.

"Oh, please don't," Jerry went up too. "I'll take care of moving the plants.”

"Don't worry, it's the last one.” You tiredly smiled at him.

You took the remaining bouquet and got out of the truck behind Seo while the delivery guy wondered when the flowers had been unloaded. You quickly said your goodbyes before you returned to the counter.

"Thank you for lowering the flowers, it was not your job yet you did it anyways,” you smiled shyly as you started preparing the table in front of you with different sorts of labels plus the diferent tools you needed. “Sorry for the wait.”

“You’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Han stared blankly at the man who scolded him singlehandedly every day he was late to the studio just by a minute. He then stared back at you, then at his friend.

No bloody way. Holy shit.

"For your order, I found something the other day I though you might enjoy," your smile widened, your eyes like crescent moons as you handed him a small book.

“Oh.”

It was an old copy of a book that read “The Language of Flowers.”

“Maybe you could search up in the insults chapter if you see any meaning that you think could suit.”

He looked at you and quickly back to the book so he wouldn’t drift away in your eyes like days ago.

“Yeah, fine.”

Changbin was not very talkative, but the bitter tone with which he spoke was unusual. Han could tell, years of knowing the man allowed him to feel a bad mood in the way he communicated. His gaze was more frivolous than usual, and he squeezed his lips as if he didn't want to say anything. Shockingly to him, you noticed and were unable to let it go.

"Is something wrong?" You questioned softly. “Are you upset?”

Changbin hesitated. Han gave him a soft kick where he knew you wouldn’t see it.

“Yes.”

You started slowly writing in the labels before you as he, at the same pace, passed the pages.

"May I know why?"

Changbin cleared his throat. Shit, why was he so nervous?

"That guy was just talking, and that's why I had to do his job,” he grunted.

"I... I'm sorry." You looked down, sounding sincere. “If I hadn't given him a conversation, he would have started unloading the flowers.”

It wasn't true, and Changbin wasn't an idiot. That guy wouldn't have taken his eyes away from you unless he didn't have enough time to finish his shift.

But that didn't matter to him. What mattered was that your voice didn’t sound the same when you talked about this guy. It didn’t sound right.

"What type of flower is a Forget-Me-Not?" Han interrupted, looking at the book, reading past Changbin's shoulder. If he continued like that, Seo may not scold him anymore. For a short time, at least. Maybe a week.

"Oh." You recovered your kind smile, and the knot that had formed on Changbin’s chest untangled as soon as he heard your excited tone as you showed Han the small blue flowers. “They actually import them, from Mexico! Did you know?” You asked no one in particular, the two men in the shop suddenly interested in the topic as you continued to blabber about flowers.

To Changbin, only when you talked about them, your voice seemed less annoying. Even pretty, he could admit —not out loud, obviously—. But he liked it, mentally classifying your sweet tone of voice into “I-would-listen-to-it-to-fall-asleep”.

No one would notice.

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

“Dude. You are like, I don’t know, totally in love with her?” Han said as he took a sip from his takeaway coffee as he entered the recording studio and sat on the sofa.

In his mind, just because he hadn’t paid for it, it tasted ten times better, even though if it was the same he chose every day.

The accusation almost made Changbin spit his own drink. He stared at it, wondering if there could be something in it that could’ve explained why his face felt so hot all of a sudden.

Fuck, was it that noticeable?

“Yeah man, it is really noticeable.” Han smiled, surprised at his silent victory. “You look at her like Minho Hyung looks at his cats. It’s sickening, really.”

Changbin frowned. “I do not.” Jisung deadpanned.

“Says the man that made me third wheel in a fucking flower shop.”

“What are you guys bickering about?” Chan asked with a small smile as he got inside.

“Changbin is in love with the flower girl two blocks away.” Han teased in a sing-song voice.

“Fuck that.” Chan’s eyes grew big with emotion.

“Shit, he is.”

“Actually, Hyung,” Jisung mentioned as he handed Chan the other coffee he had bought, “I think she might like him back.”

Changbin coughed violently. The others smiled.

“Why the fuck would she?” He frowned again, his eyes not leaving his phone. “I literally met her last week and behaved like a piece of shit.”

Both Chan and Han smiled, knowing that by not refusing the allegation, Changbin was actually interested in Miss Flower Girl.

“Remember the analogy I made with Minho and his cats? Same shit goes for her. I’ve never seen anyone staring so intensely at someone’s eyes.” Han trembled, exaggerating. “Chills. Literal chills.”

Small hope was planted in Changbin’s heart, but he tried to shove it deep inside him. “Either way, after I go and get the flowers from her, whatever this is, is over. There’s no chance,” he shrugged.

Chan and Jisung shared worried looks. Despite what Changbin could show to people, he was a loving, sensible person. They both knew that if he had silently admitted the existence of a crush on this girl, it was because he meant it. And for a guy like him, who was often viewed as mean and rude or even dangerous, he usually chose to approach new people the less, so whatever was going through his mind meant a big deal.

Chan tsked. “Maybe it’s none of my business, bro, but after Hari, I’ve-.”

“Spare me the trip, Hyung,” Changbin interrupted in a low voice. “She’s been stalking me for months since I broke up with her. I really don’t want to hear it.”

Chan patted his back, a sad smile on his features as he looked at his friend.

“S’good, man. No hard feelings.”

After working on some tracks for a while, the topic was thoroughly avoided by the members, until Changbin sighed.

“Okay. You guys can stop your mind games.”

The others gave him a puzzled look.

“Whaddya mean?” The Australian wondered.

Seo let a small smile show as he passed his hands through his face.

“I really want to see her again.”

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

So thanks to Chris, the bell in the flower shop rang once again. You were humming a popular song, one that Changbin knew, so instead of approaching you, he wandered through the isles filled with flowers, listening to you as you continued the melody.

His heart beat like crazy when after a while, he opened and closed the door again, pretending he hadn’t been there listening to you.

“Oh, hey, Mystery.”

Your smile made his heart skip a beat. The sundress you were wearing, along with the short brown apron, made him swallow dry.

“Flower girl,” he greeted. You lifted your eyebrows.

“That’s a change of attitude. What can I do for you today?”

Do me. “I was wondering if you could deliver the flower bouquet. Is that possible?” He asked politely.

Your dimples showed when you smiled at him, looking for a notebook in the mess that your study guides made.

“College?” He wondered, staring at your eyes daringly as he pointed to your books.

“Music major, final year,” you grinned. “For your delivery, write the address here, and I’ll deliver it myself,” you played with a strand of hair, quickly moving it behind your ear.

Chanbin’s hands tickled. He wanted to do that too.

“I wouldn’t do it usually, but I figured you wouldn’t enjoy seeing Jerry again.”

He scoffed as he scribbled in the notebook. You cackled.

Suddenly, a loud noise from the workshop startled both of you, who were kind of lost in the other’s eyes.

“Girl, are you still here?” Your mother asked loudly.

You facepalmed, mouthing ‘sorry’ to Changbin, to which he quickly gestured that it was fine.

“You ok, mom?” You replied.

“I’m fine! God, you spend your days here. If it were me, I’d be outside kissing boys!”

Your face turned red in the blink of an eye. “Mom?!” Changbin held back his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand.

She never answered, just chuckled teasingly.

Changbin quickly closed the notebook and gave it to you, his cheeks suddenly almost as red as yours.

“See you soon, I guess?” He smiled, still holding back a loud cackle.

“Stop laughing.” You snickered. “But yeah. See ya… eh…”

“Changbin. Seo Changbin.” He left, smilling like an idiot.

You opened the notebook as you raised the music’s volume again, blushing furiously at your discovery.

Along with the address of what you recognised as some well-known company and the name of who the flowers where for, he had left a note below it.

In case you want to go kiss boys.

Was that… his phone number?

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

After closing the shop for the day, you stared at the flower bouquet as you were walking down the street, headed to where Changbin had written down. After figuring your way out with the maps app on your phone, you decided that taking your bike would be stupid, as it only was two blocks away.

The mix of colours was striking. At least, it had that. You hoped the person who would receive it would like it, meanings aside, considering you put effort into it.

The company was bigger than you expected. Before you could allow yourself to enter and look around, a security guard stopped you.

“Excuse me, miss, no one is allowed inside without a pass,” he explained.

You smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. “I was just here to deliver this…? I wasn’t told about this restriction, my client just said that I should deliver it in person.” Yeah, that was a lie, but he didn’t know that. “Would it be ok if I went inside? It’ll be only for a minute.”

He sighed, then shrugged. “I don’t think I’m allowed to let you pass…”

“Oi, Hyung!”

A somewhat tall man —at least taller than you— approached you two.

“You’re Flower Girl, right?” He said, sounding excited, failing to hide it. “She’s with me, don’t worry.”

You entered the company with him, but after that, you stopped and turned to him.

“I appreciate the help, but who are you?”

He smiled. “Yikes. Forgot about that. My name is Chris, it’s nice to meet you. I am close friends with Changbin.”

Your eyes softened, and you smiled. “Oh, I see.” You then looked back at the notebook you carried, the one Changbin had written down in. “Do you know where could I find Park Jin Young’s office?”

Chan looked at you weirdly. “Changbin paid for flowers for the big man? Damn.”

You giggled. “It’s not what it looks like. These flowers all have different meanings, and none of those is a good one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! For example, the orange carnations?” You pointed out one of the flowers. “Those mean ‘I hate you.’”

Chan snorted and laughed at every meaning of every flower you gave him.

“Chan!”

He turned around to face whoever had called him, seeing Changbin approaching him, looking anxious.

“Chan, she’s fucking downstairs.”

Chris’ stare turned darker. Your heart tightened in your chest.

“Stay with her. I’ll go see if I can talk to security.” Chris managed to say before he rushed downstairs.

“Bin, is everything good?”

He noticed your presence, to which he froze for a second. Time started to feel slow. His spine locked up, and his shoulders stiffened. He even felt his shirt stretch in a sudden motion.

“Flower Girl.” You could feel the sudden state of relaxation he arrived, his figure visibly less tense.

You hesitated on what to do but then chose to act by instinct. Hugging him.

He tensed up again, the sudden act taking him by surprise. You tried stepping back, feeling like you had made him awkward, but he then pulled you in a bear hug.

“Thanks, pretty.” He whispered in your ear. “I needed that.”

“S’ok.” You smiled, a fluttering feeling settling in your stomach

He stepped away, shyness all over him. You smiled at him, but something changed as he looked at someone behind you.

Before you could turn around to see what had been the issue, he got way closer than a second ago, a hand travelling to your cheek, directing your face to meet his.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Seo whispered, just before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your confused self couldn’t manage the sudden emotions that ran through your body. You felt his tongue brush your lips, and you had to make an effort not to drop the flower bouquet when you started matching his pace, feeling him smile in between the kiss.

Concentrated on the man that had a hand on your face and an arm around your waist, you were too into it that you didn’t hear a woman gasp at the end of the corridor, leaving in a rush, crying fake tears.

Don’t get Changbin wrong. Seeing the girl that had tried to manipulate and gaslight him out of his music career just so he could spend his time doing stuff for her, things she took for granted, he figured the only way of making her leave should be a harsh one.

And okaaaay, he might have been dying to kiss you for a while now.

After texting Chan that she was gone, you both eventually arrived in front of the office.

He stayed behind as you entered, approaching a somewhat 50-year-old man with clothes as striking as the bouquet you had in your hands.

“Who sends these?” He questioned, his features suddenly looking younger when he smiled.

“Seo Changbin, sir," you bowed. "Have a good day!”

You couldn’t help but snicker when you closed the door. You found the three known men standing in front of you.

“So? Did he like them?” Han inquired.

“Pfft. I made that bouquet. Of course, he loved them.” You bragged jokingly.

The three of them offered to give you a quick tour, as it wasn’t common to have the opportunity to see the JYP building from the inside. Before you realised, it started pouring outside, heavy rain that looked like it wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

You cursed under your breath. If you even dared to walk under that rain, you would end up swimming your way home, your skirt and your blouse ruined.

3RACHA stood behind you, noticing that you were still at the entrance after a bit. Both Jisung and Chan ushered and pushed Seo to where you were.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, in a tone softer than what you expected.

“It’s just… ugh.” You looked at him, then tsked.

He froze when you got even closer, passing your hands above his shoulders. He had to hold back a shiver when your hands brushed his neck.

“Got no one to do this for you, I guess?” you gently fixed his collar, hands lingering on him more than they should have.

He couldn’t hold back a smile, looking at you differently, in a more intense way.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You ended the topic quickly, your eyes wandering from his eyes, then his lips, and back to his eyes again. You swallowed dry. “I can’t go back home with this rain, but my phone died, so I can't call for a cab or an Uber.”

He looked at you up and down. “Are you in a hurry?”

You stared at him, trying to match the intensity from before. “Not really. I just don’t have anything better to do. Why?”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

Neither Chan nor Han could say that Changbin was the messiest of the three, but he still was messy a generous amount. So when he got into the studio and picked up everything in less than five minutes, they gave him a look.

“Use protection, you bitch.” Jisung teased. Bin ruffled his hair.

“Fuck off," he chuckled. "See you tomorrow, guys.”

He guided you to the parking lot, and you both started driving.

Changbin’s grip on the steering wheel tightened when he noticed how your skirt rode up your knees when you sat down.

“Wait, I didn’t give you my address.” You realised, confused as to where was he going.

“I know.”

You looked around when he entered an underground parking lot, then parked and quickly got up to open your door.

He got really close, unbuckling your seat belt.

“You don’t need to be home tonight, right?” His eyes didn’t leave your lips when he asked.

“No.” You answered, almost in a whisper.

He took your hand as you got out of his car. Changbin walked with you to where the elevators were, hands still linked.

“Where are we?”

He pressed the elevator button and looked at you, even more intensely than later at the studio.

“My place.” He kept looking down at your lips. “I’ll take you home tomorrow.”

[☆ ☆ 💐 ☆ ☆]

You woke up the following morning with a warm body next to you, the feeling making you snuggle closer to Changbin, passing his arm and setting it on your waist.

The sound of a notification made you groan in a low voice, reaching for your clothes and grabbing your phone from your jacket’s pocket. It was your mom.

You didn’t arrive last night. Where are you?

You smiled and replied.

I went to kiss a boy, like you said.

You went back to bed, looking fondly at the man next to you.

A buzz from your phone made you wake up from your daydreaming.

Cheeky girl. Flowers follow?

You laughed. As a florist, your mom had made up the expression one day. When saying “flowers follow”, it meant that there would be a positive outcome of whatever you had on your hands.

You knew that to your mom, in this context, 'flowers follow' meant just one thing.

Yeah, flowers follow.

Yeah. You might have fallen in love with him.

Don’t you dare come back home without that boy. I’ll cook something!

“What’s got you all smiley?” A sleepy Changbin made you giggle even more.

He, on the other side, could definitely get used to a morning like that.

You left your phone on the bedside table, and then got close to him again, tangling your legs in between his. He poked your dimples, and you chuckled.

“You, silly flower boy.”

~Kats, who has the urge to put lil’ details in every fic, like how the flower shop is named Lilac, which means ‘first love’ in flower, or how the flower that Han asks about means 'true love'.

(if you ask me, she was humming Come Inside of My Heart, bc I fucking love that song)

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 1: Old Flames Can’t Hold a Candle to New

“So what do you want?” Annoyance resurfaces on her face. “My blood? Sex?” Astarion responds with a snort of laughter. “Even if that were true, rest assured, you would survive the experience.” A smirk forms on his lips, his eyes still exploring her figure. Celeste’s jaw tenses. “What a relief.” He resists the urge to touch her cheek, opting instead to lean closer and murmur almost hypnotically in her ear. “Oh, I would be very gentle with you…” he begins, “the only manipulation you have to fear from me is the kind that would drive you mad with desire…” he purrs. A slight tingle ripples across her skin. She composes herself and brushes it off. “Cute, but no thanks.”

*Reposting after freshly editing chapter 1, currently this fic has 35 chapters, see masterlist here or read on AO3 for more*

Summary: Bored and restless in Gale's tower after their victory over the Netherbrain, Astarion sets his sights on bedding Celeste Delios, an archivist in the Waterdeep library and a former flame from Gale's past.

Celeste, a descendent of the goddess Selûne who has been hunted by Sharrans her entire life, finds herself skeptical of Astarion, but when he seeks her aid in locating a fabled ring that could grant him sunlight, she reluctantly agrees...

Astarion x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3.4k

Content (chapter): descriptions of violence, history of abuse mentioned, language, religion, (d&d/Selûne and Shar, not real), sexual themes. Smut & fluff in later chapters, see AO3 tags or for detailed fic tags and warnings.

Astarion absentmindedly flips through a battered necromancy text at the Castle Waterdeep library, holding his thumb between his teeth. He bristles with frustration, bouncing one leg under the table. Nearly midnight, the moonlight filters through the skylight above.

This has now become a regular occurrence for him.

After the defeat of the Netherbrain and subsequent loss of the tadpole that had granted him immunity to the sun, Astarion had been lodging in Gale Dekarios’ tower, growing accustomed to spending his nights in Waterdeep lurking about the Docks Ward for the past several weeks.

In the beginning, he observed the nightlife from a corner of the Blushing Nymph, a festhall brimming with debauchery. He had hoped to bury his boredom, and perhaps himself, in the company of a stranger, but none of the locals particularly caught his eye.  

He’d never admit it to Gale, but a few nights ago, he took the wizard’s recommendation to peruse Castle Waterdeep’s private library. Astarion had heard whispers in Cazador’s palace of an arcane ring that could allow a vampire to walk in the sun, and if he was going to waste his time playing roommate with Gale and his other companions, he might as well make the most of his spare time. In his search through the stacks, he’d come up empty, thus far, instead finding himself intrigued by something - someone - else entirely.

Tonight, she immerses herself in a tome, her long, ashen hair cascading down her back, intermingling with darker shades of blonde. Her hand rests on her sharp chin as she furrows her brow, jaw clenched, a hint of frustration clear in her focused expression. He’s first noticed her several nights ago and, with nothing better to do, returned to old instincts, watching her from afar, as if stalking prey. His intentions were only slightly questionable. Mostly, he was curious. 

His interest in her hadn’t gone unnoticed. Celestria caught on to the library’s new regular almost immediately. She had spent years with little nighttime company, and his wasn’t a face one soon forgets. Tonight, however, he’d been difficult to ignore. Her concentration wavered under the weight of his intense stare.

“Can I help you?” she asks, annoyed, not looking up from her book. The vampire clears his throat and glances to the side, shaking off a bit of embarrassment from the way she addresses him. Despite his efforts to uphold his charm, he feels unsettled.

“What are you reading? It looks like it has your undivided attention.” He says in a casually flirtatious tone. 

“You know,” she says, still not looking at him, “people typically seek silence, not conversation, in a library.”

Astarion suppresses a twinge of annoyance at her sarcastic remark. Her aura of indifference may be genuine, or perhaps a carefully crafted facade. Regardless, he’s determined to figure her out, unsure if his own curiosity stems from intrigue or a more self-serving motive.

“Are you studying?” he persists, attempting to get through her haughty demeanor. 

“No.” Although she’s not outright rude, her lack of interest in engaging with him is apparent.

Unfortunately for her, Astarion loves to insert himself where he’s not wanted, as long as it’s entertaining. 

“Awful late to be lingering in a private library.” Standing up, he makes his way towards her table, hovering over her. She sighs dramatically and slams her book shut.

“Yet you’re in here, several nights a week, and never during daylight. I’ve seen you around. If you’re trying at all to conceal your nature, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it, vampire.” She gives him a pointed look.  

So she has noticed him.

His curiosity gets the best of him. “Really?” He bends down, extending an arm to lean on the table. 

“Your reading choices aren’t hiding your secret well, either.” She adds, gesturing to his book. Astarion raises an eyebrow and flips it over in his hands before stowing it away behind his back.

Her deduction doesn’t alarm him, particularly because she doesn’t seem to mind his vampirism, just his personality at the moment. 

“I’m a spawn…if we’re being specific.”

She ignores his correction. “How did you even get a pass? There’s no way you’re sneaking past the guards every night.” Astarion grins. 

“I used to be a magistrate back in Baldur’s Gate. I still know how to pull some strings. If anyone asks though, I’m here on behalf of Gale Dekarios’ pass,” he says in a low voice. Her face flashes with recognition and her body language relaxes, but only slightly. 

“Gale? Were you part of that lot that saved Baldur’s Gate with him? Big hero sort?” She doesn’t sound unimpressed, but she’s not in awe of him either, which is a relief. 

“It would be quite a stretch to call me a hero, my dear.” Astarion replies, “It was a tad self-serving as well, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh?” She shows intrigue for the first time in their conversation, rising from her chair and reaching for the tome behind his back. He releases it with a slight scowl and she reshelves it before leaning against a bookcase.

“I wouldn’t say I’m particularly villainous, but I’m far from a paragon of virtue.” Astarion’s eyes rove over her body as he speaks. She searches his face for a moment before extending her hand. 

“Celestria Delios, but Celeste is fine. I’m an archivist here.” Astarion shakes her hand, his lips curling into a sly grin. Her grip is elusive, carefully placed to avoid her hand being squeezed too hard or to allow him to gain any leverage over her. It was a trick he’d used from time to time as well, and it only made her more interesting. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Celeste. Astarion.”

“No last name?”

“Not one you need to concern yourself with.” He answers coolly before changing the subject. “So what’s with the…eyes, if you don’t mind my asking? You don’t quite appear…typical.” 

Now that he’s closer, he can see the features of her face - there’s certainly something ethereal about them. Her hair frames the peak of her cheekbones in delicate waves, a strand brushing against the soft cleft of her chin. Her eyes aren’t atypical for a moon elf, a deep, green-blue hue, but the outside edges of her irises have an almost lunar glow to them.

Celeste gives him an apprehensive look and arches her eyebrow. “I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

“I have several guesses,” his voice takes on a playful tone. “Not a fiend or cambion…” he muses, mischeviously making a show of checking her out, as if looking for a tail. She narrows her eyes and pivots.

He pauses for a few moments, watching her intently. “Are you of the Upper Planes?” he continues to gaze at her, trying to gauge any additional clues.

She hesitates. “My mother was, in a sense. I’m…second generation.” Astarion’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise.

“And your father?”

“Moon elf.”

“Curious,” he murmurs, pushing himself from his leaning position on the table and reaching forward to tuck a strand of her hair aside to observe the soft point of her ears. She flinches a bit but has nowhere to back away.

She tilts her head to the side. “Excuse you.”

“Apologies.” he retracts his hand with an appeasing smile, raising his palms defensively. “Still adjusting to civilization.” He adds innocently. “Is there a reason you’re being so vague, my dear?” 

“For my own good.” She grabs a stack of books off a nearby table, beginning to sort and shelve them. Astarion follows her, keeping the conversation going as she works.

“Is there danger in being open about your origins?” He lowers his voice and his lips curl upwards flirtatiously. “Are you something controversial?” 

“Nothing like that. Just…” she sighs, considering whether she can trust this strange vampire. She knows enough about Gale Dekarios and the company he keeps, however, to deduce Astarion likely poses no immediate danger to her.

“If people knew everything about me, they may seek to exploit my nature. Or hand me over to others who do.”

“So now you hide out in this library? Are you an archivist because you want to avoid interacting with people? Or to hide that… inner light of yours?”

“Perhaps I just like keeping late hours.” She says with a soft grin. Astarion smiles back at her, enjoying the progress he’s making against her tough exterior. 

“Well my dear, whoever these people are that have driven you to hiding in the shadows, I assure you..” he begins, leaning closer to catch her eye once more and softens his voice, “I would never seek to harm or control you.”

“So what do you want?” Annoyance resurfaces on her face. “My blood? Sex?”

Astarion responds with a snort of laughter.

“Even if that were true, rest assured, you would survive the experience.” A smirk forms on his lips, his eyes still exploring her figure.

Celeste’s jaw tenses. “What a relief.”

He resists the urge to touch her cheek, opting instead to lean closer and murmur almost hypnotically in her ear. “Oh, I would be very gentle with you…” he begins, “the only manipulation you have to fear from me is the kind that would drive you mad with desire…” he purrs. A slight tingle ripples across her skin. She composes herself and brushes it off.

“Cute, but no thanks.”

“Is that so?” Astarion leans in and boldly scans her face as if to challenge her. She squints at him.

“Work on your flirting. It’s a bit…desperate.”

He scowls.

She opens a book, checking a few pages before making space on the shelf for it. “What’s your angle here?”

“Come now, why such mistrust? The offer is tempting, isn’t it? You know, I recently encountered a drow alchemist who practically begged for me to drink her blood. Unfortunately…” his voice trails off, nose wrinkling at the memory, “she wasn’t my type.” 

“In that case, you’re looking in the wrong place. Archivists are more interested in studying fascinating subjects than experimenting with them.” She says to him dryly. “Who do you feed on, anyway? I haven’t noticed any mysterious disappearances in Waterdeep lately. Well, any more than the norm.”

“Animals, mostly. Kobolds, bears…” he says, his voice fading away in thought. “There was a time when I was occasionally gifted a foul rat, but now I have a greater selection to choose from. I have to admit that animals have been my primary source of sustenance since I escaped my former master. I’ve had a generous enemy, now and then. And Gale, once. What?”

“Gale?”

“I don’t recommend it.” Astarion says. “Bad side effects.” Celeste lets out a noise that could almost be mistaken as a suppressed laugh. 

“If you’re a spawn, where is your master? I don’t see him lurking about.”

Astarion’s face becomes rigid. “Cazador Szarr,” he begins gruffly. “is dead. Right before that battle in Baldur’s Gate, Gale and some of my… friends,” he pauses, considering the word, not quite used to it, “... helped me kill him before he could kill me. I’m free of him now, to live as I wish.” 

“How terrible. I’m sorry.” Celeste feels a moment of sympathy for him, as if the revelation explains his behavior. She’d sensed all the grandiosity and flirtation was a front to conceal something deeper.

Astarion shrugs, his face once again displaying its usual glamour. “Let’s not dwell on it.”

“Perhaps we have more in common than I thought.” She suggests. Astarion’s expression turns curious once more. 

“In what ways are we similar?”

“Well, for starters,” she bends and picks up her things from the table. “We both seem to be nocturnal.” Winking at him, she saunters off.

Astarion can’t help smiling to himself.

As she walks under the skylight, the moon’s glow illuminates her hair until she disappears into the library’s basement. After considering what she said, he leaves the library and wanders back to Gale’s tower through the Dock Ward. It’s late, but Gale would still be up.

The Dock Ward was notoriously raucous and its stench of rotting fish isn’t particularly appealing to Astarion, but Gale lived close enough to the edge of the Castle Ward that Astarion had to only tolerate the walk there. The immediate vicinity of the tower itself was more pleasant, only a few blocks from the estate of one of the richest men in Waterdeep.

Moreover, Astarion frequently held the privilege of often being the most dangerous thing lurking in the darkness, anyway. 

Gale’s description of his home as a tower had felt like an exaggeration once Astarion had seen it. It wasn’t a small dwelling, but it certainly wasn’t some grand castle-like structure, either. Though Astarion would never reveal it, he found it quite comfortable. His sunlight aversion and insistence on being alone during the day led to his seclusion in the windowless attic. Regardless, he was grateful he didn’t have to make arrangements on his own elsewhere. 

His and Gale’s fellow traveling companions occupied the other guest rooms. After defeating the Absolute, Astarion and Shadowheart returned to Waterdeep with Gale, having nowhere else to go. Minthara and Karlach had gone to Avernus in search of a way to fix Karlach’s infernal engine, a hellish machine that kept her alive but threatened to make her combust on the mortal plane. When they’d come to Waterdeep, triumphant, the two were quite happy to share a room, a development that none of their party found surprising by the way Minthara doted on Karlach during their travels. Shadowheart had the unfortunate fate of sharing a wall with the two of them, but didn’t complain too often. 

Their other companions had moved on, embarking on fresh beginnings. Last Astarion heard, Wyll was in Baldur’s Gate, helping his father, Duke Ravengard, protect and rebuild the city. Lae’zel was gods know where, but seemed fulfilled carrying out her duties amongst the Githyanki. Jaheira and Minsc stayed behind as well, surrounded by Jaheira’s family and her remaining Harpers. Halsin had taken their animal companions, Scratch and an owlbear cub, back to the Grove, happy to escape the city. Gale’s home had effectively become an orphanage for dysfunctional vagabonds. 

Engrossed in a book by the fire, Gale sits with his tressym, Tara, perched beside him as Astarion enters the den. A pang of envy at his friend’s idyllic, quiet life tugs at Astarion as he lingers in the doorway - something he feels he will never quite have, but all the same, isn’t sure he’d enjoy so much. He frequently finds himself restless in Waterdeep, but doesn’t have a clue where else he could go right now. His newfound freedom still overwhelms him. 

He settles in the chair opposite Gale, gracefully crossing one leg over the other. “I believe I met an acquaintance of yours this evening at the library.” 

Gale looks up at him. “Oh?” Astarion nods.

“Her name was Celeste.” A look crosses Gale’s features that Astarion can’t quite identify. “What?” He inquires with a raised eyebrow.

“I knew her. Long ago. Archivist, yes? Weird eyes?” Gale gestures in a circular motion around his face as he asks the question. Astarion dips his chin. 

“That’s the one.”

“Oh, a lovely girl she was,” Tara says dotingly, leaping to the floor and resettling near the fireplace to groom her paws.

“Your cat has met her? How well did you know her?”

“Tressym, dear.” Tara warns.

“We ran in similar circles as teenagers.” He says, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. Astarion notices his discomfort but doesn’t comment on it.

“She was quite elusive with the details of her life.”

As Gale stands up, “Well, she’s quite cautious. I’m only privy to the deeper details of her…heritage because of my relationship with Mystra.” He peruses a nearby shelf as he speaks. He pulls an old book out and dusts it off, handing it to Astarion, who glances at the spine, looking for its title: The Lost Children of the Moon. 

“She’s a Moonborn.” Gale says, “History’s all there. Are you familiar?” With a flick, Astarion turns a few more pages.

“I thought her kind were just stories, honestly.” Astarion responds, reading a paragraph:

It is said that the Moonborn originated from Selûne during her conflicts with her sister Shar, the mistress of the night. Selûne crafted the Moonborn from her shimmering shards and silver essence, fashioning them into celestial servants of the moon. These beings were bestowed with humanoid forms and tasked with safeguarding life and illuminating the darkness.

The book shows a map of Faerûn, illustrating the potential places of Moonborn settlements, one in Waterdeep near the House of the Moon temple, another near Snowdown. There are a few potential locations marked, loosely cited. 

“Who writes these kinds of volumes?” Astarion asks. “This seems like a rare text.” 

Gale grins. “It is. I’m guessing a Moonborn themselves wrote it long ago. It came into my possession during my time with Mystra, entrusted in my care,” he says proudly. 

“Fucking Mystra, again.” Astarion mutters. Though the goddess had removed the threat of the orb from Gale’s chest that made him a walking time bomb, and Gale had disengaged with her, he still reminisced with a distant fondness, no doubt proud he’d once convened with a goddess.

“Celeste was part of the settlement of Moonborn here in Waterdeep.” Gale muses. “Just over a decade ago, when she was a teenager, the Moonborn suffered a devastating attack by the Sharrans. Her entire family died, and as she tells it, she nearly perished with them, but Selûne intervened. How, I’m not sure.”

“So she’s just been wandering her whole life since then, alone?” Astarion asks.

“Not wandering.” Gale responds. “Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Jaheira and the Harpers took her in for a little while when Celeste was turned away from an orphanage in Baldur’s Gate because of her age. Either way, she ended up back here. She’s been at the library for years. I don’t think she likes her quiet existence, just rather she’s forced into it. Hard to make friends when you have a big secret to keep. Surely you know something about that.”

Astarion listens to Gale but doesn’t engage, distracted by the book in his hands. “She said she’s nocturnal. Can her kind not live in the sunlight?” 

“They can.” Gale answers. “My understanding is that it’s just not preferable. She always found the daytime draining, as I recall. I’ve only ever seen her in the evening or early morning hours.” 

“Is she immortal then, too?” Astarion asks. 

Gale shrugs. “I’m not sure. Both Moonborn and moon elves have long lifespans, and Moonborn stop aging around 28 years. It’s rare to come across even immortal beings who don’t meet their demise within a few centuries.”

“You seem to know…quite a lot about her.” Astarion comments, closing the book and leaning forward. A hint of blush appears on Gale’s cheeks. 

“Like I said, we…knew one another.”

“Oh?” Amusement tinges Astarion’s voice.  

“Yes.” Gale says, looking at the fire. “We, ah...” his voice tapers off. “Before Mystra, Celeste…was my first.”

“She took your virginity?” Astarion lets out a bark of laughter and Gale shoots him a disapproving look.

“It wasn’t anything special. I had no clue what I was doing. She was…nice about it. We were young. I’d rather not dwell on that detail. I’m sure she’s eager to forget about it herself. Mystra had my entire attention soon after.”

Gale walks to the stove and puts on a kettle of hot water. “Perhaps Celeste and Shadowheart would have something to chat about.” He muses.

“So she’s a survivor of tragedy, a chosen of Selûne,” Astarion grins, “and a crush of yours.”

Gale scoffs. “I think I’ve had my lifetime’s fill of immortal and nearly-immortal women. But what’s this about, Astarion? I’ve never known you to be so intrigued by anyone during our travels together.” Gale regards him suspiciously. “Rather, what’s in this for you?”

“Curiosity.” Astarion waves his hand dismissively.

As Gale retreats to his room, Astarion reverts his attention back to the book.

Throughout history, the Moonborn have dedicated themselves to combating nocturnal evils, including deranged lycanthropes and vampires, striving to uphold the sanctity of light and life.

“Well…fuck.” He mumbles to himself.

When the morning sun appears on the horizon over Waterdeep, beginning to cascade through the curtains, Astarion wearily climbs the stairs to the attic. He eases into a trance, eager for night to fall once again.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you feel so inclined, ANy interaction/kudos on AO3 or Tumblr means the world to me! You find the full fic on AO3 here! Thank you so much! x

[hsfan94]

Dress

Y/n and Harry had an interesting friendship. They were best friends sure but people always suspected they were more. At first Harry brushed it off and laughed about it even but as time went on the jokes got old. Simply because he could no longer tell where the boundaries were anymore either and he didn’t need outsiders putting their two cents in.

The first time he felt the shift in their relationship was a little over three years ago.

Dancing around the kitchen in the middle of the night Harry realised he'd never had a friend like her before. They'd been friends for a little over two years. He couldn't remember what it was like before her and he didn't want to imagine a time without her.

They were in his New York apartment. After going out to dinner and getting chased by that stupid TMZ guy that's obsessed with him, he suggested she stay at his place since it was closer. That's how they ended up drinking three bottles of Rozé and dancing around like lunatics. Her drunkenness caused her to take a wrong step which sent them both to the floor. He landed on top of her in somewhat of a compromising pose and they both bursted out laughing.

"I've never been this drunk on wine before." She confessed. She wouldn't have told anyone something like that before but his eyes had some sort of truth serum in them.

"Oh yeah?" He could have stared at her for hours.

"That's probably because I don't usually have more than a glass at a time." She impulsively reached up to brush a stray curl out of his face. "You're a bad influence, Harry Styles."

"Where have you been all my life Y/n?"

"Waiting to be a part of it." She wasn't even sure what she meant.

He almost kissed her. If she hadn't swatted at his butt and said, "move I gotta pee," he would have crossed that line. He spent the rest of the night thinking about what it would be like if he had. What else might have happened? Maybe eventually she would even live in the very flat they were in.

He was beyond prepared for the badgering he would get when he told his friends they were doing a joint birthday celebration this year. Their birthdays are so close together and they’ve always talked about celebrating together out of convenience and this year it was happening. And sure enough the teasing had been endless.

“So, H, is it like a coming out party? Are you and the missus finally taking that step?” Jeff asked, sipping his coffee. They were having a meeting about his birthday shows when Jeff read the email invite from Y/n.

The design she went with was adorable and so perfectly her that Harry couldn’t find it in him to make changes when she asked him to edit.

“Come on, Jeff. We’ve been over this.”

“Seriously I think it’s a cute idea. I just wish you two would stop fucking around and get together.”

He received texts from Mitch, Sarah and Ben that day as well all stating something similar. Harry kind of hoped it would be that kind of party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was nervous. She knew what she wanted for her birthday this year and she wasn’t going to let anything get in her way. She had been trying to cross the line with Harry for so long. Unfortunately for her, they had horrible timing. One of them was always taken. That night in the kitchen when he almost kissed her she had to run away because she was seeing someone. She would have had sex with Harry right there on her floor if they had kissed and she didn’t want to be a cheater. When he got cast as Jack in ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ they had been staying together and she thought for sure that would be it. Then he came home drunk one night proclaiming love for Olivia and she was proper annoyed. She hadn’t expected it to go on for two years either. So when they broke up, she wanted to give him time to process, but she was ready to go for it as soon as she thought he’d had enough time. And what better way to do that than at their birthday party?

“I don’t know about this one,” she said, looking herself up and down. The black silk gown adorning her body not quite living up to expectation.

She had decided to buy a new dress for the party for the sole purpose of it aiding in her confession.

“I think you look stunning.” Julia stood behind her looking at it from all angles.

“I don’t know Jules. I want his jaw to hit the floor.” She turned around to grab the other one she picked out.

“You say that like his jaw wouldn’t hit the floor if you showed up in sweats.” Julia rolled her eyes as she exited the changing room.

“Shut up. You know what I mean. I’m just scared” Y/n said.

“Why?”

“Because what if he’s just a big flirt. Part of me feels like if he really wanted me he would have done something about it already.” Y/n knew her and Harry were meant to be but she couldn’t figure out why it hadn’t happened yet. So she couldn’t help but worry she was wrong sometimes.

“And I think you severely overestimate men. They don’t always know what they want. Or what they need.”

Y/n opened the curtain and showed Julia the dress.

“This is the one,” they spoke in sync and then they laughed.

“Okay babes get changed and we can get lunch and game plan some more.” Julia ushered her back into the changing room.

She looked over herself in the mirror and sighed happily. It really was the one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry hadn’t actually seen Y/n in a long time. They emailed and texted or called everyday, but she hadn’t been around as much lately due to conflicting schedules. At least she claimed it was her schedule. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew she did not like Olivia and to be honest he hoped it was cause she was jealous. He’d never actually admit it though. Since it had been months since a proper Y/n and Harry moment he could not contain his excitement at seeing her tonight. In fact, he was staring at the entrance to the venue with utmost concentration waiting (not so patiently) for her arrival. Y/n loved being fashionably late. So, Harry was nodding along pretending to be listening to whatever Niall was telling him waiting for his best friend to finally show up.

When Y/n walked through the door, everything stopped. Time stood still. At least Harry thought so anyway, until Niall noticed he no longer had his friend's attention.

"Ah I see. Go talk to her mate."

Without another word Harry all but stormed up to her.

"Hi," he said smiling down at her.

"Hi, Harry. How are you?" She gave him a hug and upon pulling back she stayed attached to him, looking up at him from within his embrace.

"A lot better now."

After another minute of just staring at her, he noticed Julia who had come in beside her.

"Miss Michaels, how are you this evening?"

"Great," Julia replied, "Everything looks fantastic you all did a good job."

Julia and Y/n exchanged a look that Harry couldn't decipher and then she spoke again.

"I'm going to go catch up with Niall. I'll see you lovebirds later."

She skipped away before Harry could say anything about her comment.

“Lovebirds?” He questioned Y/n who was just staring at him, dare he say starry eyed.

“What’s wrong? Is that not accurate?” Y/n was playing with fire. She wanted to really test him.

“What do you mean, lovie?” Harry’s heart started beating faster.

She didn’t want to lay it all out just yet so she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I don’t want you like a best friend.” Then she cheekily squeezed his left ass cheek and scampered away.

Harry was left speechless watching her walk away. And damn did that dress look good from the back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n wasn’t avoiding Harry per se but she was definitely putting space between them. She was currently talking to Jeff about future projects he could help her with and her and Harry kept meeting eyes. She couldn’t tell how well received her ass grab and best friend remark were and it was driving her crazy. So crazy she decided to just ask his friend.

“I hate to interrupt your thought J, but I have to ask you something.”

“No worries what’s up?” Jeff was always so understanding.

“I’ve been sending all these signals, I mean for years, and I feel like I get nothing in return and it’s driving me crazy.” She started to ramble.

“Y/n. Breathe. Get to the point.” Jeff chuckled at her frustration because he knew what the question was.

“Ok. Umm. How do I put this? Does Harry ever talk about me? Like in a romantic way?”

“You mean is he in love with you?” Jeff asked.

She nodded. He looked over at Harry only to find him shamelessly staring at Y/n. His eyes were traveling all over her body, completely ignoring Mitch and Sarah who were stood beside him, and Jeff had to end it.

“Yes he’s been madly in love with you for years, but between you and me,” he looked between Y/n and Harry, “he’s a big pussy.”

Y/n cackled. She had never heard Jeff say that word and it was fucking hilarious, especially in the context of describing her silly best friend, her love.

“Thank you. So much. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go make an announcement.”

Y/n scurried over to the stage they had set up for toasts and karaoke.

“Excuse me everyone.”

The crowd went silent and all eyes were on her.

“First I want to thank you all for coming. It means so much to Harry and I. We love each and every one of you.”

She looked at Harry and saw how confused he looked.

“I just umm. I have an announcement to make and I don’t know how to form my own words for it. The irony is not lost on me as a songwriter.”

The crowd laughed.

“But I’ve tried to write songs about this in the past few days and I’ve just had major writer’s block so, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to borrow words from my friend Taylor.”

She looked at Taylor who gave her a thumbs up.

“Alright then. This song is called Dress.”

The music started playing and everyone except Harry seemed to understand immediately.

“Our secret moments, in a crowded room. They got no idea about me and you.” She made eye contact with Harry as she sang.

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo. All of this silence and patience. Pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

She lifted up a shaky hand and everyone laughed including Harry who had seemed to catch on a little.

“Say my name and everything just stops. I don’t want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

On that line she got bold. She pointed to her dress and then to him and his eyes shot wide open. Then she gestured him closer with her finger and he complied, slowly approaching the stage himself.

“Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try and if I get burned at least we were electrified.”

He was on the stage now.

“Everyone thinks that they know us but they know nothing about.” She held the mic out to him and he sang, understanding it was meant to be a mutual announcement.

“All of this silence and patience pining and anticipation my hands are shaking from holding back from you.” He lifted his hands up hovering them above her face but not touching to animate the line. Everyone laughed again.

They sang the rest of the song loosely but Y/n finished alone with the line “Only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

The music ended and the crowd cheered. Then, somebody (Y/n swears it was Jeff immediately followed by Taylor) started chanting “Kiss, Kiss, Kiss”. And they did.

Harry’s hands finally found placement on her cheeks and their lips met delicately. It was a perfect first kiss. When they broke away but he was still so close she whispered “I love you,” and he kissed her again.

“I love you too.”

A/n: I thought about writing more (maybe what they do after the party), but I also wanted to post this before it had been too long after his birthday. So I hope you like it. Comment if you want more from this universe.

[peachybun-bun]

Welcome Home

the graphic above was edited by @chogiwapadada

do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f reader

genre; fluff/suggestive

notes/warnings; food, teasing, a lie is told, idk what you want from me here

word count; 1.3k and some change

a/n; written for @venerex, it is 90% domestic fluff and 10% suggestive jeonghan being a menace. i hope you enjoy it. idk what i have done here. also this hasn't been proofread -- there are bound to be mistakes.

The sound of your keys hitting the bowl by the door before you kick off your shoes with a sigh as you enter your boyfriend’s apartment. It has been a long day but the smell of food fills your nose and you can’t help but smile a bit to the familiar scent of garlic lingering in the air as you shrug off your coat and yell out to let him know you are there, though he would already know. The two of you had been texting all day and you hadn’t exactly made a quiet entrance. 

“Hey baby, something smells so good. Did you go to George’s?” Jeonghan knows your favorite foods, drinks, movies, books, every single way to make you smile. In the kitchen he grins at your voice as you get closer, he makes sure to use his foot to push the trash can lid closed trying to hide any remaining evidence of his plan as you turn the corner to find him in front of the stove. 

Raising a brow you can’t help but bite your lip as you smile looking at the table finding it set with his nicest china and glassware. You laugh a little bit as Jeonghan moves to press a kiss to your cheek as his hand moves to grip your waist before he slides away back to the stove to stir the sauce clearing his throat before finally speaking. “Welcome home. Have a seat, food will be ready in just a minute.” 

You run your finger along the table edge before sitting down in your chair as you watch Jeonghan cooking. He rarely spent much time in the kitchen, he often opted for take out and you were somewhat skeptical as you looked at the garlic bread that was already on the table. It looked suspiciously similar to the bread you could get from your favorite restaurant. “So you didn’t order out?” 

Laughing as he struggles slightly to plate the pasta dish, Jeonghan glances over his shoulder at you as you tilt your head before he looks back furrowing his brow knowing you were suspicious. “I…very obviously cooked…this food for you. Look…there are pots and pans. I turned on the stove. There are plates on the table. I pulled out the good wine glasses.”

You laugh as he seems to overthink his words before putting the dish in the middle of the table letting you examine it. You can’t help but notice it looks very much like your favorite vegetarian red pasta from George’s. “Mmm you really did a great job Jeonghan, but baby are you going to turn off the stove?” 

Groaning slightly as he turns back around, you watch your boyfriend try to put on a suave exterior as he stares at the controls for the stove before pressing buttons, not having much luck in completing his task. Jeonghan mutters to himself before pursing his lips and glazing back at you with a strained smile before smacking his hand down on the buttons making you laugh. “Jeonghan! That’s not going to turn it off. How did you get it on in the first place?” 

Moving from your chair you hear Jeonghan sigh as he tugs on the loops of his apron as you take over turning off the stove with ease as he tosses the apron off to the side before you meet his eyes with a smile. His face gives away his smooth confident exterior as you raise a brow and move to his side using your foot to open the trash can seeing the take out containers. “Y/N…” 

“You didn’t have to pretend to cook for me…but it’s actually really cute. The fact that you got my favorite food for me in the first place is more than enough baby.” Jeonghan’s shoulders slump slightly as he juts out his bottom lip before you move to wrap your arms around his waist making him shake his head before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips gently as you close your eyes. 

You move to rest your cheek against his shoulder as he rests his on your head, his fingers running along your back gently. “I just wanted to make your evening perfect. I know you had a bad day.” Smiling you take in a deep breath of his scent, holding him closer making him smile against your hair. “Jeonghan this is perfect, my day is already better because of you.” 

Feeling his lips pressed to your temple you open your eyes before leaning back to meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he bites at his lip wrinkling his nose. “Promise? Because I have even more things planned.” A laugh falls from your lips as you roll your eyes stepping away as he moves to the fridge taking out a bottle of cold coke showing it to you as if it were a bottle of fine wine as he moves to the table. “Only the best for you madam.” 

Jeonghan watches you fondly as you sit as he opens the bottle before pouring the soda into the two wine glasses. He couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen at that moment. A smile on your lips, your hair and makeup wasn’t perfect after a long day, but you took his breath away. You feel your cheeks flush as he looks at you so intently before sitting down next to you, his hand moving to run over your thigh as he picks up his glass taking a sip. 

“What?” Another laugh fills the air as you pick up your fork trying to take some of the attention off of you knowing that there was no way he was going to stop looking at you. Jeonghan smiles, his thumb caressing your inner thigh making you take in a deep breath as you straighten your back meeting his eyes. “I just am so in love with you.”

You have managed to pick up a bite of food, getting it to your mouth looking at your boyfriend with wide fond eyes before you have to try to swallow the bite down before picking up your own glass taking a sip of the coke as Jeonghan grins at your reaction. “I love you too Jeonghan.” He bites his bottom lip before picking up a piece of garlic bread, breaking off a piece eating it slowly before breaking off another offering it to you letting you take it from him. 

“Mm, I need you to eat quickly baby.” You raise a brow as you chew on the bread feeling his hand grip at your thigh as his other hand twists pasta around the fork. “Why?” Jeonghan grins and speaks before putting the bite into his mouth. “I’m starving and this pasta isn’t going to satisfy me.” 

Bread still between your lips your eyes widen making Jeonghan laugh when you sputter your words putting the food down. His hand gripping your thigh as he takes a larger bite of the pasta watching you take a large drink of your soda. “Jeonghan…you are full of it tonight.”

Your boyfriend licks his lips as his eyes meet yours again before he gives you an innocent look before picking up his own soda and taking a sip. “Well I tried to fool you with dinner, I have now decided to just be upfront. So if I tell you that I want to take you to bed right after dinner and ravage you, that’s just me being truthful.” 

You smile looking down at your plate of pasta before twirling the pasta around your fork as you bite at your bottom lip before Jeonghan’s hand moves from your thigh to your chin tilting your head up so he can look at you before leaning it to kiss you softly. “Eat quicker.” You nod as he speaks against your lips before smiling knowing you were in for an interesting evening. 

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tag list; @m1ss-foodi3, @chaebb, @astroodledream, @shingisimp, @suxihyl, @bmnmin23, @kenmaslutty, @destinyg237

© peachybun-bun - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.  

[dreamerstreamer]

Slip Up

Pairing: Dream / Clay x f!reader

Summary: One literal slip up leads to another and, well—it isn’t pretty.

Warning: includes depictions of anxiety as a result of exposure

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted something about a secret relationship! i hope you enjoy! on a more serious note though, don’t harass your creators and the people they care about. seriously, don’t.

With one last click, Clay let out a sigh, grabbing his headphones and setting them down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the still clip on his monitor with a hint of a frown tugging at his lips.

After two long hours, he was officially tired of listening to George’s screams ringing through his ears. Sure, they were funny in the heat of the moment when he was recording, but having to listen to the same screams on loop while editing?

He shivered.

No thanks. He needed a break.

Grabbing his phone, he pushed open the door to his studio and headed for the stairs. I wonder where [Y/N] is, he thought to himself as he climbed the basement stairs two at a time. It’s been a while since I last caught a glimpse of her.

Surfacing on the first floor, he stuck his head into the living room, glancing around for a brief moment only to deduce that you weren’t there. With a huff, he spun on his heel. If she’s not there, he thought, his strides confident and full of purpose, then she’s definitely in—

He stepped into the kitchen, his gaze landing on your figure half-tucked behind the open fridge door almost instantaneously. He smiled. Bingo.

Slowly, he crept forward, slipping around the kitchen island to silently walk up to you. Before you even noticed he was there, he leaned down next to your ear and whispered.

“Boo.”

Letting out a sharp yell, you whirled, your wide eyes practically drowning in the amusement filling Clay’s emerald gaze as he let out a long wheezing laugh. “Clay!” you gasped, holding a hand over your heart. “You scared me, oh my god.”

His wheezing only grew louder in volume as he slapped his knee, still cackling at your distraught expression. Puffing your cheeks in a pout, you turned your back to him, staring back into the fridge. “Meanie.”

Struggling to regain his breath, Clay leaned in to wrap his arms around your waist in a hug from behind. You could feel his chest shaking against your back with laughter, beginning to slowly die down with each passing second. A moment later, he dipped his head down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Sorry,” he hummed. “I just thought it’d be funny to make you jump.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “I was right. It was.”

“Not for me,” you grumbled, and he let out the tiniest of wheezes next to your ear. 

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, kissing your neck. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you all morning.”

You relaxed into his warm touch, melting into the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. Sending him a tired smile, you closed the fridge door and focused your attention onto him. “I’m alright, but I’m feeling kind of tired,” you admitted. “You get kind of sick of working on an assignment after the third, you know?”

He snuggled closer to you, smiling into your neck. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t know, but I understand your point.”

You rolled your eyes at him, leaning back into his figure. “Right, I forgot that you didn’t go to college, Mr. Streamer.”

Clay laughed at your words. “You’re just that much smarter than me, then.” He poked at your cheek affectionately. as he cooed, “Look at you, my super smart college student girlfriend.”

You turned in his arms to face him, frowning at him. “Clay, you say that like you aren’t considered to be one of the best, if not the best Minecraft player in the world. Give yourself some more credit.”

He brushed a stray hair away from your face, his gaze fond as he held you a little closer. “Okay, but only because you told me to.”

You snorted, sinking deeper into his arms. “If your followers could see you now, I’m sure they’d be spamming ‘simp’ in chat.”

He chuckled. “They already do that whenever I hang out with George—I can’t even imagine to what extent it would increase if they knew about you.”

You offered him a smile, but it felt forced. The question had been swirling in the back of your mind for a little while now, and it was just sitting on the tip of your tongue, now. You had to ask now, or it would devour you alive.

“Hey, um, Clay,” you said, your tone shifting as you fidgeted slightly in his embrace. “Do you—do you think we’ll ever tell people and your fans about, well—” You gestured to the space between the two of you. “—about us?”

He paused for a moment, then let out a soft breath. “I want to,” he said. “Oh man, you don’t know just how badly I want to share you with the whole world and show them you’re mine.” You felt your cheeks grow warm, your lips instinctively curling up at his words.

“But I don’t think they’re ready for that just yet,” he added in a wistful tone. He pulled back, sending you a crooked smile. “How about we cross that bridge when we get there? I know that when we do get around to it, they’re gonna love you as much as I do, I promise.”

You bobbed your head, feeling the anxiety in your gut disintegrate. “Okay. Thanks, Clay.”

He reached up to ruffle your hair, cooing at the small whine you let out. “Anything for you.”

Knocking his hand off your head, you grinned at him. “On another note, what have you been up to? Instead of sleeping in late, of course, you lucky butt.”

He swayed back and forth, bringing you along with him. “I spent a lot of time editing some videos that are still in the works. I’m gonna be streaming for a few hours in a bit, though. If you need anything, you know where you can find me.” He grabbed your hand in his, fiddling with your fingers with a slight squeeze. “Are you still gonna be working on your assignment later, or will I be allowed to bother you?”

Your mouth twitched at his pouty tone, and you squeezed his hand back. “I actually might go out to the grocery store. Patches’s cat food is on sale, so I might stock up on that, and I kind of wanted some snacks for studying. Was there anything you wanted while I was gone?”

He hummed, thinking for a moment. “Not really, to be honest.” Slipping his hand into yours, he began leading you to the front of the house. “Here, let me see you off.”

You felt your heart swell with love as he handed you your bag from where it hung on the coat rack while you laced up your shoes. Clay was always so attentive to you and your needs, never failing to make sure you had everything you needed at the drop of a hat. You were really too lucky to have him.

“Do you have your mask?” he asked when you stood up.

With a nod, you fished it out from your pocket, waving it in your hands. “Mhm.”

He smiled. “Awesome.” Opening his arms, he pulled you in for one last hug, inhaling the scent of your flowery shampoo before swinging the door open and watching you step outside, car keys in hand.

“I’ll be back soon!” you cried, waving to him from the driveway.

He waved back, leaning against the doorframe. “See you!” he called back. “Take care out there.”

“I will!”

His viridian gaze trailed after you and your car as you sped off down the road, knowing all too well exactly which radio station you had inevitably turned on. Well, no matter. He supposed it was time to stream, now. Locking the door behind him, Clay strode down to the basement, sliding into his desk chair with his hand on his mouse. Slipping his headphones over his head, he rolled his shoulders and opened up Twitch. 

Taking one last deep breath, he grinned and pressed the ‘start streaming’ button. 

“Hey, guys!”

You grunted as you pushed the front door open, sliding your shoes off as you heaved the last sack of cat food onto the ground with a loud thud. 

And that’s all three. Finally.

Pushing the door closed using your foot, you placed your hands on your hood in determination.

Now, to get them downstairs.

You grimaced, glaring down at the offending bags. This was going to sooo much fun.

Some things never ceased to amaze you. Like how smart Clay was, even as dorky as he could be. Like how fast he blown up. Like how much you loved him.

And like how much cat food Patches managed to eat without getting fat.

Seriously, you thought to yourself with a grumble, how does she still look the same even though she goes through a whole bag of cat food in like... two weeks? It’s just not fair.

“I wish I had your metabolism,” you muttered, shooting a glare at the feline in question.  “You suck.”

Patches was perched on the stair railings a few feet away from you, grooming her paws. The moment you spoke her name, she lifted her head to look at you, her ears flicking. You stared at each other for a few seconds before she let out a soft meow, jumping down to rub against your leg.

“Oh, who am I kidding?” you murmured to yourself, your heart swelling in your chest at the feeling of her nuzzling her small head against your calf. “I could never hate you. You’re too cute.”

You turned your attention back to the three sacks of cat food you now had in your possession. Patches’s domain mostly consisted of the basement, where you kept her toys and costumes. Consequently, that’s where the cat food was also stored, albeit out of sight so that Patches wouldn’t get any ideas. Like her owner, she had a penchant for mischief, but you loved them both anyways.

The main problem here was getting the cat food down the stairs. 

I’m a strong independent woman, you thought to yourself with a small smile. Also, Clay is streaming, so I can’t ask him for help even if I wanted to. Bending over, you hoisted the first sack into your arms. That’s okay, though. A few stairs can’t stop me.

Taking a deep breath, you trudged toward the basement, carefully taking the stairs one step at a time down. The last thing you wanted was to trip while carrying the cat food of all things.

Unfortunately, it seemed that you jinxed yourself.

Everything went fine for the first two bags, each sack having safely made their way onto their proper spot on their designated cabinet shelf. Each time you tread down the stairs, you would take a quick peek over at Clay’s recording studio, smiling to see him amicably chatting with his viewers while completing another speedrun. With a smile on your face, you climbed the stairs once more to come face to face with your final obstacle.

You grinned despite your arms aching from having done so much heavy lifting. Last bag. Let’s go.

Rolling up your sleeves, you began the same process you had been running with for the past two trips: pick up the bag and head down the stairs, making sure to step carefully. 

What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was Patches’s presence.

You were just about halfway down the stairs when Patches darted in front of you. With a soft yelp, you stepped back to avoid her, letting her bounce down the stairs ahead of you. A brief breath of relief escaped your lips, but it was short lived. 

Just then, your sock’s grip on the floor gave out, and you felt gravity wrap a hand around your ankle.

Oh, crap.

A shout tore its way out of your throat as as you tumbled forward, landing on the ground with a resounding crash. Beside you, the bag of cat food smacked into the wall and landed with a loud crunch. 

That can’t be good, you vaguely thought, your mind fogged up by a cloud of pain.

Just a few rooms over, Clay froze mid-stream, his mouse coming to a halt as his entire body went stiff. Without even thinking to mute himself, he tore his headphones off his head, your name flying from his lips in a flurry of worry as he rushed out the room.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N], are you okay?”

On the ground, you winced, pain shooting up your side as you pulled yourself forward. In an instant, Clay was on the ground by your side—one hand on the small of your back helping you sit up, the other brushing your hair away from your face.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, panic seeping into his face as his eyes scanned every inch of your face for harm, “are you good?” You nodded, but it did nothing to ease the worry in his expression. “Tell—tell me.” He held three fingers in front of your face. “How many fi—”

“Three,” you replied immediately. You offered a pained smile, stifling another wince as you did so. 

He leaned in closer to your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “How badly are you hurt?”

You shifted your spine, trying to gauge the pain. The ache was dull at most, minimal at best. “Only a little.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You let out a small sigh, sending him a reassuring smile. You appreciated his protectiveness, you really did, but sometimes he really did go the extra mile. “Clay,” you said softly, “I’m okay, really. I promise I’m okay. I just tripped and fell.” Then you glanced behind him, letting out a deeper sigh. “The cat food, on the other hand? Not so much.”

The bag must have ripped open when it fell, its own weight having collapsed on itself and tearing a hole right through the bottom. The individual pellets of cat food where strewn all across the floor, littering the ground like pebbles. And of course, Patches was already starting to nibble away. Pesky girl.

Clay stood up, reaching a hand out toward you. “Here, I’ll help you clean up.”

You took his hand, shaking your head as he pulled you to your feet. “No, no. You should get back to your stream.” Your brows knit together. “I interrupted it, didn’t it? Your followers will be waiting for you. You should go back.”

He shook his head, his expression resolute. “Contrary to popular belief, [Y/N],” he said, “you’re more important to me than just one stream. I’ll probably just end it when I’m done here, anyway.” He squeezed your hand, his gaze kind. “Let me help you. Please.”

With your heart fluttering in your chest, you squeezed it back. 

“Okay.”

Clay grabbed the two of you a dustpan as you began to clean up the mess of cat food you had made on the floor. You whined about how you just wasted a sale by tripping down the stairs while he poked fun at your frustration, passing you Patches with the request of keeping her away from the food as he swept. In practically no time, you had nearly forgotten what had transpired at all, just happy to spend some time with your wonderful boyfriend next to you.

If only you knew just how much your little fall was going to blow up in your face.

You ran your tongue over your chapped lips, your gaze focused on your laptop screen as your mouse finally hit the submit button. Letting out a sigh, you finally let the stress seep out of your body as a small smile overtook your features.

Finally handed it in. Now, you didn’t have to worry about it anymore.

With a groan, you stretched your arms out above you, cracking your back. You’d been working away for a couple of hours now, but at long last, you were free for the weekend. Humming to yourself, you picked up your phone. You had set it to ‘do not disturb’ a while back, since it hadn’t stopped vibrating at one point. You hadn’t bothered to check why at the time, but you supposed you could spare some time for yourself before dinner.

Swiping your phone open, your thumb instinctively tapped on Twitter, a blue glow enveloping your screen before fading to dark. You hummed as you opened up the trending page, curiosity pawing at your backside. You had your bets on some trend going viral, but knowing the internet, it was probably some weird, random crap.

There were a handful of political memes topping the charts, as well as a #TGIF. You stifled a laugh as you scrolled a bit lower. Twitter sure was a weird place.

That was when a tag caught your eye.

#DreamExplain

Your thumb stopped, hovering over the screen. What? Explain what, exactly?

Then there—just few lines below that.

#WhoIs[Y/N]?

Your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest.

That was your name. 

Trending. On Twitter.

Panic shot through your veins.

What the actual hell happened?

With a heavy feeling of disbelief sinking its claws into you, you tapped on your name, watching as hundreds of tweets shot past your eyes.

Who’s [Y/N] and how can I be her

dream explain?! oh mygood what was that !!!!

is [Y/N] Dream’s girlfriend or something

um ??? dream said the name [Y/N] on stream today then went afk for like 20 mins ??? then the stream just ended ???wtf ???

what’s @georgenotfound gonna do omggg nooo!!! his boyfriend!!!!!!

You felt sick to your stomach.

Oh god.

They knew who you were.

You wanted to throw up.

Stumbling to your feet, you made your way toward the kitchen where you knew you would find Clay, your phone clutched in a death grip between your fingers. 

“C-Clay?”

He turned from where he was leaning against the counter, a smile lighting up his face at the sound of your voice. “Hey!” The moment his eyes landed on your face, his smile vanished. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Have—” You swallowed, your palms beginning to sweat. “Have you checked Twitter recently?”

“Nope,” he hummed, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “What’s trending this time? Did some politician say something or—”

“I am,” you said ever so softly.

He froze, his phone going slack in his hand. “What?”

You glanced up from your feet. “I’m trending, Clay.”

A beat of silence. “What?!” he repeated, louder this time.

You felt an odd sense of weightlessness sinking onto your shoulders, and you felt yourself begin to ramble. “Crazy, right? Little old me, trending? Wild. Insane. Like, just wow.” 

With each new phrase that leapt from your lips, Clay’s brows furrowed further. You could see the wheels in his head turning at full speed. Then, they stopped, and realization set in. Then came the horror.

Oh, dear god.

“[Y/N],” he whispered, taking a step toward you, “oh my god.”

“You’re also trending, by the way,” you continued, barreling ahead as your hands began wildly gesturing. You swallowed down the panic rising up your throat at full throttle. “It’s a shame that I’m not higher than you, but I guess we can’t win them all.”

“[Y/N],” he said again, “this is serious.”

You nodded, your expression still blank. “Oh, I know. I’m—”

Something in you snapped.

You sucked in a ragged breath. “Yeah, I’m—”

And out came the waterworks.

You collapsed to the ground, the sobs escaping your throat in uneven bursts. Clay’s arms were around you before you knew it, his hand cradling your head for the second time that day.

“Clay, Clay, Clay,” you choked out, your entire being dissolving into him. “Clay, they know who I am. They heard you.”

His grip tightened on you, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. You sobbed harder, your tears soaking into his hoodie.

There was nowhere left to hide.

You hadn’t touched your phone in days. It hardly took more than a few minutes for your Twitter feed to have absolutely blown up with messages about you. Some positive, some negative, some neutral. While you appreciated the kind ones, you only had to read a handful of the not-so-kind ones for you to turn off your phone and hide it in a drawer. It wasn’t like you were going to even use it properly, what with its cracked screen.

The more time passed, the more acutely aware of the public’s knowledge of you became.

Your name was everywhere, supposed drawings of you were everywhere, you—you were everywhere.

You felt like you were suffocating in your own skin.

Clay knew that the slip up had been rough on you, and he didn’t blame you one bit. He had asked you what you needed, if you wanted him to take a few days off to spend more time with you. You had declined, sending him a tired smile.

“I... I think I just need some time to myself to think things over.”

He didn’t push you anymore than that, instead holding you close and pressing his lips to your cheek. For the next couple days, he vanished off of social media—no tweets, no streams, no videos. Nothing. While you busied yourself with class work, he focused on editing and planning ahead for the future. You both knew you were stalling, but right now, you just needed time.

A knock came from your door, a soft voice following just after.

“[Y/N]?”

You rolled over on the bed you shared, your eyes flickering up to see Clay standing in the doorway. The book you had brought in with you laid untouched on the nightstand next to you. You haven’t been able to properly bring yourself to enjoy something without thoughts of doubt seeping into your head.

What do they think of me? Do they like me? Will they approve of our relationship? 

You were terrified out of your mind.

Clay approached the bed when he saw you move, gently sitting down next to you. “Are you doing any better?” 

He patted the space on his leg, and you twisted your body to settle your head on his lap. “Sort of,” you murmured.

A moment passed as he took in your words. “Have you eaten?”

You nodded, your head just barely moving. “Yeah. Ate some leftover pasta.”

You fell quiet once more, simply listening to the sound of his breaths next to yours. Despite having been hearing next to nothing but silence for days now, you felt better knowing he was next to you.

“Hey,” he said softly, grabbing your attention once more. You turned your head towards him, his hand stroking your hair. His emerald eyes bore into yours, focused and sad. “Tell me what’s on your mind. You seem so distant, right now.”

Your gaze trailed up to the ceiling as you opened your mouth, trying to connect the mess of thoughts in your head into coherent sentences. “It’s just all so overwhelming,” you admitted. “All they know about me is my name and that I fell down the stairs, but it already feels like it’s way too much. I didn’t even spend that much time scrolling online, and I already know that there are more than just a few people freaking out.”

You looked up at him, your sad gaze mirroring his. “I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to have everyone begging you for a face reveal.” 

The sadness in his eyes only seemed to grow deeper, and you felt something warm and watery wrap around your heart. “It’s my fault,” he whispered, pressing a hand over his eyes. “I should have muted myself. I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I just moved without thinking and—”

You pulled yourself upwards, turning to sit face to face with him. “Clay, don’t say that.” You reached out to grab him arm, pulling it away from his face. His gaze was watery, and you wished you never had to see him with that expression. “It’s not your fault, not at all. When you heard me fall, you thought of me right away, and I appreciate that.” You held his big hand in between your smaller ones, interlocking your fingers. “That just shows you care for me. Please don’t beat yourself up over what happened.” You offered him a timid smile. “I know that I’m not taking this all too well either, but we’re in this together, right?”

His lips twitched to mirror yours, but his tone was still tinged with a low sadness. “I know, it’s just... I hate seeing you like this, like you can’t live your life normally anymore because of me.”

Your hand reached up to stroke his cheek. “Hey, it’s alright,” you crooned. “Remember, they only know my first name—not even my last name—and that I tripped. They don’t know what I look like.” Your lips twitched. “Heck, they don’t even know what I sound like. I think I’ll be able to live my life just fine. It’s just a little bit... much to begin with.” You shot him a goofy smile. “I might have to use Twitter less, but you know my screen time usage is way too high anyway.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, his eyes curving into two crescent moons. You felt your expression shift to mirror his almost naturally, but then the smile slowly crept off your face. “And, um, Clay,” you added, fidgeting slightly.

“Yeah?”

“These past two days, I gave what happened some more thought,” you began, “and I think...” You gulped. I think I want to introduce myself.”

His eyes widened, and suddenly his hands were on your face, his gaze focused intently on your face. “Are you positive?” he breathed. “You know you don’t have to do this, [Y/N].”

You nodded, feeling your resolve harden like a stone in your heart. “I know.” You offered him a bold smile. “It’s scary and kind of hard to think about, but I don’t want to leave everyone in the dark. I want to be by your side through thick and thin, no matter what.”

He paused, then pulled his hands away from your face. That sadness in his eyes had returned, and you felt your heart crack at the sight. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said quietly, almost remorsefully. “I know that being with me is already a huge commitment, and this is just taking another huge step...”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Clay,” you said, staring down at your knee. “I’ve been here with you from the beginning, and I’ll be here until the end. I’m here with you for the long haul, okay?” You raised your head, shooting him a wicked grin. “You won’t be getting rid of me too easily.”

Just like that, his smile was back. “Oh, alright. Only because I love you so much, though.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair with a weary grin. “Well, if there’s anything that I’m sure is going to happen,” he said, “it’s that my fans are definitely going to call me a ‘simp’ even more than they already do.”

You flashed him a teasing smile. “Are they wrong, though?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“No, they’re not.”

Swallowing, you stared long and hard at the microphone sitting in front of you.

You can do this.

“Are you ready?”

You sucked in a deep breath, feeling your hands shake in your lap.

“I—I think so.”

Clay pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, his left arm wrapping itself around your waist to pull you closer on his lap. With his right, he reached for the mouse. On his screen, he had his stream loaded up, with only a single mouse click standing between you and tens of thousands of viewers.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to look at him. With a small smile, he dipped his head down to press his lips to yours in a soft kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling back. Pulling back, he leaned his forehead against yours lovingly.

“You know, this is only about half as stressful as when I met your family,” you joked.

He snorted, the rumbling of his chest running along your back and into your thumping heart. “And they loved you just as much as I do. Once the rest of the world meets you,” he murmured just for you to hear, “they’re going to love you just the same. I swear it.”

You let your eyelids flutter shut, breathing in his scent of fresh linen and citrus. “I hope so.”

He shot you a cheeky wink. “Oh, I know so.”

You rolled your eyes at him, turning around to look at his monitor once more. “Cheese ball.” You didn’t have to turn to know that he was still grinning. Snuggling further back into his chest, you said, “Let’s start the stream, yeah?”

With a nod, he clicked the ‘start streaming’ button. Almost instantaneously, thousands of people joined the stream. You briefly glanced at the chat and felt yourself stiffen when you caught a brief glimpse of your name. Almost immediately, Clay’s hand was on yours, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb while you relaxed once more.

Sending you one last loving glance, he leaned towards his mic and began to speak. “Hey, guys! I know it’s been a little while since I last did a stream, and I know you guys have some questions. But first, there’s someone I want you guys to meet.”

His gaze flickered to you, and he gestured toward the mic. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up your courage and leaned forward. 

“Hi there. My name is [Y/N].”

You felt his hand squeeze yours. 

With a smile and a deep breath, you squeezed back.

“And I’m Dream’s girlfriend.”

[im-whatchamccallit]

Fixed On//ATEEZ (OT8)

Pairing: ATeez (OT8) x Fem!Reader (Non-romantic)

Genre: Slight angst, psychological if you’re paranoid enough, majority fluff

Warnings: Mentions of stalking

Word count: 3.4k

You told yourself it was the lack of sleep from the three days you spent studying for your finals catching up to you, that the shadows you saw in your peripheral and the faint footsteps you heard behind you as you drowsily ran errands were simply hallucinations. You told yourself it was all in your head, but how could you believe that now that you were aware of him?

You had simply gone out to grab groceries, just a seven minute walk from your apartment that wouldn’t take any more energy from your already exhausted body, just craving a home cooked meal before crashing for the next two days. But you could practically hear his breathing as he circled around you in the produce section, feel his eyes staring at the back of your head while you selected a pack of beef and, now, you could see him clear as day as you trailed down the empty streets. You were tempted to stay in the grocery store to stall him, praying he got bored and left, but you made the mistake of going at 9:30 at night, the cashiers urging you to go as they closed at 10. Not a problem, you could just head home, right? But you couldn’t, the looming fear he’d find out where you lived making you whimper in distress. To add insult to injury, you left your cell phone at home because you didn’t think your trip would take so long and most stores were closed now, the street lights and your two bodies the only signs of life in the silent night.

You’d been walking for almost twenty minutes now, passing by your apartment reluctantly with aching feet and a spinning head, your eyes brimmed with tears as you tried to push on in case he caught up to you and hoping your $15 beef hadn’t gone bad by now. You need a miracle, something to ease your anxiety and get you home and away from the unidentified man. And, in the midst of your unfortunate predicament, you saw it: a 7-Eleven.

Your body picked up speed as you rushed inside, the place bright and lively despite only you and the cashier being present and the radio playing softly in the background, the tightness in your chest disappearing with each passing second. You gasped softly at the sound of the door’s chime, your head darting to see the hooded figure from before stepping inside and making an abrupt turn to the candy aisle. What now?

You tried to stay natural, moving to the fridge to pick out a soda that you didn’t want, glancing over to see the man adjacent to you mindlessly picking up bags of chips only to put them down once again, looking in your direction every so often to make sure you haven’t moved. And you did, floating about the store with no destination and him still on your tail, the teenager behind the register not caring as the both of you played a game of hide and seek that left your safety up to fate.

It seemed like you were hopeless but, for some reason, you were starting to get luckier as the night progressed, the door chiming and the boisterous chatter of men filling the fairly spacious convenience store.

“Get anything you want, we’re charging it to Hwa’s card.”

“Like hell you are! Pay for yourselves!”

Laughter followed the bickering of two of the guys echoed off the walls before they spread out, some going in pairs to different sections and some on their own, but the one standing alone in front of a rack of limited edition snacks just so happened to catch your gaze first. He was tall, wearing a coat that looked cute on him but made his upper body appear to be broad and muscular underneath, his face blank and firm as if he’s never smiled a day in his life. He was scary, and perfect.

Yunho’s lips were threatening to form a pout as he struggled to choose. Would he rather have a snack form Japan or Indonesia tonight? Both looked so good but he couldn’t bring himself to choose.

“I’ll get both.” He said under his breath before grabbing both bags, gasping loudly as a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Oppa, I thought you had work tonight!” You squealed in a faux happy voice, smiling brightly up at the wide and horrified gaze the man gave you.

“W-what?”

“Some guy’s been following me for a while now. Please, just pretend you know me.” You said in a hushed tone, smile faltering as you glanced over to the fridge you once occupied, the eyes you had feared all night staring directly at you, a soft whine leaving you as you peered back at the strange man you latched yourself to, praying he saved you in any way he could.

You gasped as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you until your head was flush against his chest, his once stoic face now adorned with a content smile.

“I texted you that I was free but you didn’t respond! I really wanted to see you tonight.” He said in a cute yet teasing tone, your head thrown back to see him smiling down at you, giving a subtle but clear wink to let you know he was on your side, your eyes stinging as you tried not to cry in the unknown male’s arms.

“How about we go grabs some snacks and head back to my apartment? I’ll pay.” He said with a gentle smile, your head nodding reluctantly.

You both made your way to the back of the store where his friends continued to joke and bicker, Yunho’s arm not leaving you for a second although his smile was gone now, eyes still puppy like yet hard.

Considering he was a fairly large guy, it was easy for the others to catch on to his presence but, upon turning to face their groupmate, they found themselves more focused on your meek appearance hiding safely under his arm. You could feel your face burning in both embarrassment and unease at the way they eyed you and the man.

“Who is this?” One asked, his hair a beautiful royal blue and eyes just as sweet as your large bodied savior’s, the way our eyes immediately diverted from his causing a few to laugh but the way you gasped in horror as your eyes locked with your almost hour long stalker, body trembling as you opted to look at the ground. You just wanted to go home.

“This is…. Princess! My girlfriend!” Yunho said, suddenly realizing neither of you knew each other’s names.

“If he’s holding you hostage, blink twice.” Another spoke, his eyes cat-like and face sculpted to reveal his dimples as he smiled playfully at you.

“Why’s it so hard to believe I can get a girlfriend? Bunny, go pick out something to eat. We’ll wait for you so we can pay.” Yunho said affectionately, giving a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder at the way your eyes widened in fear at him, his head nodding you onward as he silently told you he had a plan, eyes never leaving you as you cautiously moved to the glass casing filled with pastries.

“Seriously, Yunho, who is she?” Seonghwa asked, voice low as the other watched you closely. You were holding two plastic grocery bags filled with vegetables and meat, you were probably a university student based on your lazy but comfortable choice of clothing. Nothing about you seemed alarming, but your sudden introduction as Yunho’s girlfriend was enough to make them suspicious.

“Look at the guy in the hoodie. She said he followed her here.” He said in a hushed voice, the unknown man creepily moving close by you before closing in on a sealed pack of donuts but giving you a once-over now that he was close enough to get a better look at you.

You felt your jaw clench as to not cry out for help and set him off. He was only a few feet away from you now, able to grab and harm you just by extending his arm if you dared to alert anyone. That wasn’t a risk you wanted to take.

“Did he follow her car or something? Why would she stop here?” Wooyoung asked.

“Obviously she didn’t drive. She would’ve left her bags in her car if she did.” Yeosang responded, a few of their eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Wait, but the only grocery store nearby is almost ten minutes away.” Jongho chimed in.

“By car. If she walked, that would be almost 25 minutes.” Mingi concluded, their bodies running cold at the realization, taking in the severity of your situation.

You tried to seem casual, to make sure he was unaware of the sudden initiation of eight strangers planning to get you away from him as quickly as possible but, in the midst of your overthinking, you managed to wander off to the back of the store, eyes locked on the stands full of ramen in both impatient anxiousness and genuine wonder. There’s no doubt the beef you bought was no good at this point, and that constant walking you’d done really built up your appetite. You couldn’t let the boys pay for you, especially after offering their protection to keep you safe. But, you had your wallet on you, and you had to get in line with them anyways so they can pay for their snacks, so why not grab dinner for yourself while you were at it?

You mindlessly searched for the one you usually ate, even wondering if you should grab two in case you were hungry later while shifting to hold both bags of food in one hand, almost missing the set of eyes on you. Almost.

It felt like before when you were in the grocery store, body freezing as you listened closely but this time aware of the threating presence, only unaware of how close he was now. You slowly let your body rise, not wanting to let your guard down as you finally heard footsteps, the faint chatter of the boys snapping you from your daze as you tried to hurry back to them, yelping as you crashed into a warm body before you.

You held your breath, peering up cautiously before seeing a familiar and bright smile, his jaw slim but chiseled. He was the stranger’s friends, and he was cute. If you weren’t so worried about getting the hell back home safely, maybe you could’ve gotten a better look at each one to see if they were all this stunning.

“Uhm, P-Princess,” Seonghwa cringed at the pseudonym, not sure why Yunho couldn’t just ask for your actual name to begin with.

“We’re getting ready to pay. You got everything you need?”

You glanced at the bowl of instant ramen before nodding, Seonghwa eagerly taking it from your hands to leave it unoccupied, but that didn’t last long as he grasped it to guide you beside him, your sides practically touching. It was a bit confusing, it made you worried that your act would be found out by the mysterious guy following you. But Seonghwa was no idiot, his observation skills heightened since he was brought into your escape plan, trying hard to not send a glare to the creep standing in the place you were moments ago. If he hadn’t noticed him moving closer, who knows what would’ve happened to you.

“Hey, ready?” Yunho asked you softly, your head nodding once more as they began to hand their items to the still disinterested boy behind the register, your eyes examining their mannerisms.

You were a little wary about blindly asking for their help but, from the way they immediately took on the task to protect you by staying at your side, and even now as the short but equally as model-like blue-haired guy complained that he thought they were using ‘Seonghwa’s’ card, only to be met with teasing ‘Thank you, mom’ chants from the remainder which left him looking a bit disgruntled, you knew they were nothing to fear.

You moved forward as they trailed on to the side, setting down your ramen as Yunho kept his place next to you, moving to pull out his wallet but you immediately snatched your hand from Seonghwa’s wanting to give a quick apology but needing to pay before he had the chance to.

“Don’t worry, I can-“

‘It’s only a dollar, Princess, it’s fine.” Yunho said while handing cash to the man, a faint warmth creeping to your cheeks at how casually he used that newly established nickname.

You thanked the man as you grabbed onto yet another bag for the night, all of you eagerly leaving the store and into the parking lot, the suffocating atmosphere now dissipating into relief as you took in a breath of fresh air. That man didn’t follow you out, the ambience felt so light and fun with the group of men joking ahead of you as they walked to a van with a very bold ‘ATEEZ’ on the side, your jaw nearly hitting the ground.

You’ve heard of their group, their music everywhere yet never had the time or desire to actually look them up, which would explain why you didn’t recognize them immediately. Although, the cat-eyed one went viral not too long ago for his charismatic dancing and now, watching him and a tanned guy with a mole beneath his eye he pointed and referred to as ‘Woo’ laugh at something said by the blue haired man while the tall one, one that resembled a prince and fairy all in one, and one that looked scary until he showed a smile so sweet it managed to make him look more youthful, you realized they were all hot. And suddenly the intimidation you thought you were free from came rushing back to you.

“Hey,” The sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts, a yelp leaving you as you faced the first one you met, his smile falling a bit but recovering just as fast.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. Just need to know your address so we can take you home.” He held up his cellphone and a navigation system, your eyes wide as you looked between him and the bright phone screen. They could’ve honestly left you there once that man stopped pursuing you, yet they were still looking after you.

“Or I could call you a cab. We know you probably don’t want to be around a ton of strangers right now.”

“N-no! Thank you, so much, I’m just really thankful I found you guys.”

“Hey, it only cost us a dollar to help you, and I don’t think any of us would feel right just leaving you to protect yourself from that guy.” Yunho said gently.

His tone and eyes were telling you he was being sincere, not that you needed any more convincing to trust him or his friends. Not to mention he was right about you needing a ride home, reality kicking in that you still didn’t have your phone on you and, if your groceries weren’t completely wasted by now, you still had some time to save them.

With a small smile you took his phone from his hands, typing in your address and passing it back to him, your body turning to match his as you head towards the van, the faint sounds of the boys arguing over who would drive and all agreeing that none of them wanted to, leading to an intense game of rock-paper-scissors that Yunho gladly stayed out of, a small giggle threatening to erupt from your lips.

“By the way, you guys don’t feel like strangers. Especially with your group’s name plastered on the side of your car.” You joked, a simple ‘Ah’ leaving him as you stared at you with a smirk, almost a silent way to say he’s discovered your dirty secret.

“You know, at first I thought you were a fan or something and that’s why you came up to me. I didn’t think I’d be right.”

“Uh, actually, I don’t know anything about you guys. I didn’t know you were ‘ATEEZ’ until I saw, well, that.” You gestured back to the vehicle where the boys began to disperse and enter the car, but the loud and bitter comments of them not wanting ‘Mingi’ to drive filling the air followed by an authoritative ‘Do you wanna do it?!’ from the blue-head. Were they aware of how unintentionally funny they were?

“Well, in that case, I’m Yunho.” He smiled, a genuine one that made you breathe out in contentment.

“I’m (Y/n).”

Your introduction was brief, followed by a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, lingering in the air as you both made it to the van, easing your way inside and finding a seat next to the blue-head and prince-faced boy, giving a small nod and smile that he shyly returned, the three boys behind you too preoccupied in their phones to acknowledge you and, suddenly, the silence gone as Yunho spoke up from his awkward position of setting up his phone to the dashboard, the faint voice of the navigation arising in the background.

“You should introduce yourselves to (Y/n)!”

“Her name’s (Y/n)?” The one in the driver’s seat asked as he started the engine, peering to you from the rear view mirror with bright eyes before putting the car into drive.

“My name is Mingi.”

“I’m Seonghwa.” The guy from the passenger seat said to you as he turned to wave.

“I’m Choi San.” Cat eyes said from behind you, giving a dimpled smile that you easily returned.

“I am Jongho, and this is Wooyoung.”

“Hey! I can introduce myself!” You jumped slightly at the boom of ‘Wooyoung’s’ voice, giving a bewildered look at how fast he went back to his calm and charismatic self.

“I’m Wooyoung.” He reached his hand out to you, which you slowly took as you tried to calm down the giggles bubbling inside of you.

“Yeosang.” The one beside you said meekly, not giving you eye contact as he scrolled through his social media.

“And my name’s Hongjoong!” The blue-haired guy said, giving an enthusiastic wave that was slowly swallowed by the oversized sweater he wore, your breath caught in your throat from how cute he was.

“It’s nice to meet you all and, thank you, so much, for helping me tonight.”

“It’s no problem, we just wanted to make sure you stayed safe.” Mingi stated. You would’ve thought his deep voice would be drowned out by the van’s engine but you heard him perfectly.

“But what made you think we weren’t the creeps? You’re probably in a car full of murders and you don’t even know it-“

“Shut the hell up, Wooyoung, you’re scaring her!” Seonghwa yelled from the front, a hand landing on top of your head to give a small ruffle, your eyes following it to Hongjoong who peered past Yeosang’s head to see you.

“Don’t worry, we’re all good guys.”

“He’s lying! He yells at us all the time!” Jongho whined with a pout, slowly letting it grow into a smirk as Hongjoong glared at him playfully.

“Because none of you listen!” Hongjoong snapped back, an amused laugh from San echoing through the vehicle.

“Oh no, dad’s mad.”

“I’m stuck with ungrateful kids, of course I’m mad!” You couldn’t help but laugh, their bickering growing by the second as the car ride progressed.

It was funny how quickly they forgot there was a stranger riding with them, having conversations that you couldn’t understand about an idol life that you had no part in, Yunho attempting to remind them of your presence to make you feel included, eventually leading you to discuss university life that they couldn’t quite understand and, as mundane as it seemed, was still a bit entertaining.

You could see the familiar street light with a poster for part-time employment at the nearby seafood shop taped to it, signaling you were approaching your apartment a lot sooner than you expected and, as relieved as you were to finally be home and to relax from the horrifying encounter you had, you didn’t want to leave.

These boys, as loud and strange as they were, were peaceful to be around and a comfort you didn’t know you needed. You weren’t really aware of ATEEZ, who they were or the music the produced, but you knew they were good people, and maybe this night was enough to keep your mind fixed on them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: On to part three. Sorry for being a human disaster.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Or it will move right through me

💀💀💀

Jerome annoyed you as he picked through your tool box and clicked the ratchet noisily. He was excited but impatient and complained that you were taking so long. You told him if he wanted to pay out of pocket for labour, you could finish faster. 

You sat by his bike, parts strewn at your feet, and bent your head to look under the tank. You still had a lot to go and hadn’t yet added anymore of the gross chrome to the frame.

“Do you realise how filthy this is gonna get?” you huffed as you sat up and leaned your elbows on your legs, “not to mention how ridiculous it looks.”

“I like it. It’s just my style,” your brother grinned, “I don’t remember you spending this much time on Bucky’s ride and you and him--”

“He had me replace the tailpipe, you want nothing short of a rebuild,” you scoffed, “and you’re not the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, “guess it could be worse though. It could be Steve.”

“Thank god it’s not,” you chuckled, “I don’t know how many women had to toss beer in his face before he latched onto that mousy one at the bakery.”

“She’s nice,” Jerome shrugged, “far as I know. She doesn’t talk to anyone but Steve.”

“I wonder why,” you tisked, “he has insecurity written across his forehead.”

The tinny bell rang and the door whooshed open as the wind caught it. Jerome glanced over and dropped the ratchet noisily into the drawer of the tool box. You growled in warning as you spent much of your spare cash on those. He apologised quietly as he squared his shoulders at the man who appeared.

“Hey,” Bucky wiped the flakes from his hair and blew out a shiver.

“Bucky,” Jerome said rigidly.

The other man nodded and stepped further inside the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly around the concrete floor. You watched him as you fiddled with the bolt in your hand.

“You wanna head down to the bar?” It wasn’t a question as Bucky came to face you, “I gotta talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jerome replied sharply, “you got it, boss.”

Bucky grumbled and waited for him to leave. He sniffed and kicked his toe into the floor.

“So… what’re you doing here? Been a while so must be urgent,” you sat up on the rolling stool and stretched your back.

“The whole town’s talking about it. You fighting him,” his brows drew together, “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You didn’t,” you said evenly, “so I did.”

“I talked to him--”

“And said what?” you snorted.

“Look, you don’t understand. You said it yourself, you don’t care about my business. You don’t get what’s going on but what I need from him is bigger than your temper.”

“Excuse me? This is my fault? He broke into my shop, he followed me from that diner and he put his hands on me,” you stood and tossed the bolt away, “what do you want me to do, Buck?”

“First, I want you to remind yourself who I am. We’re not fucking anymore so that mouth isn’t as cute,” he warned, “and I want you to play nice.”

“All you have to do is keep him away from me. How hard is that for a man like you, huh? You’re the big dog.”

“Watch it,” he pointed at you, “I won’t tell you again.”

“He’s here to deal with you, not me,” you insisted, “he grabbed me, I defended myself, and I’ll do it again.”

“This isn’t grade school anymore, you can’t fight the boys,” he sighed.

“What are you saying?”

He was silent as his jaw ticked and his blue eyes strayed to the ceiling. You stepped closer and gripped your hips as you stared him down.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you. Nothing else I will do. He’s your problem.”

He met your glare and you scoffed in disgust, “you’re fucking serious? What do these idiots have on you?”

“It’s not what they have on me, it’s what I want from them. I’m planning for something bigger than Birch, that means there’s gonna be some sacrifices,” he shrugged.

“Sacrifices? Is that what you call it? Well, here’s one for you, the next time you get a little scuff on your tank or your headlight starts to flicker, you can head down to Carl’s,” you scowled.

“Don’t do this,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I can get business without you. I do better work than Carl, you know that. So go, I’ll deal with that asshole on my own, how I see fit.”

He inhaled and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and thought. 

“Damn it,” he swore, “you can’t make anything fucking easy. What is it with you women and your god damn--” he lifted his hand and stopped himself, “you get in the way of my business, and you won’t be so worried about Loki.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what he said about you,” you mocked, “what’s with you men and your egos?”

His lip curled and he breathed through his teeth. His eyes lit up and he punched his palm as he turned away quickly.

“I hope he has his fun with you. Maybe he can fuck some sense into you,” Bucky growled, “God knows I tried.”

“You weren’t that good,” you snipped.

He kicked the shelf of wipers hung near the front of the shop and grunted. He stormed to the doorway and stopped to look back at you.

“You’ll be wishing it was me…” he hissed.

He waved you off and continued through the front door, slamming it behind him loudly. You stared at the scattered packages of wipers and bit down on your tongue. You wanted to run out and strangle that idiot but you knew how he could be. It was the reason you broke off your little fling; he was too much like you. Hard-headed and volatile.

💀

You weren’t going to change just because the town was overrun by asshole men. You were standing your ground and that meant you were going to finish your club sandwich and enjoy one lunch without interruption. 

The café was busier that day as the snowfall dwindled and the streets were mostly cleared as the plows made their regular rounds. You looked through the window as the school kids stopped by the bakery for hot drinks on their lunch and circled the rim of your mug with your fingertip. You sensed it was only the lull before the storm.

Further down you could see the corner of The Asp and heard a rumbling engine. Your shop remained empty except for Jerome’s bike. Since Bucky’s visit, you were too worked up to concentrate anyway. You wanted to take your wrench and knock every man in town in the head with it.

Nora brought your sandwich as Kimmie didn’t work on the weekends and your side of soup. You would eat both and leave satisfied. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin your day off. Well, not that you had very much to do aside from that.

You dipped your crusts in the tomato soup and stared at the seat across from you. Empty. Perfect.

You scooped the last of the bowl into your mouth and wiped your lips with the napkin. You stood and gulped up your coffee. You left money on the table and headed out. A peaceful, solitary lunch all to yourself.

You skipped the shop and continued down the street. You pushed into the hobby shop you rarely ventured into, more a bookshop if you were honest. You greeted the man at the counter with a smile. When you were a girl, you remembered he ordered you a special set of paints as the ones in his store were all dried up. Lu, you recalled his name.

You went to the shelves of models and looked over the new arrivals. You took the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am off the shelf and smirked. Your father had one just like it when you were a kid. It wasn’t exactly new. You grabbed a bottle of black paint with it, always running low on the stuff, and headed for the counter.

Lu punched the buttons on his till and you heard a creak. Light footsteps emerged from the basement of used books as you opened your wallet.

“I didn’t take you as bookish,” Loki’s voice made you cringe.

You didn’t answer and counted out the bills for your purchase, “actually, you got any glue? I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

“Hmm, oh,” Lu turned and bent to reach into a box, “haven’t stocked up but these came in just before the storm.”

He added the orange and white tube to your bag and you added another bill. He counted out your change and handed it to you.

“Quite interesting what small towns can hide,” Loki didn’t wait to step up to counter and stood close, his sleeve against yours, “An antique edition of Whitman. One of the only Americans I read.”

You looked down at the worn tome, the edges fraying and the letters faded. It was marked up to a couple hundred. You could appreciate a love for reading but you weren’t entirely sure some old paper was worth all that.

“I’ll need the reading material as my visit has been prolonged,” he mused as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, “my brother is due to return so I will stay in his place… get to know the town of Birch more intimately.”

You hid your disgust at his words and continued out the door. His exaggerated tones stuck in your head as you passed the window and absently swung your bag. You hated him. You really did. You should have bashed him over the head with that dumb book. 

You thought of that day in the snow and smiled. You knew that shame lingered in him. You would have no problem repeating that scene.

You came up to your shop and stopped short. The burly redhead who arrived with the pestilent man stood at your door, peering in through the window, angling his head as he tried to see around the blinds. You cleared your throat as you neared.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked dully.

“Oh, ah,” he turned and laughed at himself, “I thought… Loki, I thought he’d be here.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” you said, “he’s down at the book shop.”

“Thanks. He apologise?” He prodded.

“You seem to know him well. You think he did?” you challenged.

“Ah, nah,” he smiled awkwardly, “s’pose he didn’t.”

“S’pose he didn’t,” you echoed, “it would be smart if you kept him away from here.”

“Yeah, uh, should do,” he sidled past you and you listened to his heavy boots clump along the beaten snow.

You took out your key and unlocked the door. You closed it quickly behind you, that man’s presence set you on edge. He hadn’t shown any of the venom of his associate but he was loyal to him. You double checked the locks on all the doors and made certain all windows were closed. 

You went up stairs into your apartment and stripped off your coat and boots. You sat at the small table where you ate those dinners you didn’t forget and unpacked your new model. You sorted the pieces and spread out the instructions. The image of the car on the box brought back nostalgic memories. You wouldn’t know all you did about bikes if it wasn’t for your dad. You missed him every day for the last… too many years.

You lost yourself in the tiny parts. You hunched over the table and carefully dabbed glue onto the plastic. Your eyes began to itch as the windows dimmed and you got up to turn on the lamp. You kept building well after dark and finally left the half-finished car on the table.

You stretched out your limbs as you stripped down to only your loose tee and yawned. You fell into bed and turned on the old tube television. You hit play on the VCR and the loud previews blared from the boxy speakers. You rolled yourself in your comforter and sat through the same movie trailers you’d watched a dozen times.

You were never a romantic but you the movie was another shadow of your childhood. Your grandma used to watch Kathleen Turner whenever you went to her place. She would serve you yogurt and berries and turn on the cheesy action flick and if you slept over, she would put in the sequel right after.

Your rituals kept you sane. You found it was easier to know what to expect and given your temper, it was better not to be surprised. You were always the trouble child and you regretted all those times your dad had to come talk to the principal or walk you home from school. You promised him you would be better.

Still you didn’t regret what you did. He always told you to stand up for yourself. Hell, he taught you how to throw a punch and all your best insults were inherited from him. You smiled as you thought of him and hugged your pillow as the intro played and the credits flicked up one name at a time.

You drifted off in the glow of the television and the sound effects sank into your dreams. You were still in Birch but thick vines had grown around all the buildings and billowing leaves shrouded the skies. The town had turned to jungle and you could hear the growls and grunts of beasts unseen.

You spun as a twig snapped and a snake uncoiled from a branch and fell into the brush at your feet. You stepped back and it slithered towards you. You stumbled and ran away as you could hear its skin smoothly glide through the grass at your feet. You tripped as its long body wrapped around your ankles and you crashed to the ground.

You struggled as the snake constricted your body and wound its neck around to face you. Its green eyes shone as its black scales gleamed. Its tongue flicked against your cheek and you felt its hot breath as it opened its mouth and revealed long, frightening fangs. You screamed as its bite loomed and you woke with a start.

The visions of the wild jungle faded but the heat did not. You blinked as an amber haze took over the room and you fought through your messy blankets and tumbled onto the floor. Your curtains were alight along with much of the wall. You bachelor was blazing with orange flames and you could barely see the door through the smoke.

You coughed and scrambled to your feet. Your eyes streamed and you blindly ran for the door and flew down the stairs. The shop was almost entirely engulfed as you reached the lower landing and you fumbled with the front door as flames licked closer and closer.

You burst out into the frozen night and your feet were numbed by the ice and snow. You retreated from the burning building, your life set aflame, and turned back as you reached the sidewalk. Sirens screamed and made you wince as you crossed your arms and chattered against the cold.

“Pity,” the slither made your skin crawl, “though I suppose it is a blessing you at least saved yourself.”

You glanced at Loki as your vision blurred with the tears of realisation. Everything you had was turning to ash before you. You blinked away the droplet and sneered at him. He smirked and you knew. He smirked and he knew. It wasn’t an accident.

[mitsukui]

make it cream | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: George finally tastes a bit of his own medicine ━  a sequel to ‘Good Girl’; if you still haven’t read it, I highly recommend you doing it so, because it’ll make so much more sense! (PART 1! + PART 3!)

Word Count: 2,5k (I know this got a little bit long, but take it as a ‘thank you’ present!)

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (male receiving), masturbation (male receiving), dirty talk, edging, cum play, daddy kink, degratation kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: the amount of support I got from ‘Good Girl’ was insane, you guys! I could never express how grateful I truly am for each and every one of you. Thank you for all the likes, the reblogs, the messages. I hope you enjoy this sequel as much as you enjoyed the first part. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

@gecrgesweasley​ thank you so much for giving me permission to use your idea somehow! ✨

Masterlist!

You had grown a bit tired of it. Enough was enough. It was not like you were unhappy with it; most times, you actually enjoyed it enormously. But now, every single time was the same.

It was high time you dominated George Weasley.

The sensations you felt that night still lurked in your body. Images of his big hands lashing out onto your skin still burned in the back of your mind. The warmth of his saliva on your tongue could still be felt whenever you pressed it against the roof of your mouth. Your legs still trembled slightly when you thought of the overstimulation he put you through after he had fucked your face mercilessly.

That night had been the first of many. Before it, you had never had any complaints about your sex life with your boyfriend. He had always shown himself as a caring and thoughtful partner. But you had been relentlessly suspicious of something within him fighting to make its way to the light.

George’s façade concealed how ravenous he truly was in bed.

And his dominating ways had awoken something in you.

You caught yourself wondering during lunch breaks whether you could make him come undone only with your hands. You visited muggle sex shops after work frequently. You spent long, extra minutes in the shower, pleasuring yourself over the thought of degrading him, exactly like he had done to you so many times before.

All you needed was an opportunity, since you already felt confident enough to try a few things on him. All you needed was an opportunity. And, apparently, all the planets aligned on a Saturday night to lend you a helping hand with that.

As usual, he had decided to work on a few things for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in the comfort of his flat, where you tended to spend your weekends at. Midnight was slowly approaching, but he was still going over some numbers and projects he had planned with Fred.

You found him in the kitchen, leaning towards the small squared table. He was still in his uniform, and numerous parchments were spread across the place he was working at. One of his hands supported his chin while the other was used to fiercely scribble new considerations about previously discussed topics.

It was funny how he could turn you on doing the most ridiculous things, such as working. George was a very intelligent man, and whenever he poured his brain out into something, you could feel your knees buckling. The way he would share his and Fred’s projects with you without exception was quite cute, too.

But tonight was not about being cute. Tonight was about torturing him and making him beg.

“It’s late. Almost midnight. Let’s go to bed.” Your voice brought him back to reality, and he offered you a weary smile. In your eyes, the way he threw himself into his passions was beautiful; but, once again, you found yourself secretly desiring to help him relieve all of the stress that existed in his body.

“I’m not tired.” He said in a low voice. “And if I don’t have this ready by tomorrow, Fred is gonna kill me.” As he chuckled, he shook his head to himself.

“Well, he’s not anywhere to be seen here, is he?” You raised your eyebrows playfully. A big difference between the twins was that Fred knew how to disconnect from work when their shift was over. But George was different. He used to go for that extra mile quite often. And to you, that was beautiful, too.  “And I know you’re tired. You know I know you like the back of my hand, right?”

You both stared at each other for a little while in silence before laughing softly. He gave up on pretending he was not tired, because deep down inside he knew you were right, and let his body to sink into the chair. His slender fingers loosened his dark amber tie, and your heart instantly skipped a beat.

“If you don’t want to go to bed, just let me do something for you, then.” You suddenly spat out, unable to control your excitement. The universe was right there, offering you a chance to do what you had been dreaming of for a few weeks. “Please.”

“Damn, princess. You know I go crazy when you beg for something.”

Your teeth were pressed gently onto your lower lip right after you whispered a second plead, and your eyes gained a new devious sparkle to them. The heat between you two was soon to elevate, just like that first night.

George spread his legs a bit and patted his muscular thighs, wordlessly telling you to sit on his lap, which you eagerly complied. You wasted no time in settling your body onto his, and pecking his thin lips once.

You reached out for both of his hands, and you swallowed hard at how big they looked when compared to yours, arousal starting to build up in your loins.

Looking intensely at his eyes, you placed one of his hands around your neck. He was fast to give your skin a delicate squeeze but, somehow, you craved for more. So you took his other hand to your lips.

They wrapped around two of his fingers, and your tongue ran over his skin. His exhaustion made his body more sensible than it usually was, and you felt pleased with yourself as soon as he threw his head back. Husky groans began to leave his lips when you started sucking on his fingers hungrily. You hollowed your cheeks, already moving your head up and down and rocking your hips against his body.

You could feel he was about to switch from groans to real moans, but things could not be that easy for him. You pulled his hand away from his mouth, a string of your saliva still connecting him to you. He sighed heavily due to the frustration that now took over his body.

“You are such a little whore.” He was panting slightly as his eyes fell upon you once again, and there was a light flush on his skin. “Daddy needs to teach you a lesson. Good girls always finish what they started. Open your mouth.”

“No.”

A flash of disbelief splashed across his face and it was almost as if the world had stopped for one or two seconds. He was unsure whether he heard you correctly.

His hands got a grip on your hips, his fingers pressing down onto the soft skin hard enough to leave some bruises there. “I said ‘open your mouth’, princess.”

“And I said ‘no’, Daddy.” A smirk appeared on your lips, adrenaline rushing through your veins faster than blood itself. You tilted your head to the side, and used your fingers to play with his tie and the collar of his shirt. “I’m not taking any orders tonight, Daddy. I’m calling the shots, for a change.”

After that, it did not take long until he was completely undressed in front of you, his hands tied to the back of the chair with his own tie, and his hard cock sprung free, laid on his stomach.

You had barely started teasing him, but he was already whimpering for some mercy. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed, and he felt like bursting into tears any moment now.

It was fun to be dominated instead of dominating, but it was something he was not used to. He did not know how to control his own instincts that well, and he was suffering. His desire was to cum all over your hands, but you said he could only do that when you allowed him to. Painting your entire body with his own seed was something he loved doing, but being unable to do it whenever he wanted to was causing tiny excruciating  fireworks to explode inside his chest.

Your lips brushed against his left thigh, pampering the freckle-stained area with soft and small kisses. You eyed him while making your way up through his body, your mouth soon reaching his crotch for the first time that night.

He felt the warmth of your lips touching his cock ever so slightly, and returned to whimpering. A delicious wave of desire crashed within your body when you tasted the precum that leaked from his tip. However, you allowed your mouth to be restrained to that area only.

George attempted to buck his hips up to thrust into your mouth, but you immediately leaned back. “Now, don’t be a bad boy, Daddy.” The tip of his cock received a new substitute for pleasure without warning: your fingers.

Loud cries echoed in the kitchen as you ran your fingertips gently over his reddened tip. You were deeply mesmerized by his reactions, yet you wanted more.

“Would you like me to suck your dick, Daddy?” You purred, your voice dripping in lust and excitement over your recently discovered dominance. He nodded vehemently. “Would you like to feel my wet and warm tongue running up and down your shaft?”

Those filthy words were leaving your lips easily, and your nails were scratching his skin lightly. “Can you imagine receiving a sloppy blowjob, Daddy? Tears running down my face as your thick dick hits the back of my throat.” You wrapped your hand around him, and pumped him up and down a few times, your pace being terribly slow.

“My saliva getting mixed with your juices and, then, escaping my lips and dripping down my tits.” Your hand moved in a faster pace, but it was not fast enough for him. His chest started rising and falling, pleasure erupting in his body. “And, finally, your hot seed exploding in my mouth. Can you imagine that, Daddy?”

A giggle slipped out of your lips and went straight to his core. His cock twitched in your hand, and you pretended to be surprised. “Oh! You like that, Daddy?” Up until that moment, you had been enchanted by the sight of his tip disappearing and reappearing in your hands. But you finally looked up at him, and you swore you were in heaven.

George had his eyes closed, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. He was tirelessly trying to free his own hands. Even though his lips were apart and trying to say something, nothing was coming out of them.

“You know how much I love to have you in my mouth. You fill me up so well, Daddy! You are so thick, so big, and so veiny.” A little peck was laid on his tip, and his muscles tensed up as he tried again to be freed from the restrains on his wrists.

You finally put an end to his suffering and took all of him at once, his cock indeed hitting the back of your throat. You gagged and tears welled up to your eyes, but you persisted. Pushing your head even further down, you heard him moaning your name.

He was in sheer ecstasy. You carried on sucking him hungrily, and his needy whimpers did not cease. There was something about the way your bodies connected: he fit perfectly into your mouth, and he felt your touch could work wonders on him. Among so many lustful feelings and thoughts, he realized he was hopelessly in love with you.

“I-I’m close, princess.” His back arched a bit, and he groaned loudly. “Don’t stop.”

But you did. You stopped without thinking twice. And he cried out loud, frustration coloring his veins again. George tried to form coherent sentences to express his discontent, but it was difficult to think straight.

“You’re pathetic, Daddy. What do you think people would say if they saw you like that?” His thighs were splattered with delicate kisses like before. His breath was uneven, and he cleared his throat. Your words resonated through your surroundings, but he did not feel embarrassed at all. In fact, he was enjoying this far more than he expected.

“I reckon you are a whore. My whore, Daddy.”

Your fingers danced against his wet tip repeatedly while your other hand gently cupped his balls. His legs trembled violently due to the extra pressure you put onto his sensible tip. He warned you he was close to releasing one more time, but you stopped your movements again.

Your boyfriend mewled shamelessly, sounding like a desperate kitten. It was the second time you were edging him after a long session of teasing, and you could tell he was aching. The veins in his cock were prominent, and his tip was now taken by a dark reddish shade.

“All you have to do is beg, Daddy. I know you can do it.”

“P-Please, princess. Let me cum. I don’t know if I can take it anymore.” The tiredness he had endured all this time became evident on his voice, and you almost felt sorry for him.

He was a hot mess. Sweat dripped from his face, strength no longer existed within him to fight against the wrists restrains, and agony was the only visible feeling on his handsome face.

With a fond smile on your lips, you ordered him to cum for his princess as you pumped his cock in your hands for the last time. When he warned you about his release being close, you let go of his big shaft and watched it as it landed on his stomach.

You whispered dirty nothings as your hands ran up and down his body, and it did not take long for him to feel his orgasm being expelled from his tip. Thick strings of his seed covered the skin on his own stomach.

That was a sight to be proud of.

You moved your body closer to his, at last removing your knees from the cold kitchen floor. Trying to soothe him a bit more, you used your hands to caress the sides of his body that still trembled slightly. Without warning, your tongue collected all of his cum into your mouth. He felt your tongue running up and down, side to side, over his abs, and his torso jolted in overstimulation.

His taste was amazing to you, and you felt incredibly close to him by doing that. You, then, realized you were hopelessly in love with him as well.

With a tad of effort, you finally stood up properly. Your intimate moment had taken its toll on you, too. Knees were sore, legs were weak, and throat was slightly sore.

You leaned down towards his face, and his eyes confessed he could not take any more bit of teasing. Your thumbs stroked his cheek bones, signaling it was really over now. But you still squished his cheeks gently, and his lips opened only for you.

His own cum was soon deposited in his mouth, and he moaned at the new sensation. You brushed your tongue against his lips and, once you were free to talk again, you did. Your voice came out like a hoarse murmur, but George thought it was incredibly sensual.

“Can you swallow it, Daddy?” Your fingers continued on caressing his skin and he nodded weakly, your eyes watching him swallow his own release. “You’re such a good boy.”

“I’m going to fucking destroy you next time, princess.”

“Bring it on, Daddy.”

[nctyhoney]

a helping hand (m)

Pairing: mark lee x fem!reader 

Genre: smut, fluff, office worker!mark, friends to lovers, office!au

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), car sex, dry humping, praise kink

Playlist:  pickled ginger - mac ayres, fill my holes - YESEO, wait for it - H.E.R.

Summary: You were used to workplace flirting. Everyone at some point would have a 'work bae'. Mark was different though, he was your intern. There were things you wanted to teach him, things he wanted to teach you and none of it had anything to do with work.

A/N: Mark in a suit is just too damn cute. This is my first fic on here so thank you for reading! There will be another part to this at some point.

————————————————————————— 

It’s just gone 8 am and you're on your morning commute to work. You have a car but the traffic in Seoul made it almost impossible to drive during rush hour. Your eyes still feel puffy from sleep, and you hope your mascara has masked their appearance somewhat. As you and a mass of other office workers spill out of the subway station, you're greeted by an autumnal wind. Although it felt mild for the time of year, you couldn't get used to the early morning darkness that the promise of winter brought.

In just 2 years, you'd progressed to head of the marketing team at Hyphen, Korea's biggest publishing house. You were proud to have landed a job at such a reputable company straight out of university, but with each pay rise came more responsibilities.

The elevator reached your floor, 39. Going through to the kitchen area, you put two iced Americano cans in the refrigerator. You weren't a fan of coffee but it got you through the day. As you were organising the refrigerator, you felt someone behind you and turned around quickly - it was your manager. He had a weird way of creeping up on his workers and you found him somewhat seedy. You always made sure to be polite to him, though.

"Morning manager Kim," you stand up, adjusting your pencil skirt slightly.

"Morning y/n! Here bright and early I see. Did you get my email last night?" He asks, his eyes flicking between your body and your face.

"Sorry, what email?" You ask, feeling slightly panicked.

"This year's interns start today. I sent it last night so you probably didn't get a chance to read it."

Crap. Interns. You didn't know if it was your imposter syndrome talking but something about being observed by interns made you feel underqualified. Perhaps you just got a bad batch of interns the first time around. You remembered Kyungsoo and Minhee from last year. Kyungsoo's uncle was CEO of Hyphen and he wouldn't let you forget it. He refused to work and you'd find him and Minhee coming back from their lunch breaks an hour late, often out of the unused stock cupboard.

"No sorry I didn't read it," you apologise, "when are they coming?"

"The receptionist said there are four downstairs waiting. They'll be up in a minute," manager Kim says checking his watch.

You nod, "How many will I be working with this year?"

"You'll each have one intern this year. You'll be working with Mark Lee, he's Canadian. A good kid. I think you'll like him."

Just then, the sound of the elevator reaching the 39th floor alerted you. Four of the interns shuffled out of the elevator.

"Welcome to Hyphen, I'm manager Kim, you might remember me from your interview," he said looking between his sheet with their faces and names and up at them.

"So we have Mark, Haechan, Jeno and Sooji. I hope you enjoy this year working in marketing. This is y/n, she's head of this department."

You exchange handshakes and bobs of the head, feeling relieved that these interns at least look shy rather than cocky rich kids.

"Mark you'll be giving y/n a helping hand this year. Y/n, I know you'll make him feel welcome. The rest of you, let's find the workers you'll be shadowing," manager Kim says before they're off out of the kitchen to one of the conference rooms.

Mark is staring at you from a distance, awkward and tense. His black hair falls into his eyes despite styling it neatly for work; he brushes it out of his eye nervously.

"Tea?" you ask him, grabbing your two favourite mugs out of the cupboard.

"Oh, yeah, please - if that's not too much trouble," Mark says hesitantly.

"Of course it's not. You can sit down, we don't start work for another 20 minutes."

He does as he's told, opting for one of the chairs closest to the kitchen worktop.

"Do you take sugar?" You call over to him.

"Two," he replies, fiddling slightly with his wristwatch. This boy is endearing you think, definitely an upgrade from arrogant Kyungsoo.

"How are you feeling about interning here?" You ask, stirring his tea, before coming to sit at the chair next to his.

He takes the mug, "Oh, thank you. I'm kinda nervous I'm not gonna lie, but thankful to be here."

You laugh, his casual tone is refreshing but he catches on and apologizes quickly.

"There's no need to apologize, you can be informal with me. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," you say, catching his eye over the rim of your mug. He's blushing slightly, and you wonder why you are too.

♡

It's been 3 months since the interns came. December comes and with it is an endless rain.

In those 3 months, it didn't take long for you and Mark to grow close. Sure, he still had his occasional shy tendencies but you spent all your working hours together. Rather than a forced relationship between a senior and their junior, this was something you both saw as natural.

You're just not sure if the feelings you've developed are natural, too. His eyes hold onto yours for longer at company dinners, his hands linger at your waist when he reaches to get a file from the shelf in front of you. And it sets something off in you. You crave the contact. Mark Lee is driving you crazy.

You certainly weren't imagining these moments. You were used to workplace flirting. Everyone at some point would have a 'work bae'. Mark was different though, he was your intern. There were things you wanted to teach him, things he wanted to teach you and none of it had anything to do with work.

When you first started at Hyphen, Johnny used to be heavy on the flirting with you, and being from America, he was confident with it. He’d make you cups of hot, sweet tea each morning. He gave you those flirtatious touches on your arms while complimenting you, and he’d always make sure you got home safe after a company dinner. But he also had a long-term girlfriend and you knew nothing could come of it. Johnny still flirts with you, but that’s just him. And when you first began working at the company, you fell for it...almost. It happened a second time, with Jaehyun but then you learnt that these were just the ways of the office.

Today was a Friday, which meant your division would have drinks with the manager. You weren't keen on drinking, especially not with your manager but your coworkers made it bearable. And since the CEO was attending this week, the manager wouldn't be bothering you, Yerin and Mina for the entire night.

You lean over Mark, reading through the document on his laptop. He's edited the press release you wrote for a new book launch.

He shifts around in his seat. You can't tell if he's nervous about you reading his work or nervous about being sat underneath you. You hope it’s the latter option, though. 

"As expected from our Markie. You're really helping me by editing these documents, it's great - thanks," you smile, moving away slightly.

He's blushing a violent shade of pink and touching the back of his neck. He couldn't get any cuter.

"It's not fair that y/n gets such a helpful intern. Sooji left early when she promised to help with my reports, that's the second time this week," Mina huffs, folding her arms.

"It's compensation for the hell I went through with the interns last year," you laugh.

Johnny walks up to you and nudges you playfully.

"Nah it's not compensation. Y/n is just so hard-working, that's why they gave you the most hard-working intern," he says winking.

Mark looks between you and Johnny, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, thanks for that Johnny but that's definitely not true. Not the part about Mark not being hard-working...or me, I mean, I am hard-working, just not the most," you stutter, suddenly feeling foolish.

Luckily it hits 5 pm before anyone can dwell on your tongue-tied speech. You're all tidying away, turning off your monitors and getting ready for a night of drinking.

You catch eyes with Yerin and go to the bathroom to touch up your makeup.

You're reapplying a dab of lipstick and Yerin brushes her face lightly with powder. She stops for a moment, glancing at you.

"You don't still like Johnny do you?" Yerin asks.

"Johnny?! No way, I'm not going back there," you laugh.

"You seem nervous around him," Yerin points out.

"Come on Yerin, that was awkward. It's weird when someone hypes you up like that. It's bad enough being marketing lead now, it's like I'm expected to be some bigshot when I still feel like a uni student," you admit.

"Yeah, I understand, but you're totally capable. Could it be that you’re feeling shy around a handsome, new worker, I wonder?" Yerin winks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with Mark recently. I'm left to take lunch with Doyoung. I mean I'm not complaining but you know, Mark does look kinda smitten."

You look over at your friend and catch her looking back at you, expectantly.

"We have to look after our interns, Yerin. And it's not every day that you get such a hard-working one like Mark. Remember the hell I went through with Kyungsoo? Let's just say I'm relieved I've got a good worker."

"Right...so you don't think he's even a little bit cute?"  

Hell yes, you did. But you couldn't admit that, could you?

"He's cute but like, in a little bro way. He's too goofy for me to see him romantically," you bluff but you know Yerin can see right through you.

"He's an intern, what's the harm? As long as Kim doesn't find out," Yerin says.

"Yerin! You're talking nonsense."

"I've seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you," she laughs.

"The way he looks at me?" You blurt out, "The way I look at him? We're just good coworkers."

"Girl, you're such a bad liar."

♡

Yerin's words stay in your head for the entire night. Suddenly you're thinking about what Mark's lips would feel like against yours. Wondering what it would feel like for him to touch you, more than the light touches in the office. You've thought about it before, of course. But mostly while touching yourself in bed.

Mark is sat at the low table opposite you, Yerin and Mina at either side of you. Mark is laughing, taking a shot of soju as Johnny pats him on the back. He clearly can't handle his alcohol because he's giggling like a school kid and his face is already flushed. He looks stupidly cute and you realize how much you want to hold him, feel his flushed cheeks underneath your palms. But you peel your eyes away, tuning in to a conversation Yuta and Mina are having about Christmas holidays in Japan.

Manager Kim announces that him and the CEO will be moving to drink somewhere else, stumbling from the long table and telling you to enjoy your night. You all know where that 'somewhere else' is, but you don't bother questioning it. Corporate culture can be parasitic.

Even so, you're relieved that they've left, the atmosphere less stuffy now. Things feel playful and flirtatious. Jaemin is whispering in Jeno's ear and Jeno is laughing. Yerin's hand is dangerously placed on Doyoung's thigh. 

You can't snatch glances at Mark anymore because he's looking right at you, his eyes filled with something you haven't seen before..lust? Maybe your tipsiness is altering the situation but you like it.

“Shall we play truth or dare?” Lucas grins, clapping his hands.

“Let’s just do truths, we’re in public,” Jaehyun points out.

“I second that! But this stays between us, company oath,” Mina says, taking an empty soju bottle and spinning it on the table.

The bottle lands on Jungwoo first and Jaehyun and Mark nudge him on either side, laughing.

“Jungwoo! Who would you date out of everyone here?” Mina asks.

Jungwoo’s eyes are playful and he throws his head back laughing.

“You want me to be completely honest? I’d probably say Lucas,” he says without hesitating.

Everyone is laughing and teasing the pair, except for Mina who nudges Lucas in the ribs to stop him from smirking.

“Moving on, where is the riskiest place you’ve ever had sex?” Jaehyun asks, spinning the bottle as it lands on Mark. 

Mark rubs at his nose, looking at you momentarily. You pretend to focus on your soju shot but you’re listening carefully. 

“I mean…a car I guess?” Mark chuckles, he’s bright red now and you feel jealousy rising inside of you.

Why were you jealous? He wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Johnny is ruffling his hair but Mark looks up at you, looking slightly shifty. Maybe you understand how Mina feels now. You can’t look at him.

“Okay, moving on,” Mark says taking the bottle, “Do you like anyone here?”

It lands on Jaemin and he reclines back in his seat. He raises an eyebrow, “Sure, they like me too.”

Everyone laughs at that and Jeno just shakes his head cutely, everyone knowing they’re practically an item at this point.

“Who would you make out with right now if we were doing dares?” Jaemin asks.

The bottle lands on Johnny. It’s Mark’s turn to pat Johnny on the back now and Johnny just smiles to himself.

“Aren’t you gonna answer, Johnny?” Yuta laughs.

“I’d make out with y/n” Johnny shrugs.

There are collective gasps, and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. That wasn’t what he was supposed to answer, surely? He had a girlfriend; he could’ve passed on the answer. You look up at Johnny and as if reading your thoughts, he shrugs.

“I had to answer,” he says, putting his hands up defensively.

You laugh then, typical Johnny.

There’s a playful glint in Mark’s eye. Was he that unaffected? You suddenly felt annoyed, foolish for feeling jealous about Mark’s confession.

“If you could have a threesome with two people here, who would they be?” Johnny asks.

It lands on Yerin then, who is already flushed with embarrassment at the question.

“Doyoung, and hmm..” she pauses looking around, “Probably y/n, because we’ve seen each other naked.”

“What?!” Mark, Lucas and Jaehyun say simultaneously. Mark just about chokes on his soju.

“Calm down Mark, looks like someone’s getting a bit turned on,” Yuta winks but Mark’s eyes are still wide, shocked by Yerin’s statement.

Yerin was your best friend, all best friends had seen each other naked. It was perfectly normal. At least it was for you two. 

“It’s a girl thing,” Yerin says simply, taking another shot.

“Oh! I have a good one,” Yuta says grabbing the bottle, “Have you masturbated thinking about anyone around this table?”

Of course it lands on you. To be honest, you had touched yourself thinking about 3 separate people at the table but no one needed to know that. Everyone’s silent and you don’t know where to look. You could lie, it would save your reputation but where would the fun be in that? You were all as tipsy as each other. So you reply with a small “yes” instead.

“Who was it?” Jaehyun asks. 

“I’m not gonna answer that,” you laugh.

You try not to blush but you can’t help it and cover your face with your hands momentarily.

“She’s thinking about them again!” Yerin nudges your shoulder.

You didn’t want to look, you didn’t want to see if Mark was staring at you so you take the bottle to ask the next question quickly.

“How many people have you slept with in total?” you ask, spinning again.

It lands on Doyoung, his eyes are wide and he looks confused, you can’t help but laugh at his cute expression.

Yerin is smirking, expectant.

“Hmm...maybe fifteen?” Doyoung says, tilting his head.

“Fifteen! No way,” Johnny laughs but Doyoung just nods.

“You said you wanted the truth.”

Yerin looks slightly pissed as she pours another shot of soju. It’s only when Doyoung whispers in her ear that her frown softens into a slight smile. She’s got it bad, you thought.

“Let’s stop the game now, I don’t want to hear all these details,” Mina says, side-eyeing Lucas.

 “Yeah I didn’t even get picked,” Haechan huffs, “Let’s just drink a bit more!”

"Hey," Yerin murmurs in your ear over the noise a few moments later, "I'm going home with Doyoung, I'll see you on Monday."

"You naughty girl! Have fun," you laugh. She blows you a flirtatious kiss as she leaves, her arm in Doyoung's.

It's gone midnight when you and your remaining coworkers spill out onto the street. 

"To the next bar, let's go!" Haechan shouts, stumbling as Johnny props him up.

"Dude, you've had way too much to drink. I'm getting you in a taxi," Johnny says. 

Sooji and Jaehyun also opt for getting taxis, following Johnny down the street.

"Are you coming y/n? Mark?" Jaehyun calls.

"I think I'm going to get some food first, I'll see you guys on Monday," you say before you realize. You're not even hungry.

"Yeah me too, see you later!" Mark waves.

You say your goodbyes, leaving you and Mark to walk the opposite way. Mark follows your step, but he's taking his tie off, undoing his top button because he's hot from drinking even though it's the middle of December. The sight of him makes your stomach flip.

"You don't think they'll suspect anything, about you coming home with me?" you ask suddenly.

Mark raises an eyebrow and looks at you, "Who said I'm coming home with you? I thought you wanted food."

"Yeah...yeah, just they might think something else."

Mark shrugs, "Do you care what they think?"

"No, and I guess everyone's fucking each other anyway," you say emphatically.  

"Exactly. Everyone in the office knows we're friends, let them think what they want," Mark says.

"I guess you're right."

"So where are we going?"

"McDonald's?" you ask.

"I don't really feel like food, to be honest," Mark chuckles.

You turn to Mark, "You're seriously just gonna watch me eat?"

He shrugs, "Why not?"

His eyes are glazed over and shiny from the alcohol, his lips formed into a little pout. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right there and then on the street. 

"You're so weird when you're drunk," you say instead, "Seriously, where do you want to go? If you're not going to eat, we might as well go home. I mean...you go to yours and I go to mine."

Mark pulls at his ear, thinking for a moment. But it doesn't really look like he's thinking, more like pretending to think. You can see the trace of a smirk hiding on his lips. This whole conversation feels weirdly contrived. You want him and you're pretty sure he feels the same way.

"I could come with you? Just, you know, to make sure you get home safe," Mark blurts out.

You can't take it anymore. You want Mark Lee so bad it hurts. "Right, okay...well, shall we go now?"

Mark nods and you haul a taxi, just as it starts raining.

♡

Mark is stood in your bedroom doorway, looking as awkward as when you first met him. Now you're not so sure if it was a good idea to invite him in.

"I'll sleep on the sofa if you want," he insists but both of you know it means nothing.

You laugh, "Mark, you can sleep in my bed, it's alright. You can sleep on the left side, I'll sleep on the right if you want."

He smiles in response but doesn't move.

"Seriously Mark, I'm not going to bite," you say patting at the bed.

He sits down gingerly then.

"Your apartment is decorated so nicely," he says looking around your room.

You can see the moon outside of your window, already on its descent for another night.

When you turn back to look at Mark, his eyes are on you. You don't know what to say, but you know what you want to do.

"Can I kiss you ?" he asks, confirming your thoughts. He looks down at your lips and back up to your eyes again.

You nod your head, you can't talk but it doesn't matter because Mark is already leaning in and then his lips are moving against yours. His lips taste faintly of soju, but you don't care. You want to taste him and you slide your tongue against his, suddenly feeling desperate. He takes the hint because you're both taking off each other's clothes then until you're both just in your underwear.

"Wait," Mark says, his hands faltering, "Do you think we should be doing this?"

It's dark, only a street lamp and the moon partially illuminating the room. The raindrops are highlighted and cling to the windowpane. You feel melancholic and you realize now more than ever that you want to be held by Mark. You can make out Mark's expression, a mix of flustered and horny rolled into one. You know he wants this too, this dorky, shy intern who was barely able to make eye contact with you is now in your bed.

"Why not? There's nothing wrong  with what we're doing."

That's all the confirmation he needs because he starts to plant kisses on your neck. You stroke his hair as he makes his way down to your boobs.

"You're so hot" he murmurs, taking off your bra.

He nuzzles his face into your chest, breathing heavily before taking one of your boobs in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around your nipple first and then sucks again. His tongue feels warm and wet against your skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and needy.

"God that feels so good -  keep doing that," you breathe.

He hums in response against your boob and you shiver. You want to keep hearing him, that voice that you've dreamt about for nights on end.

Mark lifts you to sit on his lap and you can feel his hardness pressing against you.You guide Mark's head back up to meet yours and you're both kissing again. You grind down on him, both knowing you need this. You want to feel him against you and you can't control it. Your movements are instinctual. Mark understands because he's bucking his hips up to meet yours, despite still having his boxers on. You can hear him grunt into the kiss.

"Do you have a condom?" you sigh.

"Shit, no."

You break apart briefly, Mark's eyes are hooded and his lips are swollen. You're almost certain that you look the same.

"It's okay," you say, getting off his lap to sit next to him.

"Wait - what are you doing then?" he asks, a trace of disappointment in his voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing," you say, pushing him lightly so he's lying down on the bed.

You pull off his trousers and he helps by kicking them at the ankles. He's eager now, his eyes hungry.

You pull down his boxers next until he's lying there, his beautiful, fully naked body exposed. You can see the shadowed contours of his lean body, the smoothness of his skin.

You kiss on his thighs, his skin is so soft and you hear his breath hitch as you do it. He's completely turned on now, you're satisfied knowing you've done this to him. So satisfied that you begin rubbing your clit in slow motions as your face hovers over Mark's crotch.

You take his dick with your free hand and pump it in your hand a couple of times. The tip is wet already and you kiss it, the precum on your lips. He whimpers then and you circle your clit quicker, feeling yourself growing wetter. As you lick Mark's tip, his hips raise to meet your mouth.

"I can't show my face when I'm like this," he murmurs, putting your bed pillow over his face.

"No, I want to see you," you say, climbing up to take the pillow.

Mark just turns his face to the side in response, too horny to argue.

You take him fully in your mouth, bobbing up and down slowly before finding a steady rhythm. He groans in time to your sucking motion.

"Fuck y/n, I'm gonna cum soon," he moans.

You hum against his dick, "You taste so good, Markie. Please cum for me."

He holds your head, pushing it down to reach his raised hips and you can feel yourself choking as his tip touches the back of your throat.

"I'm so...close,  fuck" he moans, thrusting into your mouth.

He whimpers and wriggles beneath you, before jerking violently in large strokes as he cums in your mouth.

You swallow it up, but continue sucking, feeling yourself reach your own climax.

"Shit," Mark hisses.

"Oh my god, Mark -" you cry as you orgasm, your center pulsating.

You come to lie next to Mark, kissing him, open-mouthed and hungry. He can taste himself on you and he likes it.

"You were so damn good at that, y/n," Mark whispers.

"You were so good," you mirror, taking his now sweaty cheek in your hand.

"But I didn't get to do anything," Mark mumbles, placing soft, small kisses on your face.

"I came too. It was so hot seeing you like that."

"No seriously - I wanna make you cum, like for real though," he murmurs into your hair.

"Mm?"

"I know you're sleepy now but would you let me some other time?" he says in the darkness.

Mark's dark hair is plastered to his forehead now. He's hot and flushed, it makes your heart want to burst.

"Do you want to see me again? Like...outside of work I mean," you ask, brushing the hair from his eyes to look at him.

He nods, "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing, are you asking me out?" you giggle, pinching his cheek a little then.

He smiles and you know he's blushing.  

"I guess you could say that, yeah," he laughs.

"I'm free then," you say, giving him a small peck on his lips.

Mark pulls you in for a hug. It seems like he wants to say something, whisper to you but you find yourself drifting in and out of sleep quickly. The sound of rain mixes with Mark's rhythmic breathing and lulls you to sleep.

♡

Mark had told you to wait on a nearby street by Apgujeong station. So you're surprised when he pulls up in front of you in his car. It's an old model, just about affordable for a student but it suits him well.

"I never knew you had a car," you point out, climbing into the passenger seat.

"What can I say, I'm a man full of surprises," he winks, laughing because he knew that was as cheesy as it sounded.

"Is where we're going a surprise too?" you ask.

"It might be," he says tapping at the steering wheel with his thumb to the beat of the music. It's a Lucky Daye song.

"You look so pretty by the way," he says, rubbing his nose slightly. You can tell he does that when he's shy.

"You don't look bad yourself," you reply. That would be an understatement, Mark looks like a full course meal right now. Skimming your eyes over his casual clothes, you remember that this was the first time you were meeting Mark outside of work.

You feel good. Despite how cold the late morning feels, the low winter sun is shining, the sky a soft blue.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask when you eventually realize that you're leaving Seoul.

Mark just taps his nose and tells you it won't be a long journey.

And he's right, in the next half an hour, you're driving on Incheon bridge, next to a stretch of blue sea.

♡

It turns out that Mark brought you to Incheon to eat.

You're sat on the floor at a low table of a seafood restaurant. Both of you know how good Incheon seafood is. There's what seems like a hundred different side dishes on the table, and despite both being big eaters, you're not sure if you'll be able to clear even half of it.

"Have the spicy seafood stew, it's delicious," Mark says, pouring you a bowl and putting it in front of you.  

You take a mouthful and he's right, it is delicious. It’s warm and spicy, exactly what you need on a cold day. Mark is looking at you intently, his eyes shining like an eager puppy. He seems happy to see you enjoying your food and that warms your heart. You want to kiss him again.

“The stew is really good for a hangover too, it’s probably what you need,” he says, smiling. 

“Hangover? I’m not hungover, do I look it?” You say self-consciously. 

“No, no, I just meant we both drunk quite a lot last night,” he says, laughing nervously. 

You blush remembering last night and then your thoughts flick back to truth or dare, and how jealous you were. 

Mark must be thinking about it too. "Have you dated any of the guys at Hyphen?" he asks.

You just about choke on your stew, "No, why do you ask that?"

Mark shrugs, "I just wondered. They all speak really well of you, especially Johnny. And you're pretty, why wouldn't they want to date you?"

You laugh then, "Do they?"

Mark frowns a little, "You don't like Johnny, do you?"

"God no, we barely interact these days. No, I haven't dated any of them."

"Did you interact a lot before?" Mark asks.

"Me and Johnny? No, has Johnny said something?"

"Nah, apart from saying he’d date you last night. He just looks like he likes you," Mark says, rubbing his cheek.

You laugh a little then, "No, Johnny has a girlfriend and I wouldn't date him now even if he didn't have one."

Mark relaxes a little then.

"Is there a rule about dating coworkers then or do you just decide not to do it?"

"There's no rule, people just like to keep their personal and work lives private and often separate," you point out.

Mark thinks for a moment, toying with the noodles on his plate.

"What do you like to do, keep things private?" he asks.

"Private or public, I don't care, they can choose," you say quietly.

"Okay...that's good then," Mark says, smirking slightly.

He always has a roundabout way of saying things.

♡

It's 5 pm when the wintry sun sets in Incheon. You and Mark are walking along the beach. It's not perfect weather for it, since it's cold and you shiver in your coat but you're happy to be here with him.

"You need to dress warmer, y/n!" Mark says as he turns to you to retie your scarf properly.

He rubs his hands over your arms to warm you up.

"I'm okay - feel," you say, reaching your hand up to his cheek.

Mark searches your eyes and so it doesn't come as a surprise when he leans in and kisses you. His lips are warm and soft against yours and you feel as though you're melting. The kiss is a light, sweet one and you have to break apart because you feel giddy.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself," he says.

"No, I like it."

You look into the fading light and see figures at the busy part of the beach in the distance. It wouldn't matter if you were publicly affectionate, no one would care. But you know if you start kissing him again, you won't want to stop.

You hear the sea breeze and then the first rainfall before you see it. It's soft and gentle but you know if you stand here for much longer that you'll catch a cold.

"Shall I take you home?" Mark asks.

You nod, feeling dazed and slightly lightheaded.

As you get into the car, Mark puts his Spotify on. 'Wait for it' by H.E.R. is first to play.

You peer over at his phone screen, it reads 'sex playlist'.

"There's no way you have a sex playlist," you laugh, pushing his arm playfully.

"Nah, it's just random," Mark bluffs, rubbing his nose in the cute way that he did.

"Well, whoever created this playlist has good taste."

"Yeah, alright, it is mine. But it doesn't mean anything," he says.

You raise an eyebrow then.

"Why doesn't it mean anything?" you ask. You don't know why you're probing but you enjoy teasing Mark, hearing him search for words to form an acceptable answer.

Mark just shrugs though, "I just like this mood...being here with you, I like it. This playlist just represents the mood."

"You're so good at bullshitting, Mark," you laugh but Mark is looking at you seriously now.

I know you on the way, but now I want it I can't take it I'm merely tryna chill, but I'm impatient Stay on my mind Can't sleep at night

“I’m being for real though. Like yesterday, I didn’t tell you but it was the first time someone’s given me head before,” he says, playing with his hoodie drawstrings.  

“What? You’ve never had a blowjob before?” you ask, eyes wide.

“I’ve only dated one girl and she straight up didn’t want anything in her mouth so nah, it was the first time and it was amazing” Mark says. 

“Well there’s a first time for everything,” you smile, feeling happy that you got to share that moment with Mark. 

You look at each other in silence again. It’s a comfortable silence but it’s heavy with intent. You both know what’s coming. 

"Y/n, you know I'm not good with words," Mark says and then he pulls you to him so that you're kissing again.

The kiss is different this time, it's slow and intense as if you're something he craves. It's the type of kiss that expresses he needs you now. His lips on yours feel so good and you kiss him back, mirroring his eagerness. Your hands are in his hair and then he bites at your bottom lip. He's gentle but it drives you crazy. His hands are travelling into your bra now.

"Mark," you whisper against his lips, "Mark we're in public."

"It's crazy, I keep wanting to kiss you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I want to kiss you too, all the time," you admit.

"No one's here to see and it's dark now anyway."

You look around and Mark is right, it is dark. The rain is lashing hard against the window now, the H.E.R. track barely audible. Your breath and body heat is already steaming up the windows of the car.

"Can I touch you? I want to touch you," Mark whispers, kissing your neck.

There's no use in trying to stop, you feel your willpower disintegrating by the second. There's a desperation in Mark's voice. He's wanted this for so long, and so have you.

Before long you're a tangle of arms and legs in the backseat. Someone might find you but that prospect turns you on more than you initially thought. Your stockings and panties are pulled off and your skirt is hitched up now.

Mark hovers over you.

"Can I touch you?" he murmurs, his half-lidded eyes flick over your body.

You try to close your legs, embarrassed about being observed like this. But Mark just parts your legs with a hand, "You're so beautiful. Can I?"

You nod, you're so wet and you want to feel Mark inside you, you've needed it for so long.

Mark finds your clit easily, rubbing at it slowly but it's enough to make you wriggle underneath him.

Mark leans down to kiss you hungrily. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he continues circling your clit, faster now. You moan into the kiss and Mark bites your lip gently again. That habit he had which drove you crazy.

He breaks the kiss, still touching you and looking at you intently.

"You're so wet, do you want me that bad?" Mark teases.

You bite your lip, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.

Mark massages you in quick circular motions. You can only focus on the sensation now, coming closer to your orgasm. Nothing matters anymore, not Mark observing your body, not the possibility of being caught by someone, nothing at all.

"Mark, Mark - please," you moan.

"Mmm?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"I want you to fuck me," you murmur, suddenly losing all inhibitions.

"But we're in public," Mark's eyes widen and you realize he's teasing you.

"Please, please fuck me, Mark."

You've never seen Mark like this before, so in control of the situation and you feel disorientated because of it.

Mark takes a condom out of his pocket then and tears it open with his mouth.

He pulls his jeans and boxers down, rolling the condom over his length. As he touches himself to adjust the condom, he suddenly looks more like his nervous, boyish self. He concentrates when he's horny and you realize how cute it is.

"I need you now, please," you whisper, feeling increasingly needy.

Mark is so soft for you, you can tell by the sudden redness of his cheeks, the begging turns him on.

"Please, Mark," you mewl, scratching lightly at his left arm propping him up over you.

Mark positions the tip against your center and you whimper at the sudden contact.

"What would the others say if they saw us like this?" Mark says.

"I don't care," you whisper, feeling even more turned on by the thought. You're not doing anything inherently bad but Mark is still your intern. Why did bad things always feel so good?

Mark’s pupils are dilated as he leans over to kiss you again, and then he slips into you without warning. You feel yourself tighten around his dick and he feels it too because he's groaning.

"Oh my god, y/n, you feel so fucking good," he moans into your mouth.

“Better than the last person you fucked in here?” you murmur.

Mark is taken aback but he clearly likes the jealous tone. He bites his lip and nods “Much better, you’re so hot, y/n.”

Mark fucks you gently, moving inside you with slow movements. His breathing hitches and he closes his eyes momentarily. 

"Mark faster," you plead, your voice filled with innocence.

Mark puts a hand on your thigh and the other grabs at your boob as he starts thrusting into you harder.

"Mm fuck," you moan, feeling him hit your sweet spot.

"D-Do you like that?" Mark whispers and you can't even nod in response. You just know he feels so good.

“Who do you think of when you touch yourself?” Mark pants between groans. So he’s thinking two can play at that game. 

“Ah - it’s you, I think of you Mark,” you moan.

He licks his fingers before placing them on your clit and rubbing once more. The combination makes you a moaning mess and you can't think of anything but your approaching orgasm.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks.

“My god, Mark” is all you can manage. 

Mark's strokes get sloppy and he has to grip at your waist with one of his hands to keep steady. Your bodies are both damp with sweat, the leather seats of Mark's car underneath you are wet. You want to melt into Mark, you want to feel like this forever.

It doesn't take you long to orgasm. With a few more slow strokes and a rub of your clit, you pulsate around Mark's dick.

"Mark, I'm  - fuck" you moan, shuddering violently with every pulse.

"You feel so fucking good," Mark grunts and his praise is enough for you to tighten around him once more. He thrusts again, groaning in your ear before he empties himself into the condom. You feel his dick twitch inside of you and pull his neck down for another kiss.

It's sloppy and needy, your tongues against each others in desperation. When Mark breaks the kiss, he collapses on top of you breathing heavily. You both lie there, trying to catch your breath. Mark's dick is still inside of you though and you can feel the warmth of it and the now filled condom.

"Shouldn't we throw the condom out?" you whisper, stroking the back of his neck.

"I like this feeling, though. Can't we just stay like this for a while?" he says and you feel shy knowing he's still inside of you, that he likes the feeling of you.

"I don't think I can keep away from you," Mark whispers into your hair.

"Me neither," you say as he props his head up to look in your eyes.

"You know yesterday I asked if you cared if people at work knew about us - did you really mean that? That you don't care?" he asks, his eyes are wide like a puppy’s and you know you're too far gone, you want Mark to be yours.

"I don't care at all, Mark", you say, stroking his hair and then his cheek.

"I'm gonna pull out now," Mark chuckles, pulling himself out of you and taking the condom off.

He pulls his boxers and jeans up and you do the same, adjusting yourself into a sitting position.

Mark opens the car to dispose of the condom. Luckily it isn't as busy as you thought outside thanks to the uninviting winter cold and darkness.

As you both get back into the front seats, you look in the mirror, fixing your hair but not bothering with your makeup, which has sweated off completely.

Mark turns to look at you, "You look beautiful, y/n. Seriously."

"Anyway why did you ask me if I care or not?" you ask, trying to change the subject because you're blushing too hard now.

Mark drives away from the parking lot and back towards Incheon bridge.

His eyes are focused on the road but you know he's thinking of what to say next. 

"I was just wondering, well, if I can see you again tomorrow. For a proper date?" Mark asks.

"We did go on a proper date, Mark, we ate seafood and walked on the beach. I loved it," you say.

Mark bites at his lip. He looks nervous as if everything he's done with you so far has lead up to this moment.

"I can't lie, I really like you. Like to the point where I want to be around you all the time," Mark murmurs and his face is going bright red again.

Your stomach is fluttering from the sudden confession and you're can't look at his face anymore. You press for him to go on, though.

"Mmm?"

"Being able to talk about normal shit, do normal things, it's made me realize how much I enjoy spending time with you. I don't even want to drop you off tonight."

He clears his throat, "I think I've fallen for you, y/n. I know I sound stupid but you wanted to hear it. I like you and you don't have to accept it, we can go back to work and forget this ever happened, go back to norm-"

"Mark," you cut him off, "I like you too. I've liked you for ages, I just didn't want to be the first to admit it."

"Why?" Mark chuckles, his eyes wide. He looks genuinely taken aback.  

"You're my intern! Why would I confess first? That wouldn't be professional," you laugh.

"Well we're past professional now," Mark admits, "But if anyone asks, I can just say I've been giving you a helping hand." He winks then and you can’t believe how easily you’ve fallen for this dork.

As you drive across Incheon bridge back to Seoul, you look out of the window and see the same stretch of sea that you saw on the way there. Except this time, the sea is not a glittering blue, it's black, barely noticeable against the wintry evening sky. The passage of time in Mark's company comforted you, it reaffirmed how much you wanted to see each subtle change of the world with him.

"And to be honest, I don't care if anyone at work knows. It's better if they do know we like each other," Mark says quietly, reaching out a hand to stroke yours instinctually.

"Yeah, they've probably guessed already. I don't mind though, half of them are fucking anyway."

Mark laughs at your candidness. "For real though, the number of times I've seen Jaemin and Jeno come out of the unused toilet together is crazy."

"Don't forget Lucas and Mina in the stock cupboard," you point out, giggling.

"We're going to have to find our own spot before they're all taken up," Mark says, his tongue poking at his cheek. He was such a tease.

You could see the first few stars sprinkled across the sky through the car windscreen. The rain had cleared and it was one of those beautiful, chilly winter nights. Still, the stars made you feel solitary.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," you admit to Mark quietly. 

Mark nods "I'll stay. So the cinema and aquarium tomorrow, how does it sound?" 

"It sounds lovely," you smile.

You see the city skyline in the distance, nothing more than a cluster of twinkling dots. You're excited, the night is young and filled heavy with promise.

[sabraeal]

Consider: Obi is green-red color blind

A Color by Any Other Name

Written for @aeroplaneblues for a surprise birthday gift! Many months ago she mentioned wanted to see a colorblind Obi, and I said, WELL WHAT A GOOD EXCUSE TO WRITE THIS PROMPT JOANNA GAVE ME. I hope your birthday is a good one, filled with a lot more nice surprises!

“Are you ever going to introduce me to your guard friends?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of dumpling. “Or are you embarrassed?”

To say Obi is unprepared, would be an understatement; there’s a pork bun lodged between his teeth, his gloves not only coated in pig grease but also far less effective against steam than he’d thought they’d be back when he’d just grabbed a plump little blob off the stall. He’d laughed off Suzu’s concerns about protective equipment; after all, if smiths use leather gloves, they’ve got to be just as good as an oven mitt.

They aren’t. Not to mention the roof of his mouth starting to have a real good think about peeling off and having a vacation. Maybe even with someone who doesn’t eat entire dumplings straight from the basket.

“Wha?” he manages eloquently, nearly drooling spicy meat drippings onto the street.

“I know I’m not cool like they are,” Suzu continues, warming to his new thesis. If his sudden flush of confidence is any measure, he’s spent more of time composing his arguments for this than Obi’s ever seen him work on his actual defense. “And I’m no good with a sword. Or fists. Or really any implement that isn’t a scalpel, and any opponent that isn’t already anesthetized. But I am very smart.”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Suzu adds, “Some people do enjoy that, you know.”

What Obi knows is that this kid tried this conversation on for size in front of Yuzuri, and she didn’t even bother to warn him as a courtesy. See if he buys her any more meat-on-sticks when she’s ‘left her purse in the lab’ now.

“That’s not--” he takes a hurried minute to swallow-- “not what’s happening. I didn’t...”

Even know you knew I didn’t work for the pharmacy. His teeth clamp shut around that winner, and its friend, I didn’t think you lot would want to hang out with a bunch of men without degrees. Not only would that encourage Suzu to make a scene right here, right now, but if it got back to Jirou-- well, if he thought Suzu could turn any day into a disaster, the lieutenant would make that seem like a vacation.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he settles on instead. Similar enough in feel, if...creatively edited. “You scholar types tend to flock together.”

“Well, sure,” Suzu murmurs, stymied, “but we’re friends too, aren’t we? If all my friends are your friends, then all your friends should be my friends.”

Only an academic could talk about arithmetic with that amount of confidence, especially the kind that involved transitive properties and letters, and all sorts of things that made Obi’s head spin.

“Well,” he hums, one boot scratching his calf. “You would know.”

Suzu whirls on him, staring down his long fox-snout of a nose. “You mean it? You’ll really...?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He twitches his shoulders, more casual than he feels. “It’s fine if it’s you.”

There’s always been a lazy lilt to Suzu’s eyes, but it disappears now, all the sleepiness gone to surprise. “Me? You wouldn’t want to bring anyone else?”

“Well, definitely not Kazaha.” The glares he’d get bringing that twiggy pedant into the guardhouse might be enough to drop him dead on the spot. “And Yuzuri would be too popular.”

Suzu grimaces. “The number of admirers she’d get from a wink alone...she’d be unlivable.”

He can see it now, her ponytail bobbing with a buoyant glee, giggling through every painstaking penned line from her fan club-- “Think of all the bad poetry.”

“Honestly, that might make it worth it. At least I’ll feel better about not knowing the difference between a quartet and a quatrain.” Suzu takes a thoughtful bite of him bun. “And you couldn’t bring Shirayuki, of course.”

“Right.” Not a one of them could be trusted to keep their lips sealed; she’d hardly have to take a breath and someone would call her Obi’s lady, or ask how they met, or whether she’s still Mistress behind closed doors--

But Suzu wouldn’t know any of that. “Wait, why?”

“Well...” He has the grace to look chagrined about it, whatever it is. “You know. Her hair...?”

“Oh.” Obi shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?” Suzu stares. “Shirayuki has a non-zero amount of stories about being kidnapped for looking like a candied apple, and you guess there might be a fuss about bringing her ‘round to the guardhouse?”

“Well, none of you acted weird about it,” he snips, hiding his annoyance behind a bite of dumpling. “There’s no reason they will.”

“Of course no one at Lilias acted weird, Obi!” he squawks, arms flailing as he talks. “You couldn’t pay them to look at anything but their own project. But when a bunch of normal men with eyes and, uh, other working appendages see a cute girl with red hair and a soft voice, they’re gonna go crazy!”

His palm hooks around his shoulder, thumb digging into the hard knot at his collarbone. “Aw, come on. It’s not that special.”

“Not that--?” Suzu whips around, eyes round as dumplings. “Obi, she’s the only person I’ve ever seen with red hair.”

“You don’t get out much,” Obi deadpans. “No offense.”

“That’s not--” Suzu grunts, throwing up his hands-- “She’s the only person anyone’s ever seen with red hair!”

“Her dad’s is kind of red.” That observation wins him an unimpressed look, one that says you’re missing the point. “And Yuzuri had blue hair when I met her. That’s way more interesting--”

“It was dyed!” Suzu wobbles over to a wall, sitting with his head in his hands. “Shirayuki has a hair color so rare that the birth records in Clarines haven’t noted it in more than fifty years! And you think Yuzuri dying her hair with woad is more impressive.”

“Well, even her natural color is brighter than Miss’s. Not--” he waves a hand between them, quelling-- “that Miss’s hair isn’t nice enough. But I’d think that people would pay more attention to that.”

“...Brighter?” Suzu murmurs after a long moment, stilted. “Obi, could you tell me what color that sign is, right over there?”

“The one for the tea shop?” He wrinkles his nose. “Why--?”

“Just...indulge me for a moment.”

“All right.” He squints up at the moon cresting over a wolf’s head. “Blue.”

“Right, and, um, that coat over there.”

“Yellow.”

“Right.” Suzu’s voice is tight, stressed. “And what I’m wearing?”

Obi squints. This one’s a little harder, but he’s confident when he says, “Green.”

“Ah, right.” Suzu stands, a unsteady on his feet. “That would explain that, then.”

Obi blinks. “Explain what?”

“Obi,” Suzu begins, with all the gravitas of both a grim prognosis and a terrible joke. “You can’t see colors.”

*

It’s not the first time Obi’s played hound to his prey’s fox, but there’s something distinctly unsettling about it being Suzu that leaves him lagging behind, unsure of himself. Especially with the way he scurries through the concourse, bounding toward the mess hall with this idea caught between his teeth like chicken feathers.

“I can see colors just fine,” Obi informs him with far less confidence than he’d like. “Some of them are just hard to tell apart. Weren’t you and Yuzuri arguing yesterday about whether salmon is orange or pink?”

Suzu waves a hand at him, dismissive. “That’s different. Salmon’s both orange and pink, and what color it looks most like has to do with the composition of your eye-- and it’s pink by the way, with orange undertones--”

Between the two of them, Obi knows who he’d trust to know their colors. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t make out red and green, which is different entirely, and--” the doors to the mess burst open beneath his hands, a noise lost in the din of a hundred scholars trying to share the same table-- “YOU GUYS WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FOUND.”

The whole of Shidan’s lab-- minus the man himself-- have taken up right by the door, bags and coats piled to save them their places on the bench. Suzu makes short work of the pile on his seat, haphazardly shoving them to the floor as he sits.

Kazaha peers at him and ventures mildly, “A new way to avoid finishing your thesis?”

“No,” Suzu hums between his grit teeth, “but I have found out--”

“I don’t think we need to do this,” Obi murmurs, handing Miss her muffler. “It’s not--”

“Obi,” he intones with far more gravitas than his name has ever strictly deserved, “can’t see colors.”

“Not at all?” Kazaha turns those sharp eyes to him, like he’s a specimen under glass. “Just black and white?”

“I can see just fine,” Obi huffs, tossing Yuzuri her coat before he slides onto the bench, knee knocking into Miss’s in a way that puts his heart through its paces. “Suzu is just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Is that so?” he hums with a grin. “Then what color is Shirayuki’s hair?”

He stifles a sigh. It’s best to put all this to bed now, before he’s stuck playing what’s this color for the next two years. “Red.”

“What’s the point of this?” Yuzuri yawns, already bored. Obi shoots her a grateful look, glad that at least one of them isn’t going to play Suzu’s game.

It’s too bad he’s already puffed up with unearned confidence, like an evolutionist at a botany lecture. “And what’s the color of Ryuu’s cloak?”

He knows it by heart-- how could he not, when the two most important people in this city wear matching ones-- but still Obi glances up, anticipating a trick. Ryuu stares back, confused and guileless. “Blue.”

“Great, good.” Suzu’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now what color is your scarf?”

Obi’s fingers knot in the fabric, the weft tickling the pads of his fingers. “Well, it’s...sort of reddish, isn’t it?”

This is the wrong answer.

“It makes so much sense,” Yuzuri murmurs in wonder. “You really don’t know how ugly Suzu’s outfits are. That’s why you still hang out with him.”

“Hey!” Suzu pouts. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, that has nothing to do with color, it’s the cut.” Anxiety spikes through him. “But wait, it is red isn’t it? My scarf?”

“No,” Miss murmurs at his side, cheeks flushes. “Obi, it’s...it’s green.”

He stares down at it, trying to imagine what that might look like. “Green.”

“It looks very nice on you!” Her small fingers wrapping in the fur at his elbow. “It’s your color, really.”

“Oh, sure,” he murmurs, faint. “I guess it matches my eyes.”

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it has nothing to do with the color?’“ Suzu’s hands fly to his hips, brows drawn tight over the long line of his nose. “My clothes are just fine.”

“They aren’t.” Obi leans in next to him, grin feeling thinner than it should. “But I hang out with you anyway, which means you know we’re really friends.”

Kazaha rubs at his chin, where his ode to Shidan’s goatee is failing to thrive. “You know what this also explains?”

Obi blinks. “What?”

“All the black.”

It’s not Kazaha that says it, oh no. That would be too merciful for a mortifying moment out of his life. Instead it’s low and feminine, and when Miss Kiki leans out from the other side of Miss, it’s like a siren emerging from the depths, teeth bared to tear a man to shreds. “What an interesting thing I’ve learned today.”

“Miss Kiki! How--?” He gulps. “Why--?”

“I came to deliver a message from Wirant,” she drawls, too pleased. “And it seems I’ve earned myself a fine tip.”

“No,” he breathes. “You can’t-- you’re not going to tell Master, are you? Or Sir?”

“Oh,” she hums, looking particularly hungry for manflesh. “I certainly will.”

*

“Oh, there there.” Miss pats his back, the sensation lost among the dozen layers of clothing between them. “I’m sure Kiki won’t tell them, not until you’re ready! You asked her not to.”

“I think that just means,” Obi mutters, voice muffled by his arms and the wall he’s throwing himself over, “that she’ll just enjoy telling them more.”

“Ah...” He doesn’t need to see her to know her grimace. “Yes, that’s...probably right.”

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. It helps a little. So does a bit of flailing.

“They won’t make a big deal out of it,” Miss says, changing tack. “It hardly changes anything! I’m sure they’ll just forget as soon as she tells them.”

He peeps one eye over his elbow. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t spent the last half an hour playing What’s That Color.”

“Well,” she wheedles, “they are scholars.”

Obi groans, loud and long, which doesn’t help; but it echoes out over the rooftops, returning back to him, which does.

“How...?”

Miss hesitates, a gloved finger pressed to her lips. He sighs, already braced for the onslaught-- how didn’t you know? how did you go so long without knowing your colors? how do you find people if you can’t even tell what hair color they have--?

“How did you notice?”

Obi lifts his head, unblinking. “What?”

“How did you notice?” Miss repeats, more firmly this time. “You’ve spent your whole life this way, haven’t you? It must have taken something really special to realize there was more than what you see.”

“Uh.” It’s nice that it’s darker here, that it’s cold. He has perfect legitimate reasons to be flushed. “Well, it was Suzu really. He mentioned that--” his teeth clamp down around his words, not letting them out without a hasty edit-- “that people think your hair’s pretty special, and I said I didn’t get why...”

Miss stiffens beside him, a statue that breathes, and he hastily adds, “Not that you aren’t special, Miss. It’s just, the red...”

“Right.” The words comes out stilted, strange. “You can’t see it. You actually...haven’t ever seen it.”

A silence settles on them like a wool blanket; not one of those nice ones at the castle, or the fleecy ones Miss stockpiles like one day the North might run out of sheep, but the itchy, coarse-woven ones of his childhood. Uncomfortable and smelling faintly of animal.

“So,” he coughs, fixing his gaze out over the city. “What did Kiki want?”

“Oh...” Miss shifts, mouth pulling into a guilty grimace. “She came to tell me that the Queen Dowager has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow night.”

His brows raise. “Well, well.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, head giving the barest shake. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He shouldn’t press, but if he doesn’t, no one else will. “After you told Master--”

“I told him a list of reasons why I thought I would be a better ally as a friend, and not as a...” Miss loses steam, letting her words sigh into the air. “I’d like to believe this has to do with my work with Phostyrias.”

He watches her, careful. “But do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, which is as good as any no.

*

Obi’s barely stepped into the Protector’s solar when Master asks, “What color is my jacket?”

His head swivels, delivering a glare so flat carpets would be jealous. Miss Kiki only hums, shoulder lifting in a disinterested shrug. “I said I was going to tell them.”

Fair enough.

“It’s blue,” he deadpans, flopping onto the cushiest divan. He’s too long for it, his boots spilling off one arm a idling over the floor. “Apparently I can see that one just fine.”

According to Miss, at least; she’d unearthed a slip of a book from the university’s library, outlining the limits of his sight. Little Ryuu had pored over it for a day before showing up at his door, flushed faced and nervous.

Garrack always told me I had nice eyes, he’d admitted, lingering at the threshold. I was hoping you could see them.

Cross as he is about the whole thing, Obi can’t regret that. He might not have Miss’s hair, or Suzu’s coat-- thankfully-- but Ryuu’s eyes would always look true to him.

“But not red.” Master’s mouth twitches, far too entertained. “Or green.”

“I do see them,” he protests. “They just...don’t look very different to me.”

Just another shade of yellow and brown, if those books are right. Which they are, since he’d always thought so. Subtly different, like the way Suzu and Yuzuri fought over salmon, or Master and Miss Kiki would dither over chartreuse. Just enough that he’d been able to eke by on keeping his mouth shut and a fondness for black.

Still, there’s nothing worse than finding out something new about yourself this late in the game. Especially when--

“What about the curtains?” Master inquires. “Can you see those?”

--Especially when it’s so endlessly entertaining to everyone else. “I can see them,” he grumbles, sinking further into the cushions. “Just because I can’t see some colors doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what about the note?”

Obi rolls his gaze to where Sir perches at his desk. “Huh?”

“To our red-haired guest.” Sir coughs, a flush working its way up his neck. “It’s just-- you wrote that.”

“Oh, His Grace told me that one.” A lifetime ago, it seemed. “‘The red-haired girl, you’ll know her when you see her, I’m sure.’“

Master winces. Obi can admit his talent doesn’t lie with impressions, especially ones of dour old men.

“Right,” Sir presses, voice oddly tight. “But you don’t see-- I mean, how could you find a girl that looks just like everyone else?”

“Ah...” He grimaces, scrubbing at the top of his head. “Well, I just looked for the girl who didn’t belong. It--” he hesitates, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes on him-- “didn’t take very long.”

Master’s frown belongs above one of those prie-dieu, to remind penitents that forgiveness isn’t absolute. “What is that supposed to--?”

“So what does she look like?” No one could say that after a decade of dedication, Miss Kiki doesn’t know how to do her job; she deflects Master’s brewing sour mood with the ease of a professional. “What does her hair look like to you?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat, tugging at his collar. “I wasn’t lying when I said I bought my scarf to match...”

There is a stillness to the room that is too much, too pitiful. Much as he hated it, Obi would much rather be a joke than a charity case.

“Huh,” Sir grunts, gaze still fixed to his neck. “Now I wonder what we all look like to you.”

“Well, I sort of wonder what you all look like to yourselves.” Obi let a sigh float wistfully through his lips. “At least I know that me and Miss still have the same eyes.”

There’s silence again, but this one buzzes, filled with words no one dares to say.

“What?” he laughs, nervous, pulling himself upright. “Don’t we?”

Sir grimaces. “Ah, Obi...”

*

Miss is quiet when they walk the walls home that night, the winter stillness making the silence and heavy as any drift. Her mouth is pursed, not with anything like anger, but something closer to consideration. As if there’s words back there she’s sorting through, trying to compose a thought that just won’t come.

Well, she should know: she won’t get anywhere if she doesn’t air a few of them out to look at. “Something wrong, Miss?”

She blinks, shaken out from wherever she gone away. Her mind palace, maybe. Suzu’d told him about those once, with busts and painting and curtained alcoves. What she’d do with a place like that, he couldn’t imagine, but if anyone asked, he’d put his money on hers having apothecary drawers instead, and gardens too. The kind with half crumbled walls, ivies curled around every stone. Cluttered desks piled high with books, and one of them with curtain drawn to let its owner nap the afternoon away.

“Oh,” she breathes, finally. “No, no. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I was just...thinking.”

He lifts a knowing brow. “So something is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said,” she informs him, primly. “I was going over my meeting with Haruto, and...”

Her lips snap shut around the words, distress narrowing her eyes. “And...?”

“She didn’t know about my work,” Miss huffs, arms wrapping tight around her chest. “Or, she did, but only what Zen had told her. Which...”

Was far less than the whole of it. He’d heard that part of her argument that night, try as he might not to. “So she invited you as Zen’s ally?”

“No.” The word is colder than any he’s ever heard fall from her lips. “That I wouldn’t mind-- I’m still trying to be his ally, after all, and if she saw me as an asset...” She shook her head. “No, she wanted to meet his...paramour, even if she didn’t say as much.”

Obi grimaces.

“And even that wouldn’t be so bad if...” Miss took a deep, steeling breath. “When I came in, after all the curtsies and pleasantries, she said, your hair is just as red as he said it was.” Her knuckles are white where they wrap around her elbows. “All those years, all those letters, and the only thing he thinks to tell his mother is that my hair...”

The rest is lost in a sigh, a cloud of mist swirling off the wall.

“It must really be something,” Obi deadpans, gaze following it off the edge. “Since it makes all these people forget how smart you are.”

She’s watching him; he can feel it as she sidles up to where he stands, hands unclenching from her arms and splaying on the crenellations instead. “Obi, you really can’t...?”

Miss hesitates, falls silent. He lets her; she’s put enough words in the air to sort through, and now all she needs is time. Obi’s happy to give it to her.

Especially since there’s a rabbit down there in the dark. A small one, moving slow, hind legs churning like clockwork winding up. It’s nose digs into the snow, snuffling around, searching--

“Can you really see better?” Miss asks, startling him back to the wall. “In the dark, I mean. That book said you could.”

“Well, after the past couple days, I’m a little shaky on what’s normal.” He jerks his chin over the edge. “Can you see the rabbit down there? Right by that sapling?”

She blinks, pressing in close. “The what? It’s just...dark out there.”

“Well,” he says, grin tight on his lips. “There’s your answer.”

Miss settles back on her heels, one hand already cupping her chin. “It makes sense. Without the distraction of color, your movement tracking must be much more acute...”

Obi only half-manages to stifle a laugh. “Seems like it definitely distracts everyone else.”

Miss goes quiet; almost too quiet, enough to make his teeth sit on edge. The seconds tick by, and Obi might play at patience, but it’s not in his nature. He glances down, just from the corners of his eyes, but Miss is already watching him, eyes strangely shuttered.

“Obi,” she says, so clear his name rings in his ears. “You don’t...? My hair, it’s not...” Her mouth works, quiet, before she manages, “It’s not anything to you?”

Anything special, she means. Because that’s what he said so stupidly last night, nothing special.

She’d tied it up tonight, finagling the strange looping knots that were partial to the queen’s court, but already some of it’s worn loose, slipping from its pins. “It is,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

She huffs, unimpressed. “But you can’t see it, not really.”

“Of course I can see it,” he laughs, weary. “Maybe not the color, but that’s fine. I like it because it’s yours.”

She ducks her head, and Obi might not be good at colors, but he can see her cheeks flush in the lamplight.

“Miss.” Her gaze lifts to his, no longer shuttered, just full. “Can I ask you something?”

Her breath catches. “Anything.”

“Be straight with me,” he pleads. “We do have the same eye color right?”

*

“Obi!” Miss‘s laughter bubbles bright with betrayal as she hops down the stairs after him. “Obi, please--”

“Let me grieve, Miss,” he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ve been a real champ about the rest, but let me have this.”

“Obi!” She catches him round the wrist, mouth twitching as she turns to him. “Is it really so bad that they’re gold?”

“No,” he mutters sullenly, shoulders slumped enough that with two stairs between them, they’re nearly the same height. “It’s just...”

Her eyes flutter wide with curiosity. “Just...?”

“It’s fine enough that they’re unique.” He spits the word with more venom than it deserves. “I just I wanted this one thing in common.”

“In common?” Miss blinks. “You mean, me and...?”

Obi would lay down his life for his mistress, but even she can’t ask him to do this, to lay down his pride for her to walk on.

“Oh!” She flusters, limbs fluttering in the air between them. He’s half-tempted to turn away again, but she grabs his face and holds him steady, her cold, slender fingers caught behind his jaw. “Just-- just one moment...”

“Miss?” he wheezes. This is entirely too close, too much--

“Yes!” He breath flutters over his lips, her own parting in a celebration of teeth. “That’s it. I see it. There’s a little, right there.”

He blinks. “A little what, Miss?”

Her teeth flash around the word, “Green.”

It’s cruel to throw a starving dog a bone, but he snaps it up anyway, heart nearly clogging up his throat with hope. “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Really,” she promises, her nod serious and officious as any she might give Little Ryuu. “There’s a thread, right around the middle. Green. Just like mine.”

“Oh.” His own hands raise, leather muting the feel of her skin, but-- Master always told him about the red thread that bound him and Miss together, that drew them toward their fated meeting, but this-- Obi will take this too. “Thank you, Miss.”

She smiles, eyes shining bright in the lamplight. “No, Obi, it’s my pleasure.”

Not much different between green and red to him, anyway.

[biisexualemma]

home. pt 4. bucky barnes

word count: 4.1k

warnings: implications of sex (blink and you'll miss it), nudity (again nothing descriptive) but generally lots of fluff and tiny bit of angst

requested: yes and no but it's here anyway lol

plot: you're recovering from your mission with sam and his family, patiently awaiting for bucky to come home

a/n: thank you for the support on this series loool i hope you like this! i think this will likely be the last part! it rounds off quite nicely i think so hope this is a satisfying ending! i loved writing this, especially the bathroom scene! enjoy! comment! lmk what you think! (also sorry this is so long i got carried away when editing oop--)

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

you huffed, swatting away the tiny hand prodding your forehead. when it persisted, you let out a throaty groan, forcing open your groggy eyes, to see cass, sam's nephew, nose to nose with you. you scrunched up your nose, squinting at him with tired eyes, before letting out a breathy laugh and shoving his face away with the palm of your hand.

"can't a girl get a lie in around here?" you grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as aj came running into the sitting room following his brother. you shot him a small smile, cautiously pushing yourself upright on the couch. you bit down on the inside of your cheek, the familiar sharpness shooting through your ribs as you repositioned yourself, trying to mask any pain you felt.

"nope," cass hopped on the end of the couch, sitting himself on top of you, shaking his head with a toothy grin. you let out a strained yawn, stretching your arms up over your head, having to force yourself awake. you winced, the stabbing pain returning as you dropped your arms back to your side. you tried to disguise it with a small laugh, ruffling up cass' hair, who was sat watching you from his end of the couch.

"mom had to go down to the harbour with uncle sam," aj informed you, positioning himself on the arm of the couch beside you. you nodded, sighing lightly, you slumped your shoulders, you were still tired. you had gotten pretty close to sam's family in the past week or so you'd spent on their couch, but it was so easy to love these kids. they were the sweetest, cheekiest kids you'd ever met. they reminded you so much of sam. "'told us to look after you."

"no," you shook your head, quickly protesting. "i'm the adult here."

"maybe," aj wore a wide, cheeky smile, dragging out the word. "but uncle sam says you're a hot mess, and that we gotta' help you out," you could hear sam saying this to his nephew. your eyebrows knitted, glancing between the two boys who were giggling as you feigned a look of hurt. you couldn't help but crack a small smile after a while, they were too easy and they were too cute to even pretend to be mad at.

"your uncle sam doesn't know what he's talking about," you waved away his comment. "i'm fine," you insisted quickly before a small, insubordinate smirk began forming on your lips. their faces lit up with small smiles, watching your every move, taking in everything you were saying. that was one thing you loved about kids, you could tell them absolutely anything and they would believe you, no questions asked. you turned your attention back to cass who was still sat, legs crossed, his weight crushing your feet a little (though you didn't mind so much). he had the cheekiest smile of the both of them. "so," you quirked an eyebrow. "are you gonna' sit on me all day or do you wanna eat some pancakes?" you had to suppress your laughter when his eyes widened, knowing just how much he loved breakfast food. kids were too easily persuaded.

his lips tightened, trying to hold back an excited smile. he glanced over at his older brother, trying to figure out if he was allowed to accept your offer, before his eyes moved back at you. you tilted your head, giving him a look. "well?" you teased, knowing you had him.

"pancakes!" he caved, just like you knew he would. you couldn't blame him, who could resist pancakes. his voice raised an octave higher in his excitement. you giggled as cass hopped off of you, running towards the kitchen with his older brother following behind him, just as enthusiastically.

you let out a soft humph, your smile falling a little as you dragged your feet over the side of the couch, letting them hang there for a moment. you were healing well, you just constantly felt wiped out now you had finally taken a breather. you hadn't realised how much you'd been pushing yourself during this mission, until you stopped. sam had noticed too, so he wasn't letting you contribute much around the house.

you had been hesitant to accept his offer at first, the last thing you wanted to do, after everything, was impose. you knew sam had his own stuff to work out too. but it was sarah, in the end, who reassured you that you were more than welcome to stick around as long as you needed. something about your presence around the house being much needed as she was currently outnumbered three to one. so, to try and make yourself somewhat useful, you offered to watch the boys anytime she needed.

you were grateful to them both for letting you crash, and, truthfully, you were happy you did take the offer in the end, it was much needed. it also helped that literally every single person you had met was kind and welcoming, something you hadn't felt in a while. that, along with sam's lovely family, was enough to keep your mind off things for a while.

things being bucky, who you hadn't heard from since the fight with walker. he hadn't checked in with you once. you knew he had his own stuff to handle but it still didn't make you feel great knowing he was out there god knows where, doing god knows what. it stung a little when he up and left you like that without a second thought. if he wasn't willing for you to tag along, you expected for him to communicate his plans to you, at the least. but you should've known, bucky had never been very good at communicating.

"y/n, c'mon! it's pancake time!" you were pulled out of your thoughts by aj, whose hand latched onto yours, urging you onto your feet. you forced a small smile, pushing any thoughts out of your head that didn't involve making pancakes, and ignoring the dull ache in your chest that came whenever you thought about him. if you just kept busy, you wouldn't have to think about any of it.

-

you lifted your hand to your face, wiping away the beads of sweat dripping from your forehead. the sun was high and it was sweltering, you hadn't adjusted to the louisiana heat yet and you weren't sure you ever would.

you peeled off the jacket that was starting to stick to your clammy skin, tossing it aside, deciding that now was a good time to take a break. collapsing onto an upturned crate, you let out a weighted sigh, squinting, using the back of your hand to shield your eyes as the sun shone down into your line of sight.

"here," sarah appeared behind you, handing over a cold bottle of water. you mumbled a quiet thank you, before quickly gulping down the refreshing water. you let out a content sigh after quenching your thirst, your shoulders slumping. she rested her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently before taking a seat beside you. "how y'getting on?"

you shrugged, your eyes watching your feet, feeling the subtle sway of the boat floating on the water. "sam won't let me help with the heavy duty stuff, so he's got me painting," you motioned to the bucket of paint and the brush sitting on the ground where you had left them.

she nodded. "and how you feelin'?"

you straightened your back, lifting your gaze to meet her stare for a second. "i'm getting there. but this heat doesn't quit," she let out a soft laugh, nodding again.

"yeah, that's something you never really get used to," she patted your shoulder again, another soft, reassuring squeeze. "i gotta' run to the store, i'll be back in a half hour. need anything?" you shook your head, mumbling a quiet no thank you. "alright, well, don't strain yourself."

you rolled your eyes, halfheartedly. she wore a teasing smile, one that reminded you of sam. they were so alike, it was weird sometimes when you thought about how this was the life behind the man you had known for so many years. "i won't," she nudged your shoulder when you shook your head again. "not with sam around anyway," you joked, scrunching up your nose.

"hey," she called, edging away from you as she made to leave. you looked over at her, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hand. she quirked an eyebrow at you. "he's looking out for you! we all are," you tightened your lips, trying to disguise the smile growing on your lips. you nodded, waving goodbye as she left the boat.

it felt nice to have the small circle of people who cared for you, starting to grow.

a loud noise emitting from the other end of the boat caught your attention, your eyes widening when you spotted a cloud of steam gushing from one of the pipes. you darted over, your hands frantically hovering around the pipe as you tried to figure out how best to fix whatever it was that was broken. you rummaged through the tool box sitting next to you, and grabbed a wrench, purely because it felt the like the right tool to grab. in truth, you had no idea what the hell you were doing. you clapped the tool around the pipe, trying with all your might to stop the steam from spitting out.

"sam!" you hollered over your shoulder, trying to catch the mans attention so he could help you. "i have no idea what the hell i'm doing!" you called blindly in a panic, hoping someone would swing in and take over before you made this any worse.

"here," you felt a hand tap your shoulder, so you let go of the tool and stepped back. only it wasn't sam like you had expected. you stumbled backwards into sam, his hands touching your forearm as you regained your balance. it was bucky who had his hands clamped round the wrench, fixing the pipe with relative ease.

you gulped. you couldn't figure out how you were feeling now he was in front of you. your feelings were mixed. mainly you felt relieved that he was in front of you in one piece. "thanks," was all you managed to croak out once he turned to face you. his eyes focused on you, squinting from the sun in his eyes. he opened his mouth to say something to you when sam cut him off.

"why didn't you use your metal arm?" you raised an eyebrow, watching as bucky shrugged, his eyes dragging away from you and towards sam.

"i don't always think of it immediately," he admitted honestly. "i'm right handed."

you sighed. you sometimes wondered how this was the same man who traipsed around for ninety years as the winter soldier. you rolled your eyes, moving away from the two of them, returning to the painting you'd been hard at work with before all this commotion.

you'd just have to speak to bucky later, when you could be alone. right now, you were helping sam.

--

bucky had reluctantly agreed to stay the night after a long day working on the boat. you had been carefully avoiding him all day. you didn't feel much like hashing things out in front of sam and his entire family, so you stuck your head down and got on with your work.

but now it was pretty late, a lot of time had passed, and you had yet to catch your boyfriend alone. you figured a shower would do you good, to clean you up and hopefully clear your head.

your eyes were deeply focused on your own, watching yourself in the foggy mirror after finally leaving the comfort of the hot shower. your eyes were sunken, hollow almost as you looked back at yourself. you didn't look like yourself. you looked tired all the time, mainly because you were tired all the time.

you hadn't been sleeping as well without bucky next to you. along with sam's nephews waking you up at the crack of dawn every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep as you should be. though you couldn't blame the boys, they were excited to have someone in the house that let them do whatever they wanted to do (though it got you in trouble a fair bit). bucky, however, you could blame. if he had just told you straight where he was going, what his plan was. if he'd just contacted you so you knew he was ok all that time he was away. but he didn't. he left you behind to finish his own mission, not thinking twice about how it would make you feel.

your fingertips grazed over the skin of your neck, the bruising was finally starting to turn an ugly yellow colour, meaning it would start to fade away soon. most of your wounds had healed, you were mainly left with bruises and scabs and a subtle ache. nothing too serious. but it certainly made you look like hell.

you pursed your lips, your fingertips trailing down your chest, until gently brushing against the large purple-green bruise running across your ribs. you twisted your abdomen to get a better a look at the bruise that circled round to your back, wincing and gritting your teeth as you did. sam mentioned something about your ribs taking longer to heal than any of the other injuries, you just didn't think he meant it'd take this long.

you startled, flinching from the knock on the door, drifting you out of your thoughts and back to your current state. you grabbed a towel from the rack beside you and wrapped it around yourself. "yeah?" you called out in response to the knock. you wiped away the droplets of water covering your face with your hand, sniffling as you secured the towel around your chest.

"it's me," the soft, familiar voice muffled through the door dividing the two of you. you gulped, glancing at your reflection one last time, before turning away.

you hesitated, but ultimately unlocked the door and pulled it open. you turned back to the mirror, leaving the door to hang open as you stood with your back to him. he let himself in, locking the door again behind himself. he hovered by the door, falling back against it, his eyes watching carefully as you ran your hands over your face.

you glanced at him in the reflection of the mirror, out the corner of your eye. his eyes lingered over your body, only his eyes were just as hollow as yours. after a moment of silence, he let out a sigh, and edged across the small space to be closer to you. "hey," he mumbled softly, his hands gripping your waist over the towel. you took in a sharp breath, your hands quickly moving to his to pull them away from your tender bruises. you turned yourself to face him, still holding his hands that hovered over your waist now. his eyes widened slightly, moving back and forth between yours, looking for you to tell him what he'd done wrong.

"sore still," you scrunched up your nose, the ache slowly fading away again after he'd let go. it wasn't his fault, he wasn't to know.

his eyebrows creased together, his eyes trickling down to the visible bruises marked around your throat. he gulped, he gave your hands a soft squeeze before moving them to your shoulders. he couldn't pull his stare away from you, he was taking you all in. his fingertips pressing into your shoulders gently, his lips pursing.

"m'sorry," he mumbled in a whisper. his eyes lifting back up to yours again, soaked with guilt.

you shook your head faintly. "y'didn't know--"

"no--" he shook his head. "i'm sorry i left like that," his hands slipping from your shoulders, his soft touch trailing down your bare arms before gripping your forearms. he hadn't noticed the bandage on your wrist until his fingers grazed against the material. he scrunched up his face, his touch leaving you as he turned away. he moved a hand to his face, his forefinger and thumb trying to unknit the crease between his eyebrows.

"it's alright, buck," you spoke softly. it wasn't really ok, at least, not how he left. but you didn't want him beating himself up about you being hurt, that was part of the job, that had nothing to do with him. "i'm fine, really."

"you're still a terrible liar," his voice was cold, and your chest tightened. "i should've held back longer before i left," he shook his head again, his gaze dropping to the floor. "i should've said something," you let out a sigh, reaching out, your fingertips grazing his arm. he turned around under your touch, his jaw clenched when he met your eyes again. he never imagined being this much under someones control ever again. but here you were, and he would do anything you asked.

you pursed your lips. "maybe," you shrugged. you had given it some thought throughout the day. you couldn't hold a grudge against him forever, he made a split second decision, and he knew he was leaving you in capable hands. "but what's happened has happened. there was a lot going on. i'm sure you're still processing a lot of it."

he was pouring so much emotion into you with just a stare, your eyes fluttering as you held his gaze. "i was angry-- i didn't think everything through-- i just-- i knew i needed to deal with zemo."

you sniffled, gulping down the lump in your throat. "i get it. you didn't want me there to see any of it," you thought back to when bucky told you he never wanted you to have to see him as the winter soldier again. you thought back to watching bucky fight under zemo's control. you understood why he needed to do what he did, you'd said time and time again, you would kill zemo yourself when the mission was over.

"i didn't kill him," he admitted hesitantly. "the Dora Milaje took care of him."

you raised an eyebrow. "oh, that's so much worse for him," bucky nodded in agreement, his lips pursing. "good."

"yeah," he trailed off, his eyes glossing over for a moment as if lost in thought. you wished sometimes that you could see inside that head of his. you nudged his side after a while, mumbling a quiet hey, his eyes focusing back on you. he frowned. "what was the damage?"

you shrugged. "i think walker had a hearing--"

"no-- no--" he cut you off quickly, your mouth hanging open as he stopped you mid-sentence. "you. what's the extent of your injuries? how you feelin'?"

"oh," your eyebrows unknitted, shrugging again. "i--uh-- had a mild concussion. a few broken ribs and just a lot of bruising, some open wounds but it wasn't too bad considering i went up against a super soldier," you forced a smile, trying to ease some of the tension that bucky was creating with that frown on his face.

you moved your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek. your thumb grazed his cheek, and you remembered the gash across his face had healed since the last time you saw him. you gave him a genuine, soft smile in hopes of reassuring him. "i really am fine. sam says i just need to take it easy for a couple weeks."

he nodded faintly. he hovered his hand over yours, turning his cheek and pressing his lips to the palm of your hand. your eyelids fluttered feeling his lips touch your skin tenderly. made you realise just how much you had missed bucky since he'd been away. he squeezed your hand affectionately, his lips lingering on your skin.

your free hand quickly moved to your towel when it loosened around your chest, just catching it in time. bucky's eyes moved to your towel for a split second, like he was suddenly reminded that you were standing in front of him in practically nothing. his eyes remained soft as he looked at you though, he cleared his throat before moving his hand to your cheek, slipping his fingers into your wet hair gently.

"how're you healing?" he mumbled in a whisper.

you gulped, his eyes locked on yours as he spoke. your eyes darted back and forth between his. "bruises are still there but they're fading," you spoke softly now that he was close enough to you. you could feel his breath fanning against your skin. he nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting downwards. "wanna' see?"

his eyebrows twitched into a frown for only a second, unsure that he heard you correctly. "uh-- yeah," he breathed out, his breath grazing your skin. you untied the towel from round your chest, letting it fall to the floor beneath you with a soft thud.

bucky's jaw tightened. usually, quite happy to see you standing in front of him wearing absolutely nothing, he couldn't shift his eyes for a while from the enormous bruise covering your abdomen. his eyebrows unknitted, unsettled by the nasty bruise spread over your soft skin, his eyes shooting up to yours quickly.

"fuck walker," he muttered under his breath. "this is all from him?" you nodded faintly, eyes fluttering and your breath hitching in your throat when his fingers carefully brushed against the discoloured stretch of skin.

"it was a lot worse," you spoke in a hushed voice. "it's healed a lot."

bucky didn't speak for a while and neither did you, his eyes trailing over your body, unclothed facing him. after a moment, he got down onto his knees. you gulped, his head tilting back for a second, eyes meeting yours from beneath you. your breaths grew rapid the closer he got, his forehead gently falling against your bare stomach before pressing a soft kiss to the purple--green lesion covering your skin. you let out a shaky breath, shifting your arms so you could run your fingers through his hair. you still weren't used to the length.

"i love you," he mumbled against your skin. your hands stilled where they rested in his hair, moving to tilt his head back, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. he pressed another sweet kiss to your stomach before moving himself back up to your height. your eyes were wide slightly, your fingers slipping out from between his locks. both his hands moving to either side of your face now. "don't freak out on me, you don't have to say it back. 'just needed you to know what i was thinking."

"and you're thinking-- that you love me?" you reiterated. he nodded, the corner of his lips turning into a soft smile. you couldn't help but mimic his expression, your heart beating a bit harder now, the sound rushing through your ears. it had been a long time since someone had told you they loved you, and meant it. a warm feeling spread through your chest, you were on such a high, soaking in the way he was looking at you with tender eyes. "pretty sure i love you too, buck."

you were a hundred percent sure, you just didn't want to seem too keen. you were already standing in front of him naked.

his lips stretched into a wider smile, ducking his head for a second, remembering suddenly that you were in fact completely naked in front of him, and he hadn't done anything about it. you swallowed a small laugh escaping your lips, watching a realisation hit bucky before he ducked down to your height and pressed his lips against yours. you relished in the feeling. "i love you, i love you, i love you," he muttered repeatedly, his lips pushed against yours, your smile growing wider every time he said it. you choked out a laugh, pushing at bucky's chest so you could catch a breath.

"i get it," you scrunched up your nose. "you love me," you teased, laughing wholeheartedly. you felt warm and comforted and somewhat normal for the first time in a really long time. you nudged his chest once more, his hands gripping your hips to pull you back to him. "so show me."

bucky's smile grew with your words, his mouth hanging open for a second. he didn't know how things managed to work out this good for him, but he wasn't going to question it. he was going to enjoy every moment with you for as long as he could.

"oh, god," he let out a throaty wine. "gladly."

taglist: @lo-manburg @bluemoon-icecream @farfromjustordinary @stolenxkissess

[obae-me]

Hi, I'm back with another ask (if you're still taking them)! Can I request the demon brothers reacting to an MC who usually shies away from touch, but absolutely melts under headpats? Thank you, I love your works, and I hope you aren't overworking yourself!! 💙

I live for the fluff, and I hope this warms your heart reading as much as I did while writing it! Thank you for your request, stay safe and take care of yourself! 💜

Lucifer

He’s not super touchy himself, so any form of physical affection he shows MC is minimal. A hand on their shoulder, an escorting arm, just simple gentlemanly gestures. When he saw that MC wasn’t quite comfortable with these, going so far as to sometimes move away from his body, he stopped even doing those out of respect for their space. He understood more than most that some people didn’t like being touched.

He wasn’t paying attention when he had first done it, giving MC a pat on the head. He was exhausted, having spent all day in meetings, doing paperwork, and cleaning up the messes of his brothers. He was running low on sleep, patience, and logic. His only main focus was work. MC had offered a helping hand, and he didn’t refuse, in fact he was secretly thankful for assistance. Normally, his pride would force him to carry his own work and burdens on his shoulders, but tonight he would let it slide. They handed him some of his work back, all thoroughly checked and edited by their hands. He took the stack without even looking at them, deeply concentrated in another project.

“Thank you,” he muttered, and raised his free hand to touch the top of their head, tapping them with the softest brush of his fingers. It took a moment for his action to register, and he quickly looked up from his work, opening his mouth to apologize for his folly. Then he saw the expression on their face. For once they weren’t moving away from his hands, but instead even shifting their posture so his fingers were now entangled in their hair. Their cheeks were tinted pink as they blushed, and Lucifer tried to ignore the strange flutter in his chest. He smiled tauntingly, but in a sweet way, happy to see that he had now discovered a way to give them praise. His eyes narrowed in on their complexion as it grew redder the more he moved his hand over their head.

He made a note of this interaction for the future. The next time they were alone and he thanked them, he raised his hand, looking MC with a teasing expression. He watched patiently as they squirmed in place before coming over to him. He made sure they incited the action on their own, placing their head under his touch before he patted their head.

He savors moments like these in private, this interaction a secret and intimate display for just him alone. He adores headpats where he can weave his fingers through their hair, taunting them with merely his fingertips. If he’s feeling extra special, he’ll take his gloves off for it. He’d become secretly addicted to this for sure.

He’ll use this method to reward MC whenever they do something that pleases him. It pays off in dividends. He’ll probably tease them for it later when he discovers they’ve been studying harder and been doing chores without him asking for it.

It fills him with enormous pride that they’ll come to him for this. “Hm, what is it you want? Did you want my touch and praise so badly?”

Mammon

Typically anyone who takes the time out of their day to attempt to touch Mammon is when they’re wanting to beat the Grimm out of him for something he’s done. So, because of this, he’s not super touchy either. It’s not that he doesn’t like touch, he’s just not had too many great experiences. So he can relate to how MC feels.

Surprisingly, it was MC who gave him the headpat first. He’d failed a test, already been through an intense lecture by Lucifer, and now his precious Goldie had been taken away yet again, threatened to be put through a shredder. To cheer himself up, he went to MC’s room. When they let him vent, he couldn’t stop telling them how much of an angel they were. He’d been sitting on MC’s floor, his back leaning against their bed while MC sat on top of their mattress. He was getting real deep with his feelings, saying things MC had never heard him be comfortable enough to talk about.

They wanted to comfort him and to reward him at the same time. Not knowing what to do, MC leaned forward and nervously rubbed the top of his head. “There there.”

At first, all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, warning signals running through his mind as his nerves went on high alert. But then the soothing circles over his head put him more at ease, MC’s comforting voice lulling his fears away. MC was...was...giving him a...a...He almost found himself slipping to the floor, but then he snapped out of it.

“Oi, oi, oi, oi, oi, what’re you doing?” He tore free from them, getting to his feet as he stared down at them. His glasses were slightly crooked and hanging near the end of his nose in his flustered state. “I’m supposed to be the bigger man here, the one supporting you! So…” With a finger, he pushed his glasses up near his face before he hovered a hand above their hair. He took a deep breath, and then gave them a headpat in return, watching their expression and body language go through the same temporary panic as he did.

But then they practically melted in his hands, their eyes shiny with un-spilt tears as their touch starved body received some physical attention. Mammon did his best to prevent his face from getting even hotter than it already was. Who knew he’d love giving them headpats even more than getting one himself?

He’ll dole out headpats to MC left and right now, doesn’t matter when, where, or why, he’s greedy so when he wants to do it there’s no stopping him, but on this particular matter MC doesn’t bother stopping him anyway. He doesn’t ask for something in return for this gesture, for once, but occasionally MC gives him a pat on the head in exchange, watching him stutter as he turns a deep pink.

He loves giving MC headpats where he messes up their hair, ruffling it up and making it wild-looking just so he can do it all over again when they try to fix it.

Levi

You think his brothers are touch starved? He’s probably not had physical contact for decades, but part of that is his fault. He’s always yelling not to be touched, exclaiming loud enough that people in the Celestial Realm could hear, that he needs his personal space. He freaks out if MC accidentally even bumps shoulders with him.

He notices how MC reacts whenever he accidentally touches them, and he takes it very personally. Self doubt and anxiousness take over his mind as he secludes himself in the safe space of his bedroom. With the assistance of the brothers, MC managed to enter his comfort zone, stepping into his room. They started explaining how they were sorry that they were responsible for how he was feeling. They had to bluntly tell him that they don’t like being touched really by anyone, not just him, most things just make them uncomfortable. If there was anyone who knew about it, it was him. They sat down by him, but not too closely, and asked if watching anime with him would make him feel better.

As they’re both watching one of his favorite shows, Levi notices the expression on MC’s face whenever the main protagonist gives one of the love-interests a pat on the head. He’s the demon of envy, he knows longing when he sees it. MC’s eyes were glinting towards the screen. He had to cover part of his face with his arm just simply thinking about doing something like that with MC. It was no surprise that he wanted something like that too. 

“U-um, MC?” Levi’s brain was short-circuiting, and nothing was even happening yet. MC looked at him, their head slightly tilted to the side in curiosity. His heart was already beating out of his chest, they were cute, too cute. “Can I just...try one thing? And! And then if you hate it you can feel free to never talk to me again!” He just needed to know, the temptation of envy at watching a cartoon complete a gesture that he too wanted to make was too great to bear.

“O-okay.”

It took him a full two minutes of squirming in place and blushing to even build up the courage to put his hand in the air. Once he did, he closed his eyes and turned his head away from MC as he placed his palm over their hair. His hand stayed stagnant for a while, just resting atop their head, but then he started moving it, stroking their hair in the same fashion as he’s seen in so many of his shows. Only, he was near tears. Somehow the real thing was so much better.

Once he had finally had enough--he had wanted to keep going but he was worried his poor heart was about to give out--he apologized to MC again for touching them. MC looked down, their face almost just as red as his. When they told him that they didn’t mind and actually-maybe-kinda liked it, his eyes almost sparkled.

He doesn’t do it as often as he’d like, he’s still much too shy and anxious for that. He will manage to do it every so often, waiting until he’s had plenty of time for mental preparation. He waits to strike whenever MC is sad so he can swoop in and be their hero.

He likes the slow simple headpats, moving his hand left and right, feeling the heat inside his chest grow as MC sways their head with his movements.

Satan

Of course he doesn’t prefer being touched, why would he? He gets angry if someone even bothers him when they happen to be in the same room. He needs his space, he needs people to stay away from him, and if he does so happen to want to be touched, he needs it on his own terms. So he actually enjoyed hanging out with MC, because with them feeling the same way as he did, he didn’t have to worry they’d do something reckless like...hugging him or some awful thing.

They were reading together, his favorite activity. There was nothing better than him and his company doing their own thing within a decent distance, and all while being quiet about it. And because MC was being so well-behaved, he permitted them to sit on the same couch as him should they want it. He almost lost his place on the page as he felt their body heat wave off of them as they sat next to him.

However, MC kept moving, shifting to change position every few moments, trying to get into a comfortable reading position, but not finding one. It was driving him a bit crazy, but he understood their struggle. He weighed the pros and cons of what he was about to suggest in his head. He decided that it would mostly be in his favor. 

“Why don’t you lie down and I read to you?” He asked them, placing a bookmark in between the crevice of his book before placing it aside. They blinked at him, embarrassed that they had bothered him so badly. They got up off the couch, ready to lay on the floor. He gingerly grabbed the fabric of their sleeve. “I’m not asking you to get on the floor, I’m not that rude. To my brothers maybe, but not you.” He took the book that they had been reading and brought it to his face, already feeling some involuntary feelings rise to his cheeks. He patted his legs, hoping they would understand his gesture without him having to go through the pain of saying it.

They understood well enough, getting back on the couch and slowly, slowly, settled down with their head in his lap, their face turned away from him. MC was a bit rigid at first, but slowly relaxed as Satan started reading their story from the point they had left off at. He eventually got so enveloped in the words, he had no idea what he had been automatically doing. It took him about a chapter or two before his actions hit him randomly, his mind going blank, leaving himself tongue tied.

He’d been petting MC’s head for a while now, almost completely unaware. He assumed the feeling in his lap reminded him of a cat curled up over his legs, and he just instinctively had been stroking their head. He’d caught himself in the middle of running his fingers all the way from the top of their head, down to the nape of their neck, almost even scratching behind their ears.

“Is...is something wrong? Why...did you stop?” MC wondered, their voice gentle. He cleared his throat, deducing that their tone meant they found nothing wrong with what he had been doing. He resumed his actions, and felt MC happily shudder in his lap.

Later that night, when he was done reading, he found that he had made MC a little too comfortable, and now they were asleep on him. He didn’t dare move and actually ended up staying there all night.

He’ll only give MC headpats in this exact way, with their head over his thighs, stroking their hair like they were a cuddly pet. He’s melting almost as much as they are. To his enjoyment, MC will ask him if they can read with him much more frequently.

Asmo

He love love loves touch! So seeing MC squirm away from all his forms of affection makes him equal parts gloomy and determined. He’s never had anyone shy away from him like that, even his charm ends up rubbing off on his brothers, and they let him give them physical affection every once and awhile. He knows there has to be some form of touch MC can stand, and he’s ready to find it.

He tries hugs, hand-holding, massages, tickling, cuddling, anything he can think of in hopes MC will react positively. Touch his strongest love-language after all, so he’ll be forever downhearted if MC is never comfortable with it. Never comfortable with him...

He was close to figuring it out though, he knew it. His last massaging experiment had his hands around their head and neck, and he felt the muscles in their body unwind just the slightest bit. So, today he had them in his room, sitting on the chair in front of his mirror as he brushed their hair. Like before, they weren’t as tense, and were surprisingly complacent as he dragged his brush through their smooth strands. He was so jovial over this, he was almost humming to himself.

“MC, your hair is almost just as pretty as mine!” He put the brush down for just a second to run his fingers through their locks. MC’s body shuddered, their eyelids fluttering. The heart in his chest pounded in excitement when MC leaned their head towards his hand. He was almost as happy as the time Lucifer let Asmo give him a shoulder massage. “Hmm, what’s this?” He grinned and played with their hair some more, using his hands to pat down and fix any stray strands. MC refused to look at his gaze in the reflection of their mirror, their face adorably red. He just wanted to squeeze them! Asmo pressed his cheek to their head as he continued to pet and comb his fingers throughout MC’s hair.

He pets their head now as frequently as MC will allow. He especially prefers to do it when he notices they’re tense or stressed. Just a few minutes of his magical hands running over their head and all the tension in MC’s body practically melts away.

His special version of headpats come with special scritches. He’ll let his long nails gently scratch at their scalp, causing shudders to run through MC’s spine. Once, MC even moaned softly in comfort as he did this, causing him to almost collapse. Who knew something so chaste and simple could get him so pleased?

Beel

He’s a big lovable teddy bear, and so he loves to give hugs. It’s third on the list of things he loves, family, food (not always in that order), and comforting embraces following right after. The first time he gave MC a hug, they felt frozen, unable to hug him back. They only began to breathe again after he let them go. He respects the fact that they don’t like touch, but it will make him a bit melancholy for a while.

He only figured out MC adored headpats because they practically told him, he ended up being the only one they felt comfortable enough opening up to. Maybe it was because he couldn’t help but sulk for a few days after MC asked not to be touched. They felt a bit guilty for him, after all, he was only trying to show MC wholesome affection.

He had been in the kitchen, getting a large selection of goodies for his midnight snack when the door opened. He almost jumped when MC came into the room, as he went about clutching the food to his chest. He looked over MC before saying anything, their eyes and face a bit puffy from crying. They looked deeply upset.

Beel got so rattled from their expression, he almost dropped his precious food. He hurriedly put it all on a kitchen counter before talking to them. “MC, it’s so late, what’s wrong?” His natural instinct was to hold his arms out, ready to give them a tight embrace, but he bit his lip as he kept his arms lowered. Not knowing how best to comfort them was killing him, leaving the already gaping hole in his stomach feeling even emptier.

“I...I don’t know...I just…” MC placed their hands over their face as they began to cry some more. Beel got closer to them, every inch in his body twitching as all he wanted was to scoop them up.

“Well...what...what can I do to make you feel better? I’ll do anything!”

As they were sniffling, they outstretched one of their arms, waiting for his hand. He let them take it, taking notice of the vast difference between sizes. They felt so small next to him. MC grasped his hand with their own, doing their best to keep from shaking. Beel hadn’t quite been ready for MC to place his hand over their head, holding onto his wrist. He hesitated for a second, starting off very slow. The more he pet them, the more they started to calm down.

This made his heart swell immensely. He was so overjoyed that he was making MC happy, that he got to touch them, that he got a bit carried away as his built up emotions flowed straight to his hands. He moved his hand back and forth a bit aggressively, all purely by accident. He’d had his eyes closed as he couldn’t contain himself, his heart feeling like bursting. He was shaking MC back and forth so violently, they had to grasp onto his clothes from falling over. He quickly stopped, apologizing profusely while MC held tightly onto him as they waited for the room to stop spinning.

He will want to do this all the time, it satiates some sort of hunger in his stomach when he does, and MC doesn’t complain. Just as long as he does it gently. He’ll pet them like a fragile creature, as he closes his eyes and almost glows in happiness when he does. The gesture reminds him a lot of comforting Belphie.

Belphie

Like Satan, Belphie is only somewhat okay with touch if it’s on his terms. He almost always needs to initiate it, or ask for it at the very least. The only exception to the rule is his twin Beel. His brother is always picking him up, hugging him, or letting Belphie sleep on him.

When MC explained that they didn’t like touch, he was okay with it. What, did they think he cared? It’s no big deal, whatever, he’s too tired to worry about it. It does affect him, but he’s not even sure why. Is it because they look so soft to him that he wants to cuddle them like a pillow? Is it because he just wants to feel their sweet warmth? Is it because he wants to spite his brothers by being the only one able to touch them? He’s unsure. The only thing he is sure of is it’s making him a bit restless.

So, to deal with this, he did what came most naturally to him. That being coming into MC’s room unannounced in the dead of night. He’s still not used to normal human manners or behavior, or he doesn’t really care. Possibly both.

He watched MC sleep peacefully in bed, the silver rays of moonlight seeping through their window and landing on their head, reflecting off the color of their hair. He knelt close to the bed, tucking his pillow close to his chest as he watched them sleep for a bit. Then he lazily raised his hand, plopping it over their head. Their body jolted a bit as their eyelids opened.

“B-Belphie?” MC moved a bit, coming out of their tired haze.

“Shh, this is just a dream,” he told them, abusing his powers a bit as he influenced their exhaustion. A sleepy gaze coated their eyes. They ceased moving, nuzzling their head against the pillow as they no longer went to question why he was in their room.

He ran his hand gently over their head, watching color flush their cheeks as they stared at him in their dreamy state. Their lips almost curled into a smile, and Belphie pulled his cow-printed pillow closer to his chest, hoping to muffle the rapid beating of his heart. He pet MC’s head until they fell fast asleep again.

In the morning, MC looks at him in a weird way, more flustered than usual. He’ll tease them about it a bit, questioning their actions and feeling twisted satisfaction when they explained that they simply had experienced a strange dream last night.

He might continue to do this, giving them affection before bed and persuading them it was nothing more than a dream, but eventually he’ll want them to know it was real. He’ll just enjoy this secret interaction a little more before he does tell them, though.

He likes to pet their head in a way that lets their hair look like sleepy bed-hair, he finds it unbelievably adorable. He’ll start from the top of their head and work down towards their cheek, letting MC nuzzle against his palm before they sleep.

[anxioussweasley]

hi! so i saw you were asking for requests so could i please request a fluff fred au with prompts 9 and 19 from the fluff part of the list? like reader and fred aren't dating but everyone knows they love each other and fred and reader kinda confess to each other while reader braids freds hair (he has it long like in goblet of fire)? some best friends to lovers kinda thing 🥺 thank you in advance, i love your writing!!

Braiding sessions and confessions

9. “Will you braid my hair?”

19. “We’d be a cute couple, don’t you think?”

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, unedited

Word count: 2.1k

Masterlist

A/n: Thank you for the request love! I really hope you like this, sorry I didn’t edit it lol.

“Well, hello love,” Fred greets as he sits next to you in the great hall. His twin following on the other side of the table, sitting across from him. As Fred gets settled he puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Hi Fred,” you mumble as you lay your head on his shoulder. Tired from the long night you spent doing assignments so you wouldn’t have any to do over the weekend.

“You two are gross y’know that?” George rolls his eyes, letting out a small chuckle when you and his twin's faces blush over. Fred retracted his arm from you to flip his brother off and you hurriedly sat up straight again.

“Oh shove off George, I know you're as emotionally stunted as a mandrake root but it is completely normal for friends to be affectionate,” Fred jokes, putting his arm back around you.

George only rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, “yeah whatever you say.” His sarcasm radiating off of him.

You just giggle at the boy's antics, before turning back to fixing your breakfast plate.

As you fix your breakfast plate you try to reach across the table to grab the pitcher of pumpkin juice, but before your hand can clasp around the handle, Fred is reaching out and snatching it up with little effort. The boy gives you a warm smile, muttering an “I’ve got it,” before grabbing your cup and filling it up, placing it back down in front of you and filling his own cup.

“Thanks Freddie,” you smile shyly, reaching out for the cup and taking a sip. Small gestures like these were starting to confuse you. Fred was your best friend, so why did your heart flutter when he put his arm around you, or filled your cup for you, or winked at you, or sat by you, or looked at you, or basically existed in the same room as you. Well, you knew why… you just didn’t want to realize it yet.

“Aw what a cute couple,” George teased.

“George, I mean it. Shove. Off,”

“Are you going to hogsmeade today?” George directed at you, while shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

“I’m not sure. Why?” You answered him, quirking your eyebrow at the question.

“Well, you see,” George started, Fred’s face already becoming hot with embarrassment, “Freddie here got caught while we were pranking filch last night. So he’s been banned from the trip. So I was just curious.” George gives you a knowing look, understanding that even if going to hogsmeade was your greatest wish in life, you would stay at hogwarts for Fred.

“George has already decided he’s going without me, and although I would love to just seek out, McGonagall said if I get caught she’ll be forced to kick me off the quidditch team. So I figured I’d just stay here and relax,” Fred informed. Hoping more than anything that you would offer to stay with him. The truth is he could easily sneak to Hogsmeade, but the idea of spending the day alone with you sounded much more appealing.

“I’ll stay here with you, if you want,” you suggested, heart warming at the thought of spending the day alone with Fred.

“Oh wow I never saw that coming,” George joked, his tongue laced with sarcasm. “You two should just admit you're in love already. You're so obvious even oblivious little ronnikens knows!” George exclaims making a big hand gesture down the table to Ron. Ron sits up straight, his mouth full of eggs, “what?” He questions looking between the three of you. Noticing how close you and Fred are sitting and the blush on your faces he quickly processes what George had said. “Oh, yeah, you two should get a room,” the younger ginger teases before going back to stuffing his face with breakfast. Fred glares at the younger boy for a minute as George quickly finishes his plate and leaves the great hall with Lee Jordan, before you or Fred can respond to his smug remark

A moment passes as you and Fred watch George leave and then you burst into a fit of giggles, “your brother is a real git sometimes.” Fred let out a loud laugh at that, nodding his head.

The two of you continued to eat breakfast, sitting shoulder to shoulder, laughing and joking. After a particularly loud laugh from you at one of Fred’s jokes, you looked around quickly to see if you had caught anyone’s attention. You noticed a group of girls glaring at you, and before you could brush it off as thinking you were annoying, you noticed they weren’t so much glaring at you as they were glaring at Fred’s arm around you. It had happened before. Girls glaring at you and Fred’s closeness, starting jealous rumors about you and Fred’s relationship. You have even had girls rudely ask if you were dating Fred, and when you promptly answer ‘no’, sweetly ask you to put in a good word for them. Despite your growing familiarity with the girls jealous stares. You started to feel uncomfortable as you looked back down at the table, unconsciously scooting away from Fred.

Fred noticed your sudden change in demeanor, glaring in the direction you were just looking, being met with the smug faces of a group of girls. Fred’s frown deepened before turning back to you and lightly bumping your shoulder with his arm. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” His voice was soft, contrasting the glare he sent the group of girls over your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You answered quickly with a small nod. Fred stood up then, and offered his hand out to you, helping you off the bench and slinging his arm back around you as he led you to the Gryffindor common room.

“Sorry about all that,” Fred mumbled as you two strolled through the halls of hogwarts. He hated all the unwanted attention you got from being his friend. He knew his popularity among their peers, particularly their female peers, was a downside to your friendship with him.

“It’s not your fault, actually I’m starting to get used to it, I mean it’s been like this ever since you joined the quidditch team and got away with pranking Snape,” you giggle slightly at the memory of seeing the greasy professor in pink robes.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it,” Fred sighed, “I mean we’re not- '' Fred”

paused, honestly saddened by what he was planning to say. “I guess, well, we’re not even together. They should leave you alone.” He finished, shaking his head, to hide his blushed cheeks behind his hair.

“It’s okay Freddie. really. Honestly I’m more concerned about how long your hairs getting,” you joke trying to lighten the mood.

Fred laughs, giving you a smug smirk, “oh, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Trust me, love,” you giggle, “I don’t like it.” You try to finish your statement with a straight face but are unable to control your giggles.

“You wound me,” Fred joked dramatically, holding his hands up over his heart. Well you thought he was being dramatic, really he moved his hands to his chest because his heart felt like it was about to explode at you calling him love.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bruise your ego there,” you taunt before softening your voice and saying, “I’m just kidding Fred, I do like your hair long, it suits you.”

Fred's face broke into a wide grin as he thanked you before suggesting that the two of you go hang out in his dorm considering that the common room was possessed by a very loud group of first and second years playing exploding snaps.

You and Fred made it up to the dorm room in comfortable silence, the two of you making yourselves comfortable on his bed. Fred pulled out one of the twins' inventions fiddling with it as you mindlessly braided a small piece of your hair.

Fred couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to you, he knew his brother was right, you and him act like you loved each other. Fred knew he loved you, but what if you didn’t love him? He could never risk losing your friendship over something like that. Could never risk losing you, no matter how much he wanted you to know how he felt. He watched you silently hoping you wouldn’t notice as you focused on braiding your hair.

“Ginny use to ask us to do that,” Fred murmured with a chuckle.

“What? Braid her hair?” You answered your own question.

Fred nodded scooting closer to you. “Yeah, all of us tried to learn how, George was good at it, I got the hang of it eventually but Bill was the best, Charlie was okay at it, Percy could do like the special kind. French braiding? Is that what it’s called?” You nodded. “Ron couldn't get the hang of it to save his life, not that he really wanted to.” Fred smiled warmly at the memories of when Bill tried to teach him how to braid Ginny's hair when she asked him. “I don’t even remember how anymore.”

“It’s sweet that you all tried to learn for your sister,” you said as you finished the small braid in your hair.

“Yeah I guess. Will you braid my hair?” Fred mumbled, as he realized that his hair now might be long enough for it.

A big smile spread across your face as you sat up. “Of course Freddie, come here,” you patted the place on the bed in front of you, Fred moving to sit there with his back towards you.

You ran your hands through his hair checking for tangles. “Your hair is so soft,” you giggle, in awe of how soft the ginger's hair was. As you braided Fred’s hair you started humming softly. A warm feeling spreading through you as you realized just how much you wanted to be like this all the time. You wanted to tell Fred how you felt, but you didn’t know how.

Fred was having the same tug of war in his mind. A shiver running down his spine each time your skin brushed his. He loved the feeling of your hands in his hair, he loved having you in his room, in his bed, just being close to you.

“Thanks for doing this Y/n,” Fred mumbled tiredly, your hands softly braiding his hair and the soft humming of your voice making him sleepy. “I’m sorry about my brother earlier by the way, and the girls in the great hall.”

“I already told you it's okay Freddie. And your brother was just teasing,” you answered.

“Yeah but he was right though. We’d be a cute couple, don’t you think?” The words had escaped Fred’s mouth before he could even process what he was saying. His heart dropped to his stomach when you quickly pulled your hands away from his hair.

He sat up straight, quickly turning to you, to gauge your reaction. When his eyes landed on you, you were staring back at him with wide eyes. “You- you think we’d be a cute couple?” You whispered breathless.

When Fred realized that your initial reaction was not automatic rejection, the sinking feeling in his stomach lessened as he decided to summon all the courage he had. “Yeah, I really do. Y/n, George was right when he said I loved you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to think. Fred was your best friend and you were in love with him, and here he is confessing to you. You didn’t snap out of your awe until you registered a sad disheartened look crossing Fred’s face. You cursed yourself for being quiet for too long. So you reached out your hands, cupping Fred’s face and bringing him closer to you. “I love you too, Freddie.” And with that you crashed your lips on his.

After the kiss Fred asked you to be his girlfriend, and after you happily accepted, you finished braiding his hair. The two of you lounged around his dorm for the rest of the day holding each other and wishing you hadn’t waited so long to confess.

“I knew it!” George yelled as he entered the room finding you and Fred snuggled up on Fred’s bed. Lee laughed at George’s loud remark. “I swear if you two look me in the eye now and say you're just friends I’m going to lose it!” George exclaimed, making everyone in the room laugh.

“We’re not just friends.”

[sunshineandaisies]

Coffee Connection

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: sexual suggestions, i think a few language words maybe?

You were a creature of habit, there was no denying that, and you had no shortage of habits that made you such.

Example A; every Thursday afternoon, after you’d rushed from the lecture hall at the end of your final class of the day, you’d spend two hours sitting on the plush couch in the coffee shop just down the street from your apartment, sipping coffee after coffee as you fingers clacked across the keyboard of your laptop and you made the latest edits to your graduate thesis.

Usually, there would always be a random stranger sitting at the opposite end of the couch, and it was never the same person two weeks in a row. Sometimes it was a sharply dressed business type that sipped their coffee while scrolling through emails on their phone, and other times it was sleep-deprived student, sipping on what you assumed was likely their sixth cup of coffee that day and trying their best to not pull their hair out as they worked on whatever assignment had them so obviously stressed. Occasionally, you even recognized a professor that you had taken classes with during your undergrad, laughing as they graded poorly written and ill-conceived papers.

But six weeks ago, you recognized the man that sat in the seat at the other end of the couch as the same man that had sat beside you the week before.

When you first realized that he was the same man from the week before, you did your best to look him over from the corner of your eye. He was certainly the tall, handsome brooding type - that much was clear with just a single glance - but you had to do a bit of a double take when you saw the book that he was so intently focused on.

Twilight? Really?

You had been so shocked by his book choice that you didn’t see him look up at you with an annoyed expression etched across his features, but as soon as you felt his intense gaze on you your cheeks flooded with warmth and you quickly averted your gaze.

You didn’t dare look at him again that day.

The following week, however, you put your surreptitious observation skills to the test as soon as you took your usual seat on the plush couch, and you were pleasantly impressed with what you saw. Mesmerizing blue eyes, deliciously muscled thighs, fingers that made your mind wander to less than appropriate places, and...and a metal arm?

You put an end to your staring sooner than you really wanted to, but you’d rather not have your silent coffee shop companion see you salivating over him. Instead, you focused on your thesis and cast the tiniest of glances at the man when you found your mind conjuring up images of what his fingers could do and what it would feel like to have his metal hand wrapped around your-

What the hell? First he was reading Twilight, and now he’s reading The Hunger Games? Who the hell was this guy?

As the weeks went on, the two of you sat alone together and your confusion over his reading interests only grew. So far, you’d seen him read not only Twilight and The Hunger Games, but also various books from the Game of Thrones series and The Fault in Our Stars.

Additionally, as the weeks went on, your impending thesis deadline was swiftly approaching, and your Thursday routine was rudely interrupted by an impromptu meeting with your graduate advisor after your final class of the day. It was a quick meeting, no more than twenty minutes long, but that small interruption of your usual schedule had you sprinting across campus, frazzled and frantic and worried that your seat on the plush couch of the coffee shop would be taken by the time you finally arrived.

You hurried away from the counter as soon as your usual cup of coffee had been pushed into your hand by the exhausted barista, hoping that your seat hadn’t been taken when you failed to show up ten minutes ago. A sigh escaped from between your lips when you saw that it remained vacant. Depositing your bag on the ground in front of the couch, you quickly pulled your laptop out and tried to calm your frazzled nerves enough to focus on your thesis.

“You’re late.”

You were so surprised that he had actually spoken to you that you froze, wondering if you’d simply imagined it. A quick glance to your side told you that you absolutely had not imagined it. He stared at you with a frown on his face and his brows pinched together in irritation, his book all but abandoned in his lap.

You raised a brow at him. “What?”

His eyes widened and a barely noticeable dusting of pink coated his cheeks. Cute. “I, uh-” Watching him stumble over his words as he tried to come up with a believable explanation for his surprising concern had you biting your lip to suppress an amused smile. “Nevermind,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to his book - this time the Maze Runner - as his lips tightened into an unimpressed line.

“No, you’re right.” He cautiously dragged his gaze back to you, curiosity sparkling in his blue eyes. “I was late. I’m never late.” After a moment of observing you, he nodded. Before he could go back to reading his book and ignoring you again, you commented, “Your taste in books has improved since the first week you sat with me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly before he was expressionless once again. “Yeah, I really wish I could get those hours of my life back.” You giggled, and he wasn’t able to fight back the smile that spread across his face.

“The Maze Runner’s pretty good,” you assured him. “Movies are good, too.”

And somehow, you ended up spending the next hour talking with your once silent coffee shop companion - “Bucky,” he had introduced himself with a smile - and completely ignoring your thesis in favor of talking about his recent book choices and opinions on their respective movie or television adaptations. Did he think Twilight was terrible? Absolutely. Did he think that the Hunger Games was an interesting commentary on social class differences? Definitely. Did he think the last season of Game of Thrones was awful? Don’t get him started. Did he cry while watching The Fault in Our Stars? No comment.

When you finally asked why he was reading so much - especially some of his questioning book choices - he sighed, answering, “My therapist thinks it’ll help me get acclimated to the twenty-first century better if I work on understanding pop culture better. These books were all on her list of recommendations.”

Suddenly, it clicked. Bucky, metal arm, getting acclimated to the twenty-first century. “You’re Bucky Barnes.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement, an undeniable fact, and it clearly caught him off guard that you came to that conclusion so easily.

“Uh, yeah.” He nervously scratched the back of his neck, his lips turning down into a frown. “That’s me.”

Despite his reaction, you chuckled. “Well this is awkward.” He quirked a brow at you, his frown deepening. Before he could misunderstand, you continued, “I’m writing my thesis on societal perceptions of superheroes. I’ve literally spent hours researching you and Captain America and Iron Man and Thor and-”

He interrupted you, his brows pinched so tightly together you worried they’d end up stuck like that. “You think I’m a superhero?”

You shrugged and took a quick sip of your now cold coffee. “I mean, yeah. You helped Captain America fight Hydra back in the forties, and you helped beat Thanos last year, didn’t you?”

“There’s a lot of things I’ve done in the time between then that would firmly put me in the other category.”

You let out a breath, nodding solemnly. “I read about that, too,” you admitted. “But I also know that it wasn’t really something that you did of your own free-will. That makes you a victim, not a villain. When you actually had a choice, it seems like you always chose to do the right thing.”

He remained silent for an extended moment, and you worried that you ruined the easy companionship that had developed between you and the supersoldier. You tried to force down the rising sense of disappointment as you pursed your lips and turned away from him, slowly packing up your belongings to leave.

“Wait, Y/N.” You paused in the middle of shoving your laptop into your bag and glanced up at him curiously. “Can I-” He cleared his throat. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

You raised a brow, gaze flickering to your half-full cup of coffee on the table.

He chuckled, and dear god a sound has never made your stomach flip and flop as much as the sound of his deep chuckles spilling from his parted lips. “I mean a fresh, hot coffee. If, uh, you’re open to it, I’d like to hear more about your thesis.”

You nodded eagerly and pulled your laptop from your bag as a wide smile curled your lips. “I’d like that.”

[tefilovesreading]

It’s a match! Part. 1

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Word count: +1,7k

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol.

A/N: This is a mini series, I’m not sure how many parts it’s gonna have and there’s gonna be some texts in between. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED. 

Edited by: @theamazingtomholland

MASTERLIST // PART 2 // PART 3

She felt her hands start sweating as she saw the small circle slowly filling up, letting her know that the app was being downloaded. She knew what a dating app was, how it worked and what was its purpose, but never created her account, not that she needed it before because she had a boyfriend. Her roommate, on the other hand, was well acquainted with dating apps, and they’d spent nights swiping through the profiles together. 

Now that she was single for the first time since she graduated from high school, her roommate and best friend had convinced her to download Tinder and have fun.

“You don’t even have to go and meet the guy, Y/N,” Jo had said with a beaming smile to encourage her when they met for coffee earlier that day, “just have a look and see if you find someone you’d want to talk to.”

She nibbled on her lip when the circle filled up entirely and the icon appeared on her screen, bright and inviting. Putting her phone down, she decided she’d create her account later, for now, downloading it was more than enough.

In her sophomore year, she broke up with her boyfriend because they couldn’t find time to be together, too busy with classes, exams, and part-time jobs. But that didn’t last long, ‘cause they got back together after three weeks. 

Those three weeks ignited a spark in her, suddenly things were more exciting to her, and she didn’t feel like she was acting how others expected her to. Y/N felt a kind of freedom that made her go on a date with her co-worker, sure they just went for a coffee together once and decided that they were better off as friends, but that small rejection made her want to make that spark disappear.

Being with Lance made things easier, they knew each other since they were little, and that meant she didn’t have to open up to let him know her flaws and fears, because he knew her like the palm of his hand. Being with him made her feel safe, even when they were apart during his first year of college since she was a year younger than him and was still in high school when he left for college, but that safety net vanished when Lance decided he wanted to spend time overseas after he graduated from college. And it was useless to wait for him if he wasn’t even sure he wanted to come back.

Eight months later, Y/N felt that spark reigniting again, making her feel like she was missing something. Ever since Lance left, she spent too much time afraid to put herself out there. How can you let someone into your life and trust them to not hurt you? After all, she trusted Lance for so long just to get hurt because they didn’t want the same things, and their paths went in different ways. But Y/N knew she couldn’t hide much longer, she wanted to go out, have fun, go on dates and meet new people, she just didn’t know how to start.

Her phone vibrated with a new notification from her best friend, and she snorted at her text.

Jo: Any matches yet heartbreaker???

If only Jo knew she still wasn’t able to bring herself into making an account. Maybe she could choose the pictures first, plan her bio, and then create it. Planning that out was definitely better than staring at the app icon.

Y/N: Not yet, but I’ll let you know ;)

After an hour of scrolling through her photos, Y/N chose five pictures where she looked decent. Hell, she looked really hot in one or two of those, and she wasn’t going to act as if that wasn’t true.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself after her account was finally set up. 

It was a strange feeling swiping through the profiles, reading their bios, and rolling her eyes at some of them. But after a few minutes, she started enjoying it, not even feeling bad if she didn’t match with a guy.

She smiled at the simple bio on her screen and swiped right, not even bothering to go through his other photos. He was cute, he seemed like he liked to have fun, and even though he was cute, he was also hot. A dangerous mix, but a really nice one.

It’s a match!

“Honey I’m home!” her best friend sang, entering  the living room.

“Shit Jo!” Y/N scolded the girl, “you scared me.”

“Why?” Jo faked an offended look, “were you sending dirty messages or something?”

“Oh shut up,” Y/N said, handing her phone over to her friend with a sheepish smile on her face, “check out my last match.”

“Okay, so he likes outdoor activities, he plays the guitar, and he has a cute smile,” her friend listed, swiping through his photos, “what are you waiting for, Y/N? Send him a message!”

“I was actually waiting for him to send one first,” she admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up, “you know I suck with conversations over chat.”

“But what if he’s waiting for you to talk to him, and you don’t do it,” Y/N looked at her friend and knew she was already making up a whole movie in her head, about how they could be soulmates, but they would never know if she didn’t send him a text.

“Fine!” She huffed and took her phone from her friend’s hands, “Do I send him a hello or what?”

“No, that’s too dry,” Jo replied, “you should ask him about where he took that picture, the one where he’s in the snow.”

She bit her bottom lip to distract herself from the fact that she felt as if her stomach was tied up in knots. He was really cute, and she had a good feeling about him, almost as if the universe was telling her to go for it, meet up with him and have fun.

Hesitating at first, she let her finger hover over the little “send” button for a few seconds, before pressing the screen and sending the text.

Y/N: Hey! Where did you take the first pic? The place looks great

“What now?” Jo looked at her with one of her eyebrows arched.

“We wait, you idiot.”

“I need to do something,” Y/N locked her phone and got up, “if I stay on that couch waiting for a reply I’m gonna end up with no nails.”

“I did your nails last night, Y/N, don’t ruin my work,” Jo complained, “why don’t you cook dinner today?, and I’ll wash the dishes, so you can text with that guy if he replies to you by the time we’re done eating.”

“I’m gonna ignore the fact that it was your turn, Jo” she pointed out but made her way to the kitchen anyway, “and you better wash, dry, and put the dishes back in the cabinets.”

Cooking was the perfect distraction, and the glass of wine she drank while they were eating helped her loosen up just enough to check her phone without feeling like she was getting back some important results.

Charlie: It’s in Canada Charlie: Sulphur Mountain Trail! Charlie: I like your smile btw

She smiled with excitement when she opened the app and saw those three messages, and just as she was about to respond, Charlie sent another one.

Charlie: How was your day??  Y/N: It was good, pretty relaxing actually Y/N: Yours?? Charlie: Great! I went hiking with a friend, so now I’m just chilling at home Y/N: I’m assuming you’re into hiking, don’t you??? Charlie: Hahaha yeah you’re right Charlie: I guess I enjoy being outside, it keeps my mind occupied

Y/N: I get it, I’m not really into outdoor activities Y/N: I mean Y/N: I don’t mind going on a hike once in a while, but I prefer reading, painting, or playing some music  Y/N: To keep my mind occupied 

Five texts in a row. Was that too much? She didn’t want to appear intense, but she also didn’t want to send just one massive text and type it for way too long.

Charlie: You play an instrument?? Charlie: I love music Y/N: Yeah I play the piano Y/N: I just don’t have one with me now, so I haven’t played in a while Charlie: Oh! That sucks! Charlie: When I moved here I think I packed my guitars first and then the rest of my stuff

Y/N let out a soft laugh at his text, he did seem like the kind of guy to pack random stuff before things that he might actually need. She should’ve done the same, she missed playing the piano, and now that she was miles away from her parents’ house it wasn’t like she could just go and play. Especially because she didn’t even know how to drive a car.

Y/N: Should’ve done the same if I’m honest Y/N: Where are you from? You said you moved here

After reading his answer to her last question, she groaned in embarrassment because it was the most obvious answer, and yet she didn’t notice it.

Charlie: I’m Canadian

She lost track of time talking to him about things they both enjoyed doing, what was their favorite movie, favorite musician, and to her surprise it was so easy to talk to him about small things like that could help you a lot to get to know another person. Y/N got startled when Jo touched her shoulder to get her attention.

“I’m off to bed, babe,” Y/N dodged when her friend tried to ruffle her hair as if she was a little kid, “don’t go to bed too late.”

“I won’t mom,” she replied jokingly, “sweet dreams, Jo.”

With a heavy sigh, Y/N typed a message, telling him that she needed to get some rest and that she was hoping they could keep talking the next day.

Charlie: Do you mind if I ask you for your number?? Charlie: I’d love to call you or FaceTime with you if you’re okay with that

“Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered, wishing her best friend hadn’t gone to bed already. Of course, she wanted to give him her number, but was she supposed to give her number to the first guy she talked to on Tinder? “fuck it, I’m doing it.”

Y/N sent him her number and after telling him goodnight, she closed the app and got ready for bed. She really had a good feeling about this whole thing, and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was, because the feeling started even before they even matched. 

Maybe it was just fate doing its work.