#its a bit much; hes a modest man who enjoys his little house and making his own meals

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Absolutely adore your little comic with Pepperman. He's one of my favorite characters and I feel like people always characterize him as some intentionally hateful person. He just lacks a filter and comes across as annoying! He's so special to me as someone who struggles from the same unfiltered habit.

Fun fact: Mcpig mentioned a while back that the only reason Pepperman and Peppino aren't friends post-game is because Pepperman struggles to enter the pizzeria due to his massive size. Poor guy :')

This is 🥺💖 I think it is a very fitting personality trait. Its that thing about weaknesses in a character being seen as a strength and vice versa (when ur making ur own characters and getting stuck on fleshing them out). Like he is clearly shown as someone who is self absorbed; obsessed with his own appearance, and can easily be dispatched when seeing even a glimpse of his own visage.

But like on the flipside, that can be seen as a positive by deciding its Not him being obsessed with himself, but rather, him being obsessed w beautiful and wondrous things. Things that get his heart racing and make his artistic drive flare. Shamelessly in love with his own beauty is ALSO him being shamelessly in love with anything that is beautiful. No filter! He just says what he says! And like I do think he would be a bit of an ass and a bully bc I think of him and the noise as spoiledt brats who are just used to getting their way. But i like the idea of Pepperman knowing when hes met his match. Since he cant fight and pay his way to get Peppino to do what he wants, he will try more unorthodox methods. Like. Beg. He is just lucky Peppino is completely disarmed when being praised, bc otherwise baring his wants and still being rejected would probably obliterate his ego 😭

[cowboybrunch]

Felix Wonder Short!

the wizard turned pariah turned magician just won't leave my brain. if you haven't met him yet, check out this excerpt and moodboard (and he also has a playlist)

i might make this a series. little snippets of what Felix was up to before his exile (and maybe during. and maybe... after)

anyways. enjoy 1000ish (unedited) words abt Felix's antics

It was Tuesday again, and he was running. Practiced feet sped over uneven cobblestones, the familiar buildings blurring beside him. He worked to keep his breathing steady, brushing his fingertips against the stone wall to maintain his momentum as he turned the corner. The heavy boots of the Runeguards smacked in an even pace behind him, but he knew these streets better than they did.

At least there weren’t dogs this time. It took him twice as long to lose the scent hounds.

Another corner and he was on a residential street, shooting for the third house from the bend. He’d never been inside; he preferred to meet its occupant at the inn down the road, and only long enough for them to devour each other and then pay their tabs separately.

He sprinted inside and slammed the door shut behind him before the Runeguards made the turn. It was a small mercy that nobody in this town felt the need to lock their doors. The man inside shot from the reading chair he’d been lounging in, startled by the intrusion but not suspicious— not until he caught a glimpse of who crouched beneath his window, only the top of his disheveled black hair visible from the outside.

“Felix,” the man said. Felix didn’t turn. “Amaya was asking about you.”

“Uh huh.” He craned his neck to peek and swallowed a curse, ducking before the patrols could spot him. He was certain he didn’t know anyone named Amaya.

“She said you were supposed to call her.”

Did he say that? It didn’t sound like something he would say. “I will.”

“She said it’s been three weeks.”

“I lost my phone.” Someone began shouting. He risked another look, raising himself just enough to see— 

And met furious violet eyes in a sneering, rough face. He yelped, spinning to press his back to the wall. “Listen, Damien—”

“Dorian.”

“Dorian, right. I’m in a bit of a bind here.”

“What did you do?”

“I’ll explain later.” Dorian really was beautiful if one looked at him for long enough. A lick of his blonde hair escaped the confines of its combing, jutting out just above his left ear. Though it was winter— which came every year despite Felix’s protests— his skin was tanned and glowing with health. And he was strong. Felix was very familiar with his well-sculpted thighs, barely exposed below the hem that was an inch too short to be considered modest. The thought of those muscles tensing in drawn out pleasure made Felix grin. “Perhaps over a drink?”

Dorian crossed his arms. Felix loved his arms. “What about Amaya?”

Amaya. Amaya. He shuffled through his memory for a face and came up with nothing. “Invite her, too. As they say, three’s a round number.”

“Nobody says that.”

“Because they haven’t met me.” A fist pounding on the door made him flinch. “Let’s sort this out first, though.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb behind him. “The back door leads into the alley behind The Striped Brush.”

Felix scrambled to his feet, pausing beside the man to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a doll, you are. I’ll call you.”

“With what phone?”

“I’ll write you a letter.” Felix was nearly to the door when he added over his shoulder, “Expedited delivery, darling.”

When he finally made it home, the Runeguards were waiting with coin pouches clutched in their fists. They laughed at something his mother said. She laid her hand on one of the guards' arm, ushering them towards the door without realizing that Felix now stood in front of it. Her smile turned sour.

“Thank you,” his mother said, “for all you do. It’s much appreciated.”

Felix moved to the side to allow them to pass. “The Magister’s finest,” he said, earning more than a few scowls. “Excellent work, gentlemen.”

He closed and locked the door behind them, hesitating before turning back to face his mother. Her cheeks were alight with fury, not a new expression and not one that made him flinch anymore. 

“You,” she hissed, “are nearly twenty years old.” Nineteen years and eight months, which she should’ve known given that she was, presumably, present for his birth. “This has gone beyond juvenile delinquency.”

And because Felix was unlucky, Alden appeared at the foot of the stairs at exactly that moment and added, “Incinerating a building is not juvenile by any definition.”

“It was an old building,” Felix said. His twin didn’t share his good humor. They didn’t share much except the set of their nose, the shape of their eyes, the cowlick on the back of their heads, and, unfortunately, a bedroom.

“It was the oldest building!” Alden stepped forward to take his place beside their mother. It’s where he belonged, Felix thought. He’d still have her tit in his mouth if she’d allow it. “Centuries of history, gone. For what? A prank?”

He didn’t intend to burn down the building. “Was it not funny?”

Their mother said, “Your brother is in the running for a council seat. Did you not consider how your transgressions might affect his reputation?”

“Of course! I only ever think of Alden.”

She shook her head and walked away, another motion that didn’t make him flinch. She’d given up on him a long while ago, resigning herself to clean up the messes he dragged inside and ignoring him otherwise.

He was on the cusp of sleep when a whisper came from the bed pressed against the opposite wall: “Which incantation did you use?”

Alden had been silent throughout dinner and while they readied for bed, so the invitation for conversation drew a stunned, “What?”

“I saw the fire. The flames were black.”

“No, they weren’t.” He’d made sure they faded to an explainable orange before the Runeguard arrived.

“They’ll execute you.” The concern nearly sounded genuine. “Dark magic is forbidden for a reason.”

Felix closed his eyes. “You ought to be careful with your tongue,” he murmured, “lest someone steal it.”

Alden didn’t speak again.

everything taglist!

@saturnine-saturneight @gioiaalbanoart @tragedycoded

[anysin]

Fic: Mirage In The Night

For anon requester who wanted a surprise encounter with Jonah/dark!Jon, here you go! I took "Jonah" literally so this has time-traveling Jon. SFW but dark, with a compulsion scene.

Mirage In The Night

Jonah Magnus's house is a modest one, housing one servant in addition to Jonah himself. It's pitifully easy to break in without attracting any attention, and Jon has no problem following the pull of the Eye all the way to Jonah's bed chamber.

He is surprised that Jonah isn't waiting for him already; instead, Jonah is asleep, lying on his side in his small bed. Jonah should already be in his thirties by this time, but he looks much younger, his features soft and delicate, his presence almost harmless. But only almost; the Eye is already present in this man, its influence still not all the way spread into Jonah's mind, but present nonetheless.

Jon walks over to the bed, letting his feet make sound with every step, just to see if he can raise Jonah out of his slumber. But Jonah remains still, and Jon sits on the edge of his bed.

The Eye is passive, not alerting Jonah to Jon's presence. Jon sits there for a minute, two, longer, until Jonah finally starts to stir in his sleep, brows furrowing, mouth twisting into a grimace. His eyes open up, and flow wide at the sight of Jon.

Jon has to be fast. He lunges towards Jonah, who is starting to turn on his back on the bed, and grabs him by the throat, pinning him to the bed. Jonah's hands snap up, clutching Jon's wrist with tight, panicking fingers, but Jon leans over him, staring him right into those grey eyes, watching as they fill with fear.

"Tell me about your first meeting with a supernatural creature," Jon demands.

At first, Jonah's pulse is fast like a rabbit, pounding against Jon's fingers. But it noticeably, clearly calms down as Jonah's body relaxes against the bed, his fingers going loose around Jon's wrist. His eyes are still full of fear when he starts to talk:

"I was a child, and I had gone to the lake with my family." Jonah blinks fast, as if to fend off the spell that has been cast over him. But he continues to talk, his voice quiet and breathy: "There was another family there too, unknown to us, parents and their two little daughters. Our family chose to stay out of the water, enjoying the scenery of the lake. I was painting my watercolors, as I liked to do in that time. The other family was on the boat, all four of them."

Jonah's other hand drops off, but the other traces its way down along the length of Jon's arm. Jon is not sure what the touch is meant to be, but it doesn't matter; what matters is hearing what he has to say.

"Watching them from the shore, I saw that the little girls were scuffling on their little boat, and the smaller one fell into the water. The father stopped rowing, and all three on the boat tried to reach for the girl in the water. Their boat was swaying from side to side quite a bit." Jonah's hand keeps moving on Jon's arm, and this time the touch is clearly a stroke. "They were trying to pull the girl in the water back into the boat, but something was holding onto her. Something that had turned the water around the boat entirely black."

Fingers latch onto Jon's elbow, holding him tight. There is still fear in Jonah's eyes, but also that cursed curiosity, fascination.

"The boat was swaying harder and harder, and even though I should have been calling for help, my family was surely all nearby, all I could do was watch." Jonah inhales sharply, his grip on Jon tightening. "I watched as the boat swayed towards the black substance in the water, and this time it didn't return to the other side. The boat turned over, and everyone inside, the whole family went into the water."

Jonah shudders, his breath hitching just slightly. But he doesn't let go of Jon.

"Once they were in," Jonah says, "I lost my sight of them. There only seemed to be a big, black spot right there in the middle of the lake, and the boat sank into it too, and they were all gone. Soon, the water turned back into normal, too, and it was as if there was never another family there at all."

There is a harsh yank, and Jon finds himself falling on top of Jonah, still staring into his eyes.

"And according to my family, there wasn't. It was as if only I had witnessed what had happened, seen what was in the lake. I never went there again after that day."

Jonah's grip loosens, and he falls slack against the mattress again. He is a little sweaty, a little out of breath, and he doesn't try to pull away when Jon strokes his hair out of his face, as he enjoys the ripple of the story as it runs through his body.

"That was really disappointing," he says to Jonah. "What an unremarkable story. That was enough to kick off your obsession with hunting down other people's fears?"

"No, that alone wasn't. But it was the first time." Jonah's hand falls away, and while his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm, as if after a long escape, the look in his eyes is almost- captivated. "Who are you?"

Jon told himself before that he came here to kill Jonah, get his one final answer and kill him.

"Someone you owe," Jon replies. "You'll see all the ways how."

He should have known that wouldn't be enough to sate him.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

hi it's me again lol i started watching spy x family and omfg. i get the hype now. it's so good

matchup(s) for spy x family, bsd and haikyuu pls!! i added some more details

some facts abt my appearance lol: im 4'9 (i am fr), kind of chubby, brown filipino, dark brown hair. also im an istj. 5w6 based on a quiz i took some months ago.

in terms of personality, im naturally quiet lol i can't help it. even when im around ppl i like, im still on the listeners side unless i have something good to say. otherwise im sorry but you'll have to be the one to start convos 😭

my jokes are mean so im kind of afraid to joke around unless ik they can argue back jokingly. and aren't sensitive. i'm also kind of blunt to the point that it's sometimes a problem. i'll apologize obv but man it makes me a little antisocial lol

in spite of istj stereotypes, i (try to) give my criticism very gently. i try to make sure that the other person knows im not judging or insulting but giving advice. i'm blunt but not that blunt

i like helping ppl out & taking care of others, actually. i like feeling appreciated/needed by others. tbh, it's why im aiming to become a nurse if i pass the exams. if i don't, i still want something along those lines. :))

hobbies: reading (aka prowling around in libraries), watching shows, i like cooking too but idk if it counts bc i don't have many opportunities to do it

aesthetic: coquette, femme fatale sort of thing. laces, bows, frills, etc. i like everything on me modest tho

likes : coffee, any hot drink, reading (tho i don't have the mind power these days lol) , scary movies, ghost hunting videos, history docs, romance but with awkward fmcs. taking walks, and... pink.

dislikes : cluttered spaces (i can't handle stuff just being thrown around. i need even a bit of organisation. not much of a clean freak but i need to know where everything is), crowded and noisy places, non-specific instructions (stresses me out fr), not submitting stuff on time bc its embarrassing, awkward situations (ex. meeting someone for the first time)

have a great timezone!! hope ur food is always warm unless u want it cold 🍲

Hi! Thank you for your request! I took out the Bungo Stary Dogs matchup since you mentioned you've already got one before. Sorry this took so long. I hope you like your matchups!

In Spy x Family, I match you with...

This was a close call between Loid and Yuri, but I think you’d get along slightly better with Loid due to his less boisterous personality.

Loid loves cooking with you and taking walks. There’s not a lot in his life that he finds relaxing but spending quality time with you doing something as mundane as walking or cooking helps him take a load off.

Very clean so no need to worry about clutter. He does his fair share of housekeeping, so you also don’t have to worry about being run off your feet trying to keep the house clean all by yourself.

Admires your desire to help people. That’s one of the main reasons he became a spy, so he values that trait in others greatly. It makes him feel like he can trust you.

Loid is amazing at making you feel needed and appreciated without forcing you to work too hard for it. You hung up his coat for him? Thank you so much. You set the table for dinner before he got home? That’s great, it means you can cook together and have dinner earlier now.

In Haikyuu, I match you with...

You and Kiyoko are the quiet (and kind of intimidating) power couple. While you can both be a bit standoffish, you do like helping people and genuinely care about those close to you.

I see Kiyoko as someone who enjoys watching history documentaries and ghost hunting videos. They’re very different from what people think of when they see her, but I think she finds them intriguing.

Loves taking walks with you! There’s nothing better than being able to finish up with the volleyball team and walking home with the person you care about most.

Speaking of the volleyball team, there’s absolutely no way there’s ever going to be a peaceful or quiet moment with them around. If you’re still uncomfortable in noisy places like this, Kiyoko’s more than happy to meet up with you somewhere quieter.

Sometimes she needs to vent about school or her commitments with the team so she’s very grateful you’re there to lend an ear. Please know that she’s there for you if you ever need to talk as well.

[swtki]

Dancing Days - Edward Cullen x Reader Smut

Anonymous said: 19&24 on edward smut? love ur writing!

A/N: Thank you so much :) also I’m so happy everyone is h*rny for Eddy. I decided I want to explore more period times with Edward, changing his persona in a certain decade, but still ultimately being in the same universe as cannon. This will play into the readers character a tad bit.

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SWEARING, S*X, VAMPIRES, ORAL SEX (MALE RECIEVING), VIRGIN! EDWARD, NON VIRGIN READER, GENDER NEUTURAL READER, MENTIONS OF WAR AND DEATH. 

19: “Fuck me like you want people to know”.

24. “Thing is, I’m a virgin”. 

_______________________________________

I brushed my hair into its usual part, making sure I looked flawless. The year was 1976, I was a senior in Highschool. It was a wonderful time to be a teenager, no longer afraid that my friends would die in Vietnam. Even in my dinky little Washington town, the culture was becoming our own. 

The Led Zeppelin record playing on my record player stopped suddenly, alerting me that I was no longer alone in my room. I turned, my expression soft as I saw my boyfriend, Edward.

“Whats up with you and this album? Everytime I come in, its always House of Th Holy on repeat.” I rolled my eyes, lifted the record in question off of the tray, and put it back snuggly in its case. 

“I can’t help it, Ed. Robert just speaks to me. I’m sure you’re like that with Louis Armstrong.” I waved my hand, walking back to my mirror to finish getting ready. 

“Maybe, but the music you listen to it’s...” Edward paused for a moment, sitting on my bed. “It’s suggestive, Y/N.” I turned to him, my eyebrow raised.

“Suggestive? What’s that supposed to mean?” I placed my hands on my hips, and waited for him to explain.

“Well, for one that one song says ‘Sipping booze’, I quite think that is blatant alcohol reference.” I looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, I started to laugh, and I walked over to him. Instinctually, he pushed his head into my chest, enjoying the comfort it brought him. 

“I love you, but god are we from two different Mars.” He chuckled, sending a rumble through my chest.

At school, I was an average kid. Fair grades, many friends, many ex friends. When Edward was paired up with me in math, I got through his cold, stone skin. At first, he was annoyed when I would fuck off, leaving him to do the work himself. Understandable, and once I realized how rude I was, I stopped. I talked to him, prodded him truthfully. I would ask him once we started dating if he had noticed me previously, because I had never noticed him. 

“Yes, I noticed that you were the only one who didn’t acknowledge me. Ironic I guess.” 

A year into our relationship, I would never let him go unnoticed. We walked the halls, hand in hand. Our outlooks were so different when it came to life. He was modest, I was free spirited. Edward was different from my boyfriends previously, I didn’t want to fuck things up, and I refused to even risk it. 

School went slowly that day, possibly because my head was focused on what I would ask Edward, my boyfriend of one year, about sex. About us and sex. 

I hadn’t told him that I wasn’t a virgin, I was worried he would only want a virgin girl, after all they can never look at you disappointed and say “I’ve had better.” A definite plus. Many a nights I tried to imagine him, moaning completely under my control. I wanted him, but I didn’t know if he wanted me. Surely in 50 years he had found a good fuck. I worried that he would be into someone else, forever tied to a vampiress. 

The end of the school day couldn’t have come sooner, my anxiety rising as I got into Edwards car, starting a long silent car ride. I tried to keep my mind off of it, an attempt to avoid the conversation until we were at my house. I kept my mind busy with the lush scenery outside of the passenger side window. 

“So... I know you want to ask me, and I know the answers to what I would ask you.” He said blatantly, putting the car in park outside my front lawn. 

“I don’t wanna talk out here Ed, lets go inside.” I swung my bag onto my shoulder. Thats the thing with Edward, I never have to say anything, just as long as I think it. 

My house was empty, making it easy for Edward to follow me upstairs to my room. I shut my door behind us, then turned to him. Unsure of what to say, I breathed in deeply.

“How long have you known that I wasn’t...you know?” He smiled, sitting on my plush navy sheets. 

“Y/N, I knew before I met you what I was getting into. Your ex had a lot of thoughts about that one night where you guys-” 

“Oh my god okay ew.” A blush rose upon my face, and I saw Edward laugh as he watched my body fill with embarassment. “Well why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

“I figured if it needed to be brought up, it would be. You and I aren’t exactly a physical couple so I didn’t worry too much.” I walked over to my bed, taking a seat next to him.

“I see...I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal for me so if you want to...” I bit my lip at him, his gaze turned to the other direction.

“Thing is, I’m a virgin.” My expression went from a seductive look, to a puzzled one. I wondered if I had heard him correctly. “I’m old school, Y/N. It wasn’t like how it is now when I was human. People didn’t just have sex in highschool, unless they were married because the man was off to war. So, it hasn’t been on the menu for me. You’re the first girl I’ve dated in fifty years, you know. And no, there was no vampiress or anything.” I smiled.

“Well, I don’t wanna scare you or push it or anything. It’s just you know-” 

“You want to touch me, to be touched by me.” his eyes trailed back to mine, looking deep into my soul.

“Yes, I want you, Edward.” I pressed my lips to his, pulling away jut as it got intense. I could feel his disappointment. “I want to...but I can’t let you down. Tomorrow night. I’ll call you and we can talk about everything we want out of it, I’ll give you a fucking fairytale, my love” I chuckled.

I called him that night as I had said I would. We talked about my first time, and everything I liked, followed by what he had seen on video, what he wanted to try, and his fears.

“I don’t want to kill you, darling.” He said.

“Then don’t. I won’t let you.” He laughed at me, enjoying my lack of seriousness.

The next night rolled along with a quick pace. I looked at the clock and saw that it was time for me to start getting ready. 

I made myself look simple, a small bit of makeup and hair product, but otherwise just a tank top and jeans. Sometimes, dating an old fashioned guy was a pain in the ass. Always complaining about suggestive behavior. But other times, my shoulders counted as being half nude.

“You look stunning, as per usual.” Edward said, stepping into my room. He was tense and barely moved. “I don’t know what to do..what usually happens with it if I’m not the one doing everything.”

If he had any blood flow, he would have been blushing right about then.

“We don’t have to do anything you know. We can just lay down and watch a movie if you want to, I just want to make you happy, Edward.” I walked over to him and put a strand of his messy auburn hair behind his ear. Without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“I want to, thats the part that’s been eating me away ever since I met you. I want to make you feel good, I just don’t know if I’ll lose it and-“ I cut him off with a kiss.

“Even if you break my pelvis into pieces, I’ll still be happy. I’m always happy when I’m with you.” we both smiled, and suddenly the thick tension that once filled the room vanished. “I’ll take care of you tonight, just as long as you’re doing it for you. I just need to know you’re doing this for you, and you need to be sure you wont roll over afterwards and hate me.” I said, my hand clasped in his marble one.

“I want you, Y/N. I have no doubts that I’ll want you afterwards, too.”

I pushed his head down, level to my own. Our kiss was deep, filled with a years worth of hunger. My hands tugged on his hair, making him whimper. Suddenly, I felt my feet lift off the ground as Edward carried me to my bed. With a soft thump, the plush sheets surrounded my body. It was a contrast of warmth on my back, and Edwards cool body on my top.

His hands were balled into fists, clutching my duvet as if his life depended on it. I pulled away, panting for air.

“Sorry, I forget you need air.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes in response.

“Well, its a shame you don’t. Because I intend on taking your breath away.” we both made small laughs at my remark.

“What now?” He looked at me for guidance.

“Get on your back.” I said.

We switched positions, he was now on the bottom. My legs straddled his torso, I sight he visably enjoyed. I slithered my hands up to his head, cupping his face as I kissed him again. My left hand left its post, reaching down to the buttons on his shirt.

I paused, looking up at him once I got to the last button.

“Does it...work like normal or...” He threw his head back and laughed.

“It doesn’t have spikes, I can assure you its just like a humans. But Emmet did tell me to pull out so...I’m kind of worried about the implications of that but-“ I leaned down to shut him up with a kiss.

His hands were still at his side, resting on the bed. I picked up his wrists, and placed them on the side of my thighs. He squeezed them lightly.

My hands roamed over his bare chest, cool to the touch. I lached my lips onto his neck, causing his back to arch below me. I could feel his excitement beneath me, it gave me a big self esteem boost. His hand reached along my waist, tugging at my shirt. His eyes lit up at the sight of my bare chest. He reached for me but I pulled away to slide down onto my knees.

He looked confused, like I had left him high and dry.

“Sit on the edge.” I said softly, my knees burning slightly due to the rough carpet underneath them.

He rid himself of the unbottoned shirt, slidding over to me once finished. My hands slowly stroked his thighs, he was desperate for some type of touch.

I smiled, tugging on his belt until it came undone. He stayed silent, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world. I unbottoned the trousers, tugging on them. He kicked them off and was left in his breifs.

“Is it okay if I..” I looked up at him and he nodded frantically. I palmed him over his underwear, feeling how hard he had gotten from kissing. My fingers latched onto the waist band, pulling them down to reveal a pale yet pink cock. It wasn’t too big, but deffinitley satisfactory. I ran my finger over the tip, earning a small groan from the vampire. My eyes trailed up to him, so I could see him when I took him in my mouth.

He let out a breathy moan, eyes focused on my mouth. His lips were parted ever so slightly. I bobbed my head, and grotesquely sexual sounds arose from my throat. I felt Edward move a strant of hair out of my face, he looked at me like I was a god.

“Fuck..Y/N if you keep doing that there wont be anything for you, dear” He said in a breathy moan. I pulled back, my mouth feeling sore and tired. “Do you still want to?” He asked, grasping his hands on my waist.

“Yes, I fucking need you.” I threw off my jeans, I would worry about finding them later, I needed him. He layed back down, propping his head up on my pillows. Our lips collided in another kiss as I leveled myself with him.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, stroking his hard member.

“I’m sure.” He pecked my lips again as I got ontop of his lean figure. I spat in my hand, lubing up my needy hole.

“How do you want me to do this? I mean like slow? What do-“ He said with genuine worry.

“Fuck me like you want people to know” I whispered, “ Fuck me like you want the entire neighborhood to know that I’m yours and yours only.”

“I can make that happen, love.” He flipped me over, now being back to where we first started. He lined up his cock with my hole, running it around the tight area. I put my fingers in his hair, making a slight tug as he pushed into my body.

Pleasure filled my body as he filled me up, his cock stretched my insides in the right ways. Without pausing, he started to push his hips into mine, making sure not to hurt me.

He reached down to suck on my neck, adding to the pornagraphic moans in the room. My hands travled to his back, scratching my nails down the cold stone like skin. His moans echoed in my ear.

“Y/N, I can’t be on top I’m going to crush you” I laughed at him, tapping his side so he fell onto the bed. I swung my legs over him, sitting on his perfect cock.

“Perfect, fucking amazing.” He said as I steady myself onto him. His face was in a euphoric expression, the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

I began to rock my hips, sliding him in and out of me. His hands grabbed onto my hips, guiding me. Everything was a euphoric experience. My gut filled with that wonderful sensation.

“Edward I’m gonna cum, oh my god” I moaned out, picking up my pace.

Suddenly, the world went still. My eyes went black and I saw stars as my orgasm washed over me. My moans echoed in the room as my body twitched. A few thrusts up into my body and Edward pulled out of me, rubbing his cum out onto his hand.

I layed there panting while he sped to the bathroom, and came back with a clean cloth, wiping down my body. He put the cloth down, pulling up his underwear and handing me mine. I slipped the fabric on, slipping under the covers.

“Get in here, I wanna kiss you”

He laughed, obeying and slipping beside me. Our lips reunited in a soft clash.

“I love you so much, dear.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

or

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif 

-

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

-

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.  

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

-

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

-

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.  

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

-

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

--

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends,  but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.  

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

-

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.  

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers as Roommates

Intro:

So, the MC has left the Devildom and, of course, everybody is quite sad… But this time around, they have a little trick up their sleeve. With just a bit of magic (and training thanks to Solomon) the MC can now summon one of their favorite demon boys up to the human world with them! There's just, uh, one problem though… After being summoned to their side, their beloved demon now refuses to leave it.

Alright MC, enjoy your new demonic roommate!!

Lucifer

Apparently Lucifer is on sabbatical… And yes, he does appreciate that irony in that.

Lucifer actually has a surprising amount of human world money stashed away in alias accounts (because this man renting a cheap motel on business trips? Let's be real) so he uses that wealth to get them a place befitting his standards… which are high.

Spacious apartments in nice areas that would make even the upper middle-class shit their pants? Congrats, MC, that's where you're staying now!

Even with all that money, though, Lucifer CANNOT sit idle for a second. The guy is used to working all his life and just sitting around would drive him insane!

Expect him to still be running some Devildom affairs long-distance style while doing something else on the side, probably stock market stuff tbh.

Is going to want to pay for and provide everything himself but will respect the MC if they still want to work and split the bills (not to a ridiculous degree, though, like half-and-half because that would mean getting three jobs at least).

A lot of trips and vacations too, especially if the MC likes to travel. It’s a good excuse to relax while also technically doing something so he doesn’t lose his mind doing nothing in particular.

He is going to be that strict roommate who expects you not to be a slob and isn't afraid to say so. Regularly scheduled cleaning/organization days are mandatory because hygiene is important. Take some pride in yourself and wash up, MC. That kind of thing.

Also going to have short-fuse for… antics. If you want to prank him, do so at your own risk because he may prank back (and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, trust me.)

Mammon

Yeah so, living with Mammon is like the inverse of Lucifer. Prepare to be poooor.

Man has no human money, are you kidding me? Even if he did, he wouldn’t keep it for very long. Couples budgeting is a MUST if you’re looking to survive.

The apartment is going to be whatever the MC can more or less afford on their own with Mammon shoved in somewhere like a cheap lamp… Don’t expect a lot of room.

However, Mammon is great at the hustle. Man can work multiple jobs and actually be pretty dang good at them. For the most part, anyway. He may occasionally trip up and get himself fired, but he bounces back quick.

If the MC isn’t so moral he can also uh… “find” some extra money lying around too. Just be careful when playing with fire, right?

Even if they’re poor as shit, Mammon is still a blast to be around. The guy knows how to have fun on and off of a budget. Lots of “window shopping” (getting kicked out of stores for goofing off), nightclubs, amusement parks, and cheap fun. They’ll never be without a story to tell or a smile on their face!

He IS pretty slobbish though. He’s not going to remember to clean up after himself unless told, but he’s also not going to be bothered if they don’t do the same thing. A weekly cleaning day is going to be ideal unless they don’t mind living in a pigsty...

Prank waaaaars!! The kind of guy to get them both water guns and have a war in the middle of the apartment complex. Good luck getting any rest with Mammon around.

Leviathan 

Whelp, your room is now his room, quite literally MC. You had to pick the shut-in…

The guy isn’t exactly poor but what human money he does have is all wrapped up in his many interests… Merch interests specifically. 

Thankfully, he won’t take up too much space. Put him in a room with a desk, bed (or bathtub), TV, and computer and he’s good to go! 

He’s not going to be a complete bum, thankfully. There’s no way that they can get him to leave the apartment, but he can run small online stores (usually anime themed) or become a streamer. Probably enough to help pay the bills, but not much more.

If they don’t mind having a literally permanent housemate, then being with Levi has its own kind fun. Lots of anime marathons, movie nights, and game nights. Really, it’s just like how he was in the House, but now transported to the human world.

Is probably going to want a pet goldfish, snake ,or lizard so prepare to house Henry 3.0.

When he does leave the apartment, it’s to take the MC to conventions, concerts, or anime stores. He always manages to get just enough money for these trips, but never says where the money comes from… Best not to ask. Could be black market for they know...

… He’s a shut-in. He’s a shut-in roommate. Hygiene isn’t exactly his main concern. If they ask him to, he’ll make sure to clean up after himself, but he may need a reminder.

Can have a fun side, but just don’t mess with his stuff too much. He doesn’t need a Mammon 2.0 around too...

Satan

He's either hatching a plan for world domination or adopting 10 cats… One or the other.

About as poor as Mammon at first, but threat not. He won’t be for very long. Satan is intelligent beyond his years (or equivalent his years maybe?) so he’ll probably net himself several degrees within a couple semesters like a certified prodigy.

At that point, there really isn’t much to worry about (aside from student loans, join our pain Satan) but he can sell himself just fine and probably get some high paying job like a lawyer or doctor or whatever… I’m not jealous…

They’ll start out in a pretty modest place, but there will be upgrades fairly quickly when he starts racking it in so Satan’s a fairly decent choice as a roommate.

He does still have that nasty habit of breaking things when he’s pissed off, but that can be subverted by getting a pet! Just hold up whatever cat you own when he’s about to rampage then declare that he’s scaring/upsetting them and he’ll stop in his tracks. Works every time!

Probably going to be the most domestic out of the brothers. He enjoys cooking (and ain’t half bad at it either), shopping is a practical necessity, he’ll take care your pets like they were his own flesh and blood, etc.

There will even to be points where he’s in bed reading in the middle of the night with tea and reading glasses like some kind of grandma so take that image for what you will.

Satan is the prankster of the household, but he does his pranks more as a way to give grief to his enemies rather than for funsies. Be warned, if you poke this bear he will retaliate for sweet, sweet revenge and he has centuries worth of pranks behind him. Good luck.

Asmodeus 

It's a new party every night, sweetie, get used to it!

Asmo is the only other brother who has some amount of money to offer from his own trips to the human world, but it's just a modest amount.

Is totally willing to work to help pay for a nice place. He wants a building nice enough to host parties!

Would go back to modeling and maybe dip his toe into acting from time to time… He gets a lot of gigs (this IS the Avatar of Lust after all) so they won't be strapped for cash. Which is good, because Asmo is a very "business by day, but party every night" kind of person. 

Do know that his shopping is NOT going to slow down either. Keep an eye on the budget.

He’s also going to make friends wherever he goes so he’s going to want for them all to hang out at least somewhat regularly.

That being said, he can tone it down some if the MC so desires, just know that they can’t keep him cooped up in the apartment for too long or he’ll start getting antsy. You can’t keep this stallion locked up, MC, he needs to run free!!

Being with Asmo is going to be like having a free pass to whatever gathering the MC wants to go to, at least. He could even get them into red carpet events with just his sheer charisma, charm, and er-… “charms.” Who doesn’t want to meet their favorite actress or singer, eh?

But oh, sweetie, please don’t prank him! Life is too short to waste on silly games (he also just genuinely just doesn’t enjoy being messed with so best not do it).

Beelzebub 

Brave choice, MC, but quick question. How in the world are you going to pay your food bills???

Beel is a real sweetheart through and through but his stomach is NOT. That thing will eat them out of house and home! (Maybe even literally!!) Both of them are going to have to work and probably some pretty looong hours (cause he’s got no money either).

Honestly, Beel would be best as a personal trainer in the human world. He’s a pretty decent combination of tough but genuinely kind and motivating. (The fact that he’s pretty easy on the eyes would help out a lot too).

But the MC won’t have to worry about Beel sneaking off with someone just looking for some “quality time.” He’d take his job seriously, though he’s not particularly versed in what the human body can’t handle so only the really dedicated (or masochistic) would stick with him anyway.

“Good work last week, April! You did so well that we’re going to go from 500 pushups to a thousand! … I can see you’re worried, but I believe in you.”

But hey, he can deadlift well over 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat so who has the balls to argue with him, anyway?

Trying out every restaurant in town would be a must. He’d even plan out vacations for them with the sole purpose of travelling the globe and tasting the different flavors. Food trips!!

He's neat enough since he used to tidy up a lot for Belphie so no need to worry about him picking up after himself (except for the occasional pile of wrappers. Toss those out unless you want ants)

I mean, you can prank Beel if you want. He'll be pretty good-natured about it as long as it stays harmless. Just don't ruin any of his food, got it?

Belphegor 

So… Belphie makes for some excellent décor! Really he is great at laying around and looking fantastic just… he’s not that great at much else...

Realistically, choosing Belphie as a roommate is kind like having a high maintenance pet. He’s good for love and cuddles, but he’s not going to be helping with the bills or anything unless they whine incessantly about it.

If the MC can make enough for the both of them, then it should be fine. They won’t get upset and he won’t be crabby but if not… Oh boy.

Regular job Belphie is a needy Belphie. He’ll come back from whatever job he’s working, likely a night shift, and demand attention or cuddles right then and there. He needs to recharge those batteries, after all...

If he isn’t working then he's at his happiest. He can even pull off being a “househusband” of sorts. He’s not going to go above and beyond the call of duty, but he can keep the place clean, get a basic meal on the table (provided someone teaches him some human recipes), and get groceries if he needs to… You know, basic domestic shit.

They’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that, at some level, Belphie just doesn’t believe in “common curtesy” or “human decency.” If some neighbors are being too noisy for his liking, he will troll them to oblivion and beyond. He may even get sued for it if he takes it too far, so the MC will have to keep an eye on him…

He’s the House’s #2 prankster, but unlike Satan he doesn’t need any malice to be a little shit. The MC will be pranked and it will be at the most unexpected times. Be warned...

Check out my Masterlist for more!

[underworldreaderinserts]

Hey, this is my first time doing a request and I don’t know if this is the right place to put it (I hope it is). But I was wondering if you do do multiple characters, if you could do (separate) headcannons for Zagreus, Thanatos, and Hypnos falling for someone completely mortal on the surface? Thank you so much and I’m really sorry if I didn’t input my request correctly!

Hello, love! No, you did absolutely fine, this is exactly where you’re supposed to submit your requests♡ Thank you so much for sending it in! I hope it’s to your liking♡ I’m so sorry it took so long to publish. The past few days have been hectic! But I’m back♡ Do these even count as headcanons? I’m so sorry-- I know you asked for them separate, but I thought of them all together, and I accidentally made a poly circle. Since this post is long enough already, I’ll leave them out, but please let me know if you’d want me to make a post with them! I had so much fun imagining and writing it that I couldn’t help myself♡  -- Ryan

Thanatos:

✧ Your modest, mortal life hadn’t been too grandiose; you worked as a humble physician, tending to your village in ways of medication and treatment, everything between minor procedures and check ups.

     ✧ In your line of work, death was no stranger. It wasn’t very frequent that patients died in your care, but when they did -- whether it was a life lost to infection, injury, or illness -- they were only in extreme cases. (Needless to say, Thanatos had made all those visits to your practice)

✧ In the beginning, he'd refrained from any involvement in your life -- only watching over the soul whose allotted time was running out before reaping them, then departing. 

✧ But one day, he’d watched you fighting to keep your patient alive. Tears streaming down your face as you did everything in your power to stabilize the boy. His parchment read, ‘name; Nicos, age; 10, cause of death; injury by stampede’. 

     ✧ He knew that he’d have no other choice but to take the boy’s soul -- living with those irreversible damages would be a worse outcome.

✧ After that, he began to notice things he never did before. 

     ✧ The care you put in to making your patients comfortable before they passed. How you went above and beyond caring for them, and giving preventative measures to prolong their life (though he’d still be there to take the soul regardless, he’d watched as you did your best to preserve their life). All of it showed how limitless your strength was.

✧ “He’s.. doing fine. The boy.” You heard a voice one day, an unfamiliar one. You turn around from the bookshelf you stand before, holding a journal and a vial of ointment. 

     ✧ “Excuse me?” You blink, asking the stranger softly, taking in his features. He wasn’t from the village, you were aware of that. The village rarely had travelers passing through, and given this man’s robes and garments, you weren’t quite sure he was an ordinary man.

          ✧ “Nicos. He’s doing well.” The man wields his scythe, gently shifting its weight from one hand to the other. Your eyes widen as it dawns on you. “Than..atos?” Correctly identifying him, he seems to give a small bow of his head.

               ✧ You do as any sane person would, in the presence of a god; you drop everything in your hands and take a step back. You had enough reason to believe him -- after all, you knew everyone in this village, and Nicos had passed months before his arrival. There was no way he’d have known.

               ✧ “Are you... Is it my time?” You ask, leaving Thanatos a bit puzzled. “Are you here to collect my soul?” You repeat, and the understanding visually clicks in Thanatos, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Of course, you’d believe he’d come for your soul, as he’d only ever appeared before humans who have met their time. “Then... What is it you’ve come for?”

               ✧ You’d asked the million dollar question. Why had he even appeared before you? What was it that drew him out like this? “I... Can’t tell you myself. I just came to tell you, he’s doing well.” And with a toll of a bell, he’d disappeared. No word of goodbye, no mention of ever coming back.

               ✧ Reflecting on what had just happened; The God of Death himself had come into your home, just to tell you that Nicos was alright. It warmed your heart to take comfort in that, knowing that he was no longer in pain.

               ✧ Sitting on the situation a little longer, and judging by that little bit of information, it finally dawned on you that he was there, personally, for that event, and that he’d thought of you enough to reassure you.

✧ Due to his work, Thanatos makes frequent trips to the surface. 

✧ Frequent trips to the surface, meant frequent visits (where he could, of course. Lord Hades would have his head if he didn’t prioritize his job).

✧ At first, he refrained from any sort of involvement in your life -- he’d come for his job, and nothing more. But now he seeks you out. He’ll stop by to check in, or even just to see your face. And one thing differs now, when he comes to reap the soul’s whose allotted time had run out.

     ✧ “Take good care of them, Thanatos.” You’d smile softly as you place a coin over your patient’s mouth, voicing your little prayer to him. You said this each time, too, and it made him think you could see him.

✧ He wasn’t sure when it began, but thoughts of seeing you as he carried out his job filled him with a warm, soft feeling.

Hypnos:

✧ In charge of the census of the dead, Hypnos was aware of how everyone dies; when they died, and where they end up in the Underworld.

     ✧ He found that his job became so ingrained in his being that, when he’d drift off at work, his dreams would take him to visions of the lives of some of the mortals he had met, or have yet the pleasure of meeting when they come to the underworld.

          ✧ Most of these dreams always tie back to a particular individual -- someone who seems to touch the lives of everyone they’ve ever met.

✧ At first, he’d just assumed that you’d met and knew everyone in the world, as the only common denominator throughout these dreams was you. But upon further evaluation of that statement, he had determined that was impossible.

     ✧ Next, he had to admit that perhaps he was drawn to you. Whether it was a connection the Fates mandated, or it was his subconscious actively seeking you out, he’d have these visions of your life, these interactions with the people in your life.

          ✧ An image of your smile, the depiction of an experience you had. You’d invaded his dreams, and eventually his thoughts.

✧ Being shackled to the House, and without the luxury that Thanatos or Zagreus have to go to the surface, Hypnos only has a very one-sided means of interacting with you; and though he doesn’t know you, he’s very drawn to you.

✧ It’s curious. As he’s seen all these snippets of your life, he feels he simultaneously knows everything about you, yet nothing about you at all. He could see these candid shots of your life, but he doesn’t know your dreams, your ambitions, or even the sound of your voice.

✧ With his thoughts always falling back to you, he’s a bit more spacey on the job, receiving reprimands from Hades more and more often, looks judgement from his brother, and looks of solemn understanding from his mother.

✧ Achilles teases him, recognizing traits of “a lovesick puppy”, but never really gets an answer on what that means (he might even observe Cerberus for a while to see if he can understand it a little more).

✧ He awaits enthusiastically, and a tad bittersweetly, for your eventual arrival to the Underworld, desiring nothing more than to meet you, and to hear your experiences of life on the surface.

⚠️Spoilers Ahead!! ⚠️

Zagreus:

✧ Most of your mortal life is spent in Persephone’s vibrant and luscious gardens.

     ✧ You lived not too far from her cottage, and you made frequent visits to her, bringing her goods and gifts from the market, and the words from all the gossipers of the town.

          ✧ As far as you knew, she was the only one who lived here, and she didn’t seem to have any family of her own. Taking care of her gardens seemed to be her passion, and to be honest you enjoyed her company. There was something about her, so lively and inviting, that made it hard to stay away for long.

✧ Trips to Persephone were always fragrant, delicious, and warm, despite the permanent snow in the region. Conversations over meals, fishing by the river, and of course time spent in the garden where you got to watch your toils bear great produce.

✧ One day, you return to the cottage, a basket of bass and trout resting on your hip as you walk. The plan was to make a profit selling them in town, and use the coin to get better tools for the garden and the kitchen.

     ✧ Though, on the way to the cottage, you notice scorched earth in the shape of a bare footprints. The trail leads up to the garden, where you find Persephone with a man you’ve never seen before. A man like you’ve never seen before.

          ✧ You watch on as Persephone embraces this ethereal form, whose skin is much like ash and moonstone. He looked beyond out of place, yet, something about him felt so familiar.

               ✧ Focused on the two before you, carelessly unaware of your surroundings, you snap a branch under your foot, alerting them of your presence. The stranger flinched, tensing as he pulls his guard up. He turns to meet your eyes, and whatever words you’d formed in your mind vanished.

               ✧ One red, one green -- his eyes bore into yours as you admire his. That electrifying moment of attraction ends in time with Persephone clearing her throat.

               ✧ No one needed to say anything for you to recognize he’d had the same energy as Persephone. You could deduct immediately that he was her son. But nonetheless, Persephone’s words broke the silence, “[Y/N], This is... my son. This is Zagreus.”

               ✧ “Zagreus..” You sit a moment, tasting his name as it falls from your tongue, and it was something about the way you said his name that drew a shiver up his spine.

               ✧ “[Y/N]... Have you been here the whole time? How much did you hear? Do the Olympians know of you, too?” His questions went miles a minute, but made no sense to you. “Why would the Olympians...? What, do you mean the Gods?” You ask, and Zagreus exchanged a look to his mother, recognizing his own mistake.

               ✧ However, he’d reached his limit in that moment, and Zagreus clutched his chest, stumbling. Immediately, you drop your basket in worry, and go over to help him maintain his balance. Persephone placed her hand on your shoulder, and you watched as his body faded away.

✧ It was then, between that day and the next visit Zagreus paid to the garden, that the whole truth was told to you. How Persephone was actually the daughter of Demeter, the cause of the perpetual snow, and Zagreus was her son with the God of the Underworld, Hades.

✧ Since the day he’d met you in his mother’s garden, his curiosity was piqued. 

     ✧ How long had you been visiting his mother? If you hadn’t known she was a Goddess of Olympus, what was it that drove you to help her? His heart beat faster with his recount of your eyes, your voice, your worry as he felt the tug of the Styx back to the Underworld.

✧ His mission remained escaping to see his mother again, and again, but he found himself hoping each time that you were there.

     ✧ To try the food that you’d make for him. To hear the newest rumor that was spreading around the town. To help around the garden, and see you glow with happiness as each of the plants met maturity. 

✧ You’d invaded his mind, tugging at the strings of his heart -- and on the days when you were away from the garden, his mother had no problems teasing him about his crush on you. Though, she admits, if she’d have to give her only son away to anyone, it would absolutely be you.

[crowfootwrites]

The Boyfriend | Part II [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

Y'all! I did it! I wrote a second part! I actually sort of struggled with the setup of this, but once I started writing the angry, angsty shit I was like, "OH, WE IN BUSINESS." So, please enjoy.

Warnings: language; family drama (arguing); attempted physical violence; pregnancy | Words: 1,734

Part I of The Boyfriend

“What do you mean he wants to come see your motorcycle?” you asked, panic rising in your voice. It had been a few months since the ill-fated family dinner, and aside from a few texts asking about work, you hadn’t heard from your father. So, you assumed his motorcycle chat with Taza had just been polite conversation.

Taza glanced at you across the kitchen table, his full fork of frijoles pausing halfway to his mouth. His eyes softened when he saw the concern in your expression.

“Relájate, mi amor (Relax, my love). He doesn’t have to come here. I can meet him somewhere else,” he said calmly. He watched as your head dropped into one of your palms on the table and the other rested on the top of your very noticeable baby bump. He paused, then put his fork back down on his plate.

“(Y/N), maybe this would be a good opportunity to tell them,” he started, keeping his tone gentle. “I know you don’t want them involved. I understand that, and I will do whatever I can to keep things the way you want them.” He reached across the table to rest his palm against your knuckles. “But the baby will be here in a few months, and hiding it from them is just drawing out the inevitable.”

Emotions rushed over you. You knew that telling them didn’t have to mean anything more than that; Taza would protect his family no matter the cost, and if you didn’t want them involved, they wouldn’t be. But the prospect of having to deal with your mother filled you with a deep-seated dread. You knew she wouldn’t approve. And you didn’t need her approval, but your relationship with her had always been messy and complicated. And some part of you still wanted her to accept and respect you. Angry tears sprang to your eyes, which made you even more frustrated – the pregnancy hormones made you feel like you were losing your mind.

A tear dripped onto the wooden surface of the table and Taza was immediately out of his seat, tugging you out of yours and wrapping you in his arms. He smiled at the feeling of your belly pressed between the two of you.

“Hey, abejita, está bien (little bee, it’s ok). We don’t have to do anything that will make you uncomfortable,” he murmured against your ear, rocking you side to side slowly. He rubbed circles on your back as you regained your composure.

“No, you’re right,” you said with a sniffle. “We need to get this over with.”

Taza’s lips pulled into a wry grin. “That’s a wise choice, I think.”

***

“Ok, I think everything’s pretty much ready,” you told Taza as you flipped the final tortilla on the comal. He came to stand beside you and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“How can I help?” he asked as you pulled the tortilla off with your bare fingers and tossed it into the basket, waving your fingers as the heat sank into your skin. He laughed and gripped your hand, blowing gently on your scorched fingertips.

You couldn’t help the affectionate tears that collected in the corners of your eyes. In an effort to keep you as comfortable as possible, Taza suggested hosting dinner with your parents on the ranch. You would be on your own turf and could call the shots. If anything got ugly, Taza promised that he had no qualms with making your parents leave. To your modest relief, you also felt a little more like yourself today, like you’d happily tell someone where to shove it if they upset you.

“Just being here with me helps,” you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said quietly. The two of you lingered like that for a moment, enjoying the calm embrace before the storm you knew was about to happen.

And sure enough, a moment later, the doorbell sounded. Your eyes jerked immediately to Taza’s. You struggled to discern if the rolling in your stomach was pregnancy-related or anxiety-induced as perspiration collected on your palms.

He ushered you onto the back patio, helping you to sit in the worn wooden rocking chair before heading back inside to welcome your guests. You listened nervously for the creaking of the front door, which was quickly followed by the drifting voices of your mother and father.

You pulled yourself out of the chair, straightening the soft cotton of your dress over your bump, just as Taza stepped through the door. He came immediately to your side, schooling his features into a calm and neutral mask, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Your father was the next through the door and you bit back a grin at the series of emotions that passed over his face in the span of just a few seconds. Confusion, certainly, and shock, but then pride and excitement and finally, unbridled joy.

Time seemed to slow down as your mother stepped towards your father, her confused gaze traveling from your father’s face to you, eyes widening as they landed on your belly. For the first time in your life, your mother was speechless. She stood on the threshold of the patio door with her mouth open as your father rushed towards you.

“Oh, my baby girl!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a loose hug around your bump, kissing your cheeks delightedly. He turned immediately to Taza, pulling your boyfriend into a strong embrace, clapping him heartily on the back.

“Congratulations, you two! This is wonderful news! Oh, goodness, I’m going to be a grandfather!” he announced in wonderment as he pulled back, turning to his wife, whose eyes were still glued to your stomach.

“Dear?” he asked her, cautiously, but with a hint of something firm in his voice. It was something you had never heard from your father before. You wondered fleetingly what that was about.

His voice seemed to snap her out of her trance. Her eyes met yours and she smiled tightly. “Congratulations,” she forced out and you noted acrimoniously the clenching of her jaw.

Your eyes narrowed. Your heart sank with her false smile and immediately, resentment scrambled into place to protect you. You suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to haul off and smack her, but you quickly chalked that up to hormones. Probably.

Intent on making this a pleasant evening for your completely delighted father, you turned away from your mother with a withering look and plastered on a smile, motioning for everyone to take a seat at the table laden with food you had spent most of the day preparing.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Taza sat beside you, his hand never leaving its reassuring place on your thigh, as the two of you answered your father’s abundance of questions.

Baby Romero is due in November.

We’ve decided to wait to find out the sex.

We don’t really have a preference as long as they’re healthy.

Your mother’s eyes bore holes into you, but she remained silent, except for one question, manifested tersely into the space between the four of you. “Are you going to get married?”

“We haven’t really talked about it,” you replied, surprising even yourself with the strength in your voice. Your mother blinked at you, her expression disappointed, but she said nothing, returning her gaze to her plate.

When everyone had finished eating, your father clapped his hands together and asked Taza if they could take a peek at his Harley.

Taza turned to you, searching your eyes. “¿Estarás bien a solas con ella (Will you be ok alone with her)?”

You nodded at him with a wily smile. “Yo sé dónde están todos los cuchillos en esta casa (I know where all the knives are in this house).”

A loud, deep laugh belted from Taza’s chest as you stood and began collecting plates. You could see him shaking his head out of the corner of his eyes, motioning your father towards the garage.

You were standing in front of the sink, rinsing dishes when you heard the clicking of heels behind you, your mother coming to stop across the counter. You waited with bated breath for the inevitable confrontation, your stomach in knots.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked finally, a bitter edge of hurt creeping into her voice.

You looked down into the sink, realizing you were white-knuckling a spoon. “Why would I?” you demanded. “The last time I saw you, you made it very clear that you don’t approve of Che.”

“I just want what’s best for you!” she insisted, her hands clenching by her sides.

“You don’t know what’s best for me! I’m not you!” You slapped the faucet off and grabbed a kitchen towel to violently dry your hands, coming to face your mother completely. You watched as her eyes flickered quickly to your belly and then back to your face, the sight seemingly fueling her fire.

“I do know that you have no business having children out of wedlock with a man who’s twice your age,” she snapped, stepping closer to you, and your body reacted to the perceived threat, your heart thundering against your ribcage, heat radiating from your face.

“You don’t get to make those decisions for me! Che is the best partner I’ve ever had and he’s going to be an incredible father. Which you would know if you even gave him a chance, but you won’t. You refuse to accept that this is my life, and I’ll live it however the fuck I want!” You could hear your volume rising, but you were beyond controlling it. By the end of your rant, you were screaming, inches from your mother’s furious face, her eyes glinting and her lips set into a scowl. Suddenly, Taza was running into the house and coming to a stop behind you, pulling you gently away from your mother while your father tugged your mother away from you.

“I can’t believe I raised such an ungrateful bitch,” your mother spat, and you swung. Luckily for your mother, Taza had pulled you out of reach, and your fist missed her by several inches.

“Get out of my house!” you hissed, struggling against Taza’s arms, angry tears staining your cheeks.

Your father, looking appropriately mortified, dragged your mother out of the front door and into their car.

Part III of The Boyfriend

[damnzawa]

Hi there! I just found your account and I love you writing! I was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader fantasy au? Where prince bakugou goes to a small village in his kingdom for a pit stop while on a quest but meets the reader who's a poor butcher's daughter that doesn't know who he is and doesn't really care either but really wants to go on a quest and begs him to let her travel with him in exchange for being a chef. Thank you so much!!💞💕💗 ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾┌(★ｏ☆)┘

ANNOYING — B. KATSUKI

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry if this took a long time to be published! I went off tumblr for a while due to personal issues but now I'm back! Hope you like this!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED (for now)

WARNINGS: Language LMAO but its Bakugo so what do we expect. Also this is not beta read!

WORD COUNT: 1955

Not everyday you have the privilage to meet the prince. The heir to the kingdom's throne. The second most respected man in the whole entire kingdom.

And not everyday you get to mistake him as a thief either.

Not that you care about his title, really. You believe that all men are created equal, regardless of their social standings, heirarchy and whatnot. Thus, you didn't really care about the prince and the royal family that much to ever know about them. Not even their faces, nor names.

So, it wasn't a surprise that it will cause you your possible demise.

You see, the day started nice. You went out to do some deliveries, met some nice people on the road who bought half of the meat your father had cut, and to top it all off the farmer was kind enough to give you extra rootcrops as a sign of gratitude to you and your father. It was a great day all in all. Until, the knights came.

Along with the explosive prince.

Murmurs began to start as you headed back to your father's stall in the market after a long day of delivery work. Even though you didn't mean to eavesdrop — it was kind of hard not to, considering how their volumes were — you caught the words: arrogant, self-centered, short-tempered. And later you found out those words described the prince.

"He must be a nincompoop then. To get such a reputation from the people in town, he must have done some... questionable things." You said to yourself. Too engrosed in your thoughts, you bumped into a red-headed knight. You bowed immediately while apologizing then excused yourself, you didn't really want to interact with knights today. All you wanted to do was cook a hearty meal for your stubborn father, read a book by the fireplace after a bath, and relax.

But all those plans seem to be quickly washed away when you saw an ash blond quietly steal from your father. You were gonna let it slide, thinking that maybe it was for a good cause.

That is until you realized, the man stole a prime cut.

As if a switch was flicked, you quickly ran towards the direction the man headed to. Spotting him from afar, you ran as fast as you can and knocked the man into the ground, shocking the people around you.

"Give it back." You sternly commanded the man. "Give back the meat you stole from my father."

The man scoffed at your 'accusations' and tried to wiggle his way free but your entire weight placed on top of his back made it hard to do so. "Let me fucking go. I have no idea what the actual fuck you are accusing me of."

"Oh shut it. I saw you with my own two eyes and I am very much sure that their vision is not impaired yet." His futile attempts at escaping now stopped as he tilted his head to see the scoundrel who had the audacity to knock him down and embarrass him infront of townspeople.

Of course it had to be a girl.

"Are you one of my admirers to go such lengths as accusing me of stealing from a commoner?" That comment made your eye twitch because first, you are certainly not an admirer of this prick. Two, you don't even know the guy! Three, who would admire this piece of work? And lastly, your father might be a 'commoner' but he's the best 'commoner' you could ever find! There wouldn't be a slab of ribs or a fine piece of steak on your plates if it weren't for him! And the way this asshole said 'commoner' with such distaste too! What a prick! Who the hell does he think he is?

"My prince!" The same red-headed knight you bumped into earlier shouted from afar. Your eyes widened for a second before turning back to the asshole beneath you who now has a smug grin on his face.

"Miss! Are you alright?" The knight asked while helping you get up. "Did the prince cause you any disturbances? Any problems?" It was your turn to plaster on a smug grin on your face. You saw his own falter which you made you more smug than before.

"Why yes actually, the prince caused me a slight inconvenience." The red-head sighed, taking a quick glance at the prince beside him — who couldn't stand due to pain. "The prince stole a priceless little thing from my father's stall earlier and I'd like for him to return it or better yet, pay for it." The prince was about to retort but the red-head beat him to it.

"I deeply apologize for the prince's action, miss. If it would make you happy and satisfied, I will pay for the items he stole. I will also ask for forgiveness on his behalf." Angry noises came from the prince's (beast) mouth as the red-headed knight did exactly what he told making you raise an eyebrow.

"Why are you doing it for him? Can't he do it himself?" It was amazing to see a knight easily convinced to do something a mere 'commoner' like you demanded, but you concluded that this red-headed fellow wasn't an ordinary knight. He seemed like the type that's fed up with the prince's antics, thus his demeanor towards people is filled with empathy and the usual knightly courage. But your words made him halt, and look at you as if you were from some otherworldly land.

You caught the knight mutter about something manly before the prince interrupted. "Hah?! I'm not gonna apologize to someone lower than me! You extra!" The knight sweat-dropped at the prince's words while you looked at him blankly. Wow, the rumors are true, he is an asshole.

"Well, Your Highness, this extra happened to be the one who cared for the rib who used to be a part of the cow that you stole just now. So, apologize and pay up. I don't care if you're the prince or not. Thievery is a crime, and you just committed it." The crowd begin to whisper, making the prince's eye twitch.

"Fine, you annoying extra! Give her whatever the fuck she wants!" And with that the prince stormed off. Leaving you and the red-haired knight behind. The crowd began to disperse, seeing as the scene just concluded and that the man of the hour was gone.

The knight turned to you once again and bowed. "I'm deeply sorry for my prince's actions. As he caused such an inconvenience and refuses to be accountable for his actions, I shall ensure to provide whatever compensation you need or want — within reason of course." Before you can respond, he introduces himself with a grin. "Ah! How silly of me! Chivalric knight, Kirishima Eijirou at your service."

"I appreciate your efforts, Sir Kirishima, but I just need the payment for the stolen goods." You replied with a smile, but soon your smile faltered. You had wanted to be a chef for so long and travel unknown lands to discover cuisine and cooking techniques you've never heard of before. Perhaps... is this the right time to do it?

You bit your lip as you contemplated. Should you grab this opportunity and run with it?

Seeing your hesitancy, Kirishima waited for your answer. "Actually... I have a request... I was wondering if it's possible?"

"I'm all ears, Miss."

...

"What is this extra doing here?!" Prince Bakugo exclaimed as he saw your annoying little face within his traveling party. Kirishima sighed as he explained the situation. You would join his party as a chef until you reach the capital where you will be training to be a chef under the great Lunch Rush. Bakugo was about to object when Kirishima shot him a look.

"Fine. But I'm not eating garbage cooked by a commoner!" You rolled your eyes at his demeanor. Are all royals like this?

As if reading your mind, Kirishima responds. "Don't worry. King Masaru and Queen Mitsuki are quite modest and kind."

"Then what happened to him?" You pointed to Bakugo.

"I heard that, you extra!" Fowl language followed that statement making the traveling party sigh. Oh boy, this is gonna be a painful journey.

After that, you said your goodbyes to your father, who was very emotional about the turn of events. "Be good and be brave, my sweet child. And ask for forgiveness from His Highness." Your brows were scrunched in confusion.

"Why must I do that? He was clearly in the wrong!"

"Ah... that slab of meat was a present from me to him. He once helped me round up the cows when his traveling party went by our house yesterday. The slab of priceless meat was a token of appreciation for his kind gesture. So, do apologize for your actions, ok?" The information you just heard astounded you, making you speechless. Guilt pooled in your stomach as you promised your father that you will apologize to the prince. And with a final promise of coming home as a renowned chef, you parted ways.

The journey started rough. The prince refused to eat anything you made at all. His stubbornness knows no bounds and his overall demeanor towards you was not pleasant, which you understood as the scene you caused was a total misunderstanding on your part. The only upside was the traveling party greatly enjoyed your meals, and some even gave you recipes from different places and suggestions of destinations that you'll surely enjoy to explore! Overall, it went smoothly.

That is, until the prince became sick.

The doctors in your traveling party asked you to concoct different meals suited to His Highness, You had to stop at a village in order to ensure Prince Bakugo's speedy recovery. And one day, you were assigned to deliver his meals to him personally.

"Prince Bakugo?" You knocked on the door, and as expected, not a response came from the prince. You sighed and slowly opened the door, cautiously stepping in so you won't wake Bakugo up or spill the contents of the bowl you held.

"Go away, you extra." He grumbled, but his rough voice was replaced with a weak ome due to his illness.

"Look, I know you won't eat my meals but you need to eat. You can't recover from this if your body doesn't have the nutrients it needs to fight back this illness." You huffed. "And... besides, consider this as my way of making up to you."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"My father told me about it. I'm sorry for mistaking you for a thief. I tried to apologize to you on several occasions but you angrily push me away every time I do. So, I figured this might be the right timing since you know... you aren't your usual aggressive self." You scratched your nape in embarrassment. "Besides, if there's something I learned while traveling with you is that you're a big softie inside. You might act rough and is shard on the edges, you're actually kind-hearted and caring. Uh... anyways. Please make sure to eat your meal, Prince Bakugo."

Before you can exit the room, you heard him say, "Annoying extra." But the usual hostility behind those words wasn't there. You might just be assuming it or imagining it, but those words almost sounded... fond.

With a shake of your head, you left the room.

Later that day, you found the bowl to be empty and outside of his room. Along with it was a note that read, "Don't fucking tell me what to do, you annoying extra."

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[ggukcangetit]

Name of the Game: ksj fic (M)

title: Name of the Game

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre/au: Anastasia AU, fluff, mystery, a bit of angst, smut, comedy

rating: 18+

word count: 14.2k

warnings: lost identity, slightly graphic description of a car accident including mentions of blood and dead bodies, minor character deaths mentioned, mentions of nightmares, mentions of past trauma, y/n gets lost multiple times, sexual content including oral (f and m receiving), kissing, grinding, fingering, breast play, nudity, unprotected sex (PLEASE USE PROTECTION).

summary: The Hotel -Strange, The Manager - Far Too Charming, The Situation - Dire, The One in Trouble - You.

a/n: here’s my adaptation of the 1997 animated Anastasia film! the idea of the hotel was inspired by the Spanish tv series - Grand Hotel! i didn’t manage to finish this by the deadline. but it is finally over. i’m not very happy with how this story turned out but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. this was part of the Wish Upon A Star collab featuring some incredible writers and their brilliant adaptations/interpretations of different stories from our childhood. 

The address seemed correct. You had asked three people on the way over, and they had all pointed you in the same direction, accompanied by a knowing look. And in a way, they were completely correct. Concordia was a Gothic style castle, standing tall in the midst of acres and acres of lush green fields - a foreboding structure lost in time, separated from the rest of the world by sheer distance. In fact, the nearest payphone and gas station had been almost 100 miles away -  which you had used to phone the Mins.

“I think I’m almost there,” you spoke into the phone, surveying your surroundings doubtfully. “I asked a bunch of people and they all told me it’s just a few minutes away.”

They had lied. It took you at least 3 more hours to bike there.

“You sure you aren’t lost, kiddo?” You could almost see the teasing grin on Yoongi’s face.

“Oh, would you look at that? My time’s almost up” - you rolled your eyes at Yoongi’s giggles filtered through the receiver - “I’ll give you a call once I find accomodation, Yoongi! Take care, and don’t swipe any more tangerines from the shop!”

“Look out for yourself, kiddo.”

You had lived with the Mins for the better part of your 21 years of existence. They had found you almost 12 years ago, sitting under a large tree, bawling your eyes out. You had no memory of how you had gotten there, or who you were - just your name and a very battered piece of sheet music in your pocket. It was solely due to the kindness of a young couple who ran a modest cafe that you were even alive at this point. Their only son, Yoongi, preferred to lord his 4-5 year age difference by calling you ‘kiddo’. You would rather die before admitting it, but you really adored the nickname. 

Living life without an identity, without any roots, without a past - it was inconvenient at best, and unsettling at worst. You were eternally grateful to the Mins for everything they had done for you, but the first indication of financial distress arising from difficulties at the cafe had prompted you to pack your bags and leave in search of a job. 

Concordia was a name everyone knew. It was one of the oldest hotels in the country, passed down through 4 generations, known for its grandeur, luxury, and exquisite service. But most importantly, the food at Concordia was absolutely legendary. People saved up money throughout the year, so that they could travel to the hotel and try the food just once. And as a person who didn’t have much to lose, you decided that this would be the perfect place to apply for a position in the kitchens. 

What you hadn’t expected was to come across a gigantic looming structure, more suited for housing a reclusive vampire with horrible mood swings or a flamboyant literary figure prone to wild fantasies and nights of debauchery. Or both. 

You had almost turned back after seeing the castle for the first time - it didn’t seem like a place you’d want to spend more than a few seconds in. But something inside you kept nudging you forward.

There were two men standing at the main doors, looking equally formidable and archaic as the building they were guarding. After a few terrible attempts at convincing them to let you in, you gave up on the idea.

You looked around carefully. Surely there was another way of getting in. Once you were inside, you could convince whoever was in charge to give you a chance. You just needed one chance to prove yourself. Just one. 

Just then, a couple of people walked out using some kind of side entrance - a magnificently dressed woman and a young man with a certain swagger in his steps.

You crept over towards them, hoping that something from their conversation would help you out.

“I don’t understand why that silly girl creates such a fuss about bringing food to my room!” The woman rolled her eyes and brought a cigarette to her lips.

The young man took a lighter out of his pocket and lit the cigarette with a practiced sort of ease. “I’ll have a word with her, don’t worry.”

You strained your ears, trying to figure out just what they were talking about. Something to do with the hotel?

“But Mr. Kim,” she continued, taking a step closer to the young man. “Why can’t you bring my food up to my room?” The tone of her voice had most definitely changed, dropping a few octaves as she tilted her head to one side. 

“Now, now, Mrs. Trent,” he replied, with a hint of a chuckle. “You know that’s against hotel policy.”

With that, he took a definite step back. 

“Shame,” she continued, sweeping her eyes over him. “Make sure Kate doesn’t make any more mistakes with my room service.”

“Will do, ma’am,” replied Mr. Kim. He bowed to her and showed her back inside using the side entrance.

This was your opportunity. 

You followed behind them, making sure to maintain a decent amount of distance, and slipped in before the large door slowly creaked shut.

The inside was comparatively more inviting than the exterior. Lanterns at every few feet provided soft, warm lighting, and the decor looked a lot more modern and familiar than expected. The side entrance opened into a sort of lounge area, filled with comfortable sofas, small wooden tables, and a few dozen bookshelves. A record player -

“Can I help you?”

You hurriedly stepped back from the person you had bumped into - the man from earlier, Mr. Kim. 

“Uh…” You floundered for words, caught off-guard by how handsome he was. Chocolate brown eyes, devastatingly plump lips, ridiculously broad shoulders, and strong eyebrows - one of which was quite beautifully arched as he sized you up.

“I-I got lost. I wandered away from the lobby. C-could you”- you straightened your posture, mustering up all of your confidence - “direct me back there? I need to complete my check-in.”

Mr. Kim stared at you for a few moments. He seemed to be considering your words. You weren’t dressed half as extravagantly as the woman from before - who was probably a good example of the hotel’s usual clientele - but you somehow resisted the urge to tug at your clothes self-consciously.

“Of course,” he flashed you a brilliant smile, gesturing towards another part of the hotel. “This way, ma’am.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, quickly turning it into a cough as he turned towards you inquiringly. 

“Sorry, my throat is absolutely parched.”

He smiled again. “I’ll get one of the staff to bring out some water and refreshments for you.”

You nodded weakly and stood there, trying to look like you belonged. 

As soon as Mr. Kim was out of sight, you headed in the direction he had gone. Hopefully it was towards the kitchens. If not… well, you didn’t want to think about that.

It was soon evident that you were lost. Whatever this corridor was, you had no idea where it led or whether Mr. Kim had headed that way at all. Perhaps you should have waited near the front desk and thought your plan through…

“Are you looking for something?”

You whirled around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. It belonged to a middle-aged woman, with a soft kind of beauty that had aged gracefully. You probably should have stuck to your story about being a guest who had gotten lost in the hotel. But something about her kind eyes encouraged you to tell her the truth.

“You want a job in the kitchens?” she asked, sounding a little skeptical. “My dear, there’s a way to apply for such positions. Why don’t you go back home and look at some proper avenues to apply for hotel internships?”

“Please,” you tried to keep the desperation out of your voice. “Just give me a chance. If I’m not capable, I’ll leave. But please, don’t turn me away.”

She sighed. “What’s your name, child?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” Her eyes seemed to well up for a moment, but she gathered herself quickly. “Y/n… Umm, alright. We’ll give you a try. One week. And if things don’t work out, you have to leave without a fuss.”

You beamed at her. “Thank you! You won’t regret it -”

She shook her head with a resigned smile. “Call me Yuna.”

Your first impression of Concordia had been spot on. There was something definitely off about the place. At the end of your first day working there, you noticed that all the staff seemed to get along with each other but there was a certain tension whenever the owners of the hotel were mentioned. Nobody said anything, but an uneasiness hung in the air every time. 

“So tomorrow,” Yuna turned towards you. She was the head chef and you had spent the entire day observing her as she directed everyone in the kitchen. “I’m going to ask you to help Kevin with the breakfasts. It’s not too tough - but in my experience, you can tell whether someone has potential by the way they cook eggs.”

You smiled. She had a subtle sense of humor, and everyone working with her absolutely adored her. She was the mother hen and head chef all rolled into one. 

“And about your accommodations-”

An interruption arrived in the form of the last person you wanted to see.

“Do we have any strawberry pastries left?” Mr. Kim asked, sauntering into the kitchen like he owned the place. 

You busied yourself with some dust that had miraculously lodged itself into your left eye at that very moment, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. But unfortunately, those piercing eyes had spotted you.

“Look who it is,” he drawled, walking over with slow, deliberate steps. All the amiable attentiveness in his eyes had been replaced with a calculating smugness. “Our lost check-in.”

“Ah, Seokjin,” Chef Yuna interrupted your staring match. “I see you’ve met our newest recruit - y/n. Y/n, this is Seokjin - my son.”

You gulped. “N-nice to meet you, Seokjin.”

“It’s Mr. Kim or Manager Kim to you, Lost Check-in,” he said, with a definite sneer. “Mum, forget about the pastry. I have a meeting with Madam Iris in a few minutes.”

With that, he walked off, leaving you a humiliated mess. Chef Yuna opened her mouth to say something but you were off without a second thought. Manager or not, how dare he speak to you like that!

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim! KIM SEOKJIN!” you all but screamed, finally catching his attention. Although, if he hadn’t been ignoring you so obviously, he would’ve turned around sooner.

“What is it, Lost Check-in? I have more important things to do,” he asked, huffing much louder than necessary.

“Why did you speak to me like that?” You glared at him, trying to keep your temper in check. “I know I lied to you before but that’s no way to talk to another human being.”

He stared at you for a few moments, and once again you got the distinct impression that he could see right through you. It took all of your determination to not break eye contact.

“Because,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “You aren’t a guest here. So I don’t need to be nice to you. Do you understand, Lost Check-in?”

You stood rooted to the spot, goosebumps breaking out all over your body. 

“S-stop calling me that!” you yelled, long after he had walked off.

Concordia belonged to the Chavalenet family. Madam Eva Chavalenet, the matriarch of the family, was silent, formidable, and barely ever seen by any of the guests or staff at the hotel; Madam Iris Farrow, Eva’s daughter, was intelligent, graceful, and extremely beautiful. She ran the hotel along with her husband, Anthony Farrow, who was the family’s solicitor. Iris and Anthony had an eight year old son - Ryan - who was an absolute terror, and someone Seokjin did not like having around. 

Unfortunately, management meetings meant that he would be seated at the antique dining table in the Chavalenet’s residential quarters, trying his best to avoid whatever it was that the young heir would try and lob at him, while the boy’s mother rattled off a long list of things for him to take care of. Seokjin couldn’t understand why none of the members of the family attempted to, or even wanted to, keep the child under control.

“Seokjin,” Madam Iris began the meeting, pulling out her expensive looking reading glasses out of her equally expensive looking purse. “The last few months have not been good for the hotel. We will need to have some layoffs.”

Seokjin kept his expression neutral. This wasn’t the first time staff had been laid off over the past year. Whoever was managing the hotel’s accounts was either doing a terrible job, or the expenses had truly outrun the income they generated from the guests. The former was the more likely possibility because people paid a pretty penny to come and stay at Concordia, and as far as he could remember, business had been booming since he had been promoted to manager two years ago.

“We’ve reviewed the staff’s evaluation forms and come to the decision that housekeeping and kitchen staff need to be reduced by 8 overall. We’ll leave it up to you to make the final decisions.” She looked up from the stack of papers in front of her and gave him a small smile. “It’s going to be difficult, so make sure to consult Chef Yuna and get her opinion on the matter as well.”

Management meetings always proceeded like this. Madam Iris gave him orders, Anthony Farrow agreed to every word she said, and Madam Eva remained unyielding in her silence. Previously, the Assistant Manager would also join these meetings - but ever since the position had been terminated, it was always the four of them. And that annoying brat, of course. 

“Before I forget,” Anthony said, turning his gaze towards Seokjin. “Make sure the sheets in our room are washed with the new ultra fine formula detergent.”

Seokjin’s jaw ticked in irritation. Anthony Farrow had married above his station, doing everything that his wife and mother-in-law asked him to do. It was only while interacting with the hotel staff that Anthony found his voice and used it with incredible high-handedness.

“Darling, don’t bother Seokjin like that.” Madam Iris understood the strategy of appeasement very well. “I will speak to Helen when she comes up to our room tomorrow morning.”

Usually, this was when the meeting would end and everyone would head back to their rooms. 

Today, however, there was an unusual interruption in the form of-

“I’m so sorry! I got lost on the way to the kitchens!”

Seokjin stared in astonishment as you hastily tried to explain why you had quite literally stumbled into the management meeting. It wasn’t that you were doing a bad job of it, per se… It was just a very tough crowd. 

“How long have you been working here, girl?” snapped Anthony.

“I’m new,” you answered, shortly.

Before Anthony could express his outrage at the tone of your response, Madam Iris stepped forward and surveyed you carefully. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

Something flickered in her gaze but she masked it quickly. “Well, y/n, this is very disappointing indeed. Usually our staff know how to conduct themselves in front of the guests and the owners. I’m afraid-”

“Let her be.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Madam Eva who had spoken for the first time that night. In fact, Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken voluntarily in the first place.

“Mother?” Madam Iris looked confused.

“The meeting is over. No need for unnecessary fuss.” Her tone was final and no one dared say anything after that.

Seokjin wasn’t sure if you understood the significance of the moment. But before any further damage could be done, you had excused yourself with an apology and left the room. 

You woke up early the next morning, partly because of another nightmare and partly because you were anxious to get to work on time. Chef Yuna may have taken on a complete stranger the day before, but you were pretty sure her kindness wouldn’t extend any further if you messed up.

On your way to the kitchens, you found yourself lost once again. It was the hotel’s fault, really. It was far too large and had one too many winding corridors. How did the guests find their way around without getting hopelessly lost? Was there some sort of map that was given out to them at the time of check-in? 

A sudden movement from a few feet away caught your eye. It was a shadow - which meant that there was someone moving about in the alcove. 

Curiosity got the better of you and your feet headed towards the person, wondering who it-

“Mr. Kim?!” 

There was no mistaking those broad shoulders. Kim Seokjin stumbled slightly, startled by your presence. 

“I-I can explai-” he stopped abruptly when he realised it was you. “Oh, it’s just you.”

You glared at him, offended by his tone. “What were you doing just now?”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” he shrugged, attempting to leave without divulging any more information. 

“So you just skulk around dark alcoves indulging in shady behavior for no particular reason?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was so easy for him to regain control of the situation with that penetrating gaze and intimidating body language. “But more importantly, what are you doing in this part of the hotel?”

“I got lost again,” you muttered, looking away in embarrassment. 

“And instead of being thankful that you bumped into someone who could help you find your way back, you’re accusing me of - what was it? Ah, that’s right, ‘indulging in shady behavior’,” he emphasized the last few words with air quotes.

“As if you would have helped me!” you retaliated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you sent me off in the complete opposite direction and made sure I never found my way back again!”

“I wouldn’t have,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But now that you’ve brought it up, I’m going to do precisely that.”

You gaped after him. What exactly did he have against you?!

“If you don’t take me back to the kitchens,” you said, making him slow down. “I’ll tell Madam Eva that you were lurking about in places you have no business being.”

It was a long shot. But something about the atmosphere the previous night had indicated that Madam Eva’s approval was hard to come by. And the entire room had been quite shocked when she had asked for you to be left alone. 

Seokjin stopped and turned around slowly. Your threat seemed to have done the trick because he didn’t look quite as smug as he had a few moments ago. “Fast learner, aren’t you?”

You held your ground, determined not to be shaken by his intimidation tactics. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” He began walking again, in a different direction this time.

You held back a grin and followed behind him.

“But if you ever” - he whirled around suddenly, taking you by surprise - “think of blackmailing me again, things will not end well for you. Understand, Lost Check-in?”

Overall, your second day working at Concordia had not been very eventful. Chef Yuna had been very pleased with how you had prepared the eggs and potatoes for breakfast. She was looking more inclined to keeping you on permanently. Besides that, not much had really happened. You found out more about your coworkers - Kevin, Michelle and Laila. All three of them had been working there for more than two years and seemed likeable enough at first glance. 

Chef Yuna herself was something of a genius in the kitchen. While she didn’t cook often, her instructions were impeccable, and the one dish that she had cooked for dinner had been so incredible that five guests had sent back compliments to the chef. On top of that, her pleasant personality made her a hit with almost everyone. 

You could see where Seokjin got his charms from. He had a way of drawing people towards him with a combination of beautifully arranged words, intuitive actions, and overall handsome aura.

Although, there was something slightly sinister about the way he operated. You realised that the incident with Mrs. Trent had not been a solitary one. Manager Kim regularly charmed gifts, favours, and cash out of the guests. You had observed him on more than a couple of occasions, just chatting with some guest, and before you knew it there was something small being passed into his hands. And it wasn’t just women who gave him things either. 

“I hope you enjoyed the classical music session in the grand hall last night, Mr. Cowen,” said Seokjin, talking to the elderly gentleman seated near the balcony. “There’s another one scheduled for the end of next week, if you’re still staying here at that time.”

Mr. Cowen seemed utterly delighted to hear this, and not only extended his stay at the hotel but also pressed a rather thick envelope into his palm. No doubt, this was a regular occurrence because Seokjin was just incredibly smooth at handling everything that people handed to him. 

You made it a point to avoid him as much as possible. And your little stunt that morning had also ensured that Seokjin left you well alone. All in all, it was an arrangement you were quite happy with.

“Y/n, don’t forget about tonight!”

You turned towards Laila, confusion lining your expression. 

“Tonight?”

Laila rolled her eyes. “I told you about it yesterday, remember? We have a staff gathering every Friday evening! It’s basically a small party where we eat, drink, and dance to music on the manager’s boombox! It’s a lot of fun!”

You scrunched up your nose at the mention of Seokjin. But Laila looked so excited that you figured it was worth going to. Not that you had any other grand plans for the evening…

“Sure! Where does the party usually happen?”

“There’s a large unused room below the lobby,” explained Laila, eyes sparkling in excitement. “The Chavalenets don’t keep any hotel events there because it’s on a lower level, so we take advantage of that and have a good time there instead!”

“Sounds fun! I’ll be there!”

“Oh, and don’t forget to dress up!”

You stumbled on thin air. “Dress up?”

“Of course! It’s a party, y/n!” 

“I don’t have any fancy clothes…” you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

That did not seem to faze Laila. “Well, it’s a good thing I have tons to spare!”

Later that night, you walked into the forgotten room below, dressed in a knee-length, midnight blue dress courtesy Laila. She had insisted on you wearing a pair of sparkly earrings as well, claiming that you absolutely could not proceed without it because it matched the little sparkles in your dress. 

You were quite glad that you had followed her advice because everyone else clearly took these small Friday gatherings very seriously. In fact, this party turned out to be the most free-flowing gathering you had encountered since stepping into the hotel. Gone was the stiff, unnatural feeling that usually clung to the atmosphere. Replaced, instead, by normal conversations, comfortable interactions, and a general feeling of warmth and comfort. 

“Y/n, you look beautiful!” Chef Yuna walked over to you with a big smile on her face. 

“Thank you! Though, I’d say most of the credit goes to Laila for letting me borrow her dress.”

Chef Yuna laughed and pointed you in the direction of the snack table. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of every dish sitting there - shrimp appetizers with a subtle garlic dip, baskets full of freshly baked bread rolls, two large bowls of salad, slices of turkey, chicken, and salami, and a very delectable looking cake with fresh cream and strawberries.

“Y/n, where did you learn to cook? Do you have any formal training?” Penny, who worked at the front desk, had only spoken to you in passing before. 

“Oh, the family I lived with owned a cafe,” you said, sipping the punch slowly. It was a little too tart for you. “I used to help out a lot here and there, and eventually got quite interested in cooking. But I don’t have any formal training.”

“That’s odd.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Penny shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t have any training or experience, but Chef Yuna still hired you. I can’t see why.”

“Well, I’m grateful that she gave me a chance,” you said, a small frown gracing your features. “Otherwise I’d be unemployed and homeless.”

Penny took this as an indication to leave. You wandered around the room, avoiding people, and mulling over her words. It was a bit odd that you had been hired. Although you had tried to keep yourself from overthinking the reason behind it, now that Penny - a relative outsider - had pointed it out, you felt a little uneasy. Surely, there wasn’t a sinister motive involved…

“Shoot! The tape’s jammed!”

Kevin fumbled with the boombox, trying to open it and take the cassette out. A mass of wriggly black tape shot out after a few moments, startling him enough to make him lose his balance and fall on top of Laila. 

“My dress!” Laila yelled, as the punch spilled on her cream colored outfit. 

“I’m so sorry!” Kevin hastened to get off her, and looked around helplessly.

“Let me take a look at it,” you came over, inspecting the tape and boombox. “I can fix this but I’m not sure about your dress, Laila.”

Kevin was relieved that the tape emergency was over, but one look at Laila’s furious expression wiped the relief off his face. Chef Yuna placated Laila with promises of a home remedy for the stain, while you busied yourself working on the boombox.

Yoongi’s obsession with music, and any and all technology related to music, meant that you had seen him fixing countless tangled cassette tapes before. The boombox hadn’t eaten any of the tape, thankfully, so you looked around for a pen or pencil with which to wind the tape back into place. There didn’t seem to be any in the room, but Michelle told you that there was plenty of stationary in the backroom of the kitchens. 

While walking up the stairs, you noticed something moving about in the shadows. Was it Seokjin being shady again? Surely not…

“UGH!!!!!”

Alas. It was exactly that.

Well, not exactly. This time around, something had frightened him so much that he had let out an almighty shriek, jumped two feet into the air, and accidentally hurled a large bunch of keys in your direction. 

You realized it was accidental because a few seconds later, Seokjin’s frantic voice could be heard searching for the keys.

“Where is it?” he muttered, crawling on all fours. 

You contemplated giving him back the bunch without any fuss. But the image of his annoyingly handsome face staring at you condescendingly made you reconsider your course of action.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, walking up to him slowly. 

Clearly, the man didn’t do well with sudden noises because he let out yet another loud yelp and fell on his backside. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” he demanded. “Why would you sneak up on someone like that?”

“I was walking by when I saw you being shady again. And for the record,” you added, kneeling down beside him. “It wouldn’t feel like I was sneaking up on you if you weren’t sneaking around yourself.”

He frowned at you, and you realised that he was still in his formal work clothes. Although, you could tell that he had been rummaging about for quite a while because his shirt had come untucked and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You tried not to let the pronounced veins on his arms distract you. The last thing you needed was for his obnoxiously large ego to become even more bloated by realizing that you found him extremely attractive.

But really, you didn’t need to worry about him realizing anything. For Kim Seokjin was busily trying to comprehend the fact that you were wearing a relatively short dress and kneeling down next to him. Never before had he contemplated how long and slender your legs were - but now that he had caught more than a glimpse, he couldn’t quite get those thoughts to leave him.

“What were you doing, anyway?” you asked, realizing that no one had spoken for a significant amount of time. “I’m beginning to think you’re either a sleepwalker or a very clumsy pervert.”

That seemed to snap him out of it. He got up quickly and dusted his pants, glaring at you the entire time.

“Neither. And you need to mind your own business, Lost Check-in.”

It was your turn to frown. “Stop calling me that.”

“Stop getting in my way,” he retorted.

“Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Or else what? You’ll get me into trouble?” he sneered.

You smirked and brought the bunch of keys out from behind your back. “Not at all. I’ll just keep the hotel’s main set of keys to myself and watch you get yourself into trouble.”

“Give that back!” He lunged at you, trying to get the keys back.

You should have thought this through more thoroughly. The initial advantage you had was now gone, and instead, the man before you was able to use his height and ample shoulders to his full advantage and trap you against the wall. You held the keys behind your back, determined to keep them away from him as long as possible.

Now that you were backed up to the wall, Seokjin had to press himself flush against you in order to get closer to the keys. His hands moved wildly, trying to feel for the keys and brushing against your thighs instead. 

The sudden contact made you jolt upwards, knocking both your heads together and temporarily ceasing the fight. 

Although, if anyone had seen the two of you, they definitely wouldn’t have thought you were in the middle of a fight - the angles and movements were much more like two people feeling each other up very heatedly.

“You’re such a pain,” Seokjin muttered, rubbing the spot on his forehead you had bumped into. The tips of his fingers were placed very gently against his forehead, but somehow the movement itself was extremely aggressive.

The image was so bizarre that you burst into giggles, doubling over and collapsing onto the floor. He stared at you for a few moments before the corners of his lips started twitching upwards as well. Sighing slowly, he sat down next to you.

“You’re very strange,” he said, though it lacked the usual crisp annoyance.

“You’re one to talk. Lurking in shadowy corners on more than one occasion,” you retorted, giving him a pointed look.

He sighed. “If you must know, I’m looking for the treasure.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Growing up at the hotel, I had always heard about rumors of a great treasure that was hidden somewhere here. Mind you, no one really knew anything concrete about this treasure. But the rumors were always fantastically exciting.” He paused, leaning his head back against the wall.

“If you’ve known about it for so many years, why are you searching for it now?” you asked.

“Because I don’t think the hotel will be running much longer.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Why not?”

“Financial problems. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s not been looking good for the past year.” A sad smile graced his features. “This hotel is my home, and it feels weird to think about a time where it won’t be a part of my life anymore. But I have to plan for the future, look ahead and make sure there’s a plan b in case the worst comes to.”

You remained silent. How were you supposed to respond to this?

“Anyway,” he continued. “Can I have the keys back?”

You looked at him, surveying his features closely. Once you moved beyond how handsome he was, you could see the determination in his eyes as well. This man was a survivor - just like you. That’s why you decided on your next course of action.

“I’ll help you.”

He blinked a few times. “Huh?”

“I’ll help you,” you repeated, handing the bunch of keys to him. “I’ll help you look for the treasure.”

It had been a week since you had started working at the hotel. Chef Yuna was satisfied with your work and hired you on a six-month contract.

“That way,” she said, while passing the contract to you. “You are free to leave the hotel if you find somewhere else you want to join. If not, we can just draw up another contract for you to continue.”

You smiled at her. She really was a very kind and compassionate person, who always looked out for the people around her. Unlike her son… 

Although maybe Kim Seokjin wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought he was.

“Lost Check-in! Don’t you look lovely today!”

Correction: he was just as bad as you had thought.

“Can you not breathe down my neck, Manager?” you said, through gritted teeth. He was currently standing right behind you, staring at the soup from over your shoulder. The close proximity meant that you could feel his breath on your neck - which was extremely unsettling.

He backed away a little and stared at you with mischief dancing in his eyes. You frowned and crossed your arms across your chest, anticipating some kind of sabotage. And sure enough, he suddenly leaned forward, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Do you know where the gummy bears are?” He pulled away slightly, tilting his head and gazing at you inquiringly.

“The gummy bears…?” you repeated, slightly dazed by the sensation of his lips on your ear.

He grinned and flicked your forehead softly. “I’ll just ask Laila.”

Apparently, Seokjin had a slight gummy bear addiction. Chef Yuna had banned any sort of gummies from the kitchen for that exact reason. Somehow, Seokjin managed to overcome that obstacle as well - he would ask the grocer to smuggle in his favorite rose colored gummy bears, even going as far as saying some guests had requested it but wanted it kept a secret. 

Laila, who you thought had a pretty obvious crush on Seokjin, was chosen as the gummy guardian in the kitchen, and occasionally, Kevin also helped hide the stash when things got too chaotic. It was only Michelle who would possibly disapprove, and therefore, was kept completely in the dark. 

“What was the manager talking to you about earlier, y/n?” Michelle came over to you after tea had been prepared for the guests. 

“Oh, uh-” you saw Laila desperately shaking her head from behind the counter. “Nothing in particular. He was just being tiresome.”

Michele frowned but nodded her head. “Okay. Just don’t fall for what he says, okay? Do your job properly and listen to Chef’s instructions. Everything will be fine that way.”

You nodded your head. What a curious thing to say… You wondered what had brought about this response from Michelle. Everyone in the hotel seemed to be very fairly fond of, if not incredibly smitten with, Seokjin. This was the first time you were witnessing such an explicitly negative response towards him. Even Madam Iris and her husband maintained a level of aloofness associated with the upper class. 

“Why does Michelle hate you?” You were standing next to Seokjin as he tried to jimmy the lock on a random cupboard in some random room. You still hadn’t been able to figure out what his process for finding the treasure was - it just seemed like a bunch of inaccurate guesses. But at least he had finally relented to your persistent nagging and asked you to join him on his next escapade.

“Why do you think she hates me?” he asked, frowning as the lock wouldn’t budge. When you didn’t respond, he turned towards you and chuckled at the skeptical expression on your face. “Okay yes, she isn’t particularly fond of me.”

“I figured that much out myself, funnily enough. What I’m asking is why?”

He hesitated a little, as if trying to find the right way to explain the situation. “Michelle and I were - uhm - we had a brief dalliance a couple of years ago. In fact, it was right after she had started working here. Things didn’t end well…”

You pressed your lips together, desperately trying to keep a straight face. It didn’t help that the tips of Seokjin’s ears had started to turn red as he finished recounting his story.

“You played her, didn’t you?” 

“No way! I would never-” he stopped, realising that you would not fall for his stories. “Yeah well, it’s not like I promised to marry her or something! We just kissed a few times and she helped get a couple of persistent guests off my back.”

“Yeah, you played her.”

He sighed, pushing past you on his way out of the room. “Whatever.”

It was incredibly amusing to see him annoyed and flustered like this. You made it a point to find out a few other things that would possibly elicit the same reaction from him. Maybe there was a particularly scandalous gummy bear story you could wedge out of Laila. 

Just as you both rounded the corner, something small and fidgety dashed into you, successfully knocking you off your feet. 

“Hey! What the hell?”

The bane of every hotel staff’s existence, the reason why a large crate of tomatoes had rolled down the main flight of stairs, the culprit behind the large pudding stain on the special ivory tablecloths, the spoilt young heir of the hotel - Ryan Farrow sat on the floor opposite you, seemingly delighted about the fact that he had managed to topple a new victim.

“Watch where you’re going, kid,” you said, trying to keep your temper in check. You had heard dozens of stories about the terrors unleashed upon your coworkers by this child, and even though this was your first direct interaction with him, you were already extremely annoyed.

“You watch where you’re going, old lady!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet and sticking his tongue out. 

“I am not an old lady!” you yelled, chasing after him as he began running off in the direction he had come from. “Hey! Get back here! You should say sor-”

The sight of a very displeased Madam Iris stopped you in your tracks. Ryan grinned at you from behind his mother, made a series of unfortunate gestures, and ran off before you could chase after him.

“Y/n,” Madam Iris spoke with a calmness not reflected in her eyes. “I’m not sure I understand what you were doing just now.”

You stood still, knowing that she had more to say, more excessively long sentences to use, more haughty expressions to display. 

“I can’t imagine that you’d be chasing my son around the hotel,” she continued, raising a thin eyebrow. “Yelling at him to apologize to you. What exactly would my son need to apologize to you for?”

“I wasn’t yelling at him,” you replied, stiffly. “He was too far away so I had to speak loudly. Also, he was running through the corridors very fast and could’ve hurt himself along with someone else. I was ju-”

“How dare you?” she frowned at you. “How dare you think you have any right to tell my son what he can and cannot do? This is basically his hotel. You work for him as much as you do for me and my mother.”

You bit your lip harshly to stop yourself from saying something that would land you in further trouble. 

“If I ever see you treating my son like that ever again,” she looked you up and down with a disdainful expression. “I will have you sacked immediately. Understood?”

You didn’t trust yourself to say anything more. Madam Iris gave you one final look of disapproval and walked off. 

“That was quite something.” 

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t feel like listening to your bullshit right now, Seokjin.”

After getting no response, you removed your hands from your face, only to be greeted by a large hand full of rose gummy bears. Seokjin stood in front of you, wiggling his eyebrows and nose, trying to indicate that you should take some of the gummy bears from his hand.

He looked cute. 

“Is there something wrong with these gummy bears?” you asked, once you had recovered from his oddly endearing actions. 

He frowned, a soft pout forming. “I’m appalled. Whatever differences we may have, Lost Check-in, I would never put my precious gummy bears in danger.”

You remained unconvinced, so he picked up a single gummy bear between his thumb and index finger, and popped it into his mouth. After a couple of chews, he thrust the gummy bears towards you, gently bobbing his head up and down to signal to you that it was safe to try some.

You rolled your eyes and picked up a couple of them. Seokjin was watching you intently, trying to gauge your reaction to his favorite treat. 

Your first instinct was to say that you hated it - it would be so much fun to watch his disappointment. But his large brown eyes were filled with a clear emotion - anticipation - the kind you feel when introducing your best friend to something you love. At least, that’s what you’d imagine the feeling would be, because you never really had a best friend before. 

“I like it.” It was a simple statement but somehow, it managed to earn a full-blown smile from him.

“Excellent! I knew you’d like it!”

Your face felt hot as he grabbed your hand and shoved the rest of the gummy bears into it.

“Oh, and I got this for you.” He reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a battered looking document. “It’s a map of the hotel - it’s quite old but I’ve scribbled down any new additions or structures that may have been added more recently.”

“Where’d you get this?” you asked, trying to avoid the more pressing question of why he was going out of his way to give this to you.

“Madam Eva gave it to me,” he replied, simply. 

“Madam Eva? Why would she give you a map of the hotel? Didn’t you grow up here? Why would you need it anyway?” The questions poured out before you could really check yourself.

“Oh hush, Lost Check-in,” he tutted, shaking his head. “I got it from her to give to you. So you wouldn’t keep losing yourself in dark corridors. I wouldn’t want you to bump into someone else like you did with me.”

“Huh?” was your very intelligent response.

Corridors. So many corridors. None of them leading anywhere. Just an endless path. No destination in sight. No doors on any sides. No rooms. Not a single person around. You were all alone. A single object far away. Too far away. The corridor doesn’t end. A figure in black. Growing larger. It was coming for you-

“It was a nightmare… thank god...” You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing harshly as you struggled to gather your surroundings. 

You were in your room, the gentle sounds of Michelle’s snores calming you down while you got up to get a drink of water. It didn’t seem like you would be able to get to sleep anytime soon so you decided to study the map Seokjin had given you. 

It was no wonder you kept getting lost in the hotel - it was massive and there were a number of rooms within rooms whose existence you wouldn’t be aware of unless you specifically knew where to find them. 

Your eyes wandered over to the top left corner of the map. That particular section of the map was much more faded than the rest of it, making it hard to decipher exactly what was there.

“Seokjin!” You burst into his room just as the clock struck 6 in the morning. “I think I know where we should be searching next! Th-”

You nearly collided with the table in the centre of the room as you realised exactly what you had stumbled upon. 

Seokjin doing his morning stretches. Seokjin, with bed hair and rosy cheeks, doing morning stretches. Seokjin, wearing a peach colored t-shirt and tiny pink shorts, with bed hair and rosy cheeks, doing morning stretches. Seokjin, whose ears were now a bright red, wearing a peach colored t-shirt and tiny pink shorts, with bed hair and rosy cheeks, doing morning stretches.

“Y/n?” he asked, looking very confused.

“Thigh- I mean, hi!” You looked away from the lower half of his body, donned in the most ridiculously tiny pair of tennis shorts you had ever laid eyes on. “I have an idea.”

“Okay? Is it related to knocking before you burst into someone’s room at the crack of dawn?” he replied, grinning cheekily.

“Shut up!” you scoffed, turning away from him. You didn’t need him to see how affected you were.

“Okay, just gimme a minute.”

Soon, he was back, appropriately dressed and smelling like strawberries. Of course he smelled like strawberries…

“So what was your great idea?” he asked, sitting down on the floor.

“I was looking through the map of the hotel,” you said, opening it up. “And this place right here on the top left corner of the map - I think this place would be worth a shot.”

“No.”

“No? Why not?!” You were slightly annoyed at how quickly he dismissed your suggestion.

“Because,” he said, pulling the map closer to himself. “This is where the Chavalenet suites are located.”

“Oh…” You frowned at the map. “But that means there’s a greater chance of finding the treasure over there! Have you looked there before?”

“No, because only select staff are allowed there during fixed hours. Madam Iris insists on it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I think we should check it out. Come on, we’ll be very careful! They’ll never know we were there!”

The earnest look in your eyes seemed to make Seokjin waver. He stared at you for a few moments before shaking his head resignedly. 

“What’s the worst that could happen… Ah, fine. Let’s plan on exploring that section of the hotel while dinner is being served. I know that Anthony requested a special performance by that famous children’s magician, so they should be occupied for much longer than usual.”

You grinned, collecting the map and getting ready to leave the room. “I’ll meet you outside the kitchens at 7!”

It was exactly twenty past 7 when you rushed out of the kitchen, nearly colliding with Seokjin in the process. He tapped his watch a few times, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.  

“I hate that woman!” you huffed angrily, slipping into your jacket. “She actually requested that I peel all the potatoes for tonight’s dinner. Do you know how many potatoes were served tonight? 200!”

“You peeled 200 potatoes by yourself?” Seokjin raised his eyebrows in alarm. 

“No,” you sighed. “Chef Yuna got Laila to help me out but Madam Iris kept popping in every few minutes so she had to go back to doing something else. Mind you, I might not have finished at all tonight if she hadn’t helped me. But it still took an insane amount of time.”

The two of you walked towards the Chavalenets’ section of the hotel. It was located at the back of the building, effectively cut off from the usually busy portions of the hotel. 

“Why is this family so weird?” you complained, picking at a thread on your jacket. “One doesn’t speak, one is an evil tyrant, one is a spineless asshole, and don’t even get me started on the kid!”

Seokjin chuckled softly. “They weren’t always so weird. Especially not Madam Eva.”

“Really? I don’t believe it. She just sits there and watches her daughter do whatever she wants.”

“No, it’s true. She was a very powerful woman - used to command the attention of everyone in the room. Everyone respected her and she really cared about everyone in the hotel - staff and guests included. In fact, she was the one who introduced special events for guests during the evenings. She also had part of the hotel renovated so that there were more staff quarters.”

“So what happened?”

“A couple of things. About 15 years ago, Madam Eva’s husband passed away quite suddenly. Everyone was pretty shocked, but in hindsight it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. He liked to live it up - smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, and ate everything the doctors specifically asked him to avoid. Anyway, around the time of his death, rumors about the treasure started circulating. There was speculation that he had left something behind but hadn’t told the rest of the family. Overall, his death created a lot of upheaval in terms of property and inheritance issues.”

Seokjin paused, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“It was about two years after that that Madam Eva’s son and his family died in a car crash. Adrian, his wife Sophie, and their little girl - who funnily enough had the same name as you.”

“Really?!” you asked, eyes widening in surprise. That would explain why Chef Yuna and the Chavalenets had reacted so strangely when they had heard your name.

“Yeah,” he said, turning towards you with a sad smile. “I still remember that day clearly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Madam Eva as devastated as she had been that day. The police barely managed to stop her from going to the crash site. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if she had managed to get there - apparently, the explosion was so bad that only a few body parts were recovered.”

“Wow…” You didn’t know what to say. The story sounded horrible on its own - what must it have been to actually have to live through it?

“Anyway, here we are” -Seokjin pointed at a couple of large doors next to each other - “that’s Madam Iris’ study and her and Anthony’s bedroom next to it. On the other end of the corridor is Madam Eva’s room and an empty ballroom where they sometimes hold meetings.”

“Okay, let’s start with the study.”

Madam Iris’ study was a very well organized room. There was no way you could rummage through it without moving something out of place. Seokjin suggested that each item should be returned to its place as soon as it was inspected, making sure that nothing was left to be put back at the end. It seemed like a pretty efficient system, but unfortunately, there appeared to be nothing useful that could point you towards the treasure.

“I knew it!” Seokjin stood up and waved a large paper notebook frantically. “I knew she was tampering with the books! There’s no way the hotel could be doing as badly as she claimed!”

You frowned and took a quick glance at the notebook. Not being familiar with any of the accounts, you looked at Seokjin for some help. He began explaining every single mistake with a feverish excitement, his words coming out faster as he got more excited. 

Suddenly, you heard a noise from outside the room. 

There was no need to check who it was - in whatever scenario, you and Seokjin could not be caught rifling through the papers in Madam Iris’ room. 

“Seokjin!” you whispered frantically. “Shut up! There’s someone coming!”

He wasn’t paying any attention to you, excitedly rattling off different things from the notebook. The voices were getting closer and in a last desperate attempt, you pulled him behind the large red curtains and smashed your lips to his.

That seemed to shut him up for a moment. But as he realized that your lips were on his, he attempted to pull away. There was no way you could risk letting Seokjin talk right now. So you moved your lips over his, kissing him fast and hard, while your fingers frantically tapped a pattern onto his left arm. Hopefully he would notice the pressure on his arm and understand that you were trying to tell him something - that you were trying to tell him to shut up for a few minutes.

Thankfully, he stopped struggling after a few taps on his arm, focusing on kissing you instead. 

You nearly missed out on the conversation happening at the other end of the room because Seokjin’s lips were just so damn powerful.

“Iris,” you recognized Madam Eva’s voice, low and stern. “I’m running out of patience. When is that lawyer husband of yours going to be done with the new staff contracts?”

“Mother, please, have patience. Anthony can’t just rush through such an important task. We need to everything is absolutely perfect before handing it over to you.”

“You have until the end of the month,” Madam Eva said, her voice ringing with finality. 

The door slammed shut and the sound of the two pairs of footsteps slowly receded into silence.

It took you a few seconds to realise that the coast was clear. Pulling away from him hastily, you took in the sight of his bruised lips and dazed expression. Pushing aside the delighted feeling blooming in the pit of your stomach, you brought his attention to the conversation you both had just overheard. 

“Sorry about that - I had to find some way to shut you up quickly! But more importantly, we need to find those contracts! Did you hear what they were saying? I’m sure Iris is planning something sinister!”

Seokjin had not, in fact, heard anything that had been said. His brain had started glitching as soon as your lips had descended on his. But it was only when you started tapping his hand, did his world come crashing around him. 

“Y/n! We aren’t supposed to be here! I’ll get into trouble if they find me here!” 

9 year old Seokjin had quite a few reservations about raiding the special chocolate cabinet that was kept locked and stored inside the grand ballroom. 

“Shh!” you whispered, pouting at him. “If you keep screaming like that, they’ll definitely find us!”

“What?!” Panic seized his entire body, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could think about them. “I knew it! This is a disaster! I’m going to be in so much trouble! Mum is gonna-”

The feeling of something soft on his cheeks made him halt his word vomit. Your lips, to be precise. 

Before he could overreact to this as well, you began tapping his forearm rhythmically. The movement snapped him out of shock, alerting him to the fact that two of the hotel staff were currently taking away the old centre pieces on the tables. 

He pulled away from you slowly, nodding his head to let you know that he would be quiet until they left.

It was a good 15 minutes later that the coast was finally clear. However, Seokjin’s ears were still red and his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Sorry, Jin,” you apologized, grinning at him mischievously. “I had to shut you up quickly!”

It came back to him in a rush. A pile of memories, falling from the sky and burying him under the emotions he had kept locked up for more than a decade.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. Madam Eva’s beloved granddaughter was still alive. You were still alive. You were Madam Eva’s granddaughter.

“I can’t believe I kissed him like that!”

You were currently having a mini meltdown inside your room. Thankfully, Michelle was still working so you had the whole place to yourself to rant about your ridiculous choice of actions.

“I could’ve just covered his mouth with my hand!” You buried your face in your hands. “But NO! I had to use my mouth to cover his mouth! What was I thinking? No! What is he thinking?! Fuck!”

This was getting too much. Your face felt unbelievably hot, and you couldn’t make sense of your own actions. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t kissed a guy before - in fact, those sloppy kisses you had shared with Yoongi’s best friend, Hoseok, had been quite enjoyable. But that was after Hoseok had said that he liked you - you hadn’t just jumped him out of nowhere!

“I’m such an idiot!” you groaned. 

There was no point screaming to yourself inside the room. Perhaps a walk around the hotel would help you calm down. You’d probably get lost again and it would take hours for you to find your way back. The perfect distraction!

The walk was beginning to do the trick - you were so busy examining the different paintings and statues lining the corridors that you ended up at some random part of the hotel, too immersed in what you had found to overthink the kiss.

“A piano?” You walked into the small room, marveling at the beautiful ivory piano situated in a corner. 

“It looks like no one’s used this in years,” you muttered to yourself, opening the keylid and lightly running your fingers over the keys. “Shame… it looks so magnificent.”

An idea popped up in your head. When the Mins had found you 12 years ago, the only object in your possession had been a roughly folded set of sheet music. Yoongi had saved up enough money to buy a second hand piano - but there hadn’t been enough keys on it to play the last page of the sheet music. 

But this grand piano would do nicely. 

Sneaking a peak around the room, you made sure that no one else was there. The last thing you needed was for Madam Iris or anyone from her family to catch you here. 

“Okay, let’s try this.”

The first note sounded rich, and the tone was definitely of more superior quality than the one you had practiced on with Yoongi. As you continued playing the piece, your thoughts wandered over to the Mins. A wave of homesickness hit you suddenly and images of the cafe sailed through your mind - you wondered how they were doing. Was the cafe managing a little better now? Maybe you’d use one of the hotel’s telephones to call Yoongi and see how they were doing…

“Huh?” You stopped playing, confused by the sound coming from the key you had just played. 

You were now on the last page of the sheet music - your right hand on the highest scale available. The e flat key did not sound right, and you checked the sheet music to make sure you were playing the right one. 

“No… this seems right. Why does it sound off?” you wondered, pressing the key a little harder this time.

All of a sudden, there was a loud creak and one of the wooden panels behind you sprung open. You nearly fell off the piano stool in shock, just barely managing to hold on as you waited for someone to jump out from the shadows and attack you.

Thankfully, no one did. But the panel remained open, subtly inviting you inside.

“What’s the harm in checking it out?” you reasoned with yourself. “No one’s going to find out.”

And so, you stepped through the opening, walking into a very large room filled with trunks of different sizes, a few large cabinets, and dozens of pictures set up all over. It almost resembled some kind of store room. Upon closer inspection, you realized that all the pictures were of the same people - a young man with a soft smile, a very beautiful woman standing next to him, and a little girl who never seemed to be facing the camera when the picture was taken.

They looked so familiar. Like something out of a dream. A dream that you were struggling to grasp at as it slipped away into your subconscious. 

With every picture you examined, the ache inside your chest grew. Soon, there were tears falling from your eyes as an overwhelming rush of memories hit you like a ton of bricks. Your father showing you the different keys on the piano while your mother fussed about not having enough time to teach you how to write. Your grandmother talking you on walks through the property, telling you stories about how there used to be deer and rabbits before most of the greenery was cleared away. Your family showering you with so much love while you raced about the hotel making new friends, playing hide and seek, and dragging your best friend along with you.

“It can’t be…” you wiped away your tears furiously. “How can this be true…”

You sat down on one of the trunks, burying your face in your hands. Your head hurt. Your chest hurt. Everything hurt. You wanted to cry. You also wanted to punch your way through the hard stone walls. 

You felt… lost.

“Are you sure?” Anthony asked his wife, the fear very apparent in his voice.

Madam Iris snapped at him. “Of course I’m sure! Would I be joking about something like this?”

Anthony gulped and looked down at his hands. “So Adrian and Sophie’s kid is still alive… what if they are too?!”

“No, they’re not,” she replied, shaking her head definitely. “I saw their bodies in the crash. It was just that pesky kid I couldn’t find…”

“You don’t think she’s back for revenge, do you?” 

“I’m pretty sure she has no idea about her true identity,” Madam Iris contemplated. “But it’s better to not take any chances - we should get rid of her quickly. Before someone else realizes who she is.”

Anthony stared at his wife doubtfully. “Doesn’t that seem a little extreme? I mean… she’ll probably never figure it out if she hasn’t already.”

“My darling,” Madam Iris sat beside him and took his hand in hers. “How many times have I told you not to use that little brain of yours? It’s landed us in a fix quite a few times already. So please, leave the planning to me. And just do as I say.”

“You aren’t joking, right?”

Seokjin sighed and shook his head. He had been trying to explain everything to his mother for the past half an hour - but every few minutes, she would give him a skeptical look and ask if he was playing some kind of elaborate prank.

“Why would I joke about something like this?”

Chef Yuna rubbed her forehead tiredly. “It did catch me by surprise when she said her name was ‘y/n’. My mind immediately thought of the little girl running around the hotel, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Seokjin smiled softly, recalling all the memories he had of you when you were both children. 

“Including yours, if I remember correctly,” his mother teased him.

Seokjin’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat loudly. “I don’t know how to tell her… that she’s part of the Chavalenet family. Probably even the next heir if we consider the inheritance laws.”

Chef Yuna nodded her head. “The oldest child of the oldest child will inherit the property.”

She looked at her son who was busily examining the skin around his fingernails - a habit he had picked up around the time of his promotion. It signaled a great amount of anxiety inside him. 

“Maybe you should talk to Madam Eva about this,” she said, gently. “It’s probably the best course of action right now.”

Seokjin nodded his head. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that Madam Eva would have to be told about this revelation. It was the next logical step - she would be the best person to tell you the truth.

But his heart felt heavy. On one hand, he was incredibly glad that you were still alive - his childhood friend, the only person he ever remembered being really close to. On the other hand, this meant that both of you belonged in separate worlds - worlds which were leagues apart, worlds which didn’t have any place for each other.

A part of him, selfishly, wanted to keep the truth to himself, and be able to stay by your side for a bit longer. Over the past couple of days, he had come to the startling revelation that he had feelings for you - and the thought of never being able to act on those feelings made his heart clench painfully. 

He wanted to kiss you again - properly, this time. But now, even if you somehow managed to return his feelings, there was no way the two of you would ever work out.

Life was quite unfair sometimes.

Madam Eva had tears in her eyes as she hugged you tightly to her chest. Soft sobs wracked her entire person, and you patted her back awkwardly.

“My sweet child,” she managed to say between sobs. “My sweet y/n. I can’t believe that you’re here in front of me! That you’re alive! I missed you so much!”

Truth be told, you were very overwhelmed by everything that had been going on the past couple of days. You had even briefly contemplated running away and going back to the Mins. 

But then Seokjin had told Madam Eva the truth - the truth you had no idea he was aware of.

And that had stung.

“How long have you known?” you asked him, once things had quietened down a little. 

“Two days,” he replied. His eyes looked sad and that annoyed you even more. Why was he sad?! He was the one who had figured out your identity and then revealed it to your family without once thinking of telling you anything! If anyone should be sad, it should be you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your tone was clipped as you tried your best to control the anger underneath.

“Huh?” 

You uncrossed your arms from over your chest. “If you knew, why didn’t you tell me? I should’ve been the first to know! I’m the one it affects most! How could you not tell me?!”

Seokjin recoiled a little. “I- uh- wasn’t completely sure. I didn’t want to confuse you.”

You let out a mirthless laugh. “How considerate! You didn’t want to confuse me? Well how do you think I feel now?! I was ambushed by a family and a past that I wasn’t prepared to confront! I was barely able to wrap my head around the memories that suddenly assaulted me when the whole hotel came crashing down on me in tears and embraces! HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL, SEOKJIN?!”

You were yelling now as tears streamed down your face. Seokjin attempted to reach out to you but you brushed his hand aside roughly.

“Don’t touch me.” The words felt like they were choking inside your throat. “And don’t talk to me. Ever.”

You didn’t have much time to yourself as the hotel began preparing celebrations in honor of your return. The first item on the agenda was a bonfire organized by your grandmother. Everyone was very excited about it because it had been years since she had actively taken part in any hotel event. 

“Feels like the good old days!” Chef Yuna said, barely able to contain the excitement in her voice. “You lot have never been to an event organized by Madam Eva - they’re really a once in a lifetime kind of experience!”

It was just around dusk that everyone gathered around a large bonfire, prepared for an evening of song, dance, and wonderful food. The guests along with the hotel staff were extremely excited about the bonfire, but there were three faces that looked like they would rather be anywhere else but here.

The first was Madam Iris, whose hazel eyes burned with a cold anger as she watched everyone fuss over you. The second was her husband, Anthony Farrow, who looked pale and kept glancing at his wife nervously. And the third was you, who felt like you deserved none of this and couldn’t reconcile whatever was going on with what you had known for so many years.

“It has been many years since my heart felt any kind of joy,” Madam Eva began, looking around with a bright smile. “As many of you know, I lost my husband 15 years ago, and shortly afterwards, my son and daughter-in-law were killed in a car crash. All these years, I thought that I had lost my darling granddaughter as well - but somehow, the heavens have granted me a miracle. It’s been so many years since I last saw you, my dear y/n, and I cannot express how happy I am to see you again.”

Everyone clapped and cheered as she gave you another hug. Maybe you didn’t deserve it, but it felt nice to be showered with so much love and affection. You just wished you could remember something more - you had absolutely no memory of the car accident that had killed your parents even though many other little details about your past were very clear. 

“Please, everyone help yourselves to the food and drinks prepared by our talented Chef Yuna and her incredible team!”

Halfway through the event, everyone had scattered to different parts of the grounds. Besides the main bonfire, a number of small heating devices had been set up so that people could stay warm outdoors. 

You had just finished a small plate filled with dishes Chef Yuna had made. They were all incredible but everything felt like sandpaper in your mouth. You wondered when it would be okay for you to go back inside without it looking too impolite. 

Trudging back to the bonfire, you noticed that only Madam Iris was sitting there. You were in no mood to interact with her - she hadn’t been subtle about expressing her dislike towards you even after finding out who you really were.

Just before you could turn back, she stood up and walked over to pick up something that had fallen on the ground. She was wearing a billowy black cloak over her expensive clothes and the bonfire behind her illuminated her silhouette like…

The air is full of smoke. You cough and sit up, looking around for your parents.

“Mum! Dad!” you yell, coughing furiously. “Wh-where are you?!”

The smoke is getting in your eyes and you rub at them to try and clear your vision. You try and get up but the shooting pain in your left leg stops you. There’s a huge gash below your knee, red and brown as the dirt on the road mixes with your blood. 

“Mum! Dad!” you scream again, hoping that they might finally hear you. “Help me, please!”

Suddenly, a huge explosion rocks the area, sending you flying into the nearest obstacle. 

Your back hurts as you try and sit up again, trying to see where the explosion came from. Your eyes catch sight of a brilliant orange light, roaring against the night sky. 

A fire. 

And in front of the fire, stands a figure in a black cloak, looking so frightening that you start crying in fear.

“HELP!” you yell, struggling to get to your feet. 

The figure is getting closer and something inside you knows that you need to get away from it.

“HELP ME! PLEASE!” You have somehow managed to stand up, but fear keeps you paralyzed in place.

A sudden gust of wind blows through the night, shifting the direction of the embers, and you catch a glimpse of their face.

Suddenly, the ground beneath you wobbles and you find yourself hurtling down the side of the road. You try desperately to grab onto something but your momentum is too strong. You finally come to a stop after crashing into a tree, the last of your consciousness slipping away as the face comes back to haunt you.

It is your aunt, Iris.

“It was you!” you screamed, as the memories came back - the car crash, the chase that led to the crash, your parents’ frantic voices, your mother pushing you out of the car before it crashed. “You were there that night! You were chasing our car that night! You’re the one who watched us crash and didn’t do anything about it! You killed my parents!”

Madam Iris glared at you with unbridled hatred. “Shut up! Just SHUT UP! You ruined everything, you stupid little bitch! I was this close to getting everything!”

A fight ensued as Iris attacked you with all her might. At one point, Anthony joined in as well, and you were worried that you would be outnumbered. But somehow, Seokjin managed to find you and subdued Anthony quickly. After that, it didn’t take long for you to get the better of Iris - a few punches and she was down. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked her, panting for breath. 

She sat down by the tree, exhausted, but spitting venom from her eyes. “Fuck you.”

It turned out that Iris didn’t need to say anything. As soon as your grandmother had looked at Anthony sternly, the frightened man had opened his mouth and spilled each and every one of his wife’s secrets. It was quite a sad story overall. 

On that fateful night, 12 years ago, your father had found the ‘treasure’. Both he and Iris had been looking for it for days, believing that it was either a lot of priceless jewels or some very important property papers. After your father had found it, he had tried his best to keep it hidden, but Iris had found out about it anyway. A huge argument had taken place, following which your father had decided to run away with you and your mother. You had all snuck out in the middle of the night, driving off in a car with some of your belongings. Iris had given chase and watched as the car had crashed and then burst into flames. She had also believed that you had rolled down the edge of the road to your death. 

Over the past 12 years, she had tried to find out where your father had hidden the treasure, but did not succeed. In fact, it was you who had stumbled across it the night that you had found the hidden room behind the wooden panel. 

Alas! The treasure was not so much a treasure as a horrific surprise. Your grandfather had apparently sold off the hotel a few days before his death - and hidden the fact from everyone, including his wife and children. However, he had hidden the legal papers so that neither the new owners nor his family would ever be able to prove the fact. It was one last ridiculous game he had played before succumbing to all his vices. 

Iris’ grand plans of selling the hotel citing financial losses - which she had orchestrated herself - had also been foiled by the discovery of those papers. She and Anthony had been taken into police custody for further questioning. 

Your grandmother had taken the news of the sale relatively well. She had immediately packed her bags and left to visit the new owners, hoping to garner some goodwill in the process.

All of this had happened in a matter of a few hours, and you had completely forgotten about the injuries you had sustained from fighting your aunt. So, that was why you were currently sitting in the room behind the front desk, trying not to fidget as Seokjin tended to your wounds.

“That was… an interesting series of events,” he said, trying to ease the tension in the air. “I never really liked that woman but I definitely didn’t think she was that crazy.”

You remained silent. Seokjin continued to clean the cuts and scrapes carefully. Once again, you noticed how he gently held the cotton swab but then shook it vigorously to get the excess antiseptic off. It was strangely endearing, and made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Jin?” you used your nickname for him. 

He looked up from the cut on your knee, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Do you have any rose gummy bears?”

He blinked a few times before smiling and nodding his head. Quickly finishing up with the rest of injuries, he asked you to wait while he raided the secret stash. 

“Here.” He handed you a small bag full of his favorite gummy bears and sat down next to you.

You gave him a small smile and took out a couple of gummy bears, swiftly popping them into your mouth. Seokjin said nothing, waiting patiently for you to finish eating as many as you wanted.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, after a while.

“Of course.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

Seokjin’s ears turned red as he stared at the wall in front of him. His side profile was so gorgeous, soft lines defining his strong features. 

“Can I?” you asked, making him turn towards you. “Not to distract you. Not to prevent people from finding us. Nothing like that. Just” - you tilted your head to one side - “because I want to.”

He nodded his head slowly, giving you the permission you hadn’t asked for the last time. 

You drew him closer and softly kissed his lips. After a few seconds, he responded as well, cupping your cheek with his hand, and returning your kisses with enthusiasm.

“Why do you want to?” he asked, in between kisses. “Why do you want to kiss me?”

You pulled away and frowned at him. “You’re an ass. Why do you think I want to?”

He grinned, kissing you behind each ear and starting a slow path down your neck. “Indulge me.”

“It’s because- ugh!” you gasped as he nipped at the sensitive spot near your collarbone. “Because - because -”

He stopped his assault on your neck, eyes twinkling playfully. “Because?”

“Two can play at this game,” you muttered, incredibly embarrassed and equally turned on. You moved over to sit on his lap, grinding against him while leaving open mouthed kisses along his neck. Once his entire neck was sufficiently covered with light nips, you moved back to his lips, kissing him deep and hard.

“Y/n,” he gasped into your mouth. “I’m going to explode.”

“Are you now?” you whispered, swiping your tongue into his mouth and feeling your insides curl with pleasure. “Good.”

“I’m serious,” he managed to say between some very loud moans. “I’ll ruin my pants if we keep going like this.”

“Fine,” you said, hopping off and making quick work of his belt buckle. “Take it off then.”

“W-what?” he choked, unable to believe what he had just heard.

“Take off your pants.” You raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down carefully. “Do you know how many times I've thought about seeing that cock of yours after walking in on you doing morning stretches? Why the hell would you wear such tiny tennis shorts anyway?"

If possible, Seokjin's ears turned even more red. "A-are you sure? We don't need to rush or anything."

"Yeah, we don't. But I want to. So," you said, rubbing your palms along his legs. "Take off your pants."

Seokjin grinned, the cheeky glint back in his eyes. "If you insist. But I'm not going to be the only one losing their pants."

"With pleasure," you replied.

The pants were off and soon, the two of you were back to kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. His tongue ravaged your mouth while one of his hands dropped down between your legs and started rubbing you over your panties.

"Feels - mhmm - so good." You matched the rhythm of his fingers, bucking your hips into his hand. Your hand also moved down from his neck and palmed his cock, drawing the most delicious moans from him. Very soon your top and his shirt joined the pile of pants, leaving you both in just your underwear.

"Y/n," Seokjin groaned, taking in the sight of your breasts. "You're so hot."

The two of you remained like that for a bit, almost completely naked, tongues down each others' throats and hands rubbing each other into ecstasy. You felt wetness between your legs, clenching violently when he parted your panties and stroked you between your folds.

"Fuck..." you moaned into his mouth.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" he mumbled into your mouth. "Do you want me to use my mouth?"

Your brain could barely process what he had said, but you nodded anyway, senses hazy with pleasure.

"Okay, lie down for me, y/n" he said, pulling away from you. "Let me make you feel good."

You lay down on the sofa, legs parted, as Seokjin hovered over you. "So beautiful. So wet."

He began peppering your inner thighs with light kisses, making you squirm in pleasure. Making his way to your core at an agonizingly slow pace, he finally removed your panties and licked a stripe between your folds.

"Jin! Fuck! I-" Your hips shot up at the intense feeling.

He paid no heed to your moans, licking and slurping your pussy until you were absolutely on the edge.

"I'm close! Please!"

Seokjin plunged a finger inside, using his other hand to keep your legs down. The sensation of his long, slender finger inside you combined with the sight of his head between your thighs was enough for you to reach your climax.

Stars exploded in your vision as the orgasm rocked through you. Seokjin continued his beautiful work on your pussy until you breathed a shaky sigh of pleasure.

"Did you like it?" he asked, teasingly. There was no way he could've missed your screams of pleasure.

"How about I show you just how much I liked it?" you asked, sitting up and playing with the band of his underwear.

Seokjin smirked and quickly shimmied out of his underwear. "Be my guest."

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock - it was huge. Would he even be able to fit?

"Tell me what feels good," you said, licking long stripes up and down his length. Precum was leaking from his tip already, and you used your tongue to tease him further. Seokjin moaned, gripping the fabric of the sofa as you sucked his cock a few times.

"Don't tease, y/n," he managed with a lot of difficulty. "I don't think I can control myself for much longer."

Pressing a few small kisses to his tip, you leaned back and positioned yourself in front of him. "Okay, I think I'm ready."

A pained expression crossed his face as he took in the sight of you kneeling on your knees, waiting for him to cum.

"Maybe next time," he said, pulling you up to him and placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Right now, I want to be inside you."

"Are you sure?" you asked, returning his kiss.

"Yeah, but let's hurry," he mumbled, taking his throbbing red cock in his hand.

You laid down on the sofa again, spreading your legs for him. He positioned the tip of his cock in front of your entrance, rubbing you a few times before entering slowly.

"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered into your ear, before placing kisses all over your face and neck.

"Mm hmm,"you mumbled, getting used to the stretch.

Seokjin moved his mouth from your neck to your breast, placing sloppy kisses on the mounds before taking one of them in his mouth. You shuddered with pleasure as his tongue swirled around your nippled.

Your senses were getting overwhelmed again - Seokjin had started thrusting into you while simultaneously moving his mouth onto your other breast.

"Is this okay?" he managed between thrusts, his voice hoarse and delightfully sexy.

"Y-yeah, just do what you need to," you said, gripping his biceps with all your might.

He grunted in response, increasing the pace of his thrusts. The room was filled with the sounds of both your moans, and you knew that a second orgasm was building.

Just then, a shrill ring sounded through the room, startling you both. Seokjin barely managed to keep himself from falling off the sofa, placing a hand over his chest as he looked around wildly.

It was the telephone.

Seokjin sighed and pulled out of you, quickly going over to pick up the receiver.

"How can I help you?" he asked, standing there in his full naked glory.

You bit your lip as you drank in the sight of him - from his rippling shoulder muscles to his abs to his tapering waist and dangling cock.

"Of course, madam. But it is currently 2 in the morning. Please call after 7 am in order to make a reservation. Thank you. Have a good night."

Clicking the receiver in place, he rushed back to you, jumping onto the sofa with a smirk.

"Now where were we?"

this took me 2 hours to format on the site T_T i am exhausted. please give it some love! i would love to know what you thought of this story! please like and reblog! thank you! tagging @yoongsgguktae​ @sugamonster22​ @anglofmrcy​ @blue1928​ @jinpanman​ @thatlongspringnight​ @thatmultifandomhoe​ 

[1994sunflower]

mikey buying y/n lingerie, or like dragging her to victoria secret and like picking stuff out for her.

in which michael buys you lingerie

You were so used to the routine of classes, campus, Michael’s house, your apartment. To go out of it always gave you a fuzzy feeling just because you weren’t used to it. But you loved what it brought you. Every time you went shopping off campus or just exploring the city. Being right beside Michael, your hand in his. It made you feel proud. To know everyone that looked at you two knew that he had chosen you.  

The mall, especially. When there were so many distractions, ones that always got you as you tugged him every which way you were interested. His focus was always on you, letting you drag him to any store you wanted even if it clashed so obviously with his personality. He took it with no complaints. It made you feel so special.

Michael even carried your bags for you, not caring how mismatched it would look to anyone who cared to see such a tall, daunting man carrying small little bags with the girliest, frilliest stores the mall had to offer labeled on them. It felt like, even with the two of you surrounded by so many things and people, you were still in your own world. 

You followed behind him, your hands in his, whenever he trailed into his own interests, slowly as if trying to pretend he didn’t really care. Watched as he lost himself in looking at video games, music, shirts that depicted some scenes that made you wonder how it was legal to be on fabric. 

He even enjoyed teasing you, trying to lead you into stores which stopped you straight in your tracks and you watched the amused grin on his face as he took in your embarrassed blush. So wholesome. At least in public. He was sure what he made you do on a daily basis was worse than any sex toys those very adult stores could hold inside. 

But he simply wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you away, almost cockily at bringing out your shyness. He always seemed a lot calmer, freer out in public whenever you were off campus. But still stoic and intimidating, at least you assumed that’s why people seemed to always stare at you and make room for you two to move by. 

Your eyes were trailing up to the second floor above you, already thinking of what stores you wanted to see or if you preferred to go to the food court instead. So lost in your thoughts you didn’t realize Michael had stopped moving and you had gone a few steps ahead until his immobile arm tugged you back. Glancing back at him in confusion just to find him staring to the side and you didn’t understand why until your eyes followed his gaze.

The lingerie store did its best to not look raunchy as stereotypes would have it seem. It was well lit, its prettiest pieces on display. But either way, your cheeks heated up as soon as you eyes raked over them and noticed Michael’s doing the same. You weren’t sure you even wanted to know just what exactly was going on in his mind. It was the only reason the store even caught his attention, you knew, because his mind was swimming with you.

You didn’t really use lingerie at all, not that you needed to. With Michael it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds on your body, on a good day it’d likely end up ripped on the floor. But looking at them, you couldn’t deny how pretty they were. You thought of how they would make you look, especially how Michael would react to them on you. The confidence boost would be spectacular.

Perhaps you looked for a little longer than you intended, gazing at the mannequins deep in thought. Because before you knew it, Michael was closer to you. His chest to your back and leaning down enough to whisper, “Want to go in?”

You looked up at him in embarrassed surprise. Your mouth hung open but nothing but stutters left. You were too shy to go in there by yourself, knowing how helplessly lost and inexperienced you would seem, let alone go in there with Michael.

Shaking your head was no use because he was already tugging you by your hand.

“M-Mic…Michael…I-I think-”

It was all you could do to stutter out his name to try to get his attention before you finally entered the store completely. And the eyes of the workers on you made you look up at Michael for support. You knew you looked really different from your boyfriend, but in that store, it felt even more obvious that he was so much more experienced and you were sure others doubted how he could be satisfied with you.

But his eyes should have been their answer. He was satisfied only by you. His eyes never left your figure, an excitement in them only because of you and how he imagined you would look in all those hot pieces. 

Which is probably what gave you the calm and confidence to move on your own, keeping your arms wrapped around his bicep, keeping him close as you moved around the room looking at the different pieces. From the most modest to the flimsiest. 

You didn’t touch anything, even your newfound curiosity couldn’t make you do that. But you were drawn to the prettiest outfits, in your mind. The one with more lace than anything else, in the prettiest pastel colors. Normally, imagining yourself in them would feel mismatched, but having Michael with you, his arm around your waist and tracing circled on your hip, your mind took you to just how weak you would render your intimidating boyfriend. It sent a thrill to you, knowing the power you had.

Michael, for his part, was just watching you. His eyes intense and his jaw set as he went over whatever fantasies he had each time you approached a set you liked. Especially when you finally picked one up. 

“Do you like this one?” It was a blue one piece, which despite that, left little to the imagination. It hard cut outs on the top of the breasts and the curve of your sides. But the lace detailing was beautiful and you were sure it would be able to cup you in all the right places. Especially for Michael’s enjoyment. You wanted nothing more.

And despite Michael being silent when he nodded, you knew he agreed to your silent judgement of it. If not by the darkening of his eyes than the way he held you just a bit closer as you continued looking, with it in your arms. But then he pointed at the same piece just in black.

“This one.” He picked. 

Maybe it was the exhilaration at seeing that you were actually receptive to buying things from there, it wasn’t something he had just dragged you into anymore. You were taking the initiative to not only look but buy. But he started being a lot more ‘helpful.’

The way he picked up any fabric was almost laughable. Like a hormonal teenage boy seeing a girl’s intimates for the first time. As if he wasn’t known around campus for his skills in the bedroom. As if he didn’t do the dirtiest things to you in bed.

It was kind of cute, the way he would tell you he liked something without ever saying it. 

“You like it, right?” The panties were such a pretty color you couldn’t disagree. Especially with the small little ribbon that for him, was just going to be begging to be undone when on you. The straps would hug the top and side of your hips. 

Even if you were doubtful of whether or not it was crotchless. Particularly with the mischievous smirk he couldn’t contain when you nodded shyly, this time you being the one that was speechless. But your suspicions were confirmed the moment he didn’t even let you reach out and take it from his hands. It was the only thing you weren’t carrying. He always did like easy access.

Then it was garter straps that would connect to thigh highs that you wouldn’t have ever had even the courage to even pick up, let alone try on when it was so different from your personality. But the sight of them had you biting your lip and agreeing nonetheless.

Or then it was baby doll top with the completely lace and see through design. That despite it’s openness, you were drawn to equally as he was. It was just so cute and dainty. Just like you. It was perfect. 

Especially when he held it up to show it to you and when your eyes lit up at the sight, he put it up against you making you titter nervously and snatch it out of his hands. Glancing around to make sure no one had seen just exactly what your boyfriend was so excited for. He was like a kid in a candy store.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way he stopped dead in his tracks in front of one set hung up. 

You weren’t paying attention at first, but even if you were, you wouldn’t have been able to grab a hold of it. It was too far up. But he reached up without an issue with a concentration that was out of character for him.

By the time you turned around, he was already staring at you. The hanger was in his hands as he held it up slightly to show you. It was ridiculous that the only time he ever seemed interested in anything was in this situation.

“This one too.” He wasn’t even asking, he was picking it out for you. And it didn’t take a genius to see why he liked this one specifically, more than anything else he had chosen out for you.

It was pure white. Which is probably what caught his attention in the first place. The color always drove him crazy on you. Such an unblemished color, symbolizing innocence. Which is what you represented, what he took and tainted.

The bra was small, you weren’t sure it would cover even half of your breasts but that may have been the point. The small bow connecting the two cups being the only really design. The bottom was a skirt but it was barely the width of five fingers, useless at covering anything. But again, that was likely the point. It was frilly, making it look much like a maid’s skirt. With small little ruffles at the top and bottom of the skirt. The same frills and ruffles were on the arm bands. Even on the lacy choker that came with it.

It was at once so cute, wholesome looking and the filthiest thing you had seen since you entered the store. The only thing it wasn’t was proper.

You would look so pure, like a doll. Fragile and weak. He could just imagine you, sitting on your knees on his bed. Looking up at him with your big doe eyes. Your singsong voice calling him to you, begging for him. Looking every bit the pieces of the virginal angel you used to be mixed with the dirty little slut for him you now are. 

How he would completely eclipse you, how the dark of his tattoos would clash so violently with the white of the fabric. How wrong it would look to anyone else to see him, covered in ink with filthy words and depictions on the entirety of his upper body, on top of you dressed like that. His large build covering you completely, making you seem even more vulnerable with that flimsy set on. Seeing you submit to him looking that innocent, visibly showing what you’ve always been. Letting him do the filthiest things that shouldn’t be done with looking that chaste and virtuous. 

Fuck. He didn’t think he could ever take this one off of you, even when he would be plowing into you. He’d have to keep it on your body as he stared down at you. Even with how flimsy the tiny little bra was, as if tempting him to rip it off of you.

Maybe going into the store was a bad idea. He could feel himself getting hard and he knew you would not appreciate him trying anything this much in public. But he couldn’t help himself. Just one look at the displays at the window, he could only think of you. How cute you would look, how hot. It hadn’t even been meant to be anything inherently sexual. He was never really the type to be wanting you to wear more clothes when he was trying to fuck you.

But the further you went in, the shy, almost nervous, look in your eye, he couldn’t help his thoughts straying. His good girl. 

Especially when his gaze fell pieces that he couldn’t help but imagine adorning your body under him. That would just accentuate what he liked most about you, that fits your sweet personality while at the same time hitting at the dirty girl only he ever saw. Those thoughts were multiplied tenfold at the sight of the last lingerie set he had grabbed without a second thought. It was like it was made for you, for his girl. It would be all for him. Only his eyes would ever see you in it.

And he may die when he finally sees it on you. But he’d die a happy man. Nothing would ever satisfy him like you did, he was sure. He could practically hear your whimpering moans, your tiny hands clinging to him as the only thing on your wrecked body was the frilly outfit, the choker would look beautiful on your neck as your mouth was open, tongue out front he pleasure.

Good thing he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to deal even a few more minutes looking at any more outfits, especially with his mind still stuck on the one in his hands. 

Because you looped around arm through his, “Okay.” You giggled, the blush still on your cheek. “I think that’s enough here, Mikey.”

And he let you lead him away from the temptations that was the merchandise easily.

The cashier was pretty. She didn’t do much to stop her surprise as she glanced between you. You wondered if it was the height difference that she was referring too, as you fiddled with your fingers, or the way Michael daunted above both you and her. The way he was covered head to toe in black, chains on his jeans and wrists, tattoos littering his neck and arms. Looking very much comfortable, if not happily dazed, in a store like this. And you, lithe and meek at his side, probably appearing like an anxious little virgin.

If only she knew.

Maybe the pieces she was ringing up would give her a clue. Or the way Michael couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Despite the way you looked like you could break when in his arms.

He bought it all. You didn’t even get the chance to offer your own card before he was already entering his pin. He picked everything out after all. It was a gift for both of you.

Michael even let you carry the striped bag, declaring to the world very obviously just what exactly you two had walked together in the store to buy. You held it with both hands, wanting very much to bury your face in his chest in modesty. 

But he was gleaming proudly, showing off to anyone who cared to watch, especially the men ogling the small girl at his side, that anything they were fantasizing about, he very easily already made reality or would. And the proof was in the medium sized bag in your hands. Everything you would let him see and experience of you, let him do to you. He felt like the luckiest man in the world. 

“Let’s go home, baby girl.” His voice was soft at your ear and his hands squeezed your hips. 

You were sure ‘home’ was going to consist of the rest of the hours of the day being spent on the contents of the bag, what he had picked out and bought for you. Being displayed right in front of him for his enjoyment. And he’d get to help you break them in, bask in your sweet nervousness and submission dressed like the pure yet dirty girl you were.

So, who were you to do anything but nod and let him lead you out of the suddenly crowded mall. 

[lilbabycee]

envy // steve rogers 🍏

↳ summary: at one of tony's parties, the reader and her green-eyed monster show some concern over steve's relationship with a certain shield agent.

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 3.4k

↳ warnings: angst with some fluff, misunderstandings, an overused trope, sensitive reader, best friend!bucky and surrogate dad!tony

↳ author’s note: i’m back with some more steve fluff because i’m a sucker for this man - enjoy! x

You hate to admit it, but you’re jealous.

That slimy green-eyed monster is rearing its ugly head over your shoulder, teeth glinting in the low lights of one of Tony’s parties. It sidles up right next to you, breathing all sorts of lies and falsehoods in your ear, urging you to act or become enraged. Currently, you’re doing an okay job of ignoring it but the longer that it stays perched on your shoulder, its long claws digging into your flesh, the more frustrated you get. Its green eyes are beady and burn holes into the side of your face; you grimace, promptly choosing to ignore its piercing glare.

Your grip on the stem of your champagne glass tightens enough that your fingers start to become sore, and the sudden urge to swallow the contents of your glass becomes unbearable. She lays her hand on his shoulder as she laughs - cackles, you think bitterly - and he places a hand on her waist in response. You can’t seem to help the roll of your eyes and your shiny black red bottoms start to make themselves over to where Tony and Wanda are sat.

Wanda looks up as you approach, offering you a bright smile. Your face automatically reciprocates the sentiment, her happiness infectious. Since the death of Pietro, you know how much Wanda has been struggling to find her place within the team. She reminds you an awful lot of yourself, so you’ve taken it upon yourself to help her integrate into the group.

“Hi, Y/N,” she greets you, shifting on the sofa and patting the space next to her invitingly. You sink into the couch and Wanda winds an arm around your neck, kissing your cheek dramatically when Tony looks up from where he’s been swirling a glass of whisky contemplatively and smirks at you.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks,” he calls you affectionately, eyes softening at your presence. As Tony’s ‘apprentice’ - “...you know I’m your mentor, kid… no, I’m not gonna be modest because I pretty much made you, honey… I might as well have given birth to you too...” - you’ve been working alongside the Avengers for years. You’re the person behind the desk - the information that they get before missions, during missions, and after missions all comes from you. As their main source of communication, there is little time to rest but you do consider every member of the team a close friend by now. Tony… God, Tony is like your dad. In fact, you call him ‘dad’ upon his insistence - sometimes in jest, sometimes seriously. Your family became distant after learning that you were working with the ‘Earth’s mightiest heroes’ they must not have seen Thor drunk before because some of the Avenger's work doesn’t ‘align with their personal beliefs’ - bullshit - and you hadn’t spoken to them in years. So when Tony took you under his wing when you were but a mere teenager after originally hiring you as his personal assistant’s assistant, you were nothing but grateful to the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

“Hi, Wanda, hey, Tones,” you address them both, heaving a tired sigh while your eyes subconsciously drift back to where your favorite Avenger is standing with your favorite SHIELD agent. Tony opens his mouth to start teasing you about the length of your spaghetti-strapped sparkly red dress - planning to make some teasing comment like Y/N, who let you leave the house showing that much skin? Go back and change this instant! - but he sees where your attention has been redirected. Wanda stares at the side of your head intently for a few seconds before a secret little smile appears on her face.

“How’s Steve, Y/N?” she questions in an innocent tone, watching you jump and snap your head back around so fast that you get a little bit of whiplash.

“Uh, S-Steve?” you stutter. “W-why - uh - why would I know about Steve?”

Tony rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink before placing it back down on the table in front of him. He smacks his lips together loudly and licks them afterwards, seemingly exasperated. You raise a challenging eyebrow at him in response and he stares back at you flatly.

“I think I can speak for the whole team when I say that I’m tired of you and Capsicle dancing around each other,” he looks nonchalantly over his right shoulder before turning back to you with that same look in his eyes. “Not that he can really dance anyway - that awkward motherfucker - but if you had the balls to go up to him, sweetie, then maybe you could teach him.”

Your surrogate father’s brown eyes bear into yours and you twist your mouth to the side in embarrassment, quickly avoiding his gaze. “Dad-”

“Listen, Y/N, if you don’t go talk to him about all of your gross teenage-like feelings then I will,” he threatens with all of the indifference in the world.

Wanda nods her head in agreement, looking at you sympathetically but with a glint of mischief in her eyes. You narrow your own at her in suspicion but she only smiles at you.

“There’s no harm in trying,” she gently coaxes you and you bury your face in your newly well-manicured hands. The coolness of the flashy golden rings adorning your fingers - all gifts from Tony - seeps into your skin, overheating from the stress of the situation and the heat from all of the bodies packed into the spacious area. Quickly, you realize that Wanda’s right and that the worst that could happen is rejection - oh God - so you abruptly stand up, hearing Wanda do a little whoop! behind you.

The click of your heels on the expensive flooring of the lounge empowers you to put a little extra sway in your hips and straighten out your posture. A smile grows on your deep-red, glossed lips as you get closer to the bar. Natasha and Bruce are having a conversation right next to where Steve and Shannon - no, Stella … Sharon are speaking. Natasha assesses your demeanor and smirks knowingly, shooting you a quick wink. A quick panic seizes you, almost stopping your strut - I need a drink. So on your way to Steve and Sharon, you grab the champagne glass from in front of Nat and she puckers her lips at you, blowing you a kiss. You blow one back in the same fashion, finally stopping in front of Steve and Sharon.

Admittedly, she looks great. Her blonde hair is down in loose waves - it frames her face really nicely. Her makeup is subtle but really accentuates her best features. Her dress sweeps the floor and is a simple light grey silk. You fight the urge to scoff - to her credit, she’s beautiful and you’re even more jealous than before. Great.

Steve’s head turns when he sees you out of the corner of his eye, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s wearing grey slacks that really hug his thighs and ass - yum - and the white shirt that he’s chosen to wear instead of his regular blue plaid ones makes your mouth literally water. It’s not that you don’t appreciate the blue shirts because if there’s anyone who appreciates anything and everything that Steve does, it’s you. But the white … it’s crisp and clean and reminds you of when you used to run through the white flags of your mother’s laundry hung in your backyard, lush green grass staining the soles of your small feet. The soft cotton of the simple shirt somehow brings out the color of his eyes, and they’re looking more like blueberries than the ocean tonight. He’s clean-shaven with his hair neatly styled and the sleeves of his collared shirt are rolled up his forearms casually. His shirt isn’t buttoned all the way up to the top - thank God for Sam - and one of those strong capable hands is nursing a glass with barely any liquor inside. You quickly realize that it’s Asgardian liquor because Steve actually wants to enjoy himself tonight (?).

Those full lips spread around his perfect teeth in a grin and his hand falls from Sharon’s waist, a small sense of victory flowing through you. But then you reign yourself back in, knowing that you haven’t won the battle… yet.

“Good evening, Captain,” you address Steve with what you hope is a sultry smirk on your face. You nod towards Sharon as something of an afterthought, making sure that you’re being polite and smile sweetly at her: “Agent Carter.”

You don’t wanna be a total bitch and be super rude to her, because, really, what does that ever accomplish? You decide that you’re going to be civil, despite the fact that that green-eyed bastard is growling in your ear to rip her throat out.

Steve beams and assesses your appearance quickly before looking right back at your eyes. What a gentleman. “Hey, doll. You look great.”

Your cheeks hurt from how much you’re smiling and flirtily, you bat your eyelashes at him. “Thanks, Steve. You look great too. I like this look… a lot.”

He chuckles, those baby blues still boring into you. You almost feel like shrinking underneath his heavy gaze but instead, you hold your head up high and continue beaming at him, taking a sip of champagne. You watch his eyes follow your lips as you lick them free of the drink, and his cheeks flush red when he sees that you’ve caught him.

“So how are you enjoying the party, Y/N?” Sharon asks amicably, seemingly unaware of the moment that’s just transpired.

You decide to humor her: “I think it’s so nice that Tony wants to do these things for us… it’s super generous of him to host these parties. I’m loving it. But Sam left almost an hour ago, so I’ve been missing a dance partner for a little while now…”

You put your glass down and a cursory glance up at Steve has him springing into action, just like you hoped it would. “Come on, doll. I’ll dance with you.”

He grabs your hand swiftly and walks you to the dancefloor, not even sparing Sharon a glance. You feel slightly guilty - she hasn’t really done anything wrong - and shoot her a sympathetic look over your shoulder as well as a small wave. She smiles genially back, waving you off and turning to face another group of SHIELD agents.

Once you and Steve reach the dancefloor, it’s obvious that Tony has watched the whole situation go down; he’s changed the music to something slower and a little more jazzy. Steve, almost on instinct, pulls you into his arms, pressing you close to his body. The scent that hits you has you instinctively leaning into him. It’s crisp and woodsy and smells like pine but also like clean linen and him. His hands frame your waist and your arms loosely wind around his neck, and the both of you sway to the smooth swing of the music.

“You’re quite light on your feet, Captain,” you wink at him, far more comfortable because it’s just the two of you. You feel the laugh that passes through him and you admire the little lines around his eyes when he’s like this.

“What can I say? I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins cheekily. You raise an eyebrow and the grin spreads wider.

“Got a line of people at your door, Mr. America?” You tease, smirking slightly but also somehow scared of the answer.

He laughs again, twirling the both of you before stopping to look you square in the eye. You’re taken aback by the intensity of his gaze and your heart stutters.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs. “But I’m never there to notice… I’m too busy knockin’ at someone else’s door.”

You can feel it - the acute pain in your chest and the exact moment that your heart sinks. The little tickle in your nose warns you of impending tears and you sniff to try and rid yourself of the feeling. Your logical brain is telling you not to be dumb and jump to conclusions, but the monster’s green eyes are full of rage. It whispers that all he really wants is Sharon and he’s just being polite, dancing here with you.

“Oh,” you reply, trying your best to appear jovial when you can feel your heart breaking. “That’s cool. I’m sure she’s great.”

It’s a marvel that your voice doesn’t break.

He gets a dreamy look on his face and replies, “Yeah, she’s really something. Smart, hilarious, pretty… God, so goddamn beautiful. The way that I feel about her... I haven’t felt like that since Peggy.”

He looks directly at your face but you can’t tell because you’ve averted your face to the side,  too busy trying to control a rapid onslaught of tears. Damn Tony, feeding you all these fanciful ideas.

“Well, she’s a lucky girl.”

That’s all you manage to get out before withdrawing from his arms and quickly striding towards the exit.

---

In the elevator, you try your best not to break down - because that’s not classy - and press the button to your floor. Taking deep breaths with closed eyes, you fail to notice when the elevator stops and Bucky gets on.

“Doll.”

Your eyes shoot open and your head whips over to look at him. He wasn’t really all that keen to party and it shows. You can tell that he’s been training.He’s sweaty - his hair is slick with it - and he’s only wearing black basketball shorts and trainers, his metal arm on full display. You’re relieved that he’s the one that’s caught you like this. You and Bucky forged an unlikely friendship upon his arrival to the compound. Steve was overjoyed that his best friend had somebody else to talk to, as he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to relate to anyone else. You can easily consider him one of your closest friends, meaning that he also knows about the Steve situation.

“Hey, Buck,” you manage to breathe out, trying for a small smile.

“What happened? You’ve been crying.”

You scoff, trying for indifference, “No, I haven’t-”

Bucky pins you with a look and you shut your mouth, looking slightly guilty. “Was it Stevie?”

Your silence seems to be enough of an answer for him and he sighs, moving closer to you to encircle an arm around your shoulders. You turn into his side, shoving your face into his neck and throwing your arms around his neck. Slightly caught off guard, he stumbles back, but quickly reciprocates the hug.

By this time, you’ve reached your floor so you move to pull back from him but his grip on your waist only tightens. Without any strain, he sweeps you off of your feet and lifts you right out of the elevator. You squeal in surprise, sniffing while Bucky walks you to your room.

“FRIDAY…” Bucky begins to ask, but it seems as if the A.I. already knows what to do as she unlocks your door. He walks you over to the bedroom, placing you down on your bed gently and taking your shoes off. Without a word, he disappears and comes back with makeup wipes, tissues, a glass of wine, and a bagel.

This makes you cry harder.

He hesitates in the doorway, looking at you with panic-flooded eyes. “Y/N, if you don’t want the bagel…”

You choke out a laugh and beckon him closer, shaking your head. He places the plate and Kleenex on your bed and hands you the glass of wine, grabbing a wipe to start taking off your makeup.

“Now, let me take care of you while you tell me what that punk did,” he begins slowly, starting to rub at your jaw.

You recount the story while sipping your wine, sniffing and choking at certain parts of the story. He shushes you quietly whenever he feels you struggling to speak and encourages you to take your time, all while continuing his work carefully. Once his job is done, he coaxes you to eat the bagel and sits next to you, rubbing your back gently.

“Look, Y/N,” he says. “Steve’s been incessant about how much he’s sweet on ya for the past couple months. I know he’s got a funny way of showing it, but I don’t think you shoulda run away from ‘im like that.”

You open your mouth to reply but are stopped by a voice in the doorway, “I second that.”

Tony’s leaning on the wall, that signature glint in his eyes full of mischief.

“Dad,” you almost whimper, voice raw from crying, and his face softens considerably. “Don’t bully me.”

“Hey, hey, baby cakes,” he comes to squat in front of you and Bucky. “Don’t get all teary-eyed on me. You know my little heart can’t take it. What are you so emotional for? Rogers has been looking for you since you left.”

Your mood perks up at that. “Really?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, “Of course he has. I know it’s not easy. You were doin’ a good thing out there, all confident and sexy and whatever. I was like wow, look at my girl go.” That makes you laugh. “But then you did that dumb little thing you do - you freaked out, honey. Got all impatient and confused and wouldn’t let him finish his cheesy ass speech.”

“He’s right, doll,” Bucky nods his agreement. “As much as he shoulda made it clearer to you what he was talkin’ about, you could’ve stayed just a little longer.”

You hide your face in Bucky’s chest in embarrassment as Tony grips your hand between his.

“Now, can I invite our favorite Capsicle in or are you gonna cry again?” the brown-eyed man in front of you teases.

“He’s outside?” the panic in you spikes again. Tony rolls his eyes and squeezes your hand reassuringly.

“Of course he is… loser,” he snorts derisively. You glare at him but he grins at you, telling FRIDAY to invite Steve in.

You can hear the soles of his shoes on the wooden floors of your apartment and you inhale deeply, straightening your back and pushing your chin up one more time.

He looks through with concern in his eyes and a sheepish look on his face. But he sees Bucky’s bare arm around your shoulders and something in his eyes changes for a split second; there’s an intensity there that you haven’t seen before.

Tony slaps his hands on his thighs before standing up abruptly, patting Bucky on the shoulder. “Alright, Manchurian Candidate. Let’s leave these two to it.”

Both men press a quick kiss to your forehead before heading out, closing the door softly behind them. As soon as they do, Steve stops his lingering at the door and rushes towards you, squatting in front of you like Tony was and framing your face in his hands. You blink rapidly, trying to process the close contact. Before you can think about anything else, his lips are on yours, completely catching you off guard.

They’re softer than they look and you melt into his embrace, his hands moving from your face to wrap his arms around your waist. He squeezes you gently and your hands cautiously come up to cup his face. It’s a soft kiss, despite the desperation in his movements, and you revel in the unspoken words shared between the two of you, communicated through feeling.

When it’s over, your lips are still tingling and he presses his forehead to yours, pecking your lips one more time.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he speaks quietly, almost as if he’s scared to interrupt the beauty and sanctity of the moment. “You know how I am. I get all tongue-tied talkin’ to dames already, but with you… God, it’s so much worse. I completely get why you thought I was talking about Sharon. She’s a great friend - she’s really been there for me - but she’s not you, baby.”

Your only response is a kiss pressed to his cheek and your fingers running through his hair. You sit like that for a little while, the silence stretching for several more minutes before you are composed enough to speak.

“I’m an idiot, Stevie,” you laugh, kissing his forehead this time. “I overreacted so bad… I’m so embarrassed by it. I should’ve just let you finish.”

He rubs your back comfortingly, “That’s alright, Y/N. You’re in touch with your emotions - that’s not a bad thing. But you’re my best girl - I don’t wanna see any more tears.”

He wipes away the remaining tears on your face and you smile cheekily at him.

“Your best girl?”

“Always, doll.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​

[cherienymphe]

Crossfire (Biker!Bucky x Reader x Steve)

Warnings: eventual NON-CON, eventual violence (including domestic), eventual kidnapping

PLEASE DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

summary: You and your new husband Steve move back to his hometown. It is here that his past catches up with him, and you both pay the price.

Ok guys! Its back up! Thank God I have all my stories in Word because the clown really jumped out five minutes ago. Heads up, if you liked or reblogged the original, it is gone! That post ceases to exist so here it is to make the rounds again :)

~

You tightened your hold around Steve’s neck, looking around in awe as he carried you through the threshold. The large house was older, but you didn’t care about how modern it was or not. It had character and charm…and it was all yours now.

“Someone comes to keep up with the place every now and then, but…,” he trailed off, setting you down.

“Steve, I love it! How could I not? Besides, this house has been in your family for years. I’ll take this over some cookie cutter barbie house, any day,” you said, taking his hand.

Truly, it was nothing a little TLC couldn’t fix. To be perfectly honest, you were a bit impressed. When Steve had told you that his family owned a house, you were expecting something much more modest. After all, he grew up in a small town, so you hadn’t gotten your hopes up by expecting much.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, and you giggled when he nuzzled your neck.

“I’m glad you like it…wife,” he whispered.

You bit your lip, wrapping your hands around his forearm as he pressed kisses into your neck. The two of you had been married for a little over a month, now, but your stomach still fluttered whenever he called you that. Mrs. Y/N Rogers. You didn’t think you would ever get used to that. You felt an unexplainable happiness fill you as you looked around again.

You had met Steve on the way to a doctor’s appointment one day. You’d bumped into each other, coffee was spilled, apologies were given, and numbers had been exchanged. The rest was history. There were times when you thought it was almost too good to be true. Steve was virtually perfect. Handsome, smart, charming, and funny. Sure, he could be stuck in his ways a bit, but you found it endearing.

The two of you had been seeing each other for a little over a year when he popped the question. You had been completely caught off guard, especially since the topic had never come up. There had been a time when you thought you would never get married, but then you met Steve, and all of that changed. You remembered the shock you felt as you realized there was no hesitation in you to say ‘yes’.

The wedding was small and tasteful, full of nothing but close friends and family. Most of them were yours, and even though Steve wasn’t bothered by the fact that only three people came for him, you were. It was why you tried so hard to make him feel at home in your family, because he didn’t have any left.

“Let’s get the boxes inside…and then we can focus on breaking in the new bed,” he hummed, lips brushing against your skin.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you purred, following him out of the house.

It had started to drizzle slightly while you were inside, and a shudder passed through you as the cold droplets hit your skin. As you opened the trunk to get another box, you heard a rumble coming from down the street. It was the familiar sound of a motorcycle, and you brushed it off. You gripped the box with some difficulty and didn’t pay it any mind when you noticed Steve had paused in his own task, hand resting on the hood of the car as he stared down the street.

You gently set the box down just inside with a huff, sliding it out of the doorway with your foot as the sound of a motorcycle engine grew closer. You brushed your hands off, stepping outside with a slight frown as two drivers made their way into the driveway, parking their bikes not far behind the car. Steve was standing in the driveway, now, arms crossed over his chest. He tilted his head slightly as he heard your footsteps.

“Y/N, go back-.”

“Steve!”

Your eyes widened at that, realizing that these men knew him. You shouldn’t have been surprised. It was a small town after all, but they didn’t really seem like Steve’s kind of crowd, especially not close enough for them to just pull in his driveway unannounced, but if you had learned anything over the past year and a half or so, it was that Steve could be full of surprises.

“Well, well, well… Look who’s back in town. I see you moved back into the old house too,” one of the men said as he swung off of his bike.

He was the taller of the two, dark hair cut low and facial hair connecting around his mouth. The other had a much fairer complexion, short brown hair pushed away from his face as his blue-green eyes studied you. They both sported worn jeans and similar leather jackets. You noted, with disapproval, that neither one of them wore helmets.

“Sam, it’s been too long,” your husband said.

You watched as they leaned in to do that weird man hug thing, and Steve repeated the action with the other man. You heard Steve refer to him as Clint. You felt a bit awkward as Steve backed up, and you wondered if it was just your imagination or was he blocking you a bit.

“…and…who is this?” Clint wondered, tilting his head to look around Steve’s shoulder and get a better look.

You were stepping forward before Steve could say anything, offering your hand.

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet some of Steve’s friends,” you said.

Their grips were firm, hands rough as they accepted your offer. You didn’t miss the way Clint ran his eyes over you, and you remembered that rain was currently soaking your shirt. You stepped back, and Steve wasted no time in wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“This is my wife, Y/N,” Steve answered Clint’s question.

You glanced at him, wondering about the strange tone in his voice.

“How long have you guys known Steve? I’m sorry if I’m prying, its just Steve only had about two friends back in New York, so I’m glad to know more of you exist,” you chuckled.

“Y/N,” Steve whispered with a groan.

“What?” you quietly whined, slightly hitting his chest.

Sam and Clint joined in on your laughter, and Sam stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, we go way back with Steve. Don’t worry about him, sweetheart, Steve has plenty of friends around here,” he answered.

Your eyes widened, a noise of appreciation escaping your lips.

“That’s…wonderful!” you said, clapping your hands together. “I’d invite you guys in, but the house is scary looking, right now.”

You turned towards Steve.

“Maybe when we make it presentable, we can invite your-.”

“Y/N, they all have their own lives, now, and they’ve seen the house a million times…”

You studied him, eyebrows furrowed. There was something off about his tone, and you decided to take the hint. You turned back to the men in front of you with a smile.

“I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear. I’m going to go finish unpacking, but it was nice meeting you!”

Their response mirrored yours as you turned to go back inside, brushing your hand over Steve’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right in,” he quietly said, hand grazing your waist.

You glanced over your shoulder as you walked up the steps. Sam was talking to Steve, but Clint’s bright eyes were focused on you. You turned back with a slight grimace and headed towards the waiting boxes.

 ~

Your nails trailed down Steve’s back, running over the ridges and feeling the way his muscles moved as he thrust into you. His hard chest was pressed against yours, your legs locked around his waist, head thrown back into the pillow. His soft lips never parted from you, and he’d told you once that enjoyed being inside of you with the taste of your skin on his tongue.

“Steve,” you moaned, one of your hands sliding upwards to tangle in his hair.

He groaned against you, skin slapping against yours in the quiet room. His hands were digging into your hips, holding them to the bed as he had his way with you. You were sure to be aching there tomorrow, but you didn’t mind. It was always worth the pain. You arched your chest into him, lips brushing against his.

You whined when he pulled away, and he only chuckled in response. He loved to do that, tease you, and you loved him for it. You tried to kiss him again, but he only pulled back some more, and because his hands were pinning your hips to the bed, you could only lean up so much.

“Steve,” you begged.

“I love that sound,” he murmured. “You beg so pretty for me, but I know you can do better than that.”

“Wanna kiss you,” you whispered, eyes fluttering at a particularly hard thrust.

You dug your nails into his skin, a choked moan leaving your lips.

“Oh, you can do better than that,” he purred.

His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, determination to see you beg outweighing his desire to put his lips on yours.

“Steve, please,” you whined.

“Mm, only good girls get rewards…and you have been so good for me, haven’t you?”

He covered your mouth with his own, and you both groaned into the kiss. You were drenched, positive you were making a mess of the new sheets already, but you didn’t care. Steve’s hard length felt heavenly inside of you, and once again, you were struck with the fact that this man was yours forever. As if he heard your thoughts, Steve spoke.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I’m yours, Steve. Forever,” you gasped, clenching around him.

He hissed into your mouth.

“Say that again…”

“I’m yours,” you panted.

His hips stuttered, and your climax hit you just as he emptied himself inside of you with a low moan. Your body trembled, and he pulled you against him as he turned to lay on his side. His softening cock was still inside of you, and a lazy smile fell over your lips, sure that he’d be pinning you to the bed again as soon as you woke up in the morning.

You reached up to brush your fingers along his face, tracing his jaw, and he hummed. His eyes fell closed, fingers drawing circles into your back. You suddenly remembered something, and you paused in your ministrations.

“Steve…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ashamed of your friends?”

His eyes flew open, studying you. You blinked.

“…or…maybe me?”

He pushed himself up to lean on his elbow, looking down at you with a frown.

“Why would you say that?”

You shrugged.

“It just seemed like you didn’t want me around your friends, is all,” you explained.

He sighed, briefly closing his eyes before shaking his head.

“No, no, sweetheart. I didn’t want them around you.”

“Why? They’re your friends, aren’t they?”

He fell back onto his back, exhaling as he stared at the ceiling.

“There was a time when they were my friends, yes, but not anymore…”

You waited for him to continue.

“I was a different guy then, Y/N…much different. We’re talking late high school early college years. I was caught up in stuff that makes me ashamed to even touch you-.”

“Steve,” you admonished, frowning.

He looked up at you as you leaned over him, reaching up to brush a finger along your neck.

“I’ve spent years trying to be the guy who would deserve a woman like you, and ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to make up for the fact that I don’t deserve you, because… God, I don’t deserve you,” he groaned.

“Don’t say that-.”

“It’s true. Those guys…they were content, are content, with their lives, this town…the things they do. I wanted more, so I left. I don’t have much in common with them anymore.”

You traced your fingers along his chest with a sigh.

“I’m sorry. I wish that weren’t the case… After all, they were your friends once,” you replied.

He chuckled, and you cut your eyes to him.

“God, I love you,” he said, reaching out to pull you down.

You laid your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as sleep wrapped you in its arms.

 ~

“Y/N Rogers!”

You jumped up from your seat, approaching the counter with a grin as the woman bagged your food. You could feel the conversations in the small diner quiet just a bit, and you just accepted that this would be the norm for a while.

It was a small town indeed, and apparently Steve and his family were well known, had been an integral part of this town. You were the newcomer, his wife that he’d returned to town with after so many years of being gone. You were the new face with a load of baggage so to speak. At least, that’s what the girl at the counter had told you when you had placed your order. Wanda was her name.

“Hey, I told you, don’t be so nervous about it. Folks are just curious,” she said, handing you your food.

“I know, I know. I’m just not used to this, at all. I didn’t grow up in a town like this, not even close,” you laughed.

“A city girl,” she guessed with a smile.

“Yeah,” you sheepishly replied.

“Is that how you met Steve? In the city?” she wondered, a slight unfamiliar accent peeking through.

“Yeah! I literally ran into him on the way to a doctor’s appointment one day. The rest was history,” you shrugged.

“How sweet. Are you going to be working here?”

“Yes, actually! I’m a teacher…”

“Oh, I adore kids,” she said, leaning on the counter, intrigued.

“Me too. I hope to have some of my own one day, but until then, I’m going to be teaching at the elementary school,” you told her.

“You’ll love it. The children here are darling. The adults on the other hand…,” she trailed off with a slight chuckle, and you joined her. “You’ll do great there though.”

“Thanks. Are you friends with Steve?” you suddenly asked.

She sadly shook her head.

“No. My brother and I moved here about 4 months before Steve left town all those years ago. I didn’t really speak with him much, but my brother did. They were in the…the same club together,” she stuttered over her words, straightening as she grabbed the rag.

You watched her demeanor change as she wiped the counter, and you wondered why.

“Oh, okay. Well, it was nice meeting you, Wanda. Hopefully, I’ll see you around.”

“You too,” her words were soft, cautious, and you frowned.

You waved her goodbye as you took your food, making your way out of the restaurant. Relief flowed through you as the weight of prying eyes lifted. It was getting late, the sun starting to set, and you hurried to get to your car to get home. It was why you had gotten takeout. The day had slipped you by, and you wouldn’t have time to cook anything.

You were walking and reaching for your keys, one hand occupied with the food while the other dug into your purse. Your foot stumbled over a broken parking bumper. Your shoe caught against the pavement, and you cursed when the food slipped out of your hand. You weren’t going to catch it in time, but that didn’t stop you from trying. However, another hand beat you to it.

You stumbled back in shock, straightening up as you faced the stranger. You glanced down at your food, reaching out for it with a small ‘thank you’ on your lips when your savior pulled his hand back. You frowned, cutting your eyes up to gaze at the person in question. You blinked at the unfamiliar face.

He looked to be the same height as Steve, and just as muscular. Maybe a bit bulkier now that you looked again. Unlike Steve though, his dark hair was lengthy, the ends of his locks brushing the tops of his shoulders. His facial hair was light, like he was in the process of growing it out fully. He sported a similar leather jacket to the one Sam and Clint had worn at your house, and it was accompanied by equally dark jeans and a shirt and boots to match.

His blue eyes, so much like Steve’s, were focused on you. They were heavy and piercing, and you cleared your throat, reaching out for your bag.

“Thank you,” you said.

Again, he pulled it out of your reach, and apprehension filled you.

“You’re new here,” he noted in a deep, husky voice.

You swallowed, nodding.

“I just moved here with my husband a few days ago. Can I have that back, please?”

He ignored your request, instead raking his eyes over you. He hummed when his eyes landed on your ring, and it didn’t sound like an approving sound.

“Husband… What’s your name, sweetheart?”

You frowned at the term of endearment but bit your tongue. If living in the city had taught you anything, it was to pick your battles with strange men wisely.

“Y/N,” you quietly replied.

He didn’t respond right away, instead taking you in. You shuffled on your feet, glancing at the darkening sky before looking around. You noticed a large bike parked not too far away, and you assumed it was his. There seemed to be quite a few bikers in this town. When you met his eyes again, there was a faint smirk on his pink lips.

The bag that held your food gestured to the dark grey car parked beside him.

“This your car?”

You nodded, slowly following as he rounded it, eyes observing the tag.

“New York,” he said with a whistle. “That’s a long way to travel….”

“My husband is from here. We wanted to move back to his hometown,” you explained, nervousness growing. “Can I please-?”

You were cut off by his soft chuckle, his smirk growing, now as he eyed you. If possible, you would have sworn that his eyes had gotten darker, amusement taking residence there.

“Mrs. Rogers, I presume?”

You didn’t respond because you didn’t feel the need to. It seemed that he already knew. With another chuckle, he finally handed your food back to you, his fingers grazing your hand as he did so. He was close, so close that you could smell whatever shampoo he had used that morning.

You took a step back, hitting the side of your car as he reached out. His hand was pressed to the door, caging you in as you eyed him, heart racing. He looked over you one final time before opening your driver’s door, and with a start, you realized that you must have left it unlocked. He licked his lips as he held the door open for you, and you hurriedly slipped inside.

His grip was tight, preventing you from closing it, and you started to reach for your cell phone when he spoke.

“Tell Steve his old friend Bucky said hello. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning his body on the open door, head peaking out over the top.

You nodded, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

“You drive safe…Mrs. Rogers.”

He closed your door, and you stared after him with wide eyes before shaking your head. With trembling hands, you buckled your seatbelt and started the car, rushing to get home.

 ~

tags: @mcudarklibrary​ @xoxabs88xox​ @darkficreposter​ @sebabestianstan101​ @sherrybaby14​ @kellyn1604​ @villanellevi​ @readermia​ @katwayne​ @chamberofsloths​ @eqhorics​ @leniaana​  @jtargaryen18​ @notyourtypicalrose​

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Death Warmed Up

[<15Min Read/~4K Words - Coffee Shop Au - Felix x Neutral Death!Reader - Fluff, Minor Angst - Dogs, Death, Coffee]

[Originally slated for the skzwriternet Cozy Collab, but here it is! Hope you enjoy.]

Nets: @skzwriternet​ @kwritersworld​

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You stared at the assignment you had found on your desk. This was late… by two years?

The notion was fully ludicrous. Even with a file like this, there was no way that it could reasonably have been delayed by two whole years. Then again, the idea of getting saddled with an interesting case intrigued you. It sort of felt fancy — important, even — to see this in your inbox when you sat at your desk. You flicked through the file again. Felix Lee, 21 years old: living on Borrowed Time since he was 19.

You hadn’t been an Arbiter very long, and you mulled over just how little Borrowed Time you’d really seen since your appointment. There was the tiny old grandmother — Jane, you thought her name was — a matriarch of her household and a staple of her community, but even then her Arbiter, Bill, could only find her a year from scraping together everything he could. He had told you all that when he did finally meet her at the end, he was in tears along with all her family, and she was the only one smiling. The fact that this kid could be afforded two years was a feat in and of itself, to a point that you were morbidly curious who the previous Arbiters were. The most recent was Jisung, a surprising name to find. Jisung was nice, he liked to maintain how he looked when he died in the mid-nineties, nose ring and flannel and all… and he currently worked as a first-level Arbiter, watching day-to-day activities between humans and the world around them. When you got transferred into the department you’d had no idea that he used to be up on this level. The previous Arbiter’s name was Chan: a name you didn’t recognize and had never heard around the office. Whatever had happened, you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to get distracted by excuses. You needed to see for yourself.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

It was a surprisingly balmy autumn afternoon when you finally found the cafe. Even with all the extra instincts and wherewithal you were afforded by your position, you still had to search around for the little coffee bar, a humble cubby hidden away in an alley off a side street in the bustling city. Some trees lined the sidewalk outside and the orange leaves managed to drift on by, and there was a young man sweeping them off the stoop of the cafe before he turned to go back inside. You opened your portfolio and pulled out your file again. You examined it closely. Could that have been him? The guy now cleaning up behind the bar? There was no way that was him. You stepped closer down the alley.

Thankfully, even if the young man in the window did look up, he wouldn’t see you in this plane you were currently occupying. Your body was only as real as your conscious willed it considering you were already dead, and right now you were perfectly content watching the barista bustling about behind the counter. A little old man with smart half-moon glasses waved from where he sat in his cracked leather armchair by a tall bookshelf, getting his attention.

“Felix, dear, could you top me off?”

Well, there, then. This was the guy.

He didn’t seem so special.

Felix didn’t look like his picture. That was your first hint. The photo was always a snapshot of the client at the time the referral was made to Arbitration, and he looked much worse for wear a couple years ago, laying in a hospital bed and hooked up to a spiderweb of tubes. Here, now, Felix stood tall and healthy, slim but fit under his apron, a modest but present definition in his arms showing through the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he set about making a new drink for the tottering old man. A spray of freckles adorned his dainty nose and rested among the golden glow of his cheeks, and he even had a little satisfied smile curling at his lip as he got the foam just right on the old man’s coffee.

You still didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

A dog ran up to Felix behind the counter, a panting golden retriever asking for pats, and your heart begrudgingly melted. In fact, there were even more dogs you hadn’t noticed. A small scotty rested at the feet of the old man. A tiny chihuahua slept in a basket on the counter that barely roused as Felix stepped over to add the drink to the man’s tab. A sleek sheepdog sat up from behind the counter to let him by, and a basset hound raised its head from where it sat in another chair when Felix set the warm cup on a small table by his elderly customer. Felix pet the dogs in a round and wiped up a string of drool from the basset with the corner of his apron before he returned to the counter and washed his hands.

Fine, so Felix was good with dogs.

But being good with dogs didn’t automatically mean you were entitled to Borrowed Time.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

You returned with gusto the next day, ready to confront this supposedly difficult client. Your getup was simple, fully materialized now and dressed as a package courier. This form was common when working on this plane, even popular with other people in your department like Jisung, the previous Arbiter, who actually did use to deliver packages back before he died. It made sense in getting a feel for who a client really was. This was a blue collar worker that people were used to seeing and seeing through, and could really show who a person could be, given the right situation. And you really wanted to see who Felix could be.

You strolled into the cafe, large box in hand with a clipboard sitting on top and a pen tucked behind your ear. Felix perked up when you let it thunk onto the counter, the weight taking care of the poignancy.

“Delivery,” you boredly greeted. “Can you sign for this?”

“Er,” Felix stared — at you, the box, and back at you, “what is it? I wasn’t expecting anything.”

You laughed out loud as you held out your pen to him. “I don’t know, I’m just delivering it. Can you sign for this, please?”

Felix bit at his lip before he grabbed the proffered pen and signed, and you looked amused as you stood and watched him slice open the box with a pair of scissors from under the counter. What surprised you was that this old trick — this misdelivered box of assorted mugs and pens — only made Felix laugh.

“I didn’t order these!”

“That’s too bad,” you shrugged sympathetically. Admittedly, his smooth and deep voice was pleasantly unexpected, catching you off guard. “They’re addressed here and you signed for them.”

Felix’s eyes widened as he plucked out a piece of paper. “There’s an invoice?! With a balance on it?!”

But he still only laughed. You were a bit stumped.

“I guess I’ll pay this before I return it,” Felix shrugged. “I’d hate for someone to get a late bill on a mistake like this.”

You were puzzled, to say the least, as you turned to leave, but then Felix stopped you.

“Hey!” He called. “I feel bad that you had to come all the way here just for this to not be mine. Can’t I at least get you a drink on the house? Do you like dogs?”

The most astounding thing of all was you felt yourself heat up at his offer. This was well and truly bizarre, but you needed to check this out as well. There had to be fine print. You should’ve looked closer at the file.

You dumbly nodded as Felix gladly directed you over to a seat at the bar by his register. When he asked what you liked and you added a dumb shrug to your list of unintended responses, he shrugged in return and said he’d love to surprise you, then. Felix ground some beans down to a dense powder, pressed it into a puck, and pulled a couple espresso shots. You found yourself intrigued, having never seen or paid any attention to someone doing this by hand before. He steamed a small pitcher of milk until a modest head of creamy foam sat on top and carefully poured it in the center of the shots. He proudly slid the cup over to you on a saucer.

“A flat white,” he humbly presented. You silently nodded your gratitude and tried it. This was utterly confounding. The same misdelivery stunt got a shoe thrown at you by a client a few years back. You had to put the cup down as soon as you tried a sip.

“Is everything alright?” Felix worriedly asked. The fluffy lab originally sleeping on the rug in the center of the cafe got up to check on you, his wet nose leaving a slight print on your uniform pants.

“Er, yeah,” you gulped down the hot drink on your lips, “this is just really good. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

Felix raised a hand to deny you. “Wouldn’t dream of accepting it. I’m sure you’ve been working hard all day anyway.”

“Sure have,” you stiffly lied. “Well, I can at least tip you.”

You conjured a wallet with a sizable bill inside, more than enough to cover the coffee as you quickly downed the modestly sized beverage. Felix beamed as you waved goodbye.

Fine.

So Felix was nice. So Felix was really nice. Felix was really nice, and kind, and he made good coffee.

But you’d have to try anyway. There was something in him that could convince you that he wasn’t 100% good, even though that shouldn’t have been a reason from the beginning.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

You returned two nights later, but you didn’t enter the small side street. Instead, you paced in front of your parked bike out on the sidewalk, over and over again, working up the nerve. After a while, though, you knew it was time. You would goad Felix into dropping the act, into showing who he really was under all the sugar and sunshine. After making sure the sizeable package was sitting precariously on your handlebars to match the one on the back of your bike, you revved the little engine as Felix swept the stoop for the night. You barreled down the street, apparently unable to see much in front of you beyond the shoddy headlight. This was fine. This was easy. You’d done this before, and a saint of an old schoolteacher beat the snot out of you with their cane for it a while back. Felix noticed you at the last second, eyes widening comically as you reflexively honked.

You couldn’t do it.

Your finger barely squeezed the brake, but the front axle jackknifed and sent you ass over elbows onto the pavement.

Everything went white for a second and you definitely did not miss being alive in this moment, because this invariably sucked. And now Felix was there.

“It’s you!” Felix gasped and immediately offered you a hand up. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

“Uh,” you stammered and groaned, “I can say the same.” You could not wait to leave this plane and not feel the pain radiating in your hip and back. But right now, Felix was already pulling you into the cafe and fretting.

“Are you in a rush? You should at least sit down a moment.”

You sighed and let Felix seat you in a comfy chair by a heater in the small cafe, only lit by warm lamps at this time of night. The basset hound watching from a basket on the low windowsill came to sit at your feet as Felix hurriedly set about making you a hot cup of tea. He rushed over, light on his feet and pushing the warm mug into your hands. You nearly spat as you looked closer at the ceramic cup. “Is this—?”

“From that box you brought me the other day? Sure is.” Felix let the force of his belly laugh carry him into a chair beside you. “The funniest thing, really. I tried calling the phone number on that invoice and only got busy tones, and I tried looking up the business and only found dead websites. I figured I could always use pens and mugs, so now I have a supply and a funny story.”

You could crumple into dust, honestly. You set the mug on the little table by your chair, albeit a tad roughly. “I’m so sorry,” you shook your head, “but what is your deal? You’re literally the happiest person I ever met.”

Felix’s eyes pointed sharp into you. There it was.

But he wasn’t angry. He seemed embarrassed.

“Well,” he sighed, even still attempting to maintain his persistent smile, “it’s a long and tired story. I was really sick a couple years ago and I pulled through when no one thought I could.”

“I’m sorry—” you meekly interjected, but it was too late. The shine in Felix’s eye finally dulled, if only a little. You’d cracked him.

“It’s fine,” Felix reassured you. He gently patted your knee before he got back up to his feet. “You go ahead and enjoy your tea. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Of course, yeah,” you babbled as you got up and followed him anyhow, “I’m just glad I didn’t hit you.” You set the mug on the bar and sat down as he walked behind the register. The chihuahua in his basket drowsily got up and walked into your hand for pets.

“I was going to say the same,” Felix nodded tiredly with a worn smile. “It’s happened before. I guess I should put some lights up outside. A cute delivery boy almost ran me over with his bike about a year ago, too.”

“Delivery boy?” You asked starkly. Felix caught your look before falling right back into stride. His grin seemed to get its warmth back.

“Yeah,” he nodded amusedly. “He had an adorable nose ring, I remember I was terrified I almost ripped it out when he helped me up.”

Felix looked confused at the very least as you choked on your tea.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out. “You know I — it’s weird that — I just remembered I need to be somewhere. Thank you again, for everything.” You dug out entirely too much money for the tea and clapped it down onto the counter before grabbing your things and sprinting out the door.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

Jisung looked caught as you slapped Felix’s file on his desk. “Hi,” he squeaked as you towered over him.

“What happened when you tried to crack him?”

The young Arbiter let his head drop back with a hard sigh. “You got the file? I knew he couldn’t last long.”

“You only gave him another year, you had to know this was coming.”

“He was just so—? He’s so nice, and genuine, and warm?” Jisung blathered on as he sat back up and flipped through the file. “He was never the same since what Chan did. He was the most amazing turnaround I’d ever seen.”

“So you gave him a year—“

“I didn’t.” Jisung shook his head. “Look closer at the file. I put him back in the queue for Reassessment.”

“What do you mean you—“

“Look,” Jisung insisted. He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you down the hall. “I put him back in Reassessment and was lucky to only get demoted. After what Chan did, I couldn’t bring myself to do more.”

“What are you showing me?”

“Here.”

Jisung shook out his hands and you found yourself standing beside him in a graveyard. This was a pleasant enough place to end up. The grass was neatly trimmed and there were trees and benches to sit on. The orange and red leaves scattered around looked like confetti, a graceful celebration at the end of life. Jisung stood between two headstones.

“I made the mistake of looking at what Chan did, except Felix’s family wasn’t gone yet when he had the file. They were on their way out, though. He saw that they were leaving soon, and Felix would be alone with his grandfather at his cafe. His grandfather would be all alone after losing all of them, and that would be after everything Felix would go through, getting sick and getting better and learning to live again. Chan saw a horrible ending to an awful story and put a stop to it, and he got banished for it.”

“That’s not fair though,” you shook your head, ���no matter how much you or he wanted it.”

“But look at him!” Jisung reeled. “That decision made one of the brightest humans I’ve ever seen. When I put him back to Reassessment, I just spent time around him before I was called back. I suggest you do the same, no matter what you choose. I hope this helped.”

Jisung haughtily folded his arms before he vanished. You finally looked more closely at the headstones. Those years were much too close together. Your heart hung low in your gut.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

Felix grinned wide when you returned to the cafe. He immediately set about making you a drink.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“You were?”

This was feeling familiar, like you were home or at a friend’s house, while you sat yourself in an easy chair and let the panting sheepdog sit between your feet so you could scratch under her chin.

“Yeah!” Felix brightly called over. “Because you asked why I’m like this, I sort of only gave you half an answer.”

“I’m sorry again,” you lamented.

“It’s fine,” Felix said adamantly as he set a warm mug in your hands. He gestured grandly before sitting down. “A latte. Now, I only gave you half an answer. The fact of the matter is that I spent a good while tied to tubes and machines with nothing to do and no choice in the matter. Now, all this time later, I’m just happy to be here, because I know the day after could be any day now.”

“The day after?”

Felix nodded. “When you come away from something like that, later it just feels like a day. One big day, or week, or whatever is tangible, but it definitely wasn’t forever. It feels like one big day to me. This, in the grand scheme of things, is the day after that, but the day after this, when everything actually does end— I’m expecting it. And I’m not scared, but I’m going to be enjoy my time here as much as I can.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Not anymore,” Felix shook his head in determination. “I had to cope with my own loss like everyone else was getting ready to cope with losing me. I didn’t get to have that luxury of not expecting it anymore, because I know what it looks like and I know what’s coming. To do anything else would be a disservice, so I’d rather walk into it with a clear mind and a full life.”

You thought of Bill and Jane, how she was the only one not crying at the end. It was hard to place exactly how you felt, sipping your coffee made with loving hands in this small cafe full of an inordinate amount of golden afternoon sunlight for being so hidden away from the main road. Felix fit here — cosmically, almost, in the least dramatic way you could muster.

“I’m really glad you feel that way,” you said, hoping that the added sincerity hidden behind the sentiment was felt.

The shimmer in Felix’s eyes told you it was. “I am, too. And I’m especially glad you’re back, because I like seeing you around. I don’t think I’ve given away this many free drinks since that delivery boy last year.”

“I like seeing you, too, Felix.” You finally admitted it, and it was true, even more so as Felix’s shining smile grew even more. You did like seeing Felix, and you would continue to see Felix as much as you were able, all the way to the end.