#i think it was supposed to act as a moment of peace and quiet from the a plot; but with those sections being so short its not evenough time

[coles-scythe]

Ngl ever since I watched TADC, Pomni has been rotating in my brain like rotisserie chicken. Feeling silly, might make her an F/O.

[satellite-evans]

Caught in the Act

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his wife, his muse, are interrupted by his mischievous sister Eloise during a private painting session.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: fluff, Eloise being a tease

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The Bridgerton residence was always buzzing with activity. Whether it was the younger siblings running through the halls or the older siblings preparing for yet another social event, there was never a dull moment. Amidst this lively chaos, Benedict Bridgerton found his moments of peace and creativity in his art studio, tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate.

It was in this sanctuary that he often invited you, his beloved wife and muse, to pose for him. Today was no different. The soft afternoon light filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Benedict stood at his easel, his eyes intensely focused on the canvas before him. You reclined on a chaise lounge, draped in a delicate, nearly translucent gown that accentuated your natural grace and beauty.

"Benedict," you murmured, your voice laced with a hint of anxiety, "are you sure it's not too risky to do this here? Anyone could walk in."

He looked up from his work, his gaze tender as he regarded you. "We’ve done this before without any issues. Besides, the light in here is perfect, and you look absolutely stunning. Trust me, my love, everything will be fine."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, but if we get caught, I'm blaming you."

He chuckled, a deep, soothing sound that always managed to calm your nerves. "Fair enough."

The room settled into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft swishing of Benedict's brush and the occasional rustle of your gown. You admired the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand moving with practiced ease. It was in these quiet moments that you felt closest to him, sharing a connection that went beyond words.

ust as he was about to add the finishing touches, the door to the studio burst open. Eloise Bridgerton, ever the inquisitive and outspoken sibling, strode in without a second thought.

"Benedict, have you seen—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. "Oh."

Benedict froze, his brush hovering in mid-air. You quickly pulled the shawl you had draped over your shoulders tighter, your cheeks flushing with mortification as you realized just how exposed you were.

"Eloise!" Benedict exclaimed, clearly flustered. "Ever heard of knocking?"

Eloise's shock quickly gave way to a mischievous grin. "I didn't realize I needed to knock in my own home. But now I see why I should."

You buried your face in your hands, feeling utterly mortified. Benedict, on the other hand, looked equally embarrassed. He set his brush down and moved to stand protectively in front of you.

"Eloise, what do you want?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I was looking for a book," she said, still grinning. "But I suppose it can wait."

Benedict sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, it can. Now, if you don't mind—"

"Oh, don't worry," Eloise interrupted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'll leave you two lovebirds to your... art."

With that, she turned on her heel and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You and Benedict stared at each other for a moment before you buried your face in your hands again.

"I can't believe that just happened," you groaned, your voice muffled.

Benedict gently pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm so sorry, my love. I should have been more careful."

"You think?" you replied, half-joking, half-serious. "I am never posing in this house again. That was mortifying."

Benedict hugged you tightly, his arms offering comfort. "I promise, next time we'll find somewhere more private. But you have to admit, it does make for a memorable story."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself. "I suppose so."

Later that evening, the Bridgerton family gathered for an informal dinner. The aroma of roasted meats and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the sound of cheerful conversation and laughter. You sat beside Benedict, your hand resting comfortably on his under the table.

Eloise, ever the mischief-maker, caught your eye and winked. You felt a blush creep up your neck as you recalled the earlier incident. Benedict squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin.

"So, Benedict," Eloise began, her voice dripping with innocent curiosity, "how's your latest painting coming along?"

Benedict shot her a warning glance, but she merely raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. "It's coming along quite well, thank you," he replied evenly.

"Oh, I'm sure it's wonderful," Daphne chimed in, not noticing the undercurrent of the conversation. "Your work is always so impressive."

"Indeed," Anthony added, his tone more serious. "You've truly found your calling, brother."

Violet Bridgerton, ever the attentive matriarch, picked up on the tension. "Benedict, dear, you should show us your latest work soon."

Eloise leaned forward, her tone light and playful. "I suppose it's easier to be passionate when you have such a... captivating subject. Isn't that right, sister?"

You nearly choked on your wine, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—um, well..."

Benedict shot Eloise a warning look. "That's enough, Eloise."

Eloise just smiled sweetly. "I'm only saying, you must find it very inspiring."

Violet's eyes twinkled with understanding. "Eloise, that is quite enough. Perhaps you should leave your brother and his wife in peace."

Colin, always quick to join in the fun, leaned back in his chair. "I'd love to see the painting. It must be quite the masterpiece if it has caused such a stir."

yacinth, always eager to be part of any conversation, piped up. "Can we see it, Benedict? Please?"

Gregory, not to be outdone by his younger sister, added, "Yes, show us! We promise to be quiet and not interrupt next time."

You buried your face in your hands again, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Oh my goodness," you murmured, mortified.

You truly never felt so embarrassed in your entire life.

The conversation shifted to other topics, and the rest of the family seemed unaware of the underlying tension. You couldn't help but steal glances at Benedict, admiring his composure. Despite the earlier embarrassment, you felt a deep sense of pride in being a part of his world.

After dinner, as the family dispersed, Benedict took your hand and led you outside to the garden. The night air was cool and fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers. He guided you to a secluded bench, where you both sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry about Eloise earlier," he said quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You shook your head, smiling. "It's alright, Benedict. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

He chuckled softly. "True. Still, I wish we could have more moments just for us."

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "We will. And until then, I'll cherish every second we have together, even the interrupted ones."

Benedict turned to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. "You are my muse, my love. And I am forever grateful for you."

The moonlight cast a silvery glow over the garden, creating a perfect backdrop for the tender moment you shared. Wrapped in each other's arms, you felt an unspoken promise pass between you—a promise of love, support, and a future filled with countless more beautiful moments, whether they were stolen in secret or shared with the world.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA # 35

Who will he be tonight? that’s the question.

Imagine dis…

It's been a while since I last posted here and even though I am late on the trend the song would not leave my head ( due to my gremlin of siblings) and you are now here to suffer with me.

MWAHAHAHAHA

…

Bruce was stressed, not because of his nightly duties nor his exhausting job as the CEO of Wayne enterprise. He got his license to foster children by the skin of his teeth through legal channels, he was so close as to use his privileges as the richest man in Gotham to get his license also to be able to foster Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Apparently despite his playboy persona aka “Brucie Wayne” just entering its social debut almost made him almost impossible to foster Dick as the social worker that had been assigned to him is also one of the few social workers in Gotham that takes their job seriously.

Bruce knew that his budding playboy persona, the carefree “BRUCIE Wayne” should be buried, he could replace this mask of his with his philanthropist self but he couldn’t just immediately change it would and will raise whispers on why, but what could be the reason?

Just as he continued scheming a knock broke his train of thoughts and entered Danny Nightgale, the calm and efficient secretary who had worked before with Lucius Fox ever since he had been hired. Danny, from Bruce’s file on him, son of two leading ecto-biologists in the world, a quiet kid who grew up in a city from nowhere, had a bad accident that left him with a slow heartbeat, discovered that one of the last two purple back gorilla is female and thus avoiding total extinction. Doesn’t have much media presence due to their hometown being the home of the former ghost hero Phantom who had vanished the moment that the anti-ecto acts had been re-appealed…

…

Bruce approached Danny with a pitch and handed him a nicely drafted contract. The agreement was straightforward: pretend to be Bruce's adoring partner in public. It was the only way to change the public's opinion, to show the world a stable, dependable, responsible Bruce Wayne who was ready to be a foster and maybe a father.

…

As years went by this arrangement had been beneficial to both parties.

Danny now saves more money, and despite having one of the highest salaries being paid all went to his rent to the nicer parts of Gotham. It had so many insurances as well security measures to ensure the tenants are safe, but the downside having most of his paycheck going to the rent itself. Now he has a permanent house that is large and free food that is made by the greatest cook that ever existed.

Bruce is less embarrassed about putting on a show for the public, he seems to take on the air-head mask whenever his supposed “lover” is around and near him, turning him into a bumbling mess whenever the “love of his life” is around him. He also secretly took great pleasure whenever those annoying journalists asked nonsense questions which he answered in his most obnoxious voice spiel away how world peace is attainable if all just gave their own Danny’s.

…

Each generation of Batkids saw how Bruce had a crush on Danny yet kept fumbling himself and reminding himself that all of this was just part of the contract. Sure each kid knew of said contract that was made for Dick’s sake but said the reason for said contract wanted to rip that thing ages ago and into pieces the moment he wanted to call Danny Dad.

Though each child that resides in that manor noticed some inconsistency within Danny’s schedules, not only that they have just recently discovered that while Danny loves to chat there are still personal things that he hadn't delved into aside from the information that was already in his files. Of course, there is also his weird avoidance of the vigilante group of Gotham, especially Batman, despite being proven to the public both in and out of Gotham that Batman is trustworthy, Danny still held wariness to said vigilante.

You’d think that after years of exposure around the Wayne’s Danny would have already discovered the cave all on his own. But it seems that every time are inches away discovering their secret an emergency or urgent priority was flaring from the Wayne enterprise that only he was needed to solve the said problem.

After weeks of Tim’s continuous intake of a very worrying amount of pure caffeine, espresso shots, and 10 different brands of energy drinks they have finally connected the dots.

Danny is a secret FBI agent planted in Gotham to catch Batman and his group in the act of breaking the law and to disband the whole spiel about being a hero and vigilante. Sure the JL and the sudden rise of heroes and vigilantes that popped up around the world that are not government affiliated made those who sat at those red velvet chairs nervous as they don’t have any active say or word as to what crimes to focus on and so on. There are reasons why Amanda Waller is still in power and still allowed to roam free with funds after funds to continue her work despite being continuously caught by the JL.

Now it is up to them to change Danny’s mind and abandon his mission so that they can finally stop seeing Bruce act like that “Brucie” persona, that they thanked the gods had been immediately vetoed, towards Danny.

…

Alfred sits down in one of the manor’s libraries with a cup of tea in one hand a book in another with another small pile on the side with a teapot ready to refill himself another cup.

He sighs at the drama that seems to unfold to his eyes only.

Ever since Master Danny had been integrated into this household he had found more free time than he could ever imagine. The young man would always find ways to outpace Alfred when it comes to housework to the point it had become their little game to this day. As much as he supports his ward/son, Master Bruce needs to gather all emotional intelligence he has left and confess to Master Danny.

But that wasn’t the live soap opera that it seemed to unravel.

His grandkids are set and believe that Master Danny is a secret agent who is here due to a mission related to the vigilante group stationed in Gotham.

Alfred adores all of them, he did but sometimes he wonders if the title World’s Greatest Detective is to be added to his arsenal of titles.

Alfred knew that Master Danny wasn’t just an ordinary secretary but he was also the Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, how did he know of this?

He simply walked in on Danny changing from his human self to that otherworldly creature that looked too regal to be a normal being, and so clues that were the littlest of things that he had always chalked up to the angle of the light seemed to begin clicking in place.

Alfred was a bit miffed when he learned that Master Danny might have been cheating when it came to their little bouts of cleaning the manor but he now stayed quiet as Master Danny still didn’t know of the quote “furry brigade” unquote are the Wayne’s, and based on Master Danny’s past rants he will have his little laugh when the truth comes out, but until then he will drink his tea in peace as the drama in Wayne manor seems to unfold.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[honeytae]

the right choice - jk

pairing: college student! jk x college student! oc

genre: fluff, friends to lovers/mutual pining

summary: for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

warnings: loosely based off the song yes or no, mutual pining but they’re both so clueless, IT’S SO OBVIOUS, it’s finals season so OC is stressed tf out, this jk is such a boy but he’s so sweet, he calls her pookie, OC is affectionately fed up with him but oh well, there’s a santa hat appearance, the tats and lip piercings are here to stay, vulnerability grosses the OC out, hand holding is the norm, SUSPENSE, kissing, teeny tiny bit of making out at the end

word count: 4.6k

the air in your dorm room is uncharacteristically quiet. you can almost feel that the peace won’t last long in your bones, especially with your best friend jungkook sitting a mere foot from you.

jungkook was known as the most extroverted introvert on campus. quiet at first, but once you made it into his inner circle, you were in for endless spur-of-the-moment spontaneity and long nights full of utter chaos. for now, though, you enjoy the comfortable, delightful silence in the otherwise overstimulation of your brain.

unsurprisingly, the silent scrolling of your thumb along your phone screen is soon interrupted by an oversalted pretzel smacking you on the knuckle, sadly falling to your bedspread.

“ew, jungkook!” you whine, retrieving it from your duvet cover and swiping the salt grains off the previously clean fabric. you shoot a warning look at the man sitting opposite you on your bed when he dares to snicker while watching you clean his mess.

“are you twelve?” you ask while popping the pretzel into your mouth, jungkook smirking as he leans forward to rest on his elbows

“you love it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows to get you to crack a smile.

“yeah, whatever,” you relent, sliding your phone into your hoodie pocket.

it’s almost like any other tuesday you two spent in your dorm. the only difference is that you have nothing but time since classes are canceled with the impending blizzard outside. there is a uniquely calming air with no assignments forcing you to sit at your desk and keep you there the rest of the night.

you set your chin in your hand as you gaze out the window, the sound of jungkook’s foot repetitively tapping on your bed frame fading into the background as you watch the flurrying snow catapulting down to whichever surface it finds first. it’s funny, you think. you used to love the snow as a kid, count down the days until the next snowstorm struck. but then you got old, you suppose; it became a stressor for you, another thing you had to deal with rather than indulge in.

“hey, what’s up with you today?”

you blink a few times after registering jungkook’s voice closing in on you, finally breaking eye contact with the window and glancing over at your inquisitive friend.

you barely suppress a snort when you realize he has a Santa hat on his head, when the fuck did he acquire that?

but as usual, it’s a ploy to get you to break a smile, and it works.

“am i acting weird?” you wonder, shifting forward so you can smack the fur ball at the end of his hat, the impact making it lay over his other shoulder. you barely stifle a laugh at the abruptness of the action, jungkook overdramatically cocking an eyebrow at you as you pet it down the right way again.

“you’re just,” he waves his hands around, gesturing wildly in an attempt to convey what he can’t verbally, “distant, i guess,” he settles on.

you suppress a smile at his struggle to express himself, an oddly charming trait you’d gotten to appreciate over the time you’d known him.

“sorry koo. i’m just a little out of it, i guess. i haven’t had much of an attention span since finals started,” you sigh, jungkook humming to himself before curling his lips up to touch his nose. it was a quirk of his you’d noticed years ago, one that meant he was thinking. it had you equally excited and terrified at the same time, because jungkook’s ideas were never… simple.

you raise your eyebrows as you watch him stand up from his seat on the end of your bed, making his way across the room and collecting his coat and yours from the hooks on your door.

“what are you doing?”

jungkook doesn’t answer you with words, instead, he just drops your coat beside you and quickly starts digging in your closet to toss you a hat.

“if you make a mess in that closet, you’re cleaning it,” you remind him, rolling your eyes at the immediate clatter noise punctuating your words.

“oops,” he mumbles, standing up and waving you off before you can say anything else. “it’s fine, i put everything back!”

you don’t fully believe him, but you know he has more respect for you than to leave your closet a complete disaster, so you hope for the best.

“if you say so,” your voice ends on a higher note, giving away your skepticism as you roll the hat on over your head.

“to answer your question, we are getting out of here for a while,” he finally explains the sudden transition from your lazy day, “you’ve been studying way too hard. you’re literally smarter than most of the class, you have no reason to stress out as much as you do about this stuff,” he shrugs, and you try to ignore the way his words make your chest warm. it’s nice to hear it once in a while, you suppose.

“should we even be going out there? there’s an advisory out for like, the whole area,” you gesture out the window where the snow billows on, staring at jungkook as he holds out your jacket for you to put your arms into.

you do, hesitantly. he does the same, stating “we’ll make it quick, don’t worry,” leading you to the door where you both step into your boots.

your lazy afternoon is evident by both of your sluggish movements. despite the heaviness of your limbs, you feel a certain buzz whenever jungkook hatches an idea. you always, always have fun with him, no matter what’s on the agenda.

today is a rare day where school and work aren’t interfering with your respective schedules, the first one in about a month. you feel a little guilty about that, to be honest.

admittedly, you sometimes get so in your own head that it becomes easy to forget about calling or texting. luckily for you, jungkook is pretty good about staying in touch. he almost always stops by on his way home from class to give you snacks to get you through your night lecture, he sends you stupid memes at all hours of the night to remind you of your synched sense of humor, and makes a habit of facetiming you whenever he witnesses something so cool you just had to see it too.

spying him out of the corner of your eye, the fondness melts right off your face when you realize he’s still adorning that dumb santa hat. his hand extends to the door handle, and your eyes widen in panic as you say his name.

“hold on,” you said, reaching out for the door, “i am not stepping out with you in this hat,” you gesture to the red monstrosity covering jungkook's head.

“what? no way, the hat is staying,” he reaches for the door again, unbothered and ready to step out before you slap your hand against the door.

“jungkook, please,” you begged, staring into his twinkling eyes as he laid his hand over yours on the door handle, an impromptu staring contest starting between you two.

ah, yes. another thing that bonded you and jungkook was your stubbornness. neither one of you settled without a good fight.

“i am not leaving here until you take that hat off. also you need to promise me we aren’t doing anything illegal,” you extend your pinky with a determined knit of your eyebrows.

“i pinky promise,” he grins as he lazily bends his pinky around yours, “but the hat stays on, pookie.”

“okay then,” you act as if you are about to kick off your shoes as you walk back to your bed, grinning when you feel him wrap his arms around your waist to pull you back to him with a whiny “nuh uh!”

“yeah, huh! we are not walking around like santa and mrs. clause right now,” you huff, eyeing the way the hat sat on his head closer as you leaned back on his chest. you hate that he actually makes the hat work for him, but it doesn’t surprise you at all. on anyone else, it would look plain stupid. jungkook has the magic touch, though; every new style, hobby, and passion he tries looks good on him.

“fine, scrooge!” he relents, “but i get to walk you to the rest of your finals looking like this,” he poses, melting into a grin when you sigh in defeat.

“see! i can compromise,” he practically sings as he tosses the hat over to your desk, holding the door open for you and following you out into the hallway with a toothy grin that voices his triumph.

you shake your head in mock disappointment, unable to stop from grinning as you pat down your coat pocket to make sure you have your key with you before pulling the door shut.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t embarrass me in public today, you doofus.”

and he hasn’t, surprisingly. but by the time you get to your destination, which jungkook deemed top secret information, you are presented with another issue. the sun is now setting and the winds are starting to pick up at a brutal pace.

“this better be worth it,” you shiver, and you swear jungkook’s teeth are chattering beside you, but you honestly can’t tell with his puffer hood so far over his face and the pelting ice coming at you from all directions.

jungkook may respond but you don’t hear it, not when he grabs your hand and hisses at the nipping breeze, making the executive decision to lead you across the crosswalk to get into the parking lot.

when you finally look up from the ground, you squeeze his hand in excitement, spying a sign on the door with ‘Bakery & Cafe’ at the forefront.

jungkook eyes you when you uncharacteristically squeal, chortling to himself when you whisper an awe-struck, “heaven.”

“enjoy it, this is the only heaven you’ll get int- okay, okay!” he bellows out a belly laugh when you rip your hand from his and recoil it to your chest, letting him reclaim it with a huff.

“you know, sometimes i think you need a clamp on that mouth,” you purse your lips at your friend, who merely hums in response as he opens the door for you to step into the warm air of the cafe.

you both sigh at the contrast in temperature, shuffling further into the establishment to eye the menu.

“find a spot and i’ll order us some good shit,” he delegates, rolling his neck to look at you when you laugh through your nose.

“some good shit? i swear to god, you better not order the whole menu again. i got way too sick to even function last time we went out!” you remind him, jungkook grinning at the memory from last semester.

“hey, all that mattered was that you enjoyed it! trust me though, i wouldn’t do that to either of us again,” he says, your confused gaze softening as he lets his bottom lip protrude in a perfect pout. goddamn your best friend and his insane duality.

it was one of the things that intrigued you the most about him. your first impression of jungkook was that he looked scary, to be honest. the only color he ever wore back when you first met was black, he had a lip ring hooked over his bottom lip, and what looked like a skeletal hand tattooed on his forearm.

however, all of your expectations were proven wrong when you got paired to work with him on a project halfway through your first semester. he was softspoken and relatively reserved at first, but once you cracked his initial shyness, he laughed a lot…and in reality, he was insanely dorky.

“i was the one with the stomachache, koo,” you remind him, leaning against his arm as you waited for the person in front of you to finish ordering.

“yeah, but i had to go to class for a week without you! professor jung almost ate me alive,” he shuddered at the memory. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, directing them sideways to look at the man.

“anyways, i was just gonna order some hotteok,” he proposes nonchalantly, but it’s obviously feigned as he knows it’s one of your favorite snacks from childhood.

he smirks when you gasp and grip his arm, immediately bobbing your head in excitement.

“okay,” he grins, “i’m serious, go pick a spot. i’m paying tonight,” he wiggles his eyebrows, taking out a stack of cash from his latest weekend gig.

“wait, seriously? no way,” your brows knit together, taking a step back to eye him skeptically when he nods. “we always go halfsies. what did you do?”

he merely squints his eyes and shoves his shoulder into yours, instinctively reaching his arm around you when you sway with the force.

“i didn’t do anything. it’s christmas, stop questioning my kindness,” he sasses, pursing his lips as he crosses his arms stubbornly.

“oh!” you gasp, placing your hand over your heart, “in the spirit of christmas!” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your words, and jungkook can’t help the grin on his face from spreading wider by the second.

still, he rolls his eyes. “whatever dude, you suck,” he says, but his actions contradict his words when he reaches over to pick a stray string off of your hat that was annoyingly hanging over your nose.

with that, he moves forward to take his place in line, with you scooting off to find a window booth across the cafe.

when you’ve sat down and taken your bulky winter coat off, your gaze wanders out to the blistering snow again. you notice it’s coming down harder, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to your exams tomorrow, wondering if those would end up being canceled as well. it would be nice to get another day off with jungkook, you think.

you sit there for another few minutes before you are broken out of your finals trance once again when a mug is set down in front of you, sweet chocolate immediately filling your senses as you inhale the steam coming off the liquid inside of it.

“cocoa, too?” you smile, lifting the mug to observe the whipped cream melting further down into the cup.

“duh! now eat up,” he gestures to the steaming plate of hotteok in his hands, transferring it to the table as he takes a seat next to you.

you snort at the way he immediately digs into the sugary pancakes, eyes closing in satisfaction as his head bobs from side to side in approval at the taste. you love the way his nostrils flare and he almost looks angry when he thoroughly enjoys food.

“damn, these are good,” he voices his thoughts, both of you humming in unison when you take your first bite at the same time he takes his second one.

“no shit, i literally need this recipe,” you murmur, savoring the sweet spice of the cinnamon swirled through the pancake dough.

“you distract them and i’ll steal it,” jungkook responds through a mouthful of food, round cheeks lifting when you nod your head along to his plan.

“it looks like it’s getting worse out there,” he notes after a moment of silence. he notices your plate is empty and serves you another portion onto your side platter.

“okay, grandpa,” you tease, the man pulling a look of mocked offense as you continue, “if you recall, someone just had to pick today of all days to go on an adventure off campus,” you quipped, raising your eyebrows at the man as he smirked down at his own hot chocolate resting in his palms.

“and someone has to get you back safely too. so i’d appreciate if you enjoy what you can here and we can bring the rest back whenever you’re ready,” he purses his lips stubbornly, corners of his mouth turning upward when you roll your eyes despite taking another big bite of your snack.

when all is said and done and you are both slipping back into your winter gear, there is a noticeably significant amount of snow that has accumulated on the ground since you were last out.

“shit,” you say at the same time as you step outside the warm cafe, doom looming over you in the form of gray clouds unleashing a mix of snow and hail. you loop your arm through jungkook’s when you lose your footing on the slick pavement beneath you, cursing out of shock.

“aish!” he hisses at the vision of you nearly going down, gripping you tighter when you regain your balance. he struggles to hold onto the box of leftover hotteok for a moment, but ends up rebalancing it in his palm before anything disastrous can happen. and it’s for his own good. if anything happened to that hotteok, you wouldn’t be able to let it go for days.

“you good?” he checks, reaching to pull your hat further over your ears from where it had slipped up in your near fall.

“good,” you respond, “it’s definitely time to get home, though.”

somehow, you both navigate the rest of the parking lot without another fall. clinging onto each other, you make it to the cement which has luckily been treated already to be less slick.

other than the occasional curse at the wind and snow blowing into your faces, it’s quiet. the serenity and comfort you’ve been dreaming of the past few weeks.

you feel guilty for neglecting jungkook for this section of the semester, especially knowing he probably doesn’t even hold any resentment against you for it.

“hey, thanks for getting me out today,” you murmur, jungkook’s hum nearly silent with the pitch of the wind.

“thanks for letting me,” he responds quietly, “i know it wasn’t on your agenda for today.”

you shrug your shoulder against him, “you know how i get at this time of the year. worried about making the right choices.”

he nods, having witnessed the many dilemmas you’d had over your major with the difficulty of your classes.

“but i’m pretty much always up for anything you have planned,” you grin, knocking your shoulder into his playfully. you whine as he wraps an arm around your neck, bringing you in closer to him with a deep laugh.

shuffling along the sidewalk, the gravitational pull between you is so natural that you don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten. his arm is a comforting weight over your shoulders, his head dipped low to brace against the wind.

“i like it when you get spontaneous on me.”

you hear but don’t see the smile in his words, gripping onto him tighter when the wind whips at you again.

his cheek turns to the left and bumps against your own, and you both chuckle at the clumsy action.

you lift your eyes from the ground and over to him, your breath catching in your throat when you realize your noses are touching.

you’re closer than you’ve ever been before, and you realize you quite like this view of jungkook. you can see all of his tiny moles decorating his face, and you get a close-up of the scar along his cheek from when he and his brother got into a fight when they were kids.

for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

he’s looking at you like you put the moon in the sky, and all of a sudden you’re leaning into each other further. your eyes break contact when they flick down to his lips, something you’d only ever done in what you thought was your darkest dreams. you feel like you should do more logical reasoning in this moment, but your thoughts instantly slow down when his hand tentatively rests under your jaw, tilting your chin up and tilting his head to the side.

time seems to stop, and all of a sudden his lips press against yours and all the breath gets knocked out of your chest, gripping the rough material of his jacket to stabilize your spinning head.

and even though you’re certain it’s cold enough to get hypothermia and frostbite, you find yourself feeling a warmth spread from your chest to your fingers and toes.

kissing jungkook feels so right, which feels so morally wrong. he’s your best friend, your favorite person. you’ve promised yourself to not do anything to jeopardize what you two have, and yet everything is telling you to keep going. what is happening right now?

but then he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth against him, and you swear your brain short circuits when his tongue meets yours. he tastes sweet from your treats back at the bakery, pulling you in for more. you wrap your arms around his neck and hear him let out a quiet hum, a sound that makes you tighten your grip on him.

he kisses you like he has nothing to lose. like someone who’s not only ready to risk it all on a bet but someone who is doubling down.

you eventually pull away to breathe, immediately regretting doing so when you’re met with ice pelting your face. jungkook winces when he sees the way you cringe, taking his gloved hand to rest it on your skin in an effort to protect it.

when you open your eyes again, there’s a look you’ve never seen in jungkook’s big brown orbs. they have a softness to them, which you soon realize is vulnerability. he’s always so calm, cool, and collected that you almost can’t believe you’re seeing him in another state.

his lips are still wet from your kiss, proof and evidence of what you two had just done.

“oh my god,” you murmur, taking a piece of his hair and removing it from its current spot draping over his eye.

and oh my god is right, because his brown eyes are sparkling at you right now and you swear he holds the entire galaxy of stars within them.

“would you cringe if i said that i’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he asks, grinning when you fake a gag.

“me too, or whatever,” you timidly admit after a moment, warmth instantly flooding to your cheeks when his face lights up in response, wrapping both arms around you with excitement.

“you like meee,” he sings, and his voice is so loud that you know a few people are turning their heads to look at the two of you.

your cheeks continue to burn up involuntarily, the impact of his words making you feel even more flustered.

“oh my god, be quiet!” you laugh, jungkook watching with amusement when you turn around to continue the brief walk up the path to your building. nevertheless, you slip your hand into his waiting palm, giving it a soft squeeze that he reciprocates.

you both quicken your pace when you see that someone is holding the door open for you, grateful you don’t have to dig in your pockets with your numb fingers for your key into the building.

one would think that an event such as kissing your best friend would make things tense. jungkook, however, seems to be in his normal state, singing a song you’re unfamiliar with as he escorts you through the threshold of your building.

walking through your dorm, nothing feels weird. surprisingly, you feel relief, like a huge burden has been lifted off your shoulders. you don’t know if it was the hotteok, or the man currently leading you back to your room that changed your demeanor today. but you had a feeling it was the latter.

the immature part of you dreads the moment you step into your dorm and have to talk about what happened and what it means for your relationship. you know your therapist would scold you, but you can’t help but feel like your first instinct is to tame the fire that kiss brought within you.

you’ve never known jungkook to be casual with anyone. he has a big heart, with a lot of love to share. still, you know you can’t expect any more than that spur-of-the-moment kiss from him. it just wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

before you can get any further inside your head, you’re brought down to earth by a squeeze of your hand and a soft call of your name. you realize you’re now in front of your door, jungkook leaning against the wall and looking at you fondly.

you stare back at him, realizing for the first time that he was just as deeply in his own head as you were. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can practically feel his insecurity radiating off of him in this moment. you hate it.

you press your thumb to smooth over the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows, the action inciting a sigh to escape his mouth.

“is this the part where you tell me to go home and fuck off, pookie?” he bites his lip and quirks an eyebrow, and you can’t help the way your eyes follow his mouth’s movement. his lip rings glisten in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, and you smile, but give another roll of your eyes as you pull out your key card to your room.

you hear him snicker quietly beside you, the soft noise fueling the feelings you’re so accustomed to with jungkook. he always has loved the way he can make your eyes roll so easily, the little shit. you would never say it out loud, but secretly, you love it too.

his question still hangs in the air between you, but you love the art of suspense. plus, the way his bottom lip is trapped under his teeth right now is so attractive you wish you could frame it.

the high-pitched beep of your door followed by the unlatching of the lock is all the permission you need to end his misery. you pull him closer to you by the bottom of his jacket, guiding him back into your room and basking in the surprise evident across his features.

in that moment, you toss all your worries out the window and realize what you want in an instant. jungkook, who never fails to make you feel included. who takes care of you when you’re ill, who drives miles for you just to get that soft serve ice cream you crave on random winter nights.

you don’t know why you’ve tiptoed around this for so long.

but when your hands settle on the base of his neck once more, and you briefly feel his breath wash over you as he dips down to meet your lips for the second time, you know you’ve made the right choice.

butterflies erupt in your stomach when his hand goes to support the back of your head, and the kiss grows from one of a tender nature into a higher intensity that makes you cling to him. your head goes dizzy and your knees grow weak, his soft lips opening against you as his fingers massage needed relaxation into your head.

swallowing each other's breaths and noises when the kiss gets heated, you’re not even phased when jungkook clumsily drops the box of hotteok on your floor.

pulling back to admire the man, you smile when you realize he’s doing the same. his eyes bounce over your features, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath to finally answer his question.

“quite the opposite, actually.”

[bitterchocoo]

Hiiiii I've been scrolling to much in Tumblr thankful that I found ur acc, got hooked with ur writing when I read the jing yuan fic <333

so may i request dr. Ratio or sunday with a gojo m reader 👀, maybe enemies to lovers (anything is fine ^^) , the plot is yours to freely choose <33

Charm You Later~

Sunday | M. Reader as Satoru Gojo [Jujutsu Kaisen]

----------

"I hate that man I hate that man! …but oh cara mia..how I love him~"

----------

Oh how he hated that man. He would always waltz towards him and act all buddy-buddy, and he'll do it with that cheeky grin. How annoying.

And that voice. Oh how he dreaded it. Hearing it hurts his ears.

Just who does he think he is? Getting all chummy with him. A member of The Family! Just who does he think he is?! Another thing he doesn't understand.. is how Robin seems to be fond of him. How could his sister like someone like him? He's a complete man child!

When he asked about it, her response was. "He just seems to be a fun person to be around."

Fun? Him? He's more like a headache! An annoying headache!

Especially that one time...

.

.

.

.

.

The door of the theater bursts open, revealing a tall man wearing sunglasses. He casually walks towards a specific seat, his hands in his pockets and a cheeky grin on his handsome face. Acting like he owns the place.

Some were swooned by the handsome man, some were whispering amongst each other, some looked at him with annoyance.

Just who does he think he is?

"Hey! Sunday!" He called out casually, raising a hand as if his tall figure and "grand entrance" didn't already attract anyone in the theater.

----------

How humiliating! To have someone as brash as him to call out to him like that in front of everyone! Sunday swears he wanted to kill him right then and there.

"What's with that look~"

"Shut up."

"Hey I was just asking an innocent question.."

The man pouts as Sunday turned his back against him. How grumpy.. why can't he just lighten up a little? A dream is supposed to be sweet, not bitter. "Come on~" Letting out a sigh, Sunday mumbled something under his breath before speaking up. "That's enough, [Name], please leave."

"Come on Sunday~ Why must you act this way to me.." [Name] teased as he continues to pout at Sunday for being a "meanie" surely he hasn't done anything bad, right? [Name] is positive he hasn't done anything that might result in such a behavior from Sunday. So.. he decided to continue with his teasing.

The other's teasing will always annoy Sunday to no end. He always acts so cheery, plus that cheeky, weirdly adorable grin on his face that doesn't seem to be leaving him anytime soon. He's looking down on him. Of course he is! His tone, no matter how friendly it is, still has that faint hint of arrogance in it. The way he acted is just so.. condescending.

Then again.. what did you expect from someone who always claims he's the strongest.

"Is it something I did? Hey, Sunday." [Name] wrapped his arms around his shoulders, leaning down a little to do so. "Sunday, tell me!" Poking the man's cheek as he kept pestering him like a child wanting their parents attention. With a groan Sunday slapped the man's finger with his wing. "Stop that."

[Name] pouts before finally leaving Sunday alone.

Finally.. some peace and quiet..

----------

Death comes for us all. A common knowledge. And yet, the moment that.. thing attacked..

He can't help but feel.. off..

The sight of that thing attacking him.

How the self proclaimed "Strongest" struggles in the face of Death. Then again.. no one could escape Death itself. But still.. he can't help but feel a wave of dread at the sight of it. When he saw him after the incident, there was one thing that crossed his mind..

'That blank, dead-like expression doesn't suit him.'

Where's the smile that always decorated his face? Where's the captivating glow of his eyes?

"What's this?" The other asked rather blankly, a tone that doesn't suit him one bit. "..a get well soon gift." "I'm not sick."

Letting out a sigh, Sunday continues to shoved the small box toward him. "Just take it." [Name] look at Sunday from over the top of his sunglasses, eyeing him for a moment before taking the gift, mumbling a small "Thanks."

'That look doesn't suit him.' Sunday continues to think of the same thing over and over again. The glint of mischief isn't there anymore... he can't deny it anymore.. Sunday had missed the bastard's mischievousness and his playful attitude.

"What's this for anyway?" "Stop that."

Taken aback by the sudden harsh words [Name] look up from the gift and stare at Sunday. "I beg your pardon?"

Sunday? Raising his voice like that? That's unheard of.. why is he acting this way? What happened? Is this truly Sunday? Thousands of theories run through his head as [Name] tries to think of a reason for the calm and collected Sunday to lose his temper like that.

"I said 'stop that.'" He huffed crossing his arms. Yeah no, [Name] isn't taking that attitude. "What's with you all of a sudden?"

"That's supposed to be my question you idiot!" Sunday suddenly raised his voice as his temper took the best of him. "Wha—Hey!" "Just shut up and listen to me!!"

[Name] glared at the winged man. Him? Telling him to shut up? Who does he think he is? Ordering the "Strongest" like that? And where is all of this coming from? It doesn't make sense! Not with how calm and collected Sunday usual is!

The winged man grabbed the other by his collar as he's getting fed up with their little argument. But before [Name] could protest again, he was silenced by something soft placed on top of his lips. A sweet kiss.

Huh?

Did he just..?

Stunned by the kiss that came out of nowhere, [Name] looked at Sunday with wide eyes. He was not expecting that... how is he supposed to expect that coming from the person who he annoys and argues 24/7?

The two blushed as Sunday looked away for a moment before speaking up. "That look doesn't suit you."

"Could you please... give me a smile instead..?"

[fruitsoxs]

this is long so i'm putting some under read more

BUT- Thinking about Astarion with a generally good tav/reader. I’m thinking it’s sort of an enemies to lovers type deal, where the two of you start off the adventure by bickering constantly over what to do. You always want to do the right thing, and it absolutely infuriates Astarion. He pushes back whenever he can, because your little rag tag group has other matters that are much more important than saving children, or rescuing girls from some hag. But of course, he’s always outvoted. You are easily annoyed by his constant complaining whenever you want to do something good, and so of course the two of you are almost always at each other's throats.

“Oh I’m sorry that I actually have a heart.” “You should be- we have other matters to attend to. Like, well I don't know, the thing inside our heads!”

However, there are moments where Astarion comes to learn that he genuinely likes your kind heart. When you easily forgive him for…hiding what he truly is. Or how you lie when a hunter is out and about. There are moments where you tend to his wounds in complete silence, gently wrapping a bandage around his arm. And when he says a quiet thank you, you simply nod and move on. 

He’d never say this out loud, and of course continues to act as if you are nothing but a nuisance, but he starts to appreciate you little by little. You are not just some naïve adventurer who will drop dead if someone were to ask. You are the strongest person he knows, someone he could depend on if needed. He watches you fuss over the group, solving everyone’s problems. He sees how much work you put into making everyone comfortable, and how little you ask for in return. And while he thinks you’re a little stupid for it, he also recognizes that most of his disdain comes from the fact that he wishes he had someone like you to save him when he was at his lowest. If good people like you exist, then why did nobody come to his aid? 

So maybe he gets less snippy. He doesn’t roll his eyes every time you put the mission on hold to do favors for others. Maybe he starts to fall for you little by little.

And maybe it all becomes clear to him when you get hurt.

It was supposed to be an easy little mission. A peaceful meeting that you were sure you could talk your way out of (it always surprised him how easily you could lie your way out of fights). And of course, Astarion and you just had to get in a little spat beforehand, so he stays at the campsite while you’re off bringing peace to the world. He doesn’t expect to see the others come rushing into camp, dragging your weak body along. He doesn’t expect to see you so pale, fighting for your very life-

He rushes to your side, demanding to know what happened. Something went wrong, and somehow you ended up stabbed with a poisoned dagger in the midst of a fight. He feels his insides churn when they lay you down on a bed roll, and he watches as you give him a weak smile.

“Hey fangs.” you manage to get out, entering a coughing fit shortly after. Your smile almost fades when you notice how scared Astarion looks. It isn’t like him to be so worried. You don’t like seeing him like that so you whisper. “It’s gonna be okay-” And gods does it infuriate Astarion that you’re still trying to help others, help him, when you’re basically dying by his side. So he snaps a bit.

“And how do you know that?” He bites at you, pain and anger in his voice. You flinch a bit, letting a silence take over for a second. You slowly reach out to grab his shaking hand, your grip so weak. “Just trust me.”

He sits by your side, barking orders at everyone else- demanding someone heal you. He’s a bit of a prick as Shadowheart kneels down to tend to your wounds. He seems so angry, but everyone can see the way he’s clinging to your hand. Everyone knows what’s going on. And after you’re healed, and left to recover, he stays by your side. 

When the rest of the camp is asleep, he gently pushes your hair out of your face while looking you over. He’s just now realized how hard he’s fallen. While you’re protecting everyone else someone has to protect you. He may as well be that person.

[midnightarcheress]

Simon takes you to the museum.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: implied ptsd. 4 | gold rush masterlist.

the timid yellows creeping up the tree leaves announce the beginning of autumn, crisp air filling their lungs as they walk through the Tuileries Garden. Simon tries his best to act calm, focusing on how you make your way on the footpath around the octagonal lake, but the city’s sounds and the bustling crowd in the park keep him on edge, fingers rhythmically touching the dense fabric of his jeans for a faint sense of safety in the present.

despite his anxiety levels spiking, he still manages to appreciate the view. the remaining flowers from warmer days paint the grass with vivid colours and, on the horizon, he catches a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower on the other side of the river. the sun shines brightly in the sky, almost casting a golden halo over your head, the tender heat warming his brittle heart in a brief moment of peace.

“the museum is that way,” you look back at him, pointing to your left. ever since Daniel complied with your request for time off, you’ve been researching the perfect spot to spend your free afternoon, ultimately landing on the Orangery Museum. at least a museum is supposed to be a quiet place, Simon thinks.

“did you know that this building was actually a greenhouse?” you ask, walking through the entrance, “it was created to store the citrus trees from the garden, that’s why this side has so many windows.” your head tilts to the riverside facade and he silently hums, acknowledging you.

his lips involuntarily curve at your enthusiasm. the two of you don’t talk much on the daily, but it was endearing to see how happy you were for being surrounded by art, and he didn’t mind hearing you babble about the paintings. or about anything, honestly. the sound of your voice was soothing, pacifying the nerves that had been eating his insides since he stepped out of bed. 

“oh, those are my favourite!” you tug on his forearm, pulling him into an oval room with huge panels, the tiny inscriptions on the side reading ‘Claude Monet’, “those are water lilies, y’know, the flower? he did two-hundred-and-something paintings based on a pond in his property, can you imagine that?” 

“they’re pretty,” he mumbles, observing the thin brushstrokes. art is far from his strong suit, but he liked how the paintings captured the fickles of light and how they lacked the usual restrained aspect seen in other pieces – they seemed relaxed, floaty, free. so different from your life. maybe that’s why you loved it so much.

you drag him through the whole exhibit, explaining little details of the museum, the garden, the techniques, and he listens closely, his attention never leaving your mouth, completely entranced by your words. he didn’t feel the weight of the duty nor the need to protect you there, it was a different world. your own little bubble, and you allowed him inside. 

his hand brushes on your shoulder while exiting the building, guiding you through the door. he’s not keen on being outside again, sirens already buzzing in his brain with the idea of potential threats lurking in the shadows.

trying not to let the perpetual concern flood his mind, he clears his throat and sparks up conversation, ignoring the rules pairing over his head. no talking, no touching. “so, how did you learn so much about... all that?” he gestures back to the museum.

“oh, uhm, i used to paint,” you start, hiding the smile sneaking up your lips at his unexpected interest, “took a course in art history too.”

his eyebrows raise. “used to?” 

“yeah, when i had more time to myself,” he notices your sigh, studying the sudden solemn expression that outlines your face. your beautiful face, “but i wasn’t very good at it.” you chuckle, downsizing your abilities, and he snorts, not fully believing you. it’s the first time you’ve seen him showing any sort of emotion besides indifference, and he prides himself on the surprise gracing your features. 

it was nice, walking with you. not behind you. did he enjoy the view? yes, but this – him by your side, arms swinging together, matching steps – was real. genuine. it almost felt like a date, not that he would ever dare to say it out loud. everything was perfect.

until it wasn’t.

it happened so fast. a loud blast on the street made Simon wrap an arm around your waist and pull you to the nearest alley, one hand firmly pressing you against his chest and another holding your head, broad shoulders covering your body as the intense blood pump on his ears muffle the deafening ringing rattle. he stays in the position for a while, blown-out pupils frantically darting around and searching for any indication of danger. 

he takes a deep breath and his head dips down to you. for a minute, the only thing he sees is the gash on your forehead and your bleeding eye. you’re paralysed, partially because your brain is still catching up on what’s going on, and partially because his tight grip doesn’t admit any movement. 

“Ghost? what’s wrong?” the scared tone of your whisper readjusts his vision to what really is in front of him – you. safe, without a single scratch, tucked in his arms with a strength he hadn’t used to this extent in a long time. and he feels bad, pathetic even, because nothing happened. the blaring sound was a car crash in the avenue, not a grenade destroying everything in sight.

“it’s nothing” he pulls back, averting your eyes like the plague, “i'm sorry.” stupid. 

you frown, overlooking his avoidance with utter sympathy, “are you alright?” he grunts, unintelligibly, reverting to his cold stance and nodding. you don’t buy his half-answer, but decide that it’s better not to pry.

he knew it was coming, the uneasiness brewing in his gut was only waiting for the right trigger to crawl up his oesophagus and spill all over you. 

the rest of the walk is quiet, with him returning to his position a few steps back. never should’ve left. you sneak glances at him, checking, but his gaze seems too far gone. next thing he knows, you’re both on the jet, Daniel snoring in the front seat, him looking out the window, lost in thought. of course i'd fuck up. 

he barely hears when you approach him, trembling fingers handing him a card. the card. you’re trusting him. he glares at you for a second, hazel irises shifting between your spooked appearance and the paper. ‘don’t like you travelling without me, darling. i’ll be waiting for my souvenir  – your prince.’

i've never been to france lol. and yeah i had a monet phase when I was fifteen.

little fun fact - the painting in the fic masterlist is part of his water lilies series.

[dawnoftime22]

caught up in work.

| N.R

Warnings: None!

Summary: As Nat relaxes in bed, you worked for hours at your desk. She gets concerned, and it ends up with a success of getting you to take a break.

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

A/N: this fic has no talking, just quietness and calmness. I suppose its because I wanted to put non-verbal situations for the times I need them, but I hope you can still enjoy it :)

ALSO— I've hit 100 followers?!?! thank you so much!! oh my god?? it may be a small number, but it makes me incredibly happy :') I love each and every one of you, and I appreciate your support sm <33

| Started on 04/12/2022 |

| Finished on 17/09/2023 |

Masterlist

“My love, you have time to rest.”

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

As you worked on your desk with papers scattered and a slight pressure coming on your head from the stress, Nat was sitting quietly on the bed.

She would change her activities every now and then. Either reading a book, looking at her phone, or watching a movie. Nothing else, just relaxing, since she's already finished her missions and reports.

But she was also waiting on you to finish. The redhead knows how focused you were on your mission report and some missing work files, but it's been far too long. You needed a break.

Right as she was thinking about her way of making you relax and stray away from work, rain started pouring down heavily outside.

You could barely see anything. The windows seem to be getting fogged up. But you had your headphones on, a way to keep your mind focused and not be in a horrible mood as when you work in silence, which is worse than working with music because at least it was somewhat of a distraction from the stress.

So, you didn’t notice it started raining. But Nat knew you liked the rain. Another thing aside from music. Perfect. Now she has an amazing plan.

She at the moment, had her hair sprawled on the pillows of the bed, flickering her eyes between the windows and you.

If you didn’t seem so stressed, she would think you looked peaceful, and right in your environment.

Nat held a soft gaze before getting up from the bed to make her way to you. Your eyes were practically glued on a piece of paper filled with writing.

She turned the desk chair easily with you on it, considering her strength. For once in all these hours, was the first time you actually looked at something other than your desk. Your eyebrows instantaneously relaxed when you saw her eyes.

She smiles adorably with her hands on the arms of the chair. She pressed a kiss on your forehead, one that seemingly made the ache in your head not kill you at least. You would think she had superpowers from how much she can make you relax. Although it was a rather random affection, you didn’t mind it.

Maybe she just missed you. Then you realized you didn't know how much time had already passed.

The hands she placed on the chair’s arms, trailed off to the headphones on your head. Silently questioning if she could take it off of you. You slowly nod in acceptance, so she pulls it down and let it rest around your neck. In which, made you hear the rain.

You turned your head to the window, to only see a fogged view with raindrops making thin clear paths. All you heard was white noise before, acting as rain. You thought it was just the fan being loud. But it wasn’t.

You smiled, loving the noise of the rain on your ears before turning back to Nat, who had her head tilted with a loving look on her face. Although she liked the rain too because of the calmness, the way you had looked at the window, made her heart jump with joy. But it didn’t beat the way you looked at her, and it only made her heart practically almost burst.

She took one of your hands that was sitting in your lap, and gently pulled. You understood the signal, and stood up from the chair.

You knew she was trying to say you've been sitting in the same spot and staring at papers for too long. You would agree. With your headache, the ink on the pages were starting to look uninteresting to you, and you were spacing out more.

Leading you to the bed, she sat back on it, opening her arms for you to comfortably snuggle next to her. It was getting quite chilly in the room, but she was so warm.

Nat picks up the tv remote nearby, moving her hand into your eye view tiltedly. You notice, and since she didn't do anything, you assume she was wondering if you'd want to pick. But you gently push it away, knowing you wouldn't be able to focus on whatever you'll be watching anyway.

She hums softly for a bit, and decides to put the remote back down. Perhaps it's nicer to have nothing. Everything, and nothing. Everything, having you here in her arms, the rain, the comfortable silence, the warmth mixing with coldness...Maybe not nothing.

The redhead tangles her fingers in your hair, while the other lingers at your back. Her nose accidentally bumped against the side of your head slightly, before leaving a kiss at the top of your head.

It was a calm atmosphere. One you wouldn't be able to get enough of. The rest of the world doesn’t matter right now. Something that was worth it for any difficult day you had to go through. And though that's not the point at the moment, all that matters is knowing to be calm even in stressful times. To live, to live, not only to survive.

The ambient background noise was like a perfect lullaby. Sleepiness was starting to creep up on you and it was obvious. But you welcomed it.

Sighing in relief from the off time from work, you started to slowly close your eyes, her presence known by the gentle touches and the weight of her hand on you. It only took a few minutes until your breathing softened.

She was staring out the window, spaced out. Once she looked back down, your eyes were closed. Now you looked so much more peaceful. She gazed at you so lovingly, you were like a work of art, with the scene of the bedroom, and the window covered in raindrops behind you.

Although it would be nice to take in this moment more, with the rain, she too, was falling asleep along with you.

The both of you had mostly finished your work for today, and there was no more missions. Only time for relaxing.

No more worries.

Now it'll all be okay.

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

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@notevenanna @ludasgf

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 8: On Angel Wings

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 7

I can't thank you all enough for the support i've gotten on this fic! this fic is what made my blog big and i just can't believe it's been so well-received. don't worry, it's a happy ending!!! also I'm sorry this took so long...I hope you guys like the ending. I'm super nervous my writing quality on this story went down, but maybe I'm too critical of my work. in any case, I hope you guys enjoy!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

you weren't sure how much time passed when you woke up in a warm bed. you blinked open your eyes and rubbed the exhaustion out of them. you looked around the room, and noticed konig sitting right by your side.

"Engel?" he asked softly. you had never heard his voice so tender.

"what happened?" you asked. you tried to sit up, but were immediately struck with a sharp pain in your chest. konig gently pushed you back down on the bed.

"lay down, Engel. you are hurt. you need to rest."

you looked down at your chest, and realized that it was wrapped with bloodied bandages. your dress was nowhere to be seen, but the blanket covered your lower half.

"what happened? where are we?" you asked as you could feel panic rising.

"we are somewhere we will never be found by anyone who wishes to separate us," konig said quietly. "you..." he couldn't finish his sentence as he cleared his throat.

"i what?" you asked.

konig shook his head. "you protected me. it is not supposed to be that way. i am supposed to protect you, and i couldn't." konig's head hung low in shame, his eyes now completely obscured from you.

you suddenly remembered everything that had happened right up to when the sword fell. your heart raced.

"i...my body just acted on its own. it was like i didn't have control over myself. it just happened." you thought for a long moment, and it was silent. konig's head still hung low.

"i don't regret it, though," you said firmly. konig looked at you in confusion.

"i promised to protect you, and here you are, laying in a bed soaked in your own blood," he said quietly as his eyes glassed over.

you smiled. "it's okay. i would do it again if i had to. but where are we? what happened to the knights?"

konig was silent for a little while. you closed your eyes.

"we are in france now. a little countryside town. after the soldiers patched you up, they realized that you weren't lying. they agreed to pretend that it never happened. but they will be back in a week, to make sure this is what you really want." his voice was quiet as he spoke.

"so...my parents and siblings still think i've been kidnapped?"

konig nodded.

"no. they need to know that you are not in the wrong. they need to know that i chose this."

"i don't know if that's a good idea," konig said after a moment. "they will say I brainwashed you."

"i don't care what they will say. if they don't believe me, that's on them. i will have the soldiers take a letter to them once they go back, and i will never speak to them again," you decided.

konig stared at you for a long while. he gently took your hand and stroked it with his thumb.

"i am sorry things turned out this way," he whispered as he looked at your hand.

you shook your head. "i wouldn't have it any other way, konig. i'm with you, and we can have our own life here. what is this town like?"

konig still stroked your hand as he spoke. "there are lavender fields surrounding the town, and a small forest to the east. there is an empty plot of land where a house can be built. the people are kind, and it is quiet and peaceful."

you smiled. "it sounds perfect."

konig brought your hand up to his lips as he lifted his hood to kiss the back of your hand. "i will make it up to you."

"there is nothing to make up, konig," you assured him with a smile. "everything will be okay now."

konig shook his head. "i will give you the life you deserve, my princess. i will build a house for you, and you can have as many gardens and animals as you like. you will have the finest sheets once again, and you will never want for anything."

you smiled. "as long as i have you, i will never want."

...

several months later

You walk out of the cottage that Konig had built for you and him on this warm morning. the birds are chirping and a gentle breeze blows over the lavender fields to the right of your cottage. you smile to yourself as you breath in the scent of lavender, and hear your sheep, ducks, and goats already waking up for the day. your garden, fenced off with bushes and a trellis with roses, blooms brilliantly in the morning sun.

konig quietly comes up behind you and wraps his strong scarred arms around you. he nuzzles your head gently with his nose and smiles underneath his hood.

"good morning, my Engel," he whispers gently to you. he speaks those four words to you every single morning. some may regard it as just a morning custom, but you know that konig never wastes any of his words. those four words every day, reserved only for you.

"good morning, konig," you smile up at him and gently hold his arms as they're wrapped around your waist. your goats bleat a few times, and you and konig share a gentle laugh.

...

life has been peaceful ever since the hell you and konig had gone through. you sent the letter to your parents, telling them the truth about your relationship with konig: how you weren't brainwashed, you didn't like being a princess, and this was the life you chose for yourself. your parents begged you to come back, their handwriting betraying their nerves and worry. but you never wrote to them again.

konig built this cottage for you in no time, and you two built your life together in this small countryside town in France. you helped out at the local bakery most days, tended to your farm animals every morning, checked your garden several times a day. you cooked warm meals for konig, which he always ate gratefully.

konig was no longer an executioner. he decided to leave that part of him in the past for your sake to build a peaceful life with you. the strong, calloused hands that once gripped axes to chop people's heads off now gripped saws and hammers and other tools to build houses, make horse shoes, craft swords. konig never spoke about it, but the gentle look in his eyes that grew as he got accustomed to normal life was something you always noticed and loved.

you two make a modest living; no more silk and fine china, but you couldn't have cared less. living life every day, doing what you wanted, you forgot about the endless want that material possessions creates. for the first time in your life, you are happy. you no longer had to worry about perfectly adjusting your hair, tying your corset, or matching your dress to the occasion each day. your hair changed each day based on your mood, and your clothing was simple and comfortable. no one told you where you had to be or when, you no longer had to watch every word that was spoken. you are free.

...

you hand konig his lunch basket for the day with a sweet smile, packed with fruits and bread and some salted meat. he rubs your head affectionately and kisses your forehead through his hood.

"danke, Engel."

"have a good day," you smiled up at him as you hugged his muscular chest. you gently tap his chin over his hood, and he smiles at your little signal and presses a chaste, gentle kiss on your lips. you watch as he descends the porch and walks to town.

you weren't sure exactly where you and Konig's lives were going to lead, but among your farm animals and garden and cottage and his arms, none of that mattered. the only thing you cared about was living each day with konig, living a normal life. you taught him what it meant to live, to breathe, to create things that made life better rather than take it away.

and even though you are no longer a princess, you will always be his angel.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug, @alexdoesntlikeyou, @helmipss, @11aplacesange11, @rouge-swears, @pasta-m1lk, @ghostinvenus

[elena-reina]

Say Something - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: Hellooooooo! I miss your imagines so much but do take your time of course! Could I please get one where draco and a Slytherin reader are a thing but he has been ordered to kill you by voldemort because not only are you Harry's twin sister but also draco's gf/weak spot so he treats the reader terribly because he really does not want to hurt her and he thinks breaking up with her can somehow convince voldemort that you aren't worth it. can there be a lot of angst but also some fluff? -Anon

Warnings: angstyyy

Y/N/N: Your nick name

You sprinted after Draco as fast as you could, silently thanking Merlin you were able to see him before he saw you.

Draco has been ignoring and neglecting you for a while now. Every time you attempted to talk to him, he would disappear before you could even get to him. And in moments where you finally got to him, he always excused himself claiming to be "busy."

At first, you thought it was a fluke. You went from constantly being around each other to almost never seeing each other.

Sure, Draco and you would fall into sour moods and avoid each other over stupid reasons. Almost every couple does at some point, but you would eventually talk about it. And there was always a catalyst, but this time it was different. Draco never acted like this before, and if something was truly bothering him, he would’ve told you by now.

You tried to distract yourself and focus your mind on anything else other than him. If he wanted to talk to you then he needs to be the one to make the first move since he was the one who became distant in the first place. You would constantly remind yourself of this but it was no use.

The thoughts plaguing your mind only worsened as you went about your days because all you could focus on was him. You couldn't help but think if something happened between the two of you and you were just too oblivious to see it?

Being Harry Potter's twin sister brought a lot of baggage due to the feud between the two of them, but Draco ultimately had nothing against you. And he always made sure of that from the moment the two of you started dating.

"This has been absolutely ridiculous! Will you talk to me!" you shouted, grabbing onto his Slytherin robes and yanking him around, frustrated with playing this game of cat and mouse.

Draco stopped momentarily, irritated. A grimace was plastered on his face as he remained silent.

"For the past few months I’ve been worrying over you constantly!" you shouted, jamming your finger angrily into his chest with each sentence, "I have no idea what I’ve done to you and all you have been doing is ignoring me! For Merlin's sake, we're supposed to love each other and this is how you treat me!?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking away.

"If you wanted to break up, why don't you just man up and say so instead of acting immature and avoiding me! I thought you were better than that!" you yelled, tears brimmed from the corner of your eyes. You wiped them away, scowling at him, and closed your eyes quickly composing yourself.

Draco's jaw clenched, eyebrows knitted tight in anger. His lack of response was pissing you off more and more as each second passed.

"Your silence is speaking loudly for yourself, is that what you want?!" you stomped your foot, "SAY SOMETHING!"

What happened next surprised you. Knowing how Draco tends to act in your past arguments, he would explode just as much as you. But he didn't this time. Instead, he scoffed and took a step back, creating even more distance between the two of you.

"I don't love you and I have never loved you. Thought you would've taken the hint by now, but you're just as stupid as your brother," he spat lowly, making you flinch, "Just leave me alone and never speak to me again, Y/N."

Your mouth hung agape as your named rolled off his lips, taking a step back this time.

The halls were quiet, which otherwise would've been considered peaceful if it weren't for this given moment.

You looked at him with deep hope to hear him say he was wrong. To hear him say that he didn't mean it, and this was all some cruel prank. That none of this is happening. But he didn’t.

With as much strength as you could muster without breaking down, you spoke.

"I see."

You turned on your heel, finally allowing the tears to flow down your face, and left a very heart-broken Draco alone in the hallway.

You didn't know where your feet were carrying you too, you just knew that you needed to be anywhere else but here. Maybe you'll grab your broom, and soar off to Merlin knows where. Maybe you'll grab some Floo powder and allow it to take you somewhere random. Hell, even just wandering different grounds out of Hogwarts seemed like a good plan.

You continued walking through the castle, deep in your own thoughts until you heard familiar distant voices. Walking down the curved staircase, the voices grew louder and you faced the back of your brother and Hermione deep in discussion.

They hadn't noticed your presence just yet as they continued their conversation.

"I keep having these dreams, Hermione, and I'm telling you that it's all somehow connected. I can't quiet explain it right now but... I hear him more and more each day."

She placed her hand on his shoulder, as they gazed through an opened window, facing out towards the ocean in Hogwarts.

"I believe you, trust me. We've just somehow got to," she paused, "Y/N? Are you alright?"

Hermione saw you out of the corner of her eye when she began speaking to Harry.

Harry's head snapped at the mention of your name, and he whipped around. The smile he had on his face quickly faded when he took in your appearance. With no questions asked, he rushed forward and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. You wrapped your arms around him just as tight, letting out a sob into his shoulder. Hermione also rushed forward, hugging you, brushing your hair down with her hands.

"Y/N," he whispered, lovingly, "What's happened?"

You shook your head. "You're not going to care," you cried.

You really didn't feel like being lectured by Harry and getting the 'I-told-you-so' speech. Harry always hated Draco since day one, and somehow the satisfaction of him rubbing it in your face wasn't gong to make you feel any better. You just needed the love and comfort of your brother and friends.

"Nonsense, Y/N/N, tell me what’s wrong. Please, I don’t like seeing you like this.” He said with a worried expression. You knew he wouldn’t stop asking if you didn’t give him an answer.

You sniffled, staring blankly ahead in his embrace.

"Draco and I broke up."

Harry tensed against you. His hatred for Draco ran deep, and as much as he hated seeing the two of you together, he now hated him even more for breaking your heart.

"That pathetic, foul little git," Hermione cursed, "You deserve so much better, Y/N."

"Let's take a trip to Hogsmeade and get some butter beer, yea?" Harry suggested, pulling you out of the embrace and staring into your eyes. He wasn't going to make you talk about it unless you wanted to and you appreciated it. You nodded, and linked hands with him.

~*~

Almost another month and a half had passed and each day felt like a drag. However, you must admit you don't feel as hollow now as much as you did a month ago.

Harry made you feel a lot better, and constantly tried to keep your mind off things. You began spending even more time with him than you did before. Not to say you wouldn't hang out with your own twin, but it was different when you were dating Draco. And actually, you had been more busy with going on Harry's missions with Voldemort than you thought you would've been, some more dangerous than others.

Which, of course, was not in Harry's plan to distract you but that's just what was going on at the moment.

Some days were harder than others, and a part of you still feels like you needed answers or some sort of closure, but another part of you is trying its best to move on.

Since your break up, you unironically hadn't seen Draco as much as you used to when you were actively hunting him down. And when you did, it was only quick glimpses of him turning around a corner or exiting from somewhere.

Did you actually believe that Draco no longer loves you? No. You don't just wake up one day and decide you no longer lover someone. You knew something had to have happened and the more you came to terms with it, the more you just wanted to understand.

It wasn't until one night, you accidentally spent a longer time in the Slytherin Common Room than you had anticipated to. You were sitting on the couch facing the fireplace studying for an upcoming test when you heard shuffling.

Draco silently closed his dorm room door, and made his way down the stairs. Fixing the creases in his suit, he headed to exit the Slytherin Common Room.

You silently closed your book and turned around.

I shouldn't say anything. Just let him leave and go to bed - you thought to yourself.

However your lips worked faster than your brain and before you knew it, you spoke.

As he passed the main room and was about to exit, a voice he's been longing to hear snapped him out of the dark thoughts clouding his mind.

"Draco?"

He stopped on his heels, his back towards you, freezing. He was not expecting you to be up at this ungodly hour at night, let alone even in the Slytherin Common Room. You should've been in your dorm, asleep. He didn't dare turn around, instead he kept eyes glued forward. Before he could take a step, you placed your book on the couch and made your way to him and placed your hand lightly on his shoulder.

You felt him tense up.

Sliding your hand down his arm, and to his hand, you attempted to entwine your fingers. Draco gave no reaction to this, and remained limp.

Staring at the back of his perfectly kept blonde hair, you could see his jaw tensing. He wanted to say something, but kept holding himself back.

"I know the last thing you want to do is talk to me... but I would really like some ans..answers," your voice cracked- you hadn't meant for it.

You took another deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "I promise to leave you alone but can I just know if I had done something that made you treat me like this?"

You were over it. You were over being angry and upset. You wanted answers, and as each day went by you grew more and more desperate.

You were at your breaking point, actually you were past it.

His hand twitched. He wanted to pull his hand out of your grasp, tell you to go away, and walk out this door.

But he couldn't. These months were just as hard on him as it was for you.

This time, you stepped around him, facing him face to face. His lips were turned upside down into a frown, but not the angry kind. He looked depressed; completely and utterly miserable. He refused to look you in the eyes.

He knew he was going to break any moment.

Reaching up, you hesitantly cupped his cheeks with both of your shaky hands. You furrowed your eyebrows, getting a good look at his face.

His eyes were bloodshot, dull, and sunken in, with heavy bags underneath them. His skin was pale, more so than usual, making him look sickly. He looks like he hadn't ate in days and his face was so cold and skinnier than how you remember him.

He closed his eyes, fighting the battle in his mind. You let out a deep breath that you had been holding in for what felt like a long time.

"What did I do to make you fall out of love so suddenly?" you whispered, each delicate word became more quiet than the last.

You would've expected him to snap at you or push you away by now, but him not doing so tacitly confirmed that you knew something was wrong.

Instead, his eyes began to water. You lightly rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs, as it felt like he lightly sank into your touch.

"I.." he began, with a shaky voice. You caught on that he was trying to stop himself from talking.

"Please," you begged, becoming as emotional as him, "Talk to me."

The silence in the room dragged on, and the tension only grew.

And then, he gave up. He lunged forward, suddenly pulling you towards him. He wrapped his arms around you desperately, not wanting to let go. It felt like every emotion Draco kept bottled up these past months were finally being released. His cries sounded so violent, you couldn't help but cry with him, missing being in arms.

"I can't," he cried into your hair.

"You can't talk to me?"

He squeezed you tightly, sniffling.

"I can't kill you. I won't."

You froze, your heart dropping.

"W-What?"

"He-He wants me to kill you," he sobbed, wetting your Y/H/C hair with tears, "But I won't!"

This time you lightly nudged him off of you, taking a small step back. You stood there, staring at him confused. Beyond confused, actually.

You inhaled sharply, lips twitching, trying to remain calm.

"What are you talking about? He? Voldemort?"

He silently nodded his head.

You're not sure what to say. You cannot say you're shocked Voldemort wants you dead. Hell, if he wants Harry then of course he's going to want you too. But what's confusing you is if this was the case, why wouldn't Draco have told you in the first place? Unless he actually planned to do it, but stopped himself?

As Draco attempted to get closer, you snapped out of your thoughts and took a step back.

"You're scared of me." he says quietly.

It might be true. You can't really tell.

Softly, he calls your name in an attempt to get you to look at him. "Look at me, please."

Your gaze locks onto his. He's unable to read your face. He looks around the open space of the Slytherin Common Room.

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

You scoff, gaining back some of your confidence, "I am not going anywhere with you. Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me right here."

"Y/N, I would never put you in harms way, trust me-"

"-trust you!? Now, you want me to trust you after all these months!?"

This time, he exploded. Not out of anger, but out of frustration.

"I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!"

His voice echoed off of the walls, you wouldn't be shocked if others might've been woken up.

"I have been trying to keep you safe this entire time," he choked, lowering his voice, "please."

This time you shut up, and bowed your head. He took that cue to begin walking.

The corridors exuded a serene aura when they weren't congested with student groups attempting to navigate their way around Hogwarts. Your footsteps on the chilly stone were the only sounds audible as you kept up with Draco.

The faint candles positioned on the walls provided only partial guidance in the extensive corridors. You trailed the corridors until you came to the top of the astronomy tower's stairway.

You followed him inside as he opened the hefty wooden door. Following him to the railing, he leaned over it facing the outside. You followed suit, alongside him keeping just a little distance between the two of you.

"I don't know how, but he found out we were dating," Draco began, keeping his gaze straight ahead, as the wind gently blew through his hair, "As you know, Voldemort wants your brother dead. He thought the best way to get to Harry was to get to you since you're his only family. He wanted to kidnap and use you to trap your brother."

He paused. His mouth was slightly ajar, like he was trying to find the right words to say.

"After finding out about us, he confronted me about 'hiding' you from him. So, rather than kidnapping you, he intended to kill you. But to punish me, he ordered me to be the one to do so."

The wind howled, blowing the trees, having the branches sway harshly, leaves flying all throughout the wind. Your heart began to pound as a fit of shivers shot through you, causing you to pull your cloak tighter around yourself.

"Never once was I ever going to go through with his plan. I thought trying to prove to him that I wasn't involved with you would've somehow made him change his mind. That if I could prove to him you meant nothing to me and your death wasn't worth it, but he didn't believe me. He could see right through me and threatened to kill me if I didn't kill you."

You anxiously bit your lip, this time turning to face him.

"To convince him, I had to convince myself I wasn't in love with you. I had to shut you out. I needed to convince myself that I didn't need you.. but I'll always need you. As long as you were around me, your safety was becoming constantly going to be in peril. I couldn't keep up with my plan if I was still around you."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

He let out a breath, that almost sounded like a scoff. "How could I? I thought it would've been easiest to make you hate me."

You don't respond. The words you wanted to say, abruptly got lost inside you, scrambling around as you stare at him in the quietness resting between the two of you.

"As much as I tried, Draco, I could never hate you," you frowned.

This time, Draco turned his head and finally locked eyes with you with what felt like in forever. His watery eyes softened.

Draco stepped closer to you, and reached for you, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck. His thumb gently pressed into your skin, making slow and deep circles. This is the closest you've felt to Draco in a while.

"You should," he whispered so quietly you almost didn't hear him. For a few moments, he just holds you. You're not quite sure whether he expects you to say anything else.

Without a second thought, you feel yourself leaning forward. He closes his eyes, fighting the pain in his mind. Your eyes flutter closed, the both of your lips so close to each other that you could feel the warmth radiating off of his lips without actually touching them.

“I love you.” You whisper, ever so slightly against his lips. He takes that as a sign to finally press your lips together. After months of being apart, the feeling of his lips against yours felt like coming home. He had been longing for your touch, he craved you every second of the day.

The kiss was desperate, as though he felt like he would lose you if he let go; a combination of fear, relief, and love seeping into the physical gesture. Draco moved his lips roughly against yours, you could taste the salt on him left from his tears, the same salty droplets still leaking from your eyes.  You deepened the kiss, grabbing onto the front of his shirt and balling it in your fists.

His hands slid down from your neck to your waist, pulling you closer as you raised your hands to his smooth platinum hair. You ran your fingers through his locks, lightly tugging.

Pulling away, you rested your forehead against his, brushing away the stray tears from his cheeks. You gave him a sad smile and kept one of your hands on his cheek.

"Next time, please, just talk to me. I would've been more understanding."

He nodded his head, turning his face slightly to press a kiss in the palm of your hand.

"I'm sorry, I was just afraid of-"

You shushed him. "You don't need to explain yourself to me anymore, I understand now. Moving forward, we need to work together through thick and thin, Draco. I knew being together wasn't going to be easy."

A small smile finally crept up on onto his lips, a smile you've been longing to see.

"I'll go through it all with you, Y/N."

Your heart fluttered, pulling him in once more for a long deserved kiss.

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 7

Beta if you're reading this, I'll see you in a bit!

Notes: talks of ableism and homophobia, it's not reader full blown trauma dumping but he's talking about his experiences as a closeted man with a controlling family. Check masterlist for previous parts.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

Pantalone’s demeanour immediately changes the moment the two of you are finally alone. The air in the room is no longer thick with tension, but as he offers you the last little piece of cake, you’re aware of a looming dread hanging over you. You’re aware the choice to finally stand your ground and defy your parents’ wishes, even if it’s just staying for dinner, will have consequences. Even then, witnessing Pantalone scold your parents like children was immensely satisfying, and makes your moment of recognized agency all the more sweeter. 

Speaking of sweetness, the cherry bublanina is delicious. You hum at the taste, and swallow down your mouthful. “That’s actually really good,” you say, “did your staff make it, or did you get it somewhere?”

“It’s homemade,” Pantalone answers, “but I believe the recipe came from an old cookbook one of my chefs owns. I’m sure it’s out of print by now, so perhaps I can ask them to write the recipe for you.”

“I appreciate it.”

Pantalone looks at you inquisitively. “Say, do you cook?”

“I can, I just don’t do it much,” you answer. “We have a couple chefs, and as you just saw, my mother is very… protective, so she’s never liked the idea of me handling knives or being around stoves.”

Pantalone cringes a bit. “I can imagine.”

“I get it to an extent,” you continue, “not being able to see anything that isn’t directly in front of me has way more disadvantages than advantages, but she acts like I’ll immediately forget something unless I’m looking right at it. I’m losing my vision, not my object permanence, I still know where the stove is because I’m not stupid.”

“Does this sort of… situation happen a lot?”

You furrow your brow. “The object permanence or barging in on my private outings?”

“Both, I suppose. I’m asking if she’s ever been this overbearing before.”

You click your tongue, and turn your head away from Pantalone. You find yourself staring at a painting depicting a field of flowers with mountains in the background. After a moment of trying to make out what the flowers are, you sort of snap out of it and remember he asked you a question.

“Um…” You furrow your brow and think of all the times your mother has been overbearing in your childhood. You count incidents in your teen years all the way until now, and come to a realization. “I think she’s getting worse.”

You see Pantalone open his mouth to respond, and then your words sink in and he remains quiet.

You go on. “Compared to when I was little, she’s incredibly overbearing. I don’t even think it’s like she’s just as protective as when I was little, but now that I’m older it feels suffocating. I think she’s genuinely becoming more clingy with me.”

“I… I see. I’m sorry to hear that?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” you say, “and honestly, I don’t really want to talk about my parents right now.”

Your host shrugs. “I suppose that’s fair enough. To be quite honest, I only asked out of courtesy. I put up with your father’s antics and burdens enough as is.”

You chuckle. “I’d tell you you’re lucky you don’t live with him, but it wouldn’t be that different from now, huh?”

“No, it would not.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Pantalone perks up. You hear it open, and hear it’s Fyodor. “Sir, the two guests are having an argument outside.”

You hide your head in your hands and groan. 

“Are they getting physical?” Pantalone asks.

“No, but it’s disturbing the peace and they’re not leaving.”

You hear Pantalone sigh. “If they don’t settle down and leave in the next two minutes, or if it does turn physical, get security involved.”

You presume Fyodor nods before he closes the door. You take a deep breath, humiliation washing over you and sinking into your pores. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why I expected them to be normal. I should’ve just declined the invite.”

You hear the scraping of Pantalone’s chair, and the clicking of heeled boots approaching you. You feel him right next to him, and jolt when his hand settles on your shoulder. You lift and turn your head to look at it, and here, you can see manicured nails, shining gemstone rings, and to your shock, how blemished and scar riddled the skin of his hand is. Some of them are small and neat, little cuts and scratches, but some are deep and painful looking, you’re not even sure what would have caused most of them. You can only assume the silvery splits on his knuckles are from old fights. What the hell happened to him?

“Would you care to see the library?”

You tilt your head up and see Pantalone smiling expectantly at you. “Oh, sure,” you answer. Pantalone steps back and lets you stand up from your chair. You push your chair back in before you follow Pantalone out of the room. Trailing behind him like a duckling, you find your pace instinctively slows down and your eyes drift back to the oddly unsettling art pieces he has lining the walls of the hallway. You want to be able to take in the macabre sight of them, which would be easier if you could actually see things normally.

Pantalone’s made considerable distance before he realizes you’re lagging behind. He stops, turning over to see you’ve now fully stopped, staring up at a particularly gruesome scene with some concern and confusion. He chuckles, joining you in staring up at the painting.

“It’s a lovely piece, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you reply, “love the use of red. Some say it’s the colour of warmth and love. I imagine it really puts guests at ease.”

He lets out a little laugh. “You know, perhaps I should have expected an author to have a little knowledge in colour theory.”

“It comes with the territory.”

“We’re almost to the library,” Pantalone states, “though we can stop and chat about art. I’m in no rush.”

You hum. “I’m more curious why all of your art is so… morbid.”

“I enjoy morbid art pieces,” Pantalone answers, “there’s something about the raw and visceral imagery that strikes a chord with me. Do you not enjoy it?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you reply, “I’ll read books about tragedy and horror every now and then, and I enjoy gruesome depictions in art as much as the next person.”

“But?”

You shrug. “I don’t think I’d put them up in every hallway, but that’s also my personal preference. If you like it, more power to you.”

“I’ve had a few members of staff say they’ve been startled by certain pieces when wandering the halls late at night,” Pantalone comments, “so perhaps that supports your argument better.”

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t even see them if I was walking around at night.”

“Right, no peripheral vision.”

“Oh, not even that.” You turn yourself so you can properly talk to Pantalone. “One of the other symptoms of my condition is night blindness. My eyes can’t adjust to darkness anymore.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you.”

“What are you… oh, oh.” Pantalone chuckles. “Very funny. I’m sure you make that joke a lot.”

“People take me going blind too seriously,” you say, “they’re always worried they’re going to upset me if they even bring it up. That or they try to baby me like my mother does. If I make fun of it, it kind of puts people at ease.”

“Well, going blind is rather serious, no?”

“I mean, yes, but if I’ve already made peace with it, then everyone else should too.”

The conversation continues as you and Pantalone make your ways down the hall. He glances at you over his shoulder. “Apologies if I’m overstepping, but doesn’t it scare you at least a little bit?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m thrilled,” you answer, “but you have to understand that I’ve known about this since I was eight. I’ve been living like this my whole life. Worrying isn’t going to make my eyesight better again, so I just have to grit my teeth, plan accordingly, and just keep going.”

“Fair enough.”

You follow Pantalone around a corner. “Besides, I can still see. I can’t see well, but I can see things.”

“What do you see, anyways? What does it look like for you?”

“Curl your index fingers and thumbs until they make two small holes, and then look through them. That’s pretty much it.”

“That sounds awful.”

“It certainly is.”

“Oh, here we are,” Pantalone says. He takes a step to the right and immediately disappears from sight. You turn to follow him–

Thunk! “Ow, fuck, shit.”

You hear Pantalone snort before he turns his laugh into a cough. “Are you alright?”

You rub your forehead. “It’s not the first door frame I’ve walked into, and it won’t be the last.”

“That was quite loud. Here, let me see…”

When you feel slim, calloused yet smooth fingers take hold of each side of your face, you immediately forget about walking into the door frame. He gently tilts your head up, and now all you can see is his face, and at this proximity you only see his face. He does not seem overly concerned, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. You nervously gulp, face growing hot. You’ve never had anyone this close to you, touching your face so tenderly, let alone another man. Not a man with striking eyes, with scarred, soft hands. Not a man who smells of black tea and leather scented cologne with notes of something floral. 

Your eyes flick down to his lips, for the briefest of glances, and then Pantalone pulls back with a cheery expression. “You have a slight mark,” he tells you, “but nothing that should bruise.”

You imagine you look incredibly and obviously flustered, and your brain is still reeling at the lingering feeling of his hands on your face. You somehow pull yourself together and clear your throat with the elegance of a brick crashing through a window. “O-Oh, good, that’s good.”

“With that out of the way,” he continues, “this is the library.”

Pantalone steps aside to let you properly step inside. Your head is on a slow swivel, taking in the magnitude of the room. It’s magnificent, truly. Walls with bookshelves packed full of books from the tall ceiling to the hardwood floor. In one corner of the room, you spy a liquor cabinet. There’s also a fireplace glowing red and gold with flames, and two armchairs with an accompanying end table, arranged symmetrically a comfortable distance away from the fireplace. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

You’re speechless, in utter awe of the room you’re standing in. You step further into the room, marvelling at the sheer amount of books. It makes the “private library” your parents have at home look absolutely pitiful. 

You hear Pantalone walk off. “Could I get you anything to drink? It’s a tad early for it, but I think we earned it for surviving that whole encounter.”

“Um… Oh, n-no, I’m okay for now,” you reply, still awestruck. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Enchanted?”

“Yes, thank you.” You turn to the direction his voice came from, and after a couple seconds of looking, you find him looking through his collection. He perks up when you speak. “How many of these books have you read?”

“All of them.”

You laugh. “Really? All of them?”

“A vast majority, at least,” he clarifies, “do you not believe me?”

“Would you be hurt if I said not really?”

“Absolutely shattered,” he teases, “I don’t think I would ever recover from the lies and slander.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, fine, I believe you.”

“Splendid.” He shuts the cabinet and gestures to the shelves. “You’re free to browse or take a seat. Dinner won’t be ready for hours, so if there’s anything you want to know or do, feel free to ask.”

“I don’t even know where I’d start…”

“I admittedly don’t read much romance,” Pantalone says, pointing to a shelf somewhere behind you, “but I believe I own some of the classics, and a few others.”

“Are any of them books I’ve written?”

“Not yet.”

“I figured as…” You blink. “Wait, not yet?”

He laughs. “I wasn’t aware of your work when I first met your father,” he explains, “in fact, the night I walked into your office was the same night I learned you were an author. I’ve since then heard good things about your writing, yet I couldn’t decide which book of yours I should read first, so I’m waiting for, what was it called again, Plucking Heartstrings?”

You feel your eyes widen and your face flush. “You… You want to read my new book?”

Pantalone gives you an odd look. “Yes? Did you think I sent the manuscript off simply because I felt like it?”

“You gave me this whole speech about using it to gain my trust and make my mother lower her guard, or something along those lines.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It wasn’t my only motive, and that was before today’s debacle. The point is I’m intrigued by your book.”

You feel your face grow warmer. “You are?”

“You ask that like I’ve said something unbelievable,” Pantalone remarks. “Honestly, I think most people would be naturally curious if someone they knew was related to an author, or an artist, or a musician. What little I’ve read of your draft, the fact it was accepted by the Yae Publishing House, and all this chatter and fuss about how this book is different and how you’d rather write books like this implies this is no low brow, poorly written smut or cliché riddled fairytale.”

“Well, it’s just…” You sigh. “If people saw you read it, they might think you’re gay.”

Pantalone’s laugh is especially loud, given the two of you are standing in the middle of a library. “I hardly see why that matters. I’m the richest man in the world and a Fatui Harbinger. My sexuality would hardly affect how the people already perceive me. Besides, I doubt me reading a book about two men is any more queer than you writing it. Hell, they’d probably assume the same things about either of us if it was a man and woman.”

“I… guess you have a point.”

Pantalone motions to the armchair closest to you, inviting you to take a seat. You do, and he does as well. The chair is rather comfortable, and you settle in nicely. 

“That actually brings me to something I’ve been meaning to ask, but was unsure how or when to bring it up.”

This can only be bad. “Alright.”

Pantalone crosses one leg over the other in his seat. “Aren’t you worried about your family, well, figuring it out when the book releases?” he asks. “I know you said your father won’t read your books, but I imagine the basic premise will make it back to him at some point, and I know your mother is going to read it.”

You feel a twinge in your stomach and an ache in your chest. Truth be told, that’s part of the reason it’s taken you so long to get the story out. You’ve spent nearly four years slowly poking and prodding at the idea before finally dedicating yourself to it because you feared what your family may think, both of the book and of you.

You think the look on your face conveys your worries, as Pantalone shakes his head. “You don’t have to answer, my apologies.”

“I-I had a whole plan,” you tell him, “for when this book released, because I know this will be seen as me coming out by everyone who knows me or reads my books.”

“Which was?”

“I wasn’t going to be in Snezhnaya when it was finally published.”

Pantalone quirks an eyebrow.

You continue. “I love my home here, but it’s just… with how my condition works, it’s a bit of a nightmare sometimes. The constant storms mean there’s not as much sunlight during the day and night seemingly falls faster. It messes with my night blindness. I’ve been saving up so I can move to Liyue, so I can actually go outside and enjoy some sunlight.” You shift in your seat. “I, um, also want to have a proper garden. I know I’m inevitably going to go fully blind, so I want to have something pretty to look at in my memories, and so I can at least enjoy the smell of flowers when I can’t see them anymore.”

At the mention of Liyue and flowers, Pantalone seems to immediately snap to attention. He appeared to be listening intently, but that really caught his attention. “Is that so?”

You nod. “That’s, um, mostly fantasy. It’s been hard saving up. I do have an inheritance from my late grandfather that was supposed to go to an Akademya education or buying my own home, but I also have to account for travel expenses actually moving to Liyue, getting items shipped over and then buying new furniture, buying my own food, and I’m paying for my doctors appointments and treatments to keep myself from going blind faster. As much as I love writing, I’m not at a point where I can actually live off of it.”

“You know, if you need assistance or advice, you can ask me.”

“I appreciate it,” you tell him, “but I shouldn’t trouble you.”

Pantalone lips suddenly curl into a smile. He leans forward in his seat, intertwining his fingers together. “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you?”

You look at him oddly, and then you remember Pantalone is literally a banker, and laugh. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“I am serious, though,” Pantalone states, “if you’re struggling to come up with a financial plan that fits your budget, that is a service we provide at the bank. If you want me to help you, though, you’re going to have to book an appointment ahead of time.”

You snicker. “Why not now?”

“Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m going to give you special treatment on my day off,” he teases.

You shrug. “Worth a shot.”

The conversation lulls. You hear the soft crackling of the fire, and find yourself looking around at the shelves again. Obviously at this distance you can’t see what they are, but you’re still very impressed by the collection. 

After another moment of quiet, Pantalone speaks up again. “So, why did you start writing?”

You clear your throat and look back at him. “I loved to read as a child,” you say, “I only had a few friends growing up, not including my siblings, so I spent most of my free time just reading. As I grew older, it grew into an interest in writing.”

Pantalone nods along. “Now, may I ask why romance?”

“I just like romance,” you tell him, “it’s cheesy, I know, but I enjoy stories about falling in love and finding your soulmate. My family would tease me about how they’re more for girls, so I would hide them in the dust covers of other books.”

“Like your reference material?”

You groan. “Yes, like my reference material. It is actual reference material, by the way, b-but I doubt you would believe me regardless.”

“Will it make it into your book?” Pantalone asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No, it won’t,” you answer, “I spent so long trying to figure out how the hell to even write it that it stopped being appealing, so instead it just fades to black. Let the audience decide what happens and it’ll probably be better than whatever I was trying to do.”

Pantalone smiles. 

You sigh. “Anyways, part of the reason I wanted to write romance is that after a few years of reading about blushing maidens and their prince charmings, I realized two things.”

“Which were?”

“Well, one, that I like men.”

Pantalone laughs.

“And two… I couldn’t find any books that were actually tailored for men like me. Nothing that wasn’t egregiously explicit or horribly distasteful, anyways. I figured if I can’t find anything to read, then maybe I should be the one to write it.”

You watch Pantalone’s expression change slowly with every word you speak. He stops looking so amused by your joke, actually taking your thoughts in. His eyes soften, as does his smile, and in the glow of the fireplace, the way he looks at you is so… warm.

“That’s really a lovely mentality,” he says softly, not a hint of condescension in his voice. “I’m sure someone out there will greatly appreciate it, and I’m hopeful that it will be a success.”

Your stomach flutters, and you hear and feel your heartbeat. You can’t help the smile that twitches onto your lips, that stretches across your face. You tilt your head down slightly so his expression doesn’t distract you. “Thank you. It really does mean a lot to hear that.”

“I mean it.”

You feel your heart in your chest and your throat. Why does he sound so fond when he says it?

A knock on the open door causes you to jump, Fyodor’s voice makes itself known again. “Sir, could I borrow you for a moment? The chef has a question for you.”

Pantalone sighs and stands. He smiles down at you. “One moment, please.”

You nod and watch as Pantalone walks across the library to the door. You hear his heels clack against the floor, growing quieter and quieter until they disappear completely. Soon, you are left in the quiet of the library alone.

You quickly bury your face in your hands as realization hits you at full force.

This isn’t a little crush, and it never was. You want Pantalone.

[pervspace]

This is my last Leon req i swear!! Perverted Leon who cannot get enough of m!readers thighss!! He can't help but dream of squishing them and fuckin in between them. It's not as good as the real deal tho ♡

warnings: nsfw, m.reader, pervert!leon, he’s like a desperate puppy :((, somnophila, kinda cliffhanger ending cause i lowkey wanna make a pt2 cause i love this sm aaaaa

word count: 797

note: aaaa i loved writing this please keep sending requests!!!

—

he felt ashamed of himself, he really was just a pervert. you and leon have been friends for years, you two shared a home, shared a bed, shared practically everything. you two were just friends though, that’s what was driving him almost mad. how was he supposed to act normal when his cock was threatening to jump out of his jeans whenever he saw your thighs, the way they would expand whenever you sat down, how they jiggled when you walked, how they would spill over the fabric of your thigh highs. he even got to take a picture of you where your thighs were clear and visible, he’s found himself doing perverted stuff when thinking to your thighs.

constantly fucking into any object that reminded him of your thighs, he felt so ashamed fucking into one of your pillows like a dog in heat. humping the soft fabric until his cock started to hurt, he was overstimulating himself before he even came. he couldn’t help it, it was your fault! how could you walk around in such slutty shorts and not expect him to get hard? you had to be doing it on purpose is what he tried to tell himself, it had to be you teasing him on purpose. he was driving himself insane, his cock was begging for him to stop the relentless abuse but he just couldn’t. he came onto every polaroid of you, the bottom of his shirt stuffed into his mouth to prevent the whimpers and moans that spilled from his pretty pink lips. he decided he was going to take a step up tonight, he was going to try something new.

“leon…get it together, this is so fucked.” he was absolutely right, he shouldn’t be in your room at 2am watching you sleep, he shouldn’t be gently taking the covers off your sleeping frame to see your body. his cock jumped at the sight of your sleeping body, the way you looked so peaceful and beautiful like this. “fuck…can’t help it m’sorry…it hurts if i don’t touch it…” he pulled your thighs together and just stared like a deer in headlights, tugging his sweatpants down he palmed his cock through his boxers. he had already soaked through the fabric with his pre cum, it was a pathetic sight to see…him desperately pumping into his hands while staring at your thighs, he even stole a pair of your boxers to shove in his mouth to keep him quiet.

he was suffocated in your scent, you lingered in every one of his senses. he brushed his palm against his angry red tip and let out a choked out moan, he really should stop. you could wake up at any minute and catch him being a filthy perv! he couldn’t stop his hips from moving up to meet his hand, his eyes were wet and glossy with tears. everything felt so good when it was influenced by you, he had never felt this good touching himself when he was just watching porn. it was you, all he wanted was you, but there’s no way you would have him. not after the sinful acts he’s committing in your room at the moment, you would definitely move out and never speak to him.

“m’sorry…’m such a bad boy…please fo-forgive me.”he was begging for you, he wasn’t quite sure what he was begging for but he needed it. his balance was unsteady as he fucked his hand faster, his palm twtisting all around his tip. he felt the knot in his stomach tighten uncomfortably, he wanted to cum on you, but he knows he couldn’t.

cum on his thighs, you can clean it up later.

n-no that’s not-

you deserve it, you’ve worked hard and you’ve held back from bending him over and fucking him raw.

don’t wanna it-its bad if i-

you’ll never get this opportunity again, just cum.

he tried to hold back, he really did. he just couldn’t behave himself around you, he was just a gross pervert. “m’sorrysorrysorry…pleaaasseee forgive me baby i-i’m gonna cu-cum…!” he let out a final drawn out whine before cumming all over your thighs, he pumped himself through his orgasm. his body was ruined with aftershocks of his sinful actions, his cum was spread so beautifully across your thighs. he was a bad boy, the absolute worst boy ever. how could he do something like that? he quickly left the room out of pure embarrassment. he came on his best friend's thighs while he was sleeping, he laid in his own bed thinking over and over about what he just did.

he was woken up by the bright sun peaking through his blinds and a warm wet breath against his ear, “what a pervert you are, kennedy.”

[thegoldencontracts]

Cruel Rejection

Summary: After a long time of suppressing his feelings in fear of mockery, Azul finally musters up the courage to ask you on a date. And yet, you manage to make his fears come true.

Notes: Azul I'm sorry bbg-

Azul loved you since the day you two met. He really didn't know why, and in hindsight, it was the worst decision he'd ever made, but he did. His heart seemed to beat a thousand times faster around you, his mouth going dry.

He'd always had a suspicion you held distaste for him, though, and so he kept quiet. That was a good decision. One he seriously regretted not sticking to.

Alas, he'd allowed himself to be persuaded, allowed himself to waver and foolishly act with reckless abandon with the desire for a happy ending.

"Well then, I was wondering if you'd be interested in a date, dearest-"

"Oh my God," you said. "Just shut up."

Azul's eyes widened.

"P-Pardon?"

You looked at him with such distaste one would think he was a cockroach, rolling your eyes as you took a sip of your soda. The vast expanse of the room was beginning to feel rather intimidating.

"Do you actually think for one second I'd wanna date you?" You said with a dismissiveness that stung so greatly any amount of rage would've been preferable.

"I- if you'd please let me finish-"

"You're delusional," you said. "Why would I ever want to date you? You're always pestering me, painfully short-tempered, and your looks-"

You gestured to his appearance vaguely, not even bothering to say anything.

"Point taken, I suppose," he said, uncertain whether he wished to sound amicable or cold. Really, what did he expect? He'd just handed himself to you on a silver platter. Of course you'd take the chance and rip him to pieces.

That's what they all do, a voice called from inside his head. Haven't you learned your lesson yet?

"Yeah, well, take the point and get out. And while you're at it, don't speak to me again," you said, shooing him away.

Azul didn't quite know what to do, what to say. You'd just attempted to rip him to pieces, hadn't you? Did you truly deserve such easy peace?

"Yes, yes," he said, voice turned cold. "I'll leave you be permanently, just like all your other companions do upon no longer being able to put up with you."

You snarled, an anger in which Azul relished as he headed for his room. Good. You deserved it. You'd underestimated Azul, anticipated that he'd simply cry upon hearing your insults like some child, and, well-

The moment Azul locked the door to his room, tears sprung up within his eyes. You were right. He was driven to tears by nothing but words. How pathetic.

He'd have to stay away from you from now onwards, perhaps get vengeance to appease himself, but not much interaction other than that. It was quite the lovely plan indeed.

But for now, sadly, Azul couldn't work on his scheme. For now, all he could do was sob into his pillow, the feeling of self-loathing washed all over him.

Meanwhile, you couldn't help but wonder if your turning down was too harsh. Had it actually gotten to Azul? You couldn't help but feel bad in spite of yourself - you did love him, after all. But really, maybe you should've been-

No, no. You shook yourself out of that train of thought. This weird pity wouldn't do at all. Azul was the one who'd so cruelly toyed with your heart.

Azul deserved it for pretending to have feelings for you, after all.

[lee-lucius]

Fatherly Love

Summary: Zeff isn't used to dealing with kids, especially not one like Sanji.

Word Count: 5,630

Warning: Mild spoilers for Sanji and Zeff's backstory (The Baratie Arc)

There is nowhere near enough content for Sanji and Zeff, and I had to do something about. I've only seen the live action and started reading the manga (hopefully it isn't too ooc 😅), but I'm already unreasonably attached to these two. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 💙

Zeff never saw it as anything complicated. When they finally did get off that godforsaken rock, Sanji had nowhere to go. And, well, he'd already given up a leg for the boy; he didn't see why he shouldn't give up piracy as well.

So they started over. Neither of them were ready to give up the sea, not until they found the All Blue, and Zeff always enjoyed sharing a meal. So they opened Baratie. 

Maybe it wasn't the best place for a kid to grow up, on a ship full of angry brutes, but the little eggplant got on well enough with the crew—Zeff made sure of that—and he seemed content enough. At least, better than he had been after their rescue. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't horrible, either.

But there were still moments that shattered their illusion of peace, like right now. Sighing, Zeff pulled off his sheets, slowly sitting up and slipping his legs off the bed, taking a moment to steady himself. It wasn't as easy as it'd been in his younger years. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the wooden leg, or the little eggplant's muffled cries that kept him up almost every night.

It was odd, considering what a deep sleeper Zeff had been when he was younger, but it was almost as if he had a sixth sense for when Sanji needed him; when he'd wake up, shivering and sobbing over his latest nightmare, Zeff woke up as well, lumbering over to his room to provide what little comfort he could for a boy who'd been through far too much.

Knocking lightly, he waited for Sanji's muffled consent before entering and closing the door softly behind him. He didn't know why he'd bothered giving Sanji his own room when Zeff spent the night there more often than not. Something about a growing boy needing his privacy; how simple he thought it'd be.

"Just me," Zeff said, as if they both weren't already used to this routine. It still made something stir uncomfortably in his chest every time, seeing Sanji's small figure curled up in his bed, blankets huddled around him like a faulty shield, head tucked into his chest to hide his tear-stained face, though Zeff still saw the way his shoulders trembled and heard the pained, hiccuping gasps Sanji tried to hide.

Zeff didn't say anything else. There was no reason to bombard the boy with pointless questions, especially when it only seemed to send him slipping further into a panic. 

He never knew what he was supposed to do in situations like this. He liked to think his presence helped; after all, he was the only who'd been there with Sanji, though Zeff thought his issues began with something long before the shipwreck, and Sanji never stopped letting him in. But he'd never quite been a smooth talker, save for with women, and always found himself tongue-tied in situations like these. Zeff wasn't one for emotions, and Sanji was perhaps the most emotional boy he'd ever known.

There wasn't much to do besides perch on his bed, sitting as far away from Sanji as possible to give him space, and frown, trying to act as if his heart wasn't ripping in two at each muffled cry.

It must have been an especially bad night. Zeff realized that as his cries slowly quieted and his small, trembling frame steadily inched closer. Finally, Sanji's knee, barely a fraction of the size, touched his own. He was tense, more than before, and skittish, as if any wrong move from Zeff could send him running. It probably would. So Zeff did nothing, allowing Sanji his own time to decide.

They'd never been affectionate with each other. Zeff had never been affectionate with anyone, really, except for in the brief way that sailors met with women, something as intimate as these moments with Sanji but in an entirely different way.

Zeff had only ever used his body for that and fighting, which only made this harder. It wasn't like the other times Samji had reached out for him, right after the rock, or even in the midst of it, when he threw himself at Zeff in a moment of reckless grief, while Zeff wrapped his arms around him, trying to offer comfort in a way he didn't know how.

This was different. Slower. Intentional. Calculated, even. 

It wasn't a helpless boy blindly reaching out to soothe the ache in his heart, but it was a helpless boy reaching out to him.

Sanji wanted him.

Zeff waited. Sanji continued to creep closer until he leaned into Zeff's side, and finally, slowly, gently, slower and gentler than he ever thought he could be, Zeff wrapped his arm around him, pulling Sanji into a hug.

Sanji buried his face in his chest, his own clumsy arms wrapping around Zeff, clutching handfuls of his shirt as if he was afraid to let go, afraid this would end.

"You're alright now," he said, voice gruffer, and a bit more emotional, than he intended. He lifted one hand, stroking his hair, the other rubbing his back, trying to remember what soothed him all those long years ago when he was a boy. "That's over. You're alright."

Sanji held onto him all night, crying until he finally slipped back into sleep, and Zeff stayed there, awake and cursing the growing ache in his back, until it was time for morning prep, when he shook Sanji awake, squeezing his shoulder one last time before leaving him to get ready for the day. 

-

Neither of them spoke about what happened.

They barely spoke at all, save for a mini-screaming match when Zeff tried to drown Sanji's dish in oregano before it was sent out to his patrons.

It was a busy day, but at least they had had a functioning waitstaff for once—thank god for small mercies. Zeff didn't have the time to babysit Sanji, not anymore than usual, when he had to try and keep the rest of his rowdy crew in line, though he figured the reason at least half of their customers were there was in hopes of seeing the rumored fighting pirates.

There was hardly even a moment for him to sit down, rest his leg and back, and get some shut eye, though the sips of alcohol he savored between the lunch and dinner rushes helped.

But at the end of the day, he was more drunk on exhaustion than anything else, practically stumbling over his feet as he stalked through the kitchen, ensuring every surface and every dish was up to his standards. On days like these, the last day before they hauled up their anchor and moved on, his men tended to get lazy, a problem he could never solve no matter how many times he yelled at them. Except for one, who shared his dutiful dedication to maintaining a clean kitchen.

"Shouldn't you be heading off?" Zeff asked, glancing at Sanji as he silently swept the floors. "A growing boy needs his rest."

"I could say the same. Doesn't a shitty old man need his beauty sleep?"

He grunted. They both knew why he was so tired, and they both knew why Sanji didn't want to go to sleep, but they both said nothing. Didn't matter much tonight, anyway. They could both sleep in, supposing Sanji managed to stay asleep for once. Zeff put a kettle on the stove. Tea usually helped Sanji get through the night.

"Come here, kid," he called, after the tea was brewed. Sanji always preferred it sweeter, so he added a dollop of sugar and spoonful of honey, while he added something a little stronger to his.

Zeff kicked a stool in his direction, and he sat down, gratefully taking the mug that came along with it and enjoying a long sip. 

"Not as shit as usual," he said, which was about as good a compliment as any, coming from him.

Leaning against the counter next to him, Zeff took a much needed drink of his own, glaring down at him. "You don't need to help me down here every night. Not that you're much help."

"'Not much help'? I'm the only reason people come to this shithole!"

"Mm. Are you then?" He didn't have the energy for this now. Damn kid.

"I'm the only half-decent chef you have!"

Zeff would never understand where his arrogance came from, not that it was entirely unwarranted. He had made Sanji his sous-chef for a reason, and it wasn't just his fondness for him.

"And who's the one that taught how to make those fancy little dishes, eggplant?"

"It doesn't matter when you drown everything in oregano."

"It's a delicacy!"

"It's for savages!" He slammed his empty mug on the counter, his one visible eye glaring daggers at Zeff, who had to resist the urge to laugh. It'd be a good few years before Sanji got anywhere close to intimidating him.

"You're too young. Palate hasn't developed yet," he waved him off, collecting his glass to wash it in the sink. No need making the kid do it, not when he was practically about to fall off his stool.

"No, you're too old. Can't taste shit anymore."

Zeff rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he always started a fight. Just his attitude, he supposed. He had to take in a kid with the worst personality imaginable. And it didn't help that he was eerily similar to how Zeff had been at that age.

"I can still see well enough, and you're done for the night."

Sanji stumbled to his feet, knowing he was right but not wanting to agree with him. "You look worse than I do."

"Mhm. Then let's both get to bed," he said, because Sanji was right too, and he couldn't bother to keep up with any more banter.

Nudging him in the back, Zeff wasn't prepared for Sanji's violent flinch that almost sent him toppling over. He resisted his instinct to reach out and steady him, figuring that would only make things worse. Instead, Sanji's fingers dug into the countertop, clutching it so hard his knuckles paled, and he turned towards Zeff, eyeing him wearily.

They stared at each other for a moment, silent, before Zeff sighed. 

"Go on. Up to bed."

Sanji only nodded and trudged along. Zeff supposed they hadn't made as much progress as he thought. He'd have to be more careful next time.

-

Zeff always preferred days when Baratie was sailing. As much as he enjoyed the regular hustle and bustle, serving whatever customers had washed up that day, he enjoyed these quiet moments more.

It was good, standing on deck and watching the ship bob in the water, breathing in the sea breeze that was never the same when they were stagnant. He craved the movement, the sailing. And the quiet. Which made him feel like the old man Sanji always insisted he was. As if he was coaxing into retirement and savoring easy days on the sea.

But there was never anything easy on Baratie. 

After he'd assembled his men to yell at them about their lazy behavior yesterday and lack of respect, they were dismissed and shuffled out of the kitchen, grumbling among each other but knowing better than to stand up to Zeff.

They'd be really punished later, but a light scalding was enough for now. Especially when he had other plans.

Sanji crept into the kitchen, eagerly buzzing around with a frantic energy Zeff rarely saw. That was another good thing about it. On days like these, Sanji was more excited than Zeff had ever seen him.

It was like there was finally life in the kid. His cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and joy palpable. He couldn't shut up either. The whole time he was rambling, trying to spew out his mess of ideas all at once that had been building up in his head since the last time they did this.

It really wasn't anything that special, and it always led to more than one argument between them, but Sanji liked to offer his input to these menu changes, even when most of his ideas consisted of trite, over-inspired pieces of shit. Though Sanji felt the same way about most of Zeff's dishes. 

After gathering up all of his ingredients and managing to form his ramblings into something coherent, Sanji prepared his sample dishes with Zeff watching closely, correcting his mistakes or suggesting alternate techniques. Sanji was always surprisingly receptive to his advice, though he was always an enthusiastic student, and Zeff thought he preferred it when they were alone like this. Even if he still protested oregano coming anywhere near his food. Damn rebellious kid.

It took the entire day and only two fights that escalated so far Zeff worried Sanji would grab the knife on the cutting board and stab him, which was better than usual. They'd sampled enough dishes that neither of them were hungry, nor the rest of the crew, not when they called in a member or two for a third opinion, or a witness when their fights got especially heated.

The kitchen was a mess, but it wasn't their problem. Zeff wanted to head in early, and his crew had to be punished for their mess yesterday, so making them deal with disaster was only fair. With all of them working together, it wouldn't take too long anyway, unless they got into a fight—no, until they got into a fight, forcing Zeff to straighten them out again.

But until then, he pulled Sanji with him above deck to relax for a change.

The sun was already beginning to set; the sky fading into a pinkish-reddish color as Zeff sat down to watch it. Now he really was acting like an old man. Maybe he should start thinking about retirement. 

He glanced at Sanji, but he seemed to be enjoying himself as well, even with something as simple as this. It seemed they both savored these little, simple moments.

Now would be a good time to continue their other training. Zeff had been teaching the boy to fight, only simple moves so far, though their progress was slowed by Zeff's own efforts to adjust to his new leg. But it was late, and they were both tired, even if yesterday was one of Sanji's better nights. He'd put it off for another day.

Zeff was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost didn't register the movement in the corner of his eye. Not until Sanji was noticeably closer to him.

It was different this time. Maybe it was because of his excitable attitude today, or maybe he was starting to feel just a bit more at ease around him, but Sanji, in one quick, casual motion, pressed into Zeff's side, leaning against him. 

His body was stiff, no matter how nonchalant he tried to act, and when Zeff looked at him closely enough, he could see the slight shake in his hands. It took a few minutes before Sanji began to relax, his tense muscles easing into the touch, and in another act of courage, he leaned his head against Zeff's shoulder.

He was warm. That was the first thing Zeff noticed. He wasn't used to being touched like this. Besides Sanji's fits after his nightmares and consoling his men who managed to survive the battle but not much afterwards, he hadn't been this close to someone since he was a child. Even then, no one ever reached out to him, curling up beside him the way Sanji did.

It was oddly comfortable, and Zeff found himself enjoying the affection more than he should. This was something he never could've imagined, not at his age. 

While he never disliked children, he'd never been particularly fond of them either. And as much as he respected women, he never found one that interested him; no men either, so he never imagined settling down with someone, starting a family, not when his first love was cooking. But here he was, with Sanji. And he couldn't deny his growing affection for the boy, even if he was as rude and shitty as most of the grown men Zeff knew and more traumatized and disturbed than any child should be. He couldn't be sure—it was something he'd never experienced before—but Zeff thought his affection must have been something like that a father felt for his child.

It was a troubling thought that was becoming more persistent, and he had no clue if Sanji felt the same, but that was a problem for another time.

Now, it didn't matter. He simply shifted, leaning his own head against Sanji's to reciprocate the touch and imagined the nervous smile on the kid's face that he must've been fighting so hard to hide.

-

Maybe this had gone too far, Zeff realized, far, far too late to do anything about it.

It started simple enough. 

Sanji had always been a fidgety kid, a fact that Zeff and practically anyone who knew him more than an hour could realize. He was never still, always moving, always squirming. And clumsy, too. He was prone to tripping over his own feet, something that their training had made marginally better so far, but Zeff still held onto the hope that he'd fall out of it with age when the rest of his body grew into his long legs.

Zeff didn't mind; truly, he found it more entertaining than anything else to see the boy bounce around the kitchen. It never interfered with his work, Sanji was far too professional for that, but there were times when Sanji's body moved and fidgeted around so quickly Zeff swore his limbs would fly off, and Sanji swore that he'd die of boredom if something didn't change. 

So Zeff came up with a solution. A rather practical one, he liked to think. Instead of twiddling with his fingers or tugging at the strings of his apron or furiously flapping his hands, Zeff, like a practical seaman, taught him how to tie knots. Figured it'd pay off, considering how much of his life the boy spent on a ship.

He'd bring him up to the deck, show him the ropes and give a brief explanation, then show him how to tie every knot just right and send him off with a smaller scrap to practice.

It seemed to help, though they never talked about such things. Sanji simply practiced his knots, asking Zeff when he wasn't sure if he'd gotten it right, and he'd whip it out and practice anytime he got bored, during lulls between the dinner and lunch rush or at night, in bed, when he was trying to fall asleep.

Zeff didn't know how it ended up like this. He'd noticed Sanji's habit, how he'd begun to unconsciously twist strands into his complicated knots, like his apron or the loose fibers on his cheap blanket. It'd escalated fast.

Sanji must've known it would be another bad night, because he didn't bother going to his own room, instead silently teetering after Zeff to stay with him. He didn't like to be alone on bad nights.

There hadn't even been any sign of it, any indication; he simply leveled a heavy stare at Zeff and not asked, ordered him.

"Stay still. I need to try something."

"What are you planning?" He asked warily, recognizing that glint in Sanji's eye that was only there when he got up to mischief, an occasion that was becoming less and less rare.

"Quiet. I need to focus."

Then Sanji was sitting cross-legged in front of him as Zeff sat, back pressed against the headboard. He had to lean down an uncomfortable amount for Sanji to, much to his horror, reach his mustache as he began working on whatever convoluted idea he had.

Zeff wasn't sure what he was doing, as his eyes were firmly closed—and Sanji began yelling at him anytime he so much as tried to peak them open—but it seemed as if Sanji was styling his hair, hands working with a surprising gentleness and expected hurriedness, though it seemed as if his rush ruined his work, judging his heaving sigh every few minutes as he straightened out Zeff's mustache to start over. Always a perfectionist.

It was annoying, like Sanji always was, but Zeff found he didn't mind the intrusion as much as he thought he should. Not that or the tedious ache once again spreading through his back or the feeling of pins-and-needles in his legs that had fallen asleep under Sanji's weight, who sat precariously on top of them.

Perhaps he couldn't complain because he knew what Sanji had been like mere weeks and months before, and that boy never would've afforded Zeff with this casual closeness, one that made an unsettling happiness grow in him, because he knew that they were getting somewhere, that this makeshift ship was becoming closer and closer to the little eggplant's home, and that did, ashamedly, make Zeff happy.

"Okay, I'm done," Sanji finally announced, and Zeff let out a sigh, of relief or disappointment he wasn't sure.

"On with it then," he opened his eyes, this time without any urgent protest from Sanji, and shifted his good leg with a smile too fond for his liking. "Up so I can look."

Something resembling a scowl appeared on Sanji's face, but it was gone just as quickly as he scrambled off of him, rolling onto the side of the bed. Zeff took his time, ignoring Sanji's protests, to stand up, letting feeling come back into his limbs as he stretched before trudging over to his drawers, accompanied with a small mirror hanging above it.

It was about what he'd expected. Zeff's mustache was styled into two somewhat unkempt braids, tied up with his usual blue ribbons. It wasn't half bad, not for the eggplant's first try, and Zeff didn't recall teaching him any braids. He wondered where he'd learned how to do that, but now wasn't the time for questions.

"Right. We done here?"

Sanji's cheeks puffed out slightly, tinged red as his face morphed into a pout. He always did wear his emotions on his sleeve, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Reluctantly, he nodded and stood from the bed. 

Zeff turned out the lamp, settling back down into his bed and sparing a glance at Sanji. "You layin' down or not?"

There was a moment of awkward shuffling, Sanji's head darting back and forth between Zeff's bed and the door, looking as if he wished he had that rope on him to give his body something to do and soothe his mind.

After an uncomfortable amount of time passed, Sanji perched himself at the edge of the bed, slowly laying down, as if he was scared Zeff would change his mind and yell at him to scram.

He didn't. He had an extra blanket and pillow, so he didn't mind at all, though if he had to, he knew he would've given his own to Sanji to make him comfortable—the kid hardly got enough sleep as it was.

"Night," he grunted, then added, far too impulsively, "Didn't do half bad with the hair."

For a moment, he thought he imagined Sanji's muffled sounds of joy, but then he only laughed quietly to himself, thinking about all the trouble this dumb kid brought with him.

Zeff was going soft, and he couldn't bring himself to care.

-

Morning was quiet. Zeff woke up first, squinting at his window, watching the faint rays of light trickle in.

It was early, but he wasn't ready to go back to sleep. Instead, he carefully shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face Sanji. He was still sleeping, lying curled up on his stomach. Zeff didn't realize how much he moved in his sleep, not until Sanji woke him up more than once in the night with a flying limb.

He'd seen him sleeping before. After Sanji had crossed to his side of the rock and discovered Zeff's secret, there was less distance between them. Less reason to hide. And Sanji seemed to, for whatever reason, like the company of bitter old men, apparently as much as Zeff like the company of snarky young kids. But there were some nights when Sanji fell asleep there, with Zeff. He'd moved around too then, violently, thrashing so much Zeff feared he'd fall right into the ocean. He was prone to nightmares then too, but he didn't have any more tears to cry by then, just hiccuping gasps that sounded so painful coming from his dry, aching throat.

He wasn't having a nightmare now. His face was relaxed, not curled up in an aching knot of dread like it usually was. His chest rose and fell with calm, steady breaths. Zeff couldn't see it clearly, not in the dim light, but he heard it, and the noise was a comfort.

Another impulse. That's what Zeff wanted to blame it on. Say that his arm had a mind of its own; that he acted without thinking. He didn't know if that was better or worse than the truth.

But he did know what he was doing. And he wanted to. That was the reason. 

That was the reason he reached his hand out, with a touch lighter and gentler than he ever thought he was capable of, combing through Sanji's hair to fix the disheveled mess.

It was soft and void of any obnoxious clumps, both traits he attributed to Sanji's fixation with his appearance. Just had to look good for the ladies, apparently. Not that any took interest in him. The little eggplant had about as much charm as one.

Hair straightened, his hand trailed further down, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the back of his neck. It was something he normally only did after a nightmare, when Sanji cried and clung to him, but it seemed appropriate now too. He thought it was good for Sanji. He always slept better when Zeff held him.

Except now. Sanji twitched, and Zeff worried he'd wake him, so he lightened his touch, fingers barely grazing the skin, and that's when he heard it.

A giggle.

The noise was muffled by the pillows, but it was unmistakable in the quiet of his room. Something high-pitched and boyish and utterly unexpected. 

Zeff's hand stilled, staring intently at Sanji. His body was still and breathing steady. He'd heard Sanji talk before in his sleep, but laugh? That seemed odd. Unless it was something else.

Curiously, he continued his light movement, holding back a laugh of his own when he noticed Sanji squirm, twisting back and forth but trying so hard to hide it. 

So he was awake. And Zeff didn't see why he shouldn't have his fun.

He changed tactics, switching to scratching at Sanji's neck, touch still light, using just his blunt nails.

There was another noise; this one was more like a muffled whine, low in his throat and barely contained. One of his arms shifted, trying for a subtly he had never been gifted with, and pushed the pillow further into his face, hiding his wide smile. 

How stupid did Sanji think he was? He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know after this. And if Zeff said something, he knew it'd ruin the moment. He didn't want to.

He didn't, so he continued tickling the boy who he'd become uncomfortably fond of.

His hand drifted, grazing across the side of his neck in a way that made Sanji's shoulders scrunch up. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and soft giggles poured out of him. The kid was oddly cute like this, and that fond feeling he had for Sanji only grew.

Zeff was careful. They'd never done anything like this—he doubted Sanji'd ever even been tickled before—and they were still in a somewhat precarious position surrounding the kid's tolerance for any touch at all. He wasn't one to be playful, but Zeff figured this was the closest he'd ever get as he moved to new spots.

Sanji chortled when he scratched under his chin, and seeming to have given up the act of pretending to be asleep, kicked his legs when Zeff's fingers prodded at his ears. The strongest reaction came when he scribbled at his back—Zeff hadn't even known backs could be ticklish—making an alarmed high-pitched sound that Zeff could only call a squeal, grip around the pillow tightening, trying to hide his embarrassment or laugh or something, Zeff figured.

After a few more moments, Zeff stopped, pulling his hand away and waiting for Sanji to collect himself. It took a long time for his laughter to calm down, but Zeff only watched, unable to help his own amused smile.

Finally, Sanji removed his face from the pillow, looking up at Zeff. His face was completely flushed, and he had a large, dopey smile on his face that Zeff had only ever seen when he was talking to a girl. Dumb kid.

"Um…" Sanji brought the pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly and partially obscuring his face. "What was that?"

"Tickling. Ever happened to you before?"

He shook his head, eyes flitting away from Zeff with a sad look. He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought, and Zeff watched him, waiting for Sanji to gather himself. 

It took a few minutes before he dropped the pillow, propping himself up. There was still a trace of sadness, but there was something else, something Zeff couldn't quite place.

His eyes were big and droopy, fatigue weighing down his lashes and a smile, albeit faint, dragged across his lips. In the quiet of these late nights and early mornings, there was something different about Sanji, more tender. Like the darkness of the sky cloaked them in a veil of security, wrapping around his shoulders and tucking him in with the same comfort of a loving parent.

Leaning closer, a yawn breezing past his lips, Sanji shifted further towards Zeff, mumbling, "'t's nice."

"Guess so," he grunted and, seeing the expectant look on his face, reached back out, curling his fingers into Sanji's side until he burst into another fit of giggles.

Zeff supposed it was quite nice.

-

Sanji, by some miracle, had actually managed to fall back asleep after crying for mercy. 

Zeff wasn't tired, but he stayed, figuring Sanji wouldn't like waking up alone, and there wasn't much work to be done today anyway; he could let him sleep in. He grabbed a book at random from his shelf, biding the time by staring absentmindedly at the pages, his attention always somehow drifting back to Sanji. It was almost annoying, the grip that the kid had on him.

When he did wake up, scolding Zeff for letting them stay in that late and wasting so much of the day as if Sanji was actually the adult. It was stupidly endearing.

Zeff, like always, brushed away his concerns. "Then stop complaining and help me get ready."

"Help?" Sanji asked, indignant, and Zeff sorrowfully remembered what an attitude he had on him. "What do you need now, old man? A diaper change?"

Sighing, he only gestured to his face, watching the confusion spread across Sanji's face and sighing again. 

"The braids," he huffed, untying the ribbons. "They need to be redone."

Sometime during the night, or perhaps during his horseplay with Sanji, the hair had become wildly unruly, strands unwinding and sticking out at odd angles.

Sanji stared at him for a long moment like he was stupid. Then asked, in an oddly anxious voice, "What?"

"You heard me. Get on with it."

He couldn't bite back his smile. His whole face lit up, and no matter how hard he always tried to hide it, Sanji still always wore his heart on his sleeve, and his joy was infectious. Shuffling closer, he carefully reworked Zeff's mustache, hair now slightly curled, into a neat braid, redoing them both a few times until he was satisfied with his work, staring at Zeff proudly.

It was better than the ones yesterday; Zeff had to give him credit for that.

"Good work, little eggplant," he said, staring at himself in the mirror. "Now you go get ready. It's late."

Sanji, ever the dutiful worker, hurried out, but Zeff caught the blinding smile on his face before he left.

It was worth the odd stares he got from the rest of his crew, and none of them had the courage to say anything after Zeff stared down the first person who'd so much as uttered a word about it.

Unless it was a compliment, which he tolerated in silence only because it brought that bright smile back to Sanji's face, and the kid deserved the praise. 

The day was slow and calmer than Baratie had any right to be. 

There was an odd lightness in Sanji; Zeff didn't know if it was because of him, but he was glad.

And he was even happier when it seemed to persist into the next day and the next. 

They still bickered, of course—the kid—his kid—just had to bitch about every little thing. They spent long days cooking together, sweating and struggling in their somehow always understaffed restaurant. They trained together on those off days, splitting time between cooking and fighting. And in those early mornings, late nights, and all the time in between, they regarded each other with a new softness, with the playful and affectionate touches Sanji had become accustomed to, the ones he craved.

And Zeff, forever worn out by the rude, annoying kid he'd ended up with, always indulged him, his little eggplant.

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

4. Day off…not?

Note: just fluff

Y/n woke up to the sound of nothing. No buzzing alarms, no frantic phone calls about schedules, and no urgent notifications lighting up his screen. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was quiet. He stretched lazily, savouring the peace. It took him a moment to remember what was so special about today—his first day off in weeks.

"Finally," he muttered with a smile, sinking deeper into his pillow. No errands, no last-minute crises, just a day to himself. Maybe he’d stay in bed all day, watch some TV, or—

Ding. The unmistakable sound of a text message cut through the silence.

“Please don’t be whoever I think it is..” Y/n groaned and lazily reached for his phone on the nightstand. It couldn’t be work; the staff knew he was off today. Still, out of habit, he checked the screen.

Ningning:

Oppa, can you do me a huuuge favor?

“Yizhuo, u kidding me…”

Y/n rubbed his eyes, blinking at the message. He hesitated, half-considering ignoring it, but something told him that wasn’t an option. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he typed a quick reply.

Y/n:

Ning, it’s my day off.

He felt a small surge of pride for setting boundaries. Today was about him. He wouldn’t get sucked into their usual chaos—

Ding.

Ningning:

But I forgot to pick up my laundryyyyy 🥺 Please, Oppa, I’ll owe you big time!

Y/n sighed, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Of course, Ningning had a way of getting what she wanted. He typed out a reluctant, “fine,” and tossed the phone aside. Maybe he could do just this one thing. How hard could it be?

As he moved to get dressed, his phone buzzed again.

Ding.

Giselle:

Y/n, I think I lost my keys… help?

Y/n stopped mid-motion.

“Seriously?” He thought, staring at the screen. This was supposed to be his day off. He shook his head and responded.

Y/n:

Aeri, it’s my day off.

Ding.

Giselle:

I knooow, but it’s an emergency!

Sighing deeply, Y/n realised the quiet, relaxing day he had envisioned was rapidly slipping away. He grabbed his jacket and keys, already resigned to his fate. First stop, laundry for Ningning.

-

The laundromat wasn’t far from aespa’s dorm, so Y/n made quick work of grabbing Ningning’s clothes and heading to drop them off. On the way, his phone buzzed again. He didn’t even need to check the notification to know who it was.

As always, the comedy (pain) comes in 3 acts.

Winter:

Pabooo, can you get me some snacks? You know the ones I eat all the time. Pleaseee?

Y/n:

You do realise I’m not working today, right?

Winter:

That’s why I’m asking! You’ll be free later, right?

Y/n:

You dipsh-

Y/n sighed. He couldn’t win with these girls. After dropping off Ningning’s laundry and being thanked with a bright grin and a peace sign, he made his way to the convenience store. If he was going to spend his day off like this, he might as well commit.

-

By the time Y/n reached aespa’s dorm, bags in hand, he felt more like a delivery boy than a manager. He pushed open the door, greeted by a mix of tired-but-not-really faces and a familiar tension in the air—mostly from Karina, who barely acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"Didn’t expect you here on your day off," Karina said, arms crossed, her tone neutral, but Y/n could feel the underlying coolness. She still wasn’t completely over the fact that he had been thrust into the role of their manager with little experience.

"Yeah, well, apparently days off don’t exist when you’re the manager," Y/n replied dryly, his eyes briefly meeting hers before shifting to Winter, who was eagerly waiting for her snacks.

Winter popped her head out of the practice room and grinned. "Let’s goooo, good job, Y/n!” she chirped, grabbing the snacks he had brought. "I knew you couldn’t resist helping your best friend."

"I had a flipping choice?" Y/n quipped, though he couldn’t help but smile. He watched Winter tear into the bag like a kid on Christmas, feeling the warmth of their friendship creep in. Despite the tension with Karina, Winter’s presence always brought a sense of ease.

Karina, though, stayed reserved. Even now, after weeks of working together, there was still a quiet unease between them. It wasn’t like they openly disliked each other, but there was something unsaid lingering between every glance and conversation.

-

Later that day, Y/n had finally managed to leave the girls alone and get some semblance of quiet when his phone buzzed again.

Ding.

Giselle:

Any update on my keys?

Y/n rolled his eyes. He had scoured half the dorm for those stupid keys, and they were nowhere to be found. He groaned, heading back to the practice room where Giselle was crouching on the floor.

"Aeri" he sighed, "Where did you even lose them?”

"If I knew, I wouldn’t have lost them, would I?” she replied with a grin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Karina, who came to help out, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, shot Y/n a look, as if to say, “You see what I deal with?”

"Let’s retrace your steps, I guess," Y/n said, rubbing his temples, though he couldn’t help but smirk at Giselle’s casual attitude. Karina reluctantly followed suit.

-

As Y/n sat up from the couch he accidentally crashed in aespa’s dorm, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the sound of giggling caught his attention. Ningning, Winter, and Giselle stood over him, smirking in a way that made him feel a little uneasy.

"Good morning, oppa," Ningning teased, barely containing her laughter as she nudged him lightly.

Y/n frowned, still groggy. "What time is it?” he groaned, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

"Late," Winter replied, tossing him a water bottle. "Didn’t know you’d stay all day.”

"Neither did I," he muttered, taking a sip of water.

Something felt….off. The way they were all staring at him, the mischievous grins they were failing to hide—it didn’t sit right with him, but he was too tired to dig into it.

Just then, Karina appeared at the doorway, arms crossed as usual. "Go home," she said, her voice softer than usual. There was an unfamiliar warmth in her tone. "You’ve done enough for today. Sorry that you have to deal with these children even on your day off.”

Y/n blinked, a little thrown off by the sudden kindness, but he wasn’t about to question it. "Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.

"Y/n, you look... different," Giselle said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Ningning and Winter tried to stifle their laughter, looking away.

"What are you talking about?” Y/n asked, confused. He glanced down at his clothes—everything looked normal. Shrugging, he grabbed his jacket and started to head out the door.

"Nothing! See you tomorrow, Oppa!” Ningning called out, bursting into giggles.

"Yeah, see you...idiot” Winter added, her voice trembling from trying to hold back her laughter.

Y/n gave them a suspicious look but didn’t press further. He was too tired to deal with their antics tonight. He left the building, heading out into the cool night air, finally ready to go home and get some real rest.

-

As Y/n made his way through the convenience store to grab a drink before heading home, he noticed a few people staring at him strangely. A cashier gave him a weird look as he paid for his drink, and a couple of girls passing by couldn’t stop giggling when they saw him.

“What’s their problem?” he thought, feeling a little paranoid. Shrugging it off, he pulled out his phone to check the time. But as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dark screen, his eyes widened in horror.

There, scribbled all over his face in colourful marker, were ridiculous doodles: a poorly drawn moustache, cat whiskers, and the words “Manager Oppa” and “Best Idiot” written across his forehead.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing the full extent of what had happened. Those friggin devils! No wonder they’d been giggling! He must have looked like a complete idiot walking around with his face like this.

With a sigh, Y/n rubbed his temples—thankfully, the markers weren't permanent. Grabbing a napkin from his bag, he tried wiping it off, but some of the ink had already settled too deep for a quick clean-up.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice…of course Kim Minjeong was the mastermind of this crime…”

As he walked out of the store, trying to hide his face from any more passersby, his phone buzzed. A message from the group chat appeared on his screen.

Ningning:

You looked soooo cute with your new look today, oppa! 😂

Winter:

We’re so proud of you, “Best Idiot” 😸

Giselle:

Thanks for being such a good sport!

Y/n groaned, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Sure, they’d tricked him, but it was harmless fun—typical aespa chaos. Tomorrow, though? He was going to make sure they paid for it.

With that thought, Y/n trudged home, already mentally planning his revenge…after he had his sleep.

-

The next day, after washing off the colourful madness on his face since he was too tired to do so last night, Y/n was just about to fully enjoy his day off on his bed when his phone buzzed again.

He sighed, part of him tempted to just throw it under the pillow and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours. But when he glanced at the screen, he saw three unread messages, all from the aespa group chat.

Giselle:

Y/n, I lost my keys again...

Ningning:

I tried washing my clothes but messed up the detergent ratios. Now there’s foam everywhere.

Winter:

Please get some snack. Thanks lol

Y/n rubbed his temples. “Day off?” He scoffed to himself. “Yeah, right.”

Despite his fatigue, he found himself grabbing his jacket again and heading back out. He figured he could at least get Giselle’s keys sorted, swing by Ningning’s place to fix the laundry disaster, and grab Winter’s snack in one go.

But first, he made a quick stop at a nearby convenience store.

-

By the time Y/n got to Ningning’s place, it looked like a small laundry soap apocalypse had occurred. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands covered in suds, giving him a sheepish grin.

"Help..." she pleaded, pointing to the washing machine, which was overflowing with bubbles. "I thought more detergent would make it cleaner, but now it’s like this.”

“Well, they clearly not, Ning.”

“I know! Help me out please!”

Y/n let out a deep sigh, but couldn’t help smiling at her cluelessness. "Alright, step back." He quickly adjusted the machine’s settings, drained some of the excess water, and cleaned up the foam. "Next time, use less detergent, okay?”

"Thanks, oppa!" Ningning beamed, but before Y/n could leave, she added, "Oh, and can you fix my bed too? It keeps creaking loudly for some reason."

-

After taking care of Ningning’s detergent disaster and bed crisis, Y/n swung by Giselle at the practice room to help her find her keys. They were wedged between the couch cushions—again.

"You really need a keychain or something, Aeri" Y/n sighed as he handed the keys to her.

"I know, I know... I keep losing them," Giselle admitted with a grin. "But hey, you’re always there to help, so thanks Y/n!”

Y/n chuckled. "Yeah, maybe I should start charging."

“Aren't you already charged from the company?”

“Yes, but I’ll get my overtime from you all.” Y/n joked.

-

With those dilemmas sorted, Y/n made his final stop: Winter’s room. She greeted him at the door with an eager smile, immediately grabbing the bags of snacks from his hands.

"Finally! I was starving." She didn’t waste any time ripping open the snacks.

Y/n rolled his eyes. "You could’ve just walked out and bought them yourself, you know.”

"But then what’s the point of having you around?" Winter teased with a grin. "Besides, you do the whole manager thing so well now. It’s almost like you're used to dealing with all our nonsense."

"Am I now?" Y/n muttered, though he couldn’t deny that things had become somewhat smoother lately. "But seriously, don’t call me on my day off unless it’s an emergency."

"Is snack hunger not an emergency? Is your best friend wanting to snack not one at all?” Winter retorted, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n shook his head with a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re a small bean, Minjeong.”

“I know, I’m abusing it.” Winter snorted.

-

As he walked out of Winter’s dorm, he hesitated before making one final stop. Karina’s room was next on his mental checklist, though she hadn’t messaged him today. Their tension had been palpable for a while, and he figured it couldn’t hurt to try and lighten the mood.

Knocking lightly, he waited a moment before Karina opened the door. She looked surprised to see him, after he fully declared he will enjoy his day off.

"Uh, hey," Y/n began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... uh... didn’t get any distress signals from you, but I brought you something anyway."

Karina raised an eyebrow, curious. Y/n handed her a small bag containing her favourite snack. "Just... you know, a peace offering or whatever," he added awkwardly, not quite sure how to approach the tension between them.

She stared at the bag for a moment, then back at him. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking the bag from him. The awkwardness between them hung in the air, but something in her expression softened.

"Karina," Y/n continued, fidgeting a little. "I know we’ve been... off lately, and I just wanted to... you know, make sure we’re cool. I mean, I’m still figuring this whole manager thing out, but I don’t want us to be at odds all the time."

Karina looked down at the snack in her hands, then back at Y/n. "It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing," she said slowly. "You’ve improved a lot since the beginning... it’s just..."

She hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

"I guess it’s hard to adjust to someone new in the group. Especially someone who used to be a trainee, like us, with skills that does and does not correlate with the role" she finally admitted. "But I don’t hate you or anything. It’s just... a weird transition."

Y/n nodded, understanding. "Ahhh, I get you.”

Karina took a deep breath, then gave him a rare, genuine smile. "Thanks for the snack, though. It helps."

Y/n chuckled softly, feeling a bit of the weight between them lift. "No problem…Jimin. Just... don’t let the others know I’m handing out free snacks. They’ll start demanding a whole shop."

Karina laughed lightly, the sound easing the remaining tension between them. "Deal."

As Y/n turned to leave, he felt a little more hopeful about where things stood between him and Karina. Small steps, but steps nonetheless.

-

Heading home after the day’s unexpected chaos, Y/n finally felt like he might actually get that day off... tomorrow, maybe. But for now, he’d settle for some well-deserved rest. He pulled out his phone one last time and texted the group chat:

Y/n:

Next time, I’m charging you all for manager duties on my day off.

$50 USD per hour. Take it or leave it, suckers.

Unknowingly, Winter replied.

Bet.

[marivoid]

Entry 35

Day 228

Scott.

The same Scott who was supposed to no longer be here. The same Scott who had gone missing in our G.U.I.D.E.- The same Scott who had dark blonde hair the last time I saw him. Somebody who didn't have blue-tinted skin and an icy stare.

Somebody who didn't have ANTLERS of all things.

All I could do was stare. That was all I did. I just took in the face of the man who... that was my best friend. But it's been ten years. By the Watchers, I wish I knew what happened to him.

"You are not supposed to be here, Martyn."

His voice had changed too. Rougher. More defensive.

"And you are supposed to be in the G.U.I.D.E, but here you are. You're changed. You're not..."

"Not what? Not normal? Not that stupid, aloof boy who ran around the G.U.I.D.E with my head so far up in the clouds I couldn't tell reality from fiction?"

A sigh had escaped my lips back then. I wish it didn't. "You were never aloof, Scott. You were incredibly smart and witty and could do so many wonderful things- But then you left. You vanished in the middle of the night. You left the G.U.I.D.E! You left the people you were supposed to help- You left... You left me!"

"NOT WILLINGLY!" His hands slammed against his chest. "Look at me, Martyn! Does it look like I left willingly?! Those damned Watchers, feeding your brain- I bet you still believe everything they told you too!" The world around us had gotten quiet. People were looking.

And the "Jimmy" guy finally stepped in between us.

"Scott- Scott, hey, you don't need to tell him anything." He was definitely trying his best to keep the peace. But I've been told that I'm one stubborn bastard.

"No, actually, I think you do!" Jimmy's wing -Golden and soft and organic- stopped me in my path. "Scott, you left the night of your birthday! You left after freaking- You KISSED me, damnit! And then left! I thought you had died!"

"I WAS TAKEN YOU DUMBASS!" His hands got more blue with... With ice. Ice that he should have never had.

"Scott, you really don't need to do this, you know it makes you upset-"

"OH REALLY?! WERE YOU?! THAT SOUNDS LIKE A HELL OF A LOT OF BULLSHIT TO ME!" I shouldn't have yelled back then. Especially with Brian cawing the way he was.

"I WAS! THE WATCHERS ARE NOTHING BUT AN EVIL GROUP THAT JUST WANTED TO TORMENT US!" He was crying now. I, ME, I made him cry. Over ten years and I made him cry. But my anger was still speaking for me.

"And why would they want to hurt us, Scott?! They gave us everything!"

"They took away everything from us, what do you mean?!"

"ENOUGH!" Pearl's voice. I was pushed back from Scott while Jimmy stood in front of Scott like he was something that needed to be protected.

Needed to be protected from ME.

I should have been the one to protect him. I shouldn't have made him scared, but I did.

"Both of you are acting childish- You both are taking this out of my Emporium. Now!"

And that was how we got kicked out. And yet Jimmy was still protecting Scott.

Even when we left the Emporium and were finally in a quiet place... I still let myself be dumb. I wish Brian poked my head more often for my dumbass-ery at that moment.

"I thought you were dead."

"I'm not."

"They told me you left- That you hated the G.U.I.D.E and wanted to let yourself die in the wastelands. I... Didn't want to believe them."

"You did. Didn't you?"

My silence was the wrong answer.

"Martyn. You're a dumbass. You're a stubborn dumbass who never thinks things through. Why the hell would you even come out here?"

I held my arm up for him. His stunned expression... I wish it hadn't been with tears in his eyes. "A year after you left, a virus ran rampant. Killed everyone. Took my arm. I had to slice it off before it destroyed me." Scott's and Jimmy's shared silence let me continue. "Had to make a prosthetic. It was absolutely dog water. Held up for a while though. A couple of years. But then I had to make another one. And another... And another. It was okay for a while! Wish you had been there, Scott, would have been really nice to have my best friend with me to keep me sane but hey! Shit happens.

I made a fourth one when these... Bandits broke in. Took everything in there. I had to leave. I've been out here for almost a whole year now. Trying to find the Doctor. Give me an arm that will actually last." When I looked at Scott, his eyes were so... Empty. Void of anything. "When you left, everything changed. I became the Admin of the G.U.I.D.E. I got to read so many books- Things that I wanted to share with you!"

"I never said you had to be Admin, Martyn! I never even hinted at it!"

"I did it for you, Scott! Damnit, I did it so you and I could have been happy together! Unlimited access to everything, keep the G.U.I.D.E healthy and strong- We wanted that!"

"YOU wanted that, Martyn!" His hands collided with my chest. Gods I wish I wasn't so angry. I wish I had held his hands. I wished I hadn't gotten so headstrong. "Those were your dreams! I just wanted to be happy with you! That's why the Watchers took me away!"

More tears. His face turned an ugly shade of purple and ice crawled along my torso. I still have frost burn on my chest from it.

"That's... That can't be why. Why would they take you away just because you made me happy? That's stupid! That's absolutely stupid to even suggest-"

"Because you're too dumb to realize what they were getting at! We were just players in a game for them, Martyn!"

Jimmy stepped in. Again. And this time I didn't get a chance to speak. Not with a feathered wing shoved in my mouth.

"Scott. Enough. You don't owe this guy anything. Come on. Let's get home."

Two pairs of eyes glared at me as they walked away. One pair that I wish I'd been more calm with. I wish that I had just pushed down that rush of anger- Goodness-

His pen hit the paper with a loud shout. "GOD DAMNIT!" He held his head in his hands as he stared at the unfinished entry. "God damnit. I fucked up. I... Fucked up so much." A caw. "Yeah, I know. Big time."

Martyn didn't even bother to sign the entry. He shut the leather journey and tucked it away in his backpack. "I don't think I'll ever see him again either. He'll never forgive me. By the Watchers... What did he mean by that? Taken?? Nobody gets taken for making somebody else happy! That's just ludicrous!"

Another unamused caw.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Stupid." He collapsed onto the incredibly hard bed and let out a groan. "Ow... Forget these things are practically concrete..."

A cawing-like laughter from the bird.

"Oh ha ha. Very funny Brian."

Martyn rolled onto his stomach and stared at the comm. The reflection disgusted him. That reflection was him. "I need to find him again. I... I need to apologize to him, Brian. It's been almost fourteen years. I need to make things right by him. I need to hear him out, find out what happened to him. I made it sound like it was HIS fault for the G.U.I.D.E collapsing."

Another caw. Much louder.

"I know. Pretty shit of me. He's... He looks like he's been through a lot as well. He didn't have those antlers. Didn't have blue skin. He's... I've messed up so much."

Another quiet caw, followed by a trill. Martyn didn't bother to move as a weight made itself comfortable against Martyn's side.

"Didn't know you'd be a cuddly fella." His hand traced the bird's head while a quiet coo escaped its metallic beak. "Warning, I might move a lot in my sleep. Don't peck me if I end up rolling over."

Another caw and an unamused look.

"Just a warning, little fella." A yawn escaped his lips. "G'night, Brian. Sleep well."

Martyn was out before the bird could chirp again.

(@hermitadaymay )