#let me live in my little house and show it's interior so maybe someons would like the furniture too

[endy-merimo]

the one little theory-headcanon i have is that when Agent Curt Mega tries to stop the deal with Sergio and starrs shooting and DMA is leading his arm is that Owen actually counted the bullets so he knew that that particular gun, which was probably Colt Model 1900 (it's one of the most popular guns during the cold war and it has magazine with 7 bullets), didn't have the 8th bullet so the last "shot" won't kill Curt.

[donnerpartyofone]

This has been a really hard one to talk about. I'm always very ambivalent about mourning celebrities. I try to remember that I don't know these people, that what is really mourned by most of us is the person's ongoing work, which in the best cases has helped us understand ourselves and the world in which we live. Unavoidably, though, you can start to develop the sense that you know these people personally, which isn't true or even appropriate necessarily, I mean you have no idea whether you would even like someone you've only seen on a screen or received an autograph from; but at the same time, I don't know if you can really force yourself not to feel like the deceased celebrity is a dear friend you will never get to talk to again (the last time I tried and failed was the passing of Lux Interior). Maybe this is more forgivable, and also more inevitable, if you feel like you grew up with the person.

Of course this is all about ME now, but my mother (who also died from cancer) was an extremely hip, brilliant, funny individual who for whatever reason refused to form a relationship with me. This was pretty strange, because we liked a lot of the same things--B movies, old comics, all types of camp and kitsch--but when I liked those things, it was in poor taste and punishable by exile, whereas when she liked those things, it was evidence of her cultural genius. Before I make anybody too mad I should say that I'm being a little bit unfairly reductive just so I can get to the point, which is that one of the few things we could share was Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I didn't know anything about the show's more adult origins or the fact that Paul Reubens was sort of a performance artist, but I didn't have to. Pee-Wee's Playhouse was a feast for any child's senses: stylish, hilarious, and on some subliminal level, really sophisticated. I was clued into some of what was going on just because I watched it with my mom, who always laughed at Pee-Wee's winks and nudges to the hep parents in the audience. The show might have been my first encounter with the kind of anthropological humor favored by people like David Byrne and Laurie Anderson, artists who engage subversively with cliches, stereotypes, and other memetic parts of popular culture. In Pee-Wee's Playhouse, with its sharp, edgy cast and crew, kids like me were getting into fine art without even knowing it--which is possibly the best way to learn about art anyway.

In fact, on the other side of our house, I became obsessed with Gary Panter's incredible punk opus Jimbo In Paradise, a Dantesque comic book about an innocent young guy living in a dystopian future, where he is occasionally joined by guest stars such as Nancy and Hedorah. I was about 7 when I started reading Jimbo over and over again even though I could barely understand it, and I had no idea that Gary had pretty much designed Pee-Wee's Playhouse. I'm speaking about him so familiarly because I got to know him a little bit as a grownup. I remember Gary talking about how private Paul Reubens could be. He used to do this thing where he would accept a dinner invitation from anybody who asked, as sort of a stunt, but he had to stop doing it because people became so intrusive and entitled with him. Gary said that they'd be walking around in New York and when they saw an obvious Pee-Wee fan gearing up for an offensive, Paul Reubens would sort of transform into this totally different person, putting out an aura that let you know not to fuck with him. It's crazy-making to think that someone who was so protective of the boundary between his private and public selves had to suffer that ridiculous arrest, but it's heartening that most of society eventually grew the fuck up and forgot about it. It's also helpful to remember when he turned up later on the MTV Music Video Awards and started off by asking the audience, "HEARD ANY GOOD JOKES LATELY??"

I'm glad we got one more Pee-Wee special in the past several years, but I always wished that we would see Paul Reubens in more movies. He was such a cool actor, funny, convincing, and naturally charismatic. While people are cycling through their favorite roles of his, I want to point out that he had a great role on a recent HBO miniseries called Mosaic, an intense, engrossing crime drama that I definitely recommend if you have access. Maybe I'll rewatch it, too. In closing, here's a great story that I grabbed from Facebook that should warm everybody's heart, along with the heartbreaking statement (inappropriately cropped by Instagram of course) released upon the death of the very private Pee-Wee Herman. It makes you wish you could thank him in person, for everything. The best we can do is just remember him.

[yarrystyleeza]

Arduous Solitude

"I used to want to be alone. Now that you're here—I don't want to be alone anymore. The solitude that I once wanted took no place in my heart ever since I had you."

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

Taglist: @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @bellaxgiornata @babygirlmurdock @1988-fiend @v4leoftears @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @floral-charlie-cat

[curiosity almost killed the cat]

Word count: 1.7k!

Warnings/tags for this chapter: none!!! Talks of art, cats, and tea. Someone gets a burn scar!!! other than that—there's nothing.

You looked even more interesting this close.

You eyed him curiously with high eyebrows— waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat, flashing a smile. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he states, his voice was gravely but it was warm, even soothing. Eerly soothing.

It wasn't really matching his face, he was handsome, you couldn't doubt that for a split second, but he was a bit perturbing. He had a weird aura, maybe off-putting too, but he looked nice. Very nice.

Stop that, you literally just met the man. You mentally shook your head.

"Thank you, mister..." you stopped, waiting for him to finish your sentence.

"Henry," he said, "my name is Henry," he smiled once again.

You nodded, "pleasure to meet you, Mister Henry."

You introduce yourself. "Such a lovely name," he says, and you feel the blood creeping up beneath your skin.

"I apologize—it seemed like you were having a lonely time," he says.

You shook your head, almost instantly, "no worries, you didn't bother."

Why did you say that? Why did you sound so eager and... desperate? In your head, you smacked yourself across the face.

"Oh, um--" he trailed off.

You gasped. "Oh, I'm very sorry-- please come in," you swing the door wider, allowing him to pass inside. He took off his dark fedota and wiped his shoes at the entrance mat. He wasn't this 6ft tall huge—but he was huge, with broad shoulders and a wide dorsum. You felt a little small next to him, maybe more than just a little.

You show him the way into your living room, moving your cozy blankets out of the way for him to sit on your sofa. He gently settled down, eyeing the interior of your house thoroughly. Did he like the decor? Wait--why would you even care? It's your house, not his.

"Sorry again, let me go grab something for you to drink, you must be freezing," you say, turning in your heels and walking straight to the kitchen. He called your name. It pinned you in place.

You never liked how your name sounded more than now.

"Don't bother bringing anything, I don't really need--"

You turned, shaking your head, "that would be very impolite of me, Mister Henry, now allow me to bring you some tea to warm you up."

He surrendered with a huff, "alright," he quietly said. You continued your trip to the kitchen and placed the teapot over the stove.

"Would you like chamomile tea? Hibiscus? Earl Grey? The regular?" you asked as you scavenged through the cupboard for other options.

"Whatever you have there," Henry politely answered.

"Alright, I think we're up for hibiscus."

He stood off his seat to closely inspect your bookshelves. The last residents of this home were an elderly couple, so there's a chance he learns something new about the world from your perspective.

You seemed to be a bookworm, there were dozens and dozens of books on your shelves. He noticed you had a shared interest with him, too; miniature artworks. You loved to collect them, but he loved making them.

He wondered if any of his many miniature works ever made their way to your hands, maybe passed by someone to you, or you received it as a gift, or thrifted it from some local antiques store.

But then he saw the very petite canvas of a peacock. He remembers that, he just doesn't quite remember when, but he surely knows he painted it more than 250 years ago.

"Oh, you seem like you like my collection?" you cringed at yourself. Since when were you this outgoing and social?

You placed the tray down. "I'm sorry, I was just--" he trailed off, turning to look your way with your little art piece in his hand.

You shook your head, "it's alright, I got this one in an auction three years ago for only fifteen hundred pounds! It should've costed way more than that to be honest, it dates back to the seventeen hundreds, as I assume," you were astonished by how talkative you are now. Maybe you were just too excited about your miniature collection.

But he admired how dedicated you were to track it back to its date of manufacturing, and you paid this much for it and still had the will to pay more.

He couldn't help but smile.

"What fascinated you about it?" the artist had to ask.

You shrugged, "well... I guess I like ancient things, specially art," a warmer smile split the pitch darkness of his beard, "the size is enough to amaze you, and the artist was so dedicated in painting the blue feathers, I love it when someone pours their soul into something, it creates something magnificent."

"Are you an artist?" he asked, you nodded, gesturing at the wall behind the sofa. He turned around, his back now facing you, but you could swear you heard him quietly gasp.

"You made these?" he turned to look at you, his brows shooting up his forehead. You hummed, he looked back at the pieces you hung on the wall, moved closer to them, he inspected them, touched them even.

You've never seen a man this mesmerized by your art. All of your previous partners usually plainly reacted to it, other times they never even batted an eye for it.

But him, Mister Henry, he was in awe, his tips were following the wild and free strokes of your brushes, they walked over the ups and downs of the layers, and sensed the pebbles of dry paint so delicately, his fingertips almost dancing over the canvas.

That stirred something in you.

"Are you an artist?" it was your turn to ask this question, he turned to face you, his fingertips still lingering on the canvas. Your eyes shifted between his and his tips, still amazed by the fact that he was interested in your art.

"You can say that," he shrugged and winked.

This, somehow, changed the flow direction of the chemicals of your brain. The lights flipped on inside your head. Your face turns red.

You had no idea what was going on with you, but this was the most attractive thing you've seen a guy doing in years.

Not only he's interested in art, but he's also an artist.

You had to distract yourself from looking into his vast eyes with this unlimited amount of admiration. "The--the tea!" you ripped your eyes off of him, looking at the tray placed on the coffee table.

He hadn't drank tea in decades and never truly minded it, but now he wanted to drink it with you, he felt he missed what it tastes.

He was almost to grab his cup, but something buzzed the skin of his hand, and that's when he noticed that the tray was made of silver.

He almost killed himself for a cup of tea.

You reached down and handed him the cup, he nodded, his face was paler than a sheet, but he smiled to distract himself from the fact that he almost died in a stranger's house... For a little cup of tea.

He felt stupid for this.

"Can I ask you a question, if you wouldn't mind?" he said after taking a sip of his drink. He sure missed that warm and earthy and sweet taste.

You nodded.

"You seem to look like a city girl, what brought you here to the suburbs, in a house near the woods?" Henry is obviously more curious now.

You shrugged, "I needed to be alone, to breathe, and this is what I found, my very own little witch house," he chuckled at your answer, and you couldn't lie, you loved that man's chuckle, you fell in love with it.

It wasn't just because it's been a while since you had a man in your life, but he had something so charming and elegant about him. His fancy clothing, his wizardly attitude, his very sweet but dignified features and, his eyes.

You really, really loved his eyes.

There was an odd reflection of fire in them that you couldn't explain, you didn't know if he was born this way or was it the fireplace behind you or is your mind playing tricks on you.

Marmalade yelled from upstairs, it made your heart drop in your stomach, tearing your train of thoughts apart and shaking your ground. Although you've had this flameball for years now, you never really got used to his sudden loud shrieks; they always took you off guard.

Henry's ears visibly stood up, he caught the scent of fur and canned food, and watched as the little noise machine waddled down the stairs.

"That's Marmalade," you had to say—as you pulled him up to your chest.

"Hey Lad," Henry says, smiles and waves at him.

"He loves to let me know he's present, sorry if he scared you," you lull Marmalade in your cradle-made arms.

Henry gutted a giggle and shook his head, "never mind, he's adorable."

However, Marmalade's ears went into airplane-mode, he pushed you in the chest, forcing you to let go of him and ran up the stairs once again. You were astounded by his act, you turn back to look at Henry, who stood silently with his eyebrows shooting high and his eyes fixed to the ground.

"I'm really sorry, I don't know what's going on with him, maybe it's because he just moved in--" you were explaining, and you don't even know why you were justifying a cat but you stood there and did it.

Henry shook his head, "it's alright I'm... I'm not very favored by most animals," he shrugged, "however, I think I should be going now, I must've kept you past your bedtime and maybe it's why your lad was grumpy," he put on his fedora and passed you.

You were a little startled by the shift of his demeanor, but you followed him to the front door.

He turned the doorknob then turned to look at you. Quietly, he said your name with a smile, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

But this wasn't the last thing you saw of the very peculiar Mister Henry.

[previous / next]

[calmcoldevening]

Eric x reader, but with him being a vampire. It's up to you if you'd like both characters to be vamps, or perhaps the OC could just be his lover and willing meal, from time to time... 😉🖤🩸🖤

Vampire!Eric Draven x reader

Tw: mention of death, maybe blood, murder, angst

(This is like a part 2 for this ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗)

Ps: english is not my native language, so sorry for misspells. I had inspiration to write this little angst. I wrote it to the song on Spotify . Just let me know if someone of you want the second part (and if yes write what would you like to say him (: )

You have just moved to a new small town away from the hustle and bustle of megacities. Surprisingly, you quickly found a place to live and settled in a small house, beautiful and cozy. After unpacking all your things, you decided to explore the new city a little. After all, you've been living here for quite some time, haven't you?

And here you are standing in front of a large mansion, made in the likeness of a certain Gothic style. The massive building is decorated in dark colors. Large windows with a pleasant view of a surprisingly well-kept garden with bushes of blood-red roses; a dark pointed roof with neat tiles; dark gray walls of the mansion with peeling paint in some places. In front of your face were massive doors made of dark oak with a neat intricate engraving on them. Something like snakes.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage, and slowly open the door. It doesn't give in right away, the old hinges squeak disgustingly. And here you are inside. There is a huge corridor with a large staircase directly opposite the entrance. The interior is decorated in black and red tones, in places you can see elements of silver or gold. Huge paintings in gold frames hang on both walls of the lobby. They depict some important people with menacing faces, but the text in the captions to the portraits is not legible. It's a language you don't know. A huge chandelier with burning red candles hangs on the ceiling. Even the flames on them seem scarlet. And although it's only early autumn outside, it's surprisingly cool in the mansion. It's almost sepulchral cold.

The eyes ran away from such Gothic beauty. Your heart was racing in your chest in anticipation. Something about this place was painfully familiar, as much as it was, which caused an unpleasant shiver down my spine. You definitely knew this place for sure.

Your feet carried you through the high halls by themselves, showing all the beauty of the old mansion. All these decorations, statues, tapestries over elaborate frescoes and candles gave you goosebumps.

You were here in a dream. Often your childhood dreams were accompanied by mindless walks through this empty, cold castle.

Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your feet are shuffling on the burgundy carpets with a quiet noise. There was not a soul around, and crows were cawing in the distance. But you weren't scared, not a bit. Something inside you said you were safe. And then you would find a tall mirror in a silver frame with rose inserts in the hallway. You felt everything at that moment, but you didn't control your own body. Leaning closer to the mirror, you saw everything except the face. Your fingers were gently tucking your hair behind your ears. After that, the palms gently slid down the red fabric, knocking the dust off the dress, the nails lightly tapped on the metal spokes of the corset. And at that moment, someone else's stronger arms were wrapped around your waist. You giggled while the stranger pulled you to his chest, kissing your neck.

"You're still beautiful, my rose.."

You are instantly pulled out of your memories by the same cawing of crows, once peacefully sitting on the branches of a tall tree near the estate.

You're on the second floor. It's like you're walking straight somewhere in slow motion, and numbers are flashing in your head. One, two, three, four. You walk with amazing precision around the wooden planks creaking on the floor, hidden under the palace. Your body seemed to know all the answers. This part of the estate was particularly dark, and there was no light in the hallway at all. It's strange, but it's daytime. It's only at the end of the corridor in one of the rooms that you notice a dim glow. You're going there.

It was one of the darkest rooms. The dark curtains were tightly closed, not letting in a single ray of sunlight. Candles stood on a desk in the corner of the room and a few on the floor, here and there. It seemed that the owner of the estate did not need lighting at all, but only showed someone the way. To you. At that moment, you notice a large velvet armchair with a man on it. The stranger was sitting in front of a large portrait almost the entire wall. Was there... you in the portrait?

You swallow nervously and hug yourself, taking an uncertain step closer. There are hundreds of rushing thoughts in your head, but none of them brought you proper comfort at that moment. My heart is pounding in my chest. The stranger seemed to notice you, the atmosphere in the room instantly changed, but he did not pay any attention to you, instead fixing his gaze on the portrait. His head rests on his arm in a bored manner, and you notice an open bottle of wine with a half-empty glass next to him on the table.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? I mean the painting."

The man's voice is like a bolt from the blue. His hoarse, slightly rough voice seemed to come from the very depths of his chest, giving you goosebumps. It took you a few moments to gather your courage together and answer him.

"..yes, it is."

"There's a whole story behind this simple painting," he intones, seemingly staring out the window. His movements are unreadable. But the tension in the room was palpable. And yet, it seemed to you that a stranger was watching your every move, "Would you like to hear this story?"

Your answer was silence. He probably just needed someone to listen to him.

"It's not an easy story, it doesn't have a happy ending, like in your vanilla fairy tales. Life is far from a fairy tale," he begins with a slight grin, "You see, this picture shows not an ordinary woman, she is special. Special in everything. She was the love of my life.."

At this point the man stops. Perhaps he was thinking, or it just hurt him to remember all this.

And so he gets up. His strong but neat figure floats smoothly towards the window, holding his hands behind his back. The man is wearing strict black trousers and a slightly rumpled white shirt. You notice a dark, worn raincoat resting on the arm of a chair. Black wavy hair falls carelessly over the man's broad shoulders.

"I think you've noticed that I'm not an simple person. Or rather, I'm not human at all. So, a creature with such a weak appearance. And I'm not nearly as young as this body may seem."

You take a careful step closer, placing your palm on the back of the chair in the hope of grounding yourself. The material is pleasantly warm and rough.

"..I don't remember the exact year when my journey with this woman began, and I think it's for the best..."

"You don't like remembering her?"

"It would be correct to say that I would like to forget about her," the man takes another breath, then continues, "But I can tell you how it ended and why I will never forget her. We met completely by chance, it happened at a simple city holiday. But I will always remember those big eyes shining with happiness. I fell in love with her instantly, my soul wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her. But the girl didn't know that I was a vampire. And yet, we ended up together anyway. Two incompatible worlds: the world of light and joy and the world of darkness and night. After all, I was going to propose marriage to her.."

The man's voice sounds strangely indifferent and monotonous, even calm. Although you can see how his body tightens a little during the story.

"..and she got sick right before the wedding. The doctor said she wouldn't live a week. There was terrible medicine at that time, and I was young and naive, I didn't know what I could do about it. The only option was to turn her into a vampire.. But I was selfish. I was afraid of losing her light, her warmth. Her humanity. If she became a vampire, she would lose herself. And I watched her die. She was dying in my arms. This young flower of light was fading right in my icy embrace. And yet, she kept telling me about a bright future... She was so stupid. Or too smart to realize the edge of death. Until her last breath, she loved me, she accepted that I was a vampire. Although.. She probably knew about it from the beginning. A smart girl. And she wanted a child with my eyes so much."

Finally, the man turns to face you. You immediately notice the poverty of his face and the redness of his eyes shining in the semi-darkness, like a predator's. They slowly evaluate you from head to toe. There is a slightly creepy smile on his lips. But you feel strangely comfortable, not even flinching at the intensity of his gaze.

"I was devastated and insane. It was the most intense grief in my entire eternal life. I killed too many people that year. Not to eat, to numb the pain. All the victims had their throats chewed out and their bellies ripped open. All the bodies were in the town square, the residents were afraid to go out into the streets," a slight smile plays on his face, "The servants began to fear me, their master. I locked myself in the mansion for years, just staring at this portrait. And no one else in this city has heard about me, and meanwhile the residents have a new horror story for kids: the bloody Count Eric Draven."

The man pauses for a moment, taking a few steps forward. His hand touches your cheek. His cold touch burns.

"I loved her more than my life.. and now you. It's like fate is playing with me, opening old rotten wounds."

Eric's words are full of despair and sorrow, and you can see how his eyes are almost filled with tears, but he restrains himself.

"I'm a simple little human who was interested in seeing an old abandoned mansion.." you say with a bit of fear, trying to distance yourself from the unpleasant cold of his skin.

The man comes, grabbing your face and burying his long fingers in your hair, squeezing slightly.

"But you look exactly like her! Face, voice, movements.. It's like she's talking to me through you. And here we are again, dear Y/N.."

A sad smile slides over the pale face. Your body tightens when he unmistakably calls your name. Your heart tells you to snuggle up to his gentle touch, hug this lonely, strangely dear man, but your mind screams the opposite.

"Answer me, am I going crazy..?" This time his voice sounds on the verge of tears and you can see how his hands are shaking.

"..I don't know."

"You don't know... Please don't leave me again. I've been waiting too long. You made my dead heart beat and now you're taking this long-awaited life out of it again. Please, my rose.. Give me a chance, you'll remember everything. I will show you our world anew, I will teach you how to love me.. please."

[makiandcheese]

Notes in blue ink

Kaeya / Rosaria

tags: childhood friends to lovers, established relationship, domestic fluff, modern au, non-sexual physical touch

a/n: I made this on my phone, so sorry if the format is weird

☆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵☆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵☆

summary: Kaeya and Rosaria reminisce on the past that led to their matching rings.

☆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵☆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵☆

Once in a blue moon, Kaeya would ask a question that would leave Rosaria stunned. He once asked her about her dream home after her comments about the Ragnvindr household. At first, she thought about it and realized she had nothing to answer. She was particularly interested in interior decor but not so much in the structure itself.

After a few moments of silence, she expressed how she liked big windows that brought the natural light in. Much like the sliding doors in Varka’s home since it brought in warmth, she once took for granted in the orphanage. Rosaria preferred a house that was not too boxy or too geometrically structured, as she states. She expressed how the exterior could also affect her time there.

"I want a nice, warm, kinda gothic home. I don't want plain whites everywhere." She said, leaning on the school garden railing at lunch. "But… to be honest, I don't really care as much."

Kaeya’s eyes rolled. She said she didn't care but stated specifics down to how she wanted the knobs at the drawers would look like. "You literally said a lot of things. Are you worried I’ll judge you, is that it?." he asked. "Come on, lighten up. Plus take this as a… practice question to when you'd get to date someone."

"Sounds like you're trying to coax me to come to another blind date again." Rosaria grinned and traced the specks of sunlight hitting Kaeya's face from the tree above them. "I'm not interested in another one of those events."

"Then," words he kept deep in his veins and arteries slipped out his tongue. "Imagine I'd come to visit your home. What would it look like?"

She turned away from him and traced the same light from the trees from her hands to her fingertips. "Well…" She smiled and stuck her tongue inside her cheek to prevent herself from showing anymore. "You wouldn't be able to guess because you'd come at 10 pm on a Friday with three bottles of alcohol, that's for sure."

"Hey!"

"But… I'd take you to the kitchen, and there'd be some barstools by my kitchen island. We'd share several glasses like how we already do at your place. You'd complain about your family, and I'd complain about the severe consequences of capitalism on Mondstadt." Rosaria's mind was flooded with the thought of Kaeya by her side for years to come. "You'd hand me a glass of something Diluc taught you, and, for some reason, I'd still be more sober than you."

His hands traced the floor plan in the air. Making sure she doesn't turn, he said. "Oh please, there's not a chance in hell you'd have a higher alcohol tolerance than me."

"We'd spend what little time we have together, and I sober myself up before I drive you home." It agonized her to remind him that they were still friends. "Your partner would be angry at me for letting you drink so much on a weekend."

Kaeya’s lips bled internally, hearing her say those words. He would stay by her side on her soft carpet by the sofa if he had the chance. He visualized exactly what their typical day would look like. He'd lean on her shoulder, and like snow, she'd melt in his. "Do we really have to live that far? I want us to be neighbors, in maybe… 20 years?"

"Fine, we'd live right next to each other." Rosaria said, leaning forward so her face wouldn't show how her brows began to wrinkle her forehead. "We'd have those shared fruit trees in the back though. I'll take whatever sunsettias I can."

"It'll be sour. So sour on your side." Kaeya pushed her shoulder. "I'd still give you the sweet ones since you'd probably have the best house pet. I'd come and visit just to see it."

Rosaria turned to him, pointing to herself, raised eyebrow and all, "You're not even going to acknowledge the homeowner? man, fuck you." She pushed him back.

"Yeah because at least it won't be late to class." The bell rang just as he predicted it. "Last one to Mr. Yang's class doesn't wipe their ass when they take a shit!" Taunting her as they both ran back to their building, all the way at the opposite side of the campus.

"You ass!" Rosaria ran to him and was amused at how easily she caught up. "Last one has to pay for cornetto later." Noticing the passing volleyball and basketball joint varsity jog, she rushed through. Leaving Kaeya trying to move past them. She was then blocked by the construction worker's materials stacked by their path.

No matter the obstacle, they still arrived at their classroom seconds before the afternoon prayer. The same old prayer they memorized even if their ears were blocked with their heartbeats and breaths. The same old prayer neither of them cared to listen to.

As they discussed the relevance of historical events per Mr. Yang's guidance, Kaeya noted every architectural detail Rosaria said to his question. He did his best to hide the fact that the subject of his notetaking was taking a light nap from the history instructor. The breeze of a February afternoon filled the room and fluttered the curtains, perfectly hiding the sleeping girl at the farthest back of the class.

Years passed, and he still kept that same old notebook with the same old prayer engraved at the back. Historical notes filled the front, and several pages at the back were what she said. She, too, kept a similar notebook, except it was her personal journal. It told details about how Kaeya looked that day and what he asked. It was brief. A mere paragraph at least, but it was enough to fill her pages with emotions she felt.

Kaeya asked me what house I wanted to live in. To be honest, I really don't care. A roof, no roof, broken walls, tall fences, fancy windows, none of it matters. He just had to be there.

My home Our home.

He also told me that if we're still single by 30, we should get married for the benefits. It was a passing statement, but I really hoped he would stay a loser so I could be by his side when his back begins to crack when he turns 30.

Kaeya shouldn't have read the contents of his wife's journal from 15 years ago. Now, Rosaria has to explain to him that she's really into him since they were young. Enduring his constant teasing was the worst, especially since he has hard, undeniable, written evidence. That doesn't mean she doesn't retaliate. She often stayed by the kitchen and patio she dreamed of whenever he did peek. That night, he decided to corner her in their bedroom. Reminding him of how much he had loved her since they were 16.

"Looks like someone had a huge crush on me." He said, looming over her just before she slept, continuing to bully her under their blankets. "What's wrong? It's not too late to admit it."

"Oh fuck off! You bought our house with my interests in mind. If anything, you have a huge crush on me." The weight of Rosaria's covers grew as Kaeya rested his body on top of her. Feeling pokes and hearing his lips smack over the duvet, she was kissed on her shoulder, chest, and forehead. At least, that's what it felt like for her. "You have a terrible aim." she peeked over and saw him preparing for that moment.

There are times when Rosaria keeps her journal out in the open. If he can egosurf online, there's a high chance he could egosurf his name through her journals. She ensured it was the one where she told him how much she loved him. Rosaria's cheeks were soft and warm, much like her lips. Kaeya couldn't get enough of it. "Whose got a terrible aim now?" he said, wiping her trial lip stain she put on earlier in the morning. "Look at you, so pretty and red. I think this shade is nice on you."

Rosaria mustered all her strength and rolled Kaeya over. Allowing himself to be rolled in the duvet they always shared. "Hmm… I don't think I'd like it when something isn't transfer-proof, but…" She grabbed his cheeks and placed a new coat on her lips. "I guess I won't mind testing this a few more times on my beloved."

"Rosie?" Kaeya's heart began to race, "please, mercy!!" There was no mercy left for him.

Pinned down, receiving many kisses all over his face, ears, neck, and collarbones. It was quite an eventful evening for the two. Hopefully, they remembered to check their calendars. It was the eve of their first wedding anniversary, after all. It's good that Kaeya is oblivious to Rosaria’s intentional revelation of everything she loves about him. Else, she would’ve been drowning in countless words she couldn't have the strength to say out loud.

"Sit still. I can't kiss your lips if you keep laughing and turning your head away from me." Rosaria held onto his soft cheeks. "Now turn this way and let me make up for the 15 years I didn't say it."

"Oh my fucking god. Rosie, I love you, so please spare me." He pleaded through his dimple smile.

"Not a chance."

♡

[studioahead]

Artist Spotlight: Leslie Williamson

Leslie Williamson is a photographer of interiors. We mean this literally – in books like Still Lives and Modern Originals she photographed the studios and homes of iconic artists, including some of our Northern California favorites – but also figuratively, because what is remarkable about Williamson is her ability to touch upon the life of a space, or as she calls it, the soul – the part that offers a glimpse of a person's inner world, even when that person is no longer part of this one. In speaking with her, and looking at the mysterious, quiet, strangely emotional places she has photographed, I kept thinking of Gaston Bachelard's maxim in The Poetics of Space: "all really inhabited space bears the essence of the notion of home." Flip through any one of her books, and you will see how such notions take shape.

Studio AHEAD: Let's start with your essay "Doc's Lab," published a few weeks ago in a recent WildSam guide, Big Sur & HW 1. Tell us about it and what draws you to this particular landmark in Monterey.

Leslie Williamson: It’s funny how that came about. I became a little enthralled with Ed Ricketts and his Pacific Biological Laboratories when I moved to Monterey in April 2020 (yes, a pandemic move…). I am sure it won’t surprise you to learn that when I am in a new place, I research “house museum” to find what is around me, and when I did this in Monterey, Pacific Biological Laboratories came up. I have never read any Steinbeck so I wasn’t familiar with Ricketts and his story, but with the quiet of the pandemic I soon became a fan. Ricketts is such an inspiring character! It’s no wonder he was Steinbeck’s best friend and muse.

Anyhow, I tried and tried to visit Pacific Biological Laboratories throughout the pandemic but it was always closed. Finally one day, as I was on a walk, the door was open and the nice docent let me in even though I didn’t have a reservation. Oh my goodness that space, it gave me goosebumps!!! It is just so special – steeped in history on a few different levels: early 20th-century Cannery Row and the PBL/Doc Ricketts era and through to the birthplace of the Monterey Jazz Festival and the men’s club that left it to the city of Monterey. Of course I photographed the space and my plan was to write an essay to accompany it that would go on the Still Lives Portal on my website. I have begun sharing my stories in real time there. Happily the WildSam project seamlessly dovetailed in unexpectedly. I am thrilled they wanted to publish my essay in their 50th WildSam guide. I hope people will read the essay while looking at the images. It will really bring it to life.

SA: While we're talking about places, I want to mention a photograph you took that I find so compelling: of JB Blunk's Moongate sculpture that leads to JB Blunk's house. We've been to the estate, and to get there you have to go deep into the woods of Inverness, along a windy road up a steep mountain far from everything, and there is a sense of the space caught unawares, as if no one is supposed to see it. I'm not really sure this is a question! But maybe you can speak about this feeling; it's very powerful.

LW: Thank you! It is a special place for sure. I experienced that same feeling on my first visit. Somehow my emotions come through in my images a lot of the time. I’m not sure I can say more than that. It has always been that way. 

SA: I love the home libraries of various Californian luminaries that you shot in Interior Portraits – partly because whenever I'm in someone's house for the first time I head straight to their bookshelf, and partly because they're incredible spaces. Ray Kappe's library, with its bright blue cushions and the bamboo forest outside, shows his relation to reading. What sort of objects "speak" to you as the kind that tell a story, and how do you photograph that object in way that helps it best tell its story?

LW: First off, can I just say I love libraries too…so much. There was a time when our bookshelves were a window to our mind, heart and soul. I just added a Bibliophilia section on my SL Portal that shares people's bookshelves. I always photograph them and they never make them into my books so I decided they needed a venue of their own.

As for other objects that speak to me, I never know what they are going to be. It is different for every person/space I am in. I generally just trust my gut. From Una Jeffer’s narwhal tusk, to Georgia O’Keeffe’s record collection, I seem to be able to sense where there are meaningful stories.

SA: What role does writing play in your photography, and vice versa?

LW: My writing is still a surprise to me. I see it as in service to my photography; but having said that, the "Doc’s Lab" story ran in WildSam with none of my photographs, so maybe that is evolving? When I wrote Handcrafted Modern, it was a bit of an unexpected turn of events that led me to writing the book, as well. But in hindsight, it was the magic combination of expression I didn’t know I was looking for. The photography always comes first and I let my curiosity run rampant as I shoot. Then, after I have edited the images, I hone in on the stories I want to share in the writing. That is the general scenario my process takes.

SA: Speaking of which, you've now published four books. Tell us a little bit about this process – whether you've a vague idea for each project... or how you build a narrative between each space photographed ... maybe a hint as to the next project you're working on…..

LW: The process of creating my books has evolved quite a bit since Handcrafted Modern. I began just because I wanted to see the spaces of my favorite architects and designers and this evolved into a plan to create a library of how creative people live in the 20th/21st centuries. And that is still happening, but I realized pretty quickly that the discernment of my choice of spaces to photograph is very specific. I am looking for what I call “soul spaces”: spaces that are still imbued with their inhabitant’s soul if they are no longer with us and an innate expression of the owner if they are still living there. There is always a certain je ne sais quoi that I am looking for. I know it when I see/feel it. But I am not sure there are words to describe it.

As for what’s next, I am looking to more shows in art galleries and museums. There is a particular project I am just diving into that will be in a major museum in a few years. I can’t say more. And of course there will be an accompanying book. Creating books is in my DNA.

SA: Finally, pretend you are not Leslie Williamson and that Leslie Williamson comes to one of the homes you've lived in – any of them from your whole life – to photograph it for Still Lives: The Sequel. What room would you want her to capture? What is in it?

LW: Oh wow…what a question! I am not sure any of my former or current homes would warrant being included in one of my books. But I do wish I could time travel back and photograph all of my former living spaces starting with my childhood home, where my father still lives, before we remodeled it in 1976. I can’t really remember it before that and am curious what it was like in its original state and how my parents had it set up, what objects they had, etc. I also wonder if there is an evolutionary through line of my own that would be evident in my own bedroom/homes throughout my life starting from my first bedroom. Like artists who make a portrait of themselves once a year, I wish I had a portrait of my living spaces for every year. I would be fascinated to see that, just for my own curiosity and self learning.

Photos by Leslie Williamson

Leslie Williamson’s home in Monterrey, CA.

“The Party Room” at Doc’s Lab on Cannery Row in Monterey. Originally the home of noted marine biologist and Steinbeck muse Ed Ricketts.

Detail in Ed Rickett's former home and business, Pacific Biological Laboratories, on Cannery Row. Monterey, CA.

JB Blunk’s ‘Moongate’ sculpture and his home in Inverness, CA. 

Detail of the living and loft area in JB Blunk’s home.

Artist and AIDS activist Derek Jarman’s library at Prospect Cottage, his home in Dungeness, UK.

The kitchen/greenhouse and a longe area in the home of artists Evan Shively and Madeleine Fitzpatrick. Marshall, CA.

Artist David Ireland’s sitting room in his home and masterwork, 500 Capp Street. San Francisco, CA.

Stair detail in artist Jesse Schlesinger’s home. Sausalito, CA.

[therewasatale]

hate me (Part 2)

Part 2 : Hellsing

On Ao3

Part 1

The full moon traveled slowly across the sky. Its silver rays first flooded the crowns of the trees, slowly creeping into the branches. In the depths of the forest, the nocturnal animals began to wake up. However, not a single living creature dared to go near the estate in the middle of the tall oaks.

Dark shadows moved around the building.

The empty windows yawned deep into the interior of the abandoned house. No matter how hard someone would try to look inside, the blind darkness would be the only thing looking back at them. Even those unfortunate souls would have had the eerie feeling of something staring back at them from the middle of that black abyss.

For years, nothing dared to get near it. The average person had no idea who this estate belonged to. Not that there had ever been a living person who had much to do with the small area. It was just a hole in every map. Those few who started asking questions soon stopped. It's always been that way. A piece of land believed to be cursed. This only let the real evil fester there.

The light of the moon colored the walls of the building but despite its best efforts, it could never illuminate the interior of the house.

Slow footsteps echoed deep underground of the estate. The old stairs creaked, but the vampire didn't pay attention to them, nor did the woman walking next to him.

"So, Lisa got herself caught?" The vampire spoke as he opened the door and let the woman into the hallway.

"I wouldn't say she was caught. Rather, she was eliminated. I warned her not to interfere in the affairs of the Vatican, but she didn't believe me."

"Do they know anything about us?"

The woman glanced at her servant, her voice was almost reproachful. "Eric, you're always too worried."

The answer came after a moment of silence. "I just don't want them knocking on our door here. Not when, we're so close to our goal."

"Hm," her lips curled into a thin smile, her green eyes were glowing almost like a vampire's. "Well, maybe this is a sign to stop making plans and finally make some a reality."

There was another silence until they passed the thick iron doors. From behind which the sounds of muffled crying could be heard. Someone was suffering in the depths of one of the cells, elsewhere a painful moan broke escaped, someone fighting for his last breath.

At last, they reached the wide hall. The place used to serve as a wine cellar, but now it has been significantly expanded and furnished. On the table in the corner of it, worn and battered books rested on top of each other, they were it was illuminated only by temporarily installed lights.

"There. Almost everything is done, we just need a little bit of time." The woman shook her head, her long hair fluttering behind her. "Three months, three months will be enough." She glanced down into her palm, the tattoo almost completely healed up by now.

"But if the priest shows up, then-" Eric glanced at his master, he felt annoyed by her overgrown self-confidence, even though he should have gotten used to it over the years. Still, underestimating Hellsing and the Vatican. It could be a suicidal move.

"Then what?" She took out a cigar from her pocket.

"He can be a problem."

There was a small chuckle. "You think the count would stop because his nemesis shows up?" The woman slowly played with the thin cigar between her long fingers. "No, if you ask me, he will want to gain back his freedom more than everything else. When he gets it, then he will play with that Iscariot. Without his shackles."

She swept her long hazelnut colored hair back and fished out a battered lighter. The barely visible inscription on it said: 'To my devilish girl'. He slowly ran his finger over the letters and lit the end of his cigar. "Actually, I hope they will send him too. So we could get an excellent show. It will be a message even to those fanatics. "

"Shame, maybe I could play with him too."

She inhaled sharply. "I do not care about that lunatic priest, nor about those religious idiots. They will be nothing, when the new world arrives."

The conversation was interrupted by the loud cry of a child.

"You still haven't dealt with them."

"I didn't have the time." The vampire glanced at the way of the noises. He seemed eager.

A small puff of smoke got mixed in the air. "Then go and do something. I'm getting tired of their crying."

"As you wish, master."

The woman glanced after him, and she was able to see, as he unbuckled his belt before the door closed behind him. After a couple of seconds, she let out an another puff of smoke escape from her lips.

Soon the crying changed into screaming. She could hear the vampire's deep laugh, then finally there was only silence.

When the only sound was her footsteps, she walked to the table. It was her sanctuary, well, a part of it. Between the books there were papers and photos. Years of searching and studying.

She took one of the photos. It was taken from a recorded footage, a moment, she only needed one good moment to capture.

Like most, this too was taken in the dark. The night was clear, mid-July, the location was France.

The trees surrounded the abandoned building like blurred shadows. All its windows were dark, and the door was lying in pieces on the floor. The most important figure of the picture was almost perfectly discernible. The wind caught in his red coat, the black gun hung in his left hand.

She slowly run one of her fingers along the vampire's face.

For years, she could only watch him over the photos and videos. There was only one voice record, containing a small clip of his laughter, but it was enough for her, to keep going. Reading and searching for lost books, forgotten notes which were not read for over centuries.

Finally, it seemed her work will finally pay off.

After two soft knocks, the door opened again.

"You finished with them quickly," as he glanced over her shoulder, she stopped. "Oh, Matthew. I though you will only arrive tomorrow."

The man walked closer with measured steps, his jacket and coat ironed perfectly as always. His appearance seemed to be as if he was fresh out of butler training. Mathew served those who paid him, but his services consisted of making others disappear.

"You're right, madam. I did finish them quickly." His mouth slightly twitched.

"Good."

"Although, I think your vampire, "it sounded like an insult, "is still occupied with the children." His voice filled with disgust.

"I believe you killed kids too?" She put out the end of the cigar, as she gathered most of the papers.

"It’s different. I don’t play with my targets, madam. That is the difference. I'm not some kind of sick animal."

She glanced at the photo one last time. "Becoming a vampire can drag the weak willed into darkness."

The assassin looked at her, and for a couple of seconds observed her. "Aren't you afraid?" His question sounded honest.

"From death?"

"From becoming something like him." Matthew turned his gaze at the door behind him. "Losing your mind, you pride. Craving for blood, and only ever caring about power."

She walked around the table to the man. He stopped a few steps away from him and stared straight into his eyes. "Are you calling me weak, Matthew?"

The man's lips twitched, but shook his head. "I'd never, Miss-"

"No. Shut up. I don't want to hear it. I despise that name." She extended her arm, with a letter in his hands. "Find them and bring them here. Three months, I want to be ready in three months."

Matthew studied the names, and raised one of his eyebrows. "Bloodsuckers?"

"We need some. I know they weren't all hunted down, yet. They can be useful, or be fun for our guest, or guests. Don't worry, they won't attack you, they still owe the branch of my family that belongs to me."

"As you wish, madam." He only briefly glanced at the money in the envelope. "I will bring them here."

She didn't answer. She already told everything she wanted. There were more important matters to check up on. But she knew, three months will be enough, it has to be. She couldn't wait any longer.

[tobi-momo]

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WARNINGS: a lot of crying from both you and kuroo | cursing | mentions of sex | cheating (kind of? youll know when reading) | angst | mentions of drinking/being drunk | nothing is suggestive!! oh ya yall are married btw

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

taglist: @solar3lunar @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @toosharkinternet @hitosushi @alpha3113 @awmahleebkg

haikyuu taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @luvrboykento

REQUESTS: OPEN

reblogs are appreciated :))

[bakuhoes-dumbass]

Aberration - Chapter 1

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Yay, here’s the first chapter of my new AU! It might be a little slower at first but it’ll pick up the further we get into it. So I hope you like this!

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist/Character profiles

~~~

In this world, mutations, renamed as ‘Quirks’, are abnormal. Only about 5%-8% of the world population are known to have these so called ‘Quirks’. You are a graduate of one of the most prestigious science tech schools in the country. You’ve been selected to work for a secret scientific research facility that houses some of the most notorious criminals in the nation. Besides their crimes, what makes these individuals incredibly dangerous are their mutations. After meeting these individuals, they seem to have taking a liking to you. That should make your research and search for the cure all that much easier…

Right?

~~~

Before you stands one of the largest facilities you have ever seen. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm your rapidly beating heart. Adjusting the strap on your bag, you make your way into the research center.

Upon entering, you gasp in wonder. The inside is huge, tall pure white walls that meet at a double paned glass ceiling. In front of you is a wall of security, stretching to accommodate the vast interior of the lobby. You walk up to the nearest security officer and give them your information. Thankfully, you were on a list and after checking you over, you're granted entrance to the building.

That's where you meet a man and a woman, both dressed in white lab coats and carrying clipboards. You bow your head to the two of them and they return the gesture.

"Ms. Y/N, I presume? My name is Shota Aizawa and this is my assistant, Momo Yaoyorozu." The older of the two speak.

You smile at the two. "Yes, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N, L/N, graduate of UA science tech. I am so happy to be here and look forward to working with the two of you."

The younger girl nods and smiles, gesturing behind the two of them. "If you would kindly follow us, we can get started."

~~~

"Ms. Y/N, here's the list of the inmates you will be working with from this point on."

Momo hands you a clipboard containing pictures and descriptions of each individual. Your eyes scan the information on the page in front of you, your brow raising with each word you read. "There is… quite a bit of information on these individuals."

Aizawa nods. "Considering how dangerous the subjects are, it's best to have every detail we can."

You internally cringed at the term 'subject'. These were criminals, yes, but they were still living breathing people. Noone deserves to be dehumanized, no matter the reason.

Shaking your head of those thoughts, you continue to look over the notes in your hands. One in particular catches your eye. " 'Multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity' and yet he's only deemed as a level 4 danger?"

The doctor looks over your shoulder at the character profile. "Ah, yes. Fumikage Tokoyami. He's an interesting one, to say the least." You wait for him to continue, but seeing as it doesn't seem like he will, you gesture for him to elaborate. "Tokoyami himself is actually fairly harmless and incredibly cooperating, which is why he gets a level 4 only. However…" Aizawa looks down the hall of the facility to a door near the end. "Dark Shadow is deemed a level 9."

Your eyes shoot up in shock. "Dark Shadow? A level 9? Explain."

"Dark Shadow is his mutation. It's a completely sentient being that he harbors inside of him. Highly dangerous, more so if there is darkness." He looks back at you. "I'll let him explain the reason why he was instituted. He always prefers to explain the story himself."

The more Aizawa explains Tokoyami's situation, the more your excitement builds up, wanting desperately to meet this man. This was such an interesting mutation and you couldn't wait to hear everything he had to tell you. You take a breath to calm your childish manner and clear your throat.

"If it's alright with you, sir, I'd like-" You look down at your clipboard once again. "'Inmate 06' to be the first one I meet with."

Aizawa nods and writes something down in his notebook. "Very well. Follow me this way please."

You follow the doctor down the long white hallway, your excitement growing with each step. Along the way, you notice each door on the facility that lines either side of the stretched hall. Each door had a narrow window towards the top and a small number engraved underneath. You don't take too much notice and keep following the doctor to your destination. However, an eerie feeling makes you freeze in your tracks.

You slowly rotate your head and look at the inmate's door you stopped next to. The color drains from your face as you see two ice blue eyes peering right into yours. It felt like your breath was stolen, a hint of fear and anxiety built up within you from this intense gaze. After what felt like hours, you snap your gaze back to Aizawa and Momo, who were standing in front of a door you were also supposed to be at.

"I would highly advise you to keep cautious while you are in this facility. While we keep all inmates in cuffs that neutralize their mutations, the technology has not been 100% perfected yet and parts of their powers may leak out. That is why we have additional precautionary measures in place for each inmate." Aizawa gives you an impartial look as you walk over. "Now. The only special precaution with Inmate 06 is the lights must stay on at all times. There are no light switches in his cell, so nothing should go wrong. But like I said, always stay cautious."

You nod your head at the doctor's words and turn to face the door. Aizawa places a hand onto the keypad next to the door, scanning his prints before buzzing and opening the door. You give the man one last nod before making your way inside the room. The room itself is bare. White floors, white walls and an equally white ceiling. Nothing was in there except a desk with a chair and a bed.

On top of that bed sat a young man with the body of a human and the head of a crow. Your eyes widen in awe at the beautiful being in front of you. Tokoyami tilts his head and gives you a curious look.

"Oh. Hello, there. I've never seen you before."

The deep voice of the man shocks you. You bow your head and give the bird man a smile. "Hello, Tokoyami. My name is Y/N. I'm the new scientist at this facility. I'm here to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure. I hope we can be friends."

Tokoyami blinks. "You want to be… friends? With us?"

"Yeah, of course. Why not?" Your smile never leaves your face.

"Well, maybe because we're all… felons? The greater majority of us being murderers?"

"I truly believe everyone deserves a second chance." You gesture to the desk chair, silently asking if you could sit. The man nods and you greatly take your seat. "Now, would you ever be so kind as to answer a few questions for me, Tokoyami? I would like to get to know you a little better." You take out your pen and notebook, opening to a fresh page.

Tokoyami nods again and you give him a smile. "Just a few standard questions first. Can you please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

"Fumikage Tokoyami, age 22, October 30th."

"What is the name of your quirk and how does it work?"

Tokoyami fiddles with the quirk-cancelling cuffs around his wrists at the mention of his quirk but answers anyway. "It's called Dark Shadow. It's a fully sentient shadow that resides inside my body. It can come out when I call call it or it can show itself on it's own. But it's always connected to me and cannot be separated. It…" Tokoyami takes a breath. "It gets stronger the darker my surroundings are. So the less light, the less control I have over it. If it gets too dark, it completely takes over me, no longer under my control."

The longer you listen to him, the wider your eyes get and the more they shine in wonder. "That is incredible! To have that kind of quirk is truly fascinating!"

Hearing your words of praise would have made Tokoyami blush, if he could. He clears his throat in embarrassment. "Why, thank you for those kind words. Though, I doubt having this...quirk, as you say, is all to be impressed about."

You shake your head. "You may not think so, but really, I've never seen anything like it." You excitedly write a few things down before making eye contact with him again. "Now onto my final question of the day. Can you please tell me the reason why you are here?"

Tokoyami stays silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, residing in his thoughts. You clear your throat and he looks up to you. You give him a small, comforting smile and it causes Tokoyami's heart to beat harder. For some unknown reason, he suddenly feels like he can trust you with anything.

"I've been charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder." He sighs, recalling that day. "I was invited to a college party on a date, by someone whom I had grown quite infatuated with. I never really was one to socialize and never really had any friends. But I really liked this person, so I went. At first it was going okay, nothing too out of the ordinary. Then, the host decided that playing truth or dare was the way to go.

 So my date dragged me to sit down and join them. Every time I was asked, I always chose truth. And everytime, their questions were about my appearance, my mutation. Laughing at all my answers, mocking my looks, talking about how unnatural I was. The more they asked, the more my anxiety and anger built up. But my stubbornness didn't want to show any weakness, so I stayed. 

Finally, I decided to just choose dare instead. At that point, I decided that nothing could be more humiliating than what they've already done." His sharp, red eyes flickered to yours. "Oh, how wrong I was. They dared me to go into the closet with my so-called 'date'. We were shut in and from then, they decided to tell me how this whole thing was a set up, just to humiliate me. That anyone with mutations like myself should just disappear because of how disgusting we are." He spits out that word like it was rotten food. "Remember how I said Dark Shadow gains control in the dark? Well, with my anger rising and the fact that it was almost pitch black in that closet, I lost control of myself and Dark Shadow took control of me. Next thing I remember, I was standing in the middle of the college dorm party, blood painting the floors, the walls, and the entirety of my class slaughtered."

You almost dropped your pen in shock but regained your composure. You give the poor young man a sad smile. He sighs and finishes off his explanation. "I was arrested and charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity, considering I was technically not in my right state of mind at the time."

The two of you sit there in silence, basking in all this new-found information. You close your notebook and set your pen down, facing Tokoyami directly. "Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with the way you look or your quirk. Just because it isn't the societal norm, doesn't mean it's disgusting or wrong. Remember that."

Tokoyami blinks in surprise."Um, thank you." Those were the only words he could say, as how shocked he was at what you said.

You tilt your head and stare at him. "If I may ask, would I be able to feel your head? I'm very curious as to what your feathers feel like. It would greatly help my research as well."

"Oh. U-um, yeah. Sure."

You move to gently sit next to Tokoyami, so as to not startle him too much. You slowly lift your hand and place it on his head, eyes lighting up as you card your fingers through his feathers. "Oh wow, they're so soft!"

Tokoyami's heart speeds up, his feathers ruffling at your touch. He gazes at you with something akin to admiration. No one was ever gentle with him like this before. After another few seconds, you retreat your hand, Tokoyami almost whimpering at the absence.

"Well, I better get going. I have quite a few more things to do today before my shift is over." You gather up your things and bow your head at the half bird boy. "I greatly appreciate your time and look forward to our future sessions. Have a good rest of your day!" You smile at Tokoyami before heading back to the door and signaling Aizawa to open it.

"Goodbye, Ms. Y/N. I look forward to meeting with you again." Tokoyami watches you leave his room. Once you're gone, he runs his hand through his feathers, imagining they were your fingers.

As the door closes, you turn to Aizawa who gives you a disappointed look.

"What?"

"You touched the inmate. Why in the hell would you do that?"

You place your hand on your hip and give the doctor a stern look. "I was curious about his mutation and wanted to see how it felt."

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. "We try to avoid any physical contact with any of the inmates, as it may trigger something deep within them. Remember, Y/N. Every single one of these individuals are dangerous and unstable. Any abnormal behavior could result in catastrophic consequences."

You sigh and shake your head, giving him a chaste nod. "Yes, Sir. You're right. I promise to heed your warning and modify how I work."

The doctor looks satisfied as he turns on his heel and walks further down the long hallway. You quickly follow to keep up. "Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @silverqueenie @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused 

[If your name is bolded, I was unable to tag you.]

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 1.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 1 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

You knocked on the large wooden door and took a step back, hands shaking with how nervous you were. 

You were quite far from your neighborhood, and none of your friends were in town currently. So really so there was no one who could come pick you up. Plus, the thunderstorm was making things worse. Your car had broken down for no reason while you were heading back home. And you drove down this road often, to get to the other side of the town and you always, always admired this mansion - at the doorstep of which you found yourself at the moment. 

The mansion was renowned for its unusualness. It was the largest property around so definitely whoever owns it must be extremely well-off. Another reason why it was so talked about is because no one personally knew the man who owned it. People saw him once in a while, some claimed to have seen him at the library, or at the museum or at the coffee shops. He had no friends apparently, always seen alone. No one knew of his occupation, or how he was able to afford and maintain this large estate. 

Most people said he was stand-offish, or mean, or rude or arrogant. Well, whatever he was, you were about to find out in a few seconds given that you were now knocking at his front door. What if he doesn’t agree to help? Or worse, what if he’s a creepy weirdo who-

Your thoughts were cut short as the door flew open. And the man revealed himself. Your gaze locked with his and for a brief moment, it felt like time had stopped. Blue eyes. The bluest you had ever seen. Magnetic, mesmerizing. Strong jaw, broad shoulders - the man was a dream. 

I finally found you… 

For some reasons those words echoed in your head, and you felt a pressing need to say them out loud. You had to force yourself out of whatever trance you were under and come back to reality. 

You cleared your throat. “Hello Mr. Barnes. I apologize for-,”

He cut you off, abruptly. “Come on in.” he spoke with a warm smile and opened the door wider. And you found yourself under his spell just by the sound of his voice, again. 

“But Mr. Barnes you didn’t even let me-,” you realized it would be much better if you told him why you were here in the first place, you would hate to impose. 

He gave you another smile as he waited for you to enter his home, closing the door behind you. “You’re a long way from home, I figured that the only reason why you would be here at this time is because you need shelter from the terrible weather, or maybe your car broke down.” He gave you a soft look, “So which is it?” 

You looked down at your shoes now drenched by the rain, sheepishly answering, “Both actually.” You looked back up at him and finally took all of him in. You had to admit, he was just as they described him; very, very handsome.  

Tall, dark hair, blue eyes. He looked like he was crafted by the gods above. His soft sweater gave him a very warm look, but his eyes - icy blue, they reminded you of glaciers and mountain tops, and snowstorms. He was the kind of man one could spend hours looking at. And the more you looked at him, the more details you picked up on. For instance, how perfect his nose was. Or how well he carried himself, or just how mature and wise his facial hair made him look. He was… oddly familiar. Maybe you had seen him at the library or something before.

He must've caught you checking him out judging by the smirk he gave you. You cleared your throat again, looking everywhere else but right at him. “I promise I’ll be gone by morning, Mr. Barnes.” 

He took a step forward and you froze in place. “Please, call me Bucky. And you can stay for as long as you need too, there’s no way I’m letting you leave until this terrible storm passes.” And just as he said that, you heard the thunder roar right above you. 

“Thank you.” you replied with a shy smile. Normally, whenever you came face to face with men this handsome, you’d turn into a nervous mess. But Bucky had a sense of familiarity with him. Warmth, comfort; you couldn’t explain it. “You have a lovely home.” you commented. 

Bucky looked right at you with a look in his eyes which you couldn’t quite decipher. Longing? Sadness? Or was it just you who was overthinking? “Thank you.” he stared at you for a few more seconds before rushing over to the coat hangers and grabbed one, holding it open for you. “I’m sorry, it seems I forgot how to be a good host. We don’t get many visitors.” 

You happily accepted the coat and turned back around to smile at him. “I think you’re doing perfectly alright.” 

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something but another voice beat him to it. “Who is it? I heard someone come in. Is it-,” 

The woman with brown hair and a white apron, who suddenly emerged from one of the hallways, stopped talking the moment she saw you. Her lips parted in surprise and you could’ve sworn you heard her gasp. You assumed it was because of the odd time you showed up. 

“Oh…” she seemed surprised. “Hello miss...” her eyes searched for Bucky and the moment she found him, her eyes widened again.

Bucky spoke up. “Wanda, this is Y/N. She will be spending the night here. Could you prepare the guestroom for her please?” 

The woman, Wanda, smiled brightly and you wondered how she had this much energy at this time of the night. “Of course! Right away.” And with that, she left. Leaving you and Bucky alone again. You turned to face him again. 

“That was my housekeeper, Wanda. Her and her husband take care of the house.” He explained, and you nodded. 

“She seemed a little surprised upon seeing me. I didn’t mean to disturb your household at such a time, I’m-” 

He cut you off again, stepping closer and gently placing his cold hands on your shoulder. You shivered a little and he didn’t seem to notice. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t disturb anyone, okay?” 

His piercing blue eyes were making it hard for you to focus on what he was saying but you grasped whatever you could and nodded in understanding. “Okay.” You tried hard not to, but you couldn’t help but be all bothered by his simple touch. His very presence screamed power, in a good way. You felt safe. 

“Good. Now come on, you could use some rest.” He held your hand in his gently, and led you up the grand stairs. He took your hand in his with such ease almost like he had done so a thousand times before, and you let him. 

You took in more and more of the house as you moved upstairs. It was the right mixture between modern and vintage. Parts of the house looked like it belonged in one of the home décor magazines you were currently obsessed with, while others seemed like they were pieces of ancient manors. It was unusually, hauntingly beautiful. 

Once you entered the guest room, you felt a wave of emotions hit you right in the face. Like homesickness, but for a place you had never stepped in before until this very moment. Nostalgia, but for a moment back in time which you had never lived in. 

The room was absolutely gorgeous. Dark wooden interior, with accents of black and gold. A chandelier which reminded you of an ancient castle, and a bed which seemed fit for royalty. “I must say, you have incredible taste in interior décor.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I take it you like the room. Very well then, you’ll find everything you need in the closets and in the bathroom.” He took a step back. “And if you need anything, anything at all, just call out.” 

You giggled as he said so. “This place is massive. There’s no way you’re gonna hear me if I call out for you.” 

He let out a little laugh. “Trust me doll, I will hear you.” And with that, he left. 

You watched him as he closed the door behind him, feeling just a little more warm after that nickname. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. Well, you were weirdly comfortable here. You walked further into the room, taking in every little detail. You took off the coat Bucky gave you earlier and placed it down on one of the couches. Taking off your heels, you made your way to the bathroom and it was everything one can dream of. 

You searched the cabinets and closets and found sweatpants and t-shirts which would fit you. Grabbing a set of clothes, you hopped into the shower and forgot about your broken down car and the thunderstorm. Instead, you thought of Bucky. What a peculiar man he is; no one in the town knows where he comes from, or what he does but here you were seeking help from him, showering his bathroom. 

There was something about him, a sense of ease and warmth which many people lack when you first meet them. But Bucky was different. It almost felt like you’ve known him all your life.  

When you stepped out, all refreshed and dressed you sensed a change the moment you walked back into the bedroom. Someone was here. 

“I brought you some tea. To warm you up a little.” 

You turned around and found Bucky sat on one of the couches by the bed. You instantly smiled, instead of being startled. He was so easy to be around. 

You walked towards him. You picked up one of the cups from the coffee table and brought it up to your nose, softly blowing on it before inhaling the lovely scent. 

“It’s chamomile and lavender.” Bucky said, and you faced him with a big smile. 

“My favorite, thank you.” you smiled at the odd coincidence as you took a sip of the tea. It soothed you immediately. 

Bucky picked up his own cup and took a slow sip as he watched you intently. “Tell me about yourself, Y/N.” 

The way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine. Which then reminded you that you never actually told him your name. Or maybe you did and you forgot. 

You held your warm cup with both hands and began. You told him your name, where you’re from, where you work and a little bit about your family. You knew you shouldn’t be giving this much detail about your life to a stranger but you were currently drinking tea in his guest room wearing clothes he provided, so the least you could do is engage fully in the conversation. 

He did a little nod after each piece of information you fed him, and you found it adorable. 

“It’s your turn.” you spoke after you were done talking about yourself. 

He smiled. It was a sad smile, or so it seemed. Surely you were overthinking. “I’m quite a boring person to be honest. I work all day, and I work all night. My family is… not around so I have to handle everything. All their businesses and companies around the country.” 

“Doesn’t it get lonely here? I mean it’s a magnificent home but, to live here alone must be quite hard, no?” 

You didn’t mean to pry but the way he looked straight into your eyes made you want to know the man a little better. Why was he so calm and collected? How is he so okay with you just being in his home? Why is he so kind? He didn’t seem old, then why did he give off the vibes of being so mature and wise, like he’s lived lifetimes before this one?

“Memories can be great company.” He answered in a tone which gave away that the man had lost a lot. Perhaps a close family member? Or a friend or a spouse? He added, “And this house is full of it.” 

“You grew up here?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

He gave you that same look; sad, longing like he was desperately trying to show certain emotion but he couldn’t. 

“I moved here. With my wife.” Those words of his caused your heart to feel heavy. “But she passed, a long time ago.” The look on his face made your heart burn for some reasons. The need to comfort him took over you but you refrained from doing so, it wasn’t your place to. 

“You must’ve loved her a lot.” You didn’t ask, you stated. Because it showed. 

He had that same sad smile on his face. “She was my everything. My lifeline.” 

He sounded so broken, it hurt. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

He smiled again. “You know, I like to think that the things we lose end up coming back to us, eventually. One way or another.” 

That didn’t really make sense to you right away, but it was a beautiful thought nonetheless. “That’s beautiful.” 

He stared into your eyes again, and it seemed like he was fighting something back. The need to say something perhaps. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.” And just as he said that, the thunder roared again, as loud as it could. 

You stood up as he did. He said goodnight and left. And you were left standing there wondering what the hell happened in the past few minutes. His presence alone made you feel safe for some reasons. Knowing that he was just a few doors down the hallway made you less anxious. Even when you settled under the covers, it didn’t feel like a foreign bed. 

You wondered why. How could you have settled into an unfamiliar home so easily? It wasn’t weird, just surprising. 

With the help of the tea, you drifted off to sleep in no time. Dreaming about ballrooms, and kissing a man inside a beautiful mansion and… and a pair of ocean blue eyes… 

A flutter on your cheek, and you looked up to find a pair of blue eyes looking down at you. “Hello sweetheart. You ready?” the man said as he offered you a red rose. 

You nodded, despite his face being quite blurry. You felt his arms around you, and you felt safe; like nothing could go wrong and this was a perfect world. You felt his lips place a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Your surroundings changed and now you were at a ball, wearing a lovely rose gold gown, arms linked with the tall man. The music was unfamiliar but lovely. He twirled you around and pulled you close, your one hand carefully placed in his and the other on his shoulder. You noticed the shiny ring on your ring finger, and the wedding band on his. You smiled, realizing that this was your husband and all was well. 

Your surroundings faded again. Now you were inside your home. A beautiful home, with the fireplace warming the room you were in. Your blue-eyed husband was beside you again, the two of you sat by the fireplace and he offered you a glass of wine. You smiled, taking it from him. You felt a slight discomfort inside your mouth, around your front teeth but that was alright, it seemed like you were used to it. You brought the wine glass up to your lips, letting some of the contents into your mouth. It wasn’t wine, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. 

Euphoria, you felt utter euphoria as you stared into the same pair of eyes only this time they were so red, they seemed black. He reached out and held your face in place and tilted his head just a little; deepening the kiss. He nibbled on your lower lip and shoved his tongue past your lips. Your body tingled in his arms. It all felt so right and perfect, it felt like a dream. Like a dream inside a dream. 

Gentle sin, that’s what it felt like when he pulled you closer, his hand slipping under your night dress and resting on your thigh while his other hand cupped your cheek. Your hands slid into his hair naturally and he moaned into the kiss again when you tugged at his roots a little. He kissed down your neck, his arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your body against his. He nibbled on the skin at the side of your throat, his teeth sharp and you were sure he left marks on your skin, but you didn’t mind. 

You gasped and moaned. This felt right. He pulled away after a while. He looked down at you with pink, swollen, parted lips. Slightly breathless, and his eyes showed nothing but love and passion, and a hunger like you had never seen before, but it was all familiar. His face was unclear, but you could make out certain features of his and he was oddly familiar too. 

“I love you.” He mumbled. 

You knew that voice… 

“I love you so much.” He whispered against your lips, his hand slipping in between your legs with no shame; his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He smiled against your lips upon feeling just how aroused you were, before he pulled away and kissed down your body. He took your sensitive nipples in his mouth. 

He sucked on the soft skin as his teeth applied just the slightest bit of pressure upon the bud. His warm tongue swirling around your nipple had you throwing your head back in pleasure. 

Your eyes closed as you relished his touch. You felt him kiss his way down your body; from your lips all the way down to your hip bones; his lips soft and gentle on your skin. 

He placed his hands on either one of your thighs and slowly spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without any hesitation. You moaned out loud as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your throbbing clit mercilessly. 

Obscene, wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful. He had dark hair you noticed. The room was getting darker and darker as well. You could see your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the large bed. 

Your body arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you when his tongue slowly circled around your sensitive clit. The pressure between your legs was building up nicely. 

With a few more strokes of his tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face without any warning. He licked you clean, then kissed his way up your body again. “You’re all mine, Y/N.” he whispered softly against your lips as he settled in between your legs again. You shuddered under him and whined against his mouth, the feeling reminding you a lot of how you shivered earlier when a pair of cold hands held you gently by the shoulder. 

Your body felt tingly as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head to look at you and you gasped quietly in surprise. It was Bucky. Although he still had dark eyes, and sharp canines? 

He didn’t give you time to think too much. You moaned out loud once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to relax your tense body. You wrapped around him perfectly. You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, kissing you deeply while he rolled his hips against yours.  

His body felt cold. But it also felt familiar. Being so close to him felt right. 

You whimpered as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you slightly harder. He groaned right in your ear as you felt your walls wrap around him, squeezing and clenching. This felt right. 

Panting and swearing under his breath, he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He kissed your face; all over. You felt a little bold so you hooked your legs around his waist as his thrusts got rougher than the last. You were a moaning mess under him as your hands gripped his arms and shoulder. Your body moved against his like a rag doll. You knew, in your dream that you belonged to him, and him you. 

“I love you.” he whispered. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. If anything, you wanted more. You needed him closer. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. He growled and bit down on your shoulder as he fucked you. He was relentless, and you liked it. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered in your ear, groaning as you tried to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He slammed into you, his hands travelling all over your body, until one of them wrapped around your throat. Your eyes watered as the pleasure became too much to handle; and you felt the pressure forming again. You felt him everywhere, each nerve ending burning and tingling. 

You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him harshly each time he filled you up. A sweet, familiar pain formed again, and you came without any warning; gushing out all over him as he kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Bucky... ” you sounded breathless. 

He gasped and snuggled closer to you. His eyes were back to the gentle blue again. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ll always be here. I love you, Y/N.” 

You wanted to say it back. But then you woke up to a loud boom. You sat up gasping, and looking around frantically. You were sweating, but also cold. The room was dark, unlike the one in your dream earlier, which was illuminated by candlelight. It took you a little while to reorient yourself. The storm was somehow getting more and more loud and violent outside. 

And you just had a weird dream about Bucky. Which didn’t feel like a dream, but more like a memory. A memory buried so deep that it almost didn’t feel real. 

You were confused. What is the meaning of all this?

---

a/n: hi

[diegos-butt]

Unnoticed (chapter one)

Summary: He had watch her grown up. He had seen her transform into a beautiful woman, with a strong will but insecurities. Despite being away from time to time, he had fallen for her, hard. She on the other hand, had seen him become a big, strong man. But deep down she knew he had a soft side. She had fallen, hard, for him too. Another thing they have in common? The believe that the other will never feel the same. Will their feelings for each other always stay unnoticed?

Captain Daniel Syverson x Kathy Davis (plus size/curvy/thick OFC)

Warnings: none. bad writing maybe. mention of beer?

Wordcount: 5.4k 👀

A/N: I tried something here so bear with me. Honestly curious of what y'all think.

•••

I was walking to my brother Tim’s house as the sun was settling down. He was throwing a barbeque for his best friend’s return, Captain Daniel – Dan – Syverson, or just Sy, as we usually called him. I smiled as I thought of him. I had known him for so long. He and my brother had been friends since I was born. So, I grew up with them, teasing me but when someone bullied me, they were there faster than the blink of an eye, ready to knock the bully down.

They always stood up for me, even though they knew I could take care of it myself. But they insisted. Every time. And that was nice, to know they would. To know I always had someone who would be there for me.

As we got older, our groups of friends intertwined, and we became one larger group of close friends. Me, Tim, Sy, Holly, Shane, Benjamin, and Brianna. We all lived in this town, went to the same high school. Some of us even went to college together. Now we were all working in this town as well, except for the captain. He was away from time to time. And I would never admit it, but I missed him so much while he was gone. My brother’s house came into my sight, and my heart skipped a beat. After all these months, I was finally seeing him again.

When I fell for him? I can’t even remember; it is like I have always been. However, I have always tried to hide it, so he doesn’t know. At least, that’s what I think. If he does, he’s being a good friend and doesn’t treat me any differently.

What our friendship is like? Teasing, and full of sarcastic comments. Unlike everyone else, he calls me Kat instead of Kathy. I’d never want to change that, so I will not ruin that by confessing my feelings. What’s the point? He does not and never will feel the same. Right?

I took a deep breath and opened the door of my brother’s house, hoping Sy would already be there. I walked through the hallway and living room until the garden came into my sight. Sy just disappeared into the shed, so I walked through the doors outside, and said hello to my brother.

“Hey sis,” he welcomed me and gave me a hug. “He’s already here you know. I’m sure he showed up early for you.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s not true, he is just happy to see his best friend again,” I laughed and slapped Tim on his arm.

“You might be able to fool him, but I can see the nerves in your eyes Kathy. Just admit you’re happy he’s back,” Tim teased. I wanted to smack him when we heard noises coming from the shed. Sy walked out carrying two lawn chairs.

Tim released me from his hug. “Go say hi to him,” he whispered. I took a step towards Sy, and felt my heartbeat increasing. He dropped the lawn chairs and proceeded to walk to me. Our steps became faster, and quickly he was close enough to wrap me in his arms. He lifted me up and I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a little squeal. He smelled good, manly, but so good. His buzzcut was starting to grow out, and I couldn’t help myself but to stroke his head. He buried his face in my neck, and I giggled. He was home.

“You’re back,” I said softly, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy. Contain yourself, he doesn’t need to know you missed him that much.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here darlin’,” he answered, and I could see in his eyes that he was happy to be home again.

“Welcome home you big idiot,” I grinned, I loved teasing him.

After squeezing me tight one more time, he’d put me down again. Suddenly I realized the sounds that disappeared when my eyes met his for the first time in so long had come back. The sound of the flock of birds came back, just as the noises Tim was making while meddling with the barbeque.

“Oh, that’s how ya welcome me back home?” Sy said. I laughed and walked past him, while picking up one of the lawn chairs.

When he’d lifted me up, it was just me and him. He always does that when he comes back from a tour. I don’t even know how it started, but it had become a thing. He knows I like that, that I love that. He is the only one I trust enough for that, because I know he will never let me fall. I did fall though, but in a different way.

“I could also have started by saying you should trim your beard. It looks like shit right now,” I mocked, and walked past him. He’d placed his hand on his chest and pretended I had hurt him. His chest though, how on earth did he get even bigger? Quickly, I moved towards the sitting area, and placed the lawn chair down. He followed close behind, and when I looked around, I saw his eyes moving up. Was he looking at my bum? Why? I tried to not look puzzled, but I felt like I was failing hard.

“Ya know, being disrespectful in the army can get you in a lot of trouble,” he said and handed me a beer. His hand touched mine slightly, and I pulled my hand away quickly.

“Really? You’re going to punish me then?” I raised an eyebrow at him. You can punish me in a couple ways captain. No Kathy, he is your friend. He is just your friend.

“Who knows.” He cocked an eyebrow at me and finished his beer. I nearly chocked on mine, and thankfully Shane and Benjamin busted through the door and stepped outside onto the terrace, preventing the continuation of the conversation between me and Sy. They were cheering loudly, screaming Sy’s name, and hugging him. I chuckled and took a few more sips of my beer.

I watched as Shane and Benjamin tried to tackle Sy, they obviously failed. To be fair, Shane and Benjamin weren’t small guys either, but Sy was definitely bigger. I took a sip of my beer and watched as my brother joined them.

While watching the boys I noticed Sy’s physique, he looked even more broad than before. I had no idea that was possible. He currently had Shane in a headlock, flexing his bicep. I wanted to crawl under that arm myself, not in that headlock, but still. He could choke me though.

I was rudely awakened out of my daydreaming when Holly and Brianna suddenly stood next to me. The two girls tried to hug me at the same time, which failed due to their hight difference. Me and Brianna were both quite tall, while Holly was smaller.

“Kathy! Let me guess, the captain has already said hello to you?” Holly said and wiggled her eyebrows. Trying to hide the fact I had a thing for the captain from them was useless, these girls knew me better than I knew myself.

“Did he do that cute hug yet were he lifts you up?” Brianna added while hooking her arm through mine.

“Hello to you too, and yes he said hello to me, and yes he did that hug thing. Don’t make it look like it’s a big deal!” I said and took the last sip of my beer.

“No, did I miss it? That is my favourite part of Sy’s return!” Holly pouted. The brunette took the beer bottle out of my hand and placed it on the table. “Sy! Aren’t you going to say hello to us or what?” she shouted. The boys stopped talking and closed the gap between our groups.

“Hi girls.” Sy opened his arms for Holly and Brianna and gave them both a hug. The chatter immediately started, everyone asking Sy questions about how he was doing, and how happy he was to be back.

“Stop! Everyone, stop talking for a minute!” Brianna shouted. “Since Holly and I were a bit late, we missed the famous welcome back hug between Sy and Kathy.”

“I was there,” Tim laughed. “Maybe you should’ve known they would both be here early.”

“We were planning on being early, but sweet Holly over here was being incredible slow,” Brianna said and gave Holly a death glare which turned into a little smile.

“I think they should do it again,” Holly grinned. Oh no.

“I think they should too, apparently we all, except Tim, missed the highlight of Sy’s return. We should not be robbed of that moment,” Shane agreed, and a playful smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, come on guys!” I said. “The man has just gotten home! Give him a break.” If he lifts me up again, I might faint. This actually made them cheer even louder.

“C’mere darlin’. Let’s give the audience what they want.” He gave his beer to Benjamin and winked at me.

He caged me in his strong arms again, lifting me up, effortlessly. I threw my arms around his neck, and I heard everyone around us cheer. This was my happy place. I don’t know if it is the being lifted part, of just being held by his strong arms.

Far too soon for my liking, he had put me down on my feet again. His eyes locked with mine, and I nearly drowned. The blue in his eyes looked even brighter than ever before.

I was rudely pulled away by Shane, who cheered loudly while putting his arm around my shoulder. Everyone was laughing and cheering. Benjamin walked inside to grab the speaker, and a few seconds later music mixed with our noises in the garden.

“Hey guys, who wants to eat?” Tim shouted.

“Better give me a sausage, I’m in the mood for some meat,” Holly answered with a mischievous grin. I laughed at her; she was never afraid to speak her mind.

After we had finished eating, we all sat around the firepit. The sun was already gone, and the moon and stars shone above us. While we were eating Sy wanted to know what we had been up to. We were all doing great, we had jobs and nothing major had happened. Unlike last time, no pregnancy scare for Holly. Me and Brianna did start our own business, after our last employer went bankrupt. We were now the proud owners of our own interior design business.

After we were done telling Sy about the last months, Brianna had asked Sy about his. I saw the look in his eyes change, he looked down at the glass in his hand, and avoided the question. I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Thankfully, Benjamin understood it as well.

“Sy, a toast to you!” Benjamin said, and raised his glass. “Welcome home man.” We all raised our glasses as well.

“Thank ya Ben, it’s good to be back. And I’d like to thank y’all for writing me those letters. They mean a lot to me,” Sy said. I thought about the letters I’d send him. There were many, so many. A few years ago, I had no idea what to write, but eventually I figured I would write what I wish I could tell him. I wished I could talk to him about my day, about things that bothered me, about things that made me happy.

Quickly I learned he liked it. When he got home the first time I did that, he had thanked me in private. He had told me it helped him get through tough days, that it made him feel like he was home. In that moment, I was so close of telling him how I felt. Yet I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk losing him as a friend.

He did write me back, but his letters weren’t as long as mine. They were usually a paragraph or two. He wasn’t that much of a talker, I knew that, but it didn’t stop me from teasing him.

“Well, next time you could try and write longer ones back you know,” I began. “I have put so much effort into my pages long letters, and all I get back is a paragraph from you just thanking me.” I attempted to pout but started laughing. “Nah, just kidding. We know it means a lot, so we’re happy to write them.”

I smiled at him. The letters kept him sane, and I was happy to send them. Just like the others. I looked at Sy, he sat opposite of me, and I wished he’d sat beside me. His body radiated a warmth that was always welcome, even if he just sat a meter away from me. But from this distance, I could not feel it.

“Don’t be funny darlin’. Might not answer yours next time,” he joked and pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Like you would ignore her Sy,” Shane mocked. Wait, what? What is that supposed to mean. Everybody started laughing, while I was starting to freak out. I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the conversation around me continued, and the moment to ask a question about it was gone. My mind was going crazy, and I pretended to listen to the conversation, but I didn’t hear a thing. I know he wouldn’t ignore me, but why did Shane say it like that? And why did Sy suddenly look so awkward?

The fire slowly went out, and that was our cue to head home. We all stood up, and helped Tim clean the mess we made.

“Guys, why don’t you all just go home. I’ll help Tim clean up the rest!” Brianna suggested. I knew she had a thing for my brother, and this was her way of getting close to him. Of being alone with him.

Everyone laughed but agreed. A very nice thing of living close to each other, was that we were all able to walk home. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin walked home together, and Sy suggested he’d walk with me, since we both had to go in a different direction than the others. I walked inside to grab my cardigan, while Sy lifted two lawn chairs back to the shed. When we were out of reach, the others started talking.

“Are they seriously never going to notice they like each other? Or is it just obvious to me?” Shane said.

“Oh dear, it is painfully obvious,” Brianna added.

“I think we need to help them a little. They need a little push,” Holly suggested. They all agreed, but they couldn’t continue discussing their little plan because Sy and I appeared again. Completely unaware of the conversation that just happened.

We said goodbye to Tim and Brianna, and walked home. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin took a left, and Sy and I took a right. It was just us, walking next to each other. It felt nice to be in his presence again, and because I was so close to him, I could finally feel his warmth again. We spend the way walking to my home talking, he wanted to know everything about the business I started with Brianna and how my family was.

Far too soon, we reached my home. We stopped in front of the house, a small 2-bedroom home. But it was nice, and cosy. I liked it there, but I was ready for the next step. To settle down with someone. With him, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen.

We faced each other, and fell silent. I looked at him, the moonlight highlighted his face, and I spotted some new scars. I wanted to trace them with my fingers, but I restrained myself.

“Alright, well, it is so nice to have you back Sy,” I said.

“It is nice to be back here,” he smiled. We fell silent again, and I smiled back at him.

“I should go inside,” I spoke softly, and opened my arms to hug him.

He hummed and wrapped his arms around me. He squeezed me tightly, and I nuzzled my face in his neck. He smelled so good; I loved his cologne. We broke up the hug, but he kept me close and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. My heart was beating fast, and my breathing started to get heavier.

“Goodnight darlin’,” he said and winked, or at least he tried to.

“Goodnight captain,” I answered, and gave him a smile. He laughed, and started to walk away backwards, and watched me until I was inside. I waved at him before I closed the door and saw how he waved back and turned around to walk home.

I leant with my back to the front door and sighed. Will he for always not notice my feelings for him?

I watched Tim as he prepared the barbeque. The soft rays of sunlight spreading through the garden. The sunlight reminded me of her, Kathy, or Kat as I liked to call her. Especially the last time I saw her before my deployment. The sun shone on her face, and lit up her hair, making her look like a goddess. I almost broke my promise to myself and told her how I felt. I could never tell her; I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

The teasing, the banter, the sarcastic comments. Even though I pretended she annoyed me sometimes, I missed her and our dynamic the most while I was away. She kept me sharp, a goal to come back to. Thanks to her I got through those months. Especially her letters. Those long letters.

She was actually the reason I had shown up early at Tim’s house. I was hoping she would be here early too, so we’d have a little moment of privacy. Well, Tim was there, but he knew how I felt. He had known for a long time. I had always seen Kat as Tim’s little sister, but the moment she started to become a woman, that changed. I had always fancied her presence, her humour and we got along very well. But ever since she had grown into a beautiful woman, it had been different. I wanted more, but I knew that would never happen. Nevertheless, I settled for being her friend because I could not bear not having her in my life.

I grabbed a beer and opened it, quickly taking a few sips. Too caught up in my own thoughts, I nearly missed Tim asking me to grab a few more lawn chairs from the shed at the end of the garden. I set my beer down of the table, nodded at him and walked to the shed.

The shed was dark, but I spotted the lawn chairs without any problems. Those nights in the dark desert had increased my night vision. I was about to step outside when I heard it. A laugh, but not just a laugh. Her laugh. It was like music to my ears. She was here, finally. Kat.

Hastily, I stepped outside, and my gaze immediately fell on her. She hugged her brother as they laughed. When Tim let her out of his embrace, her eyes locked with mine. Completely forgotten about the lawn chairs, I dropped them and started to walk towards her. Her feet moved as well, making their way to me, speeding up a little.

Before I knew it, she was in arms reach, and I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck and squealed. One of her hands stroked my hair that was starting to grow out, and she nuzzled her face in my neck while I smelled the rose scent of her hair. Even though she might not be the smallest, I could lift her up effortlessly and I loved reminding her of that. I could think of another few ways of throwing you around darlin’.

“You’re back,” she said softly.

“Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here darlin’,” I smiled. She removed her face from my neck and looked at me. She looked even prettier than I remember. I had no idea that was even possible. Don’t get mushy man, damn.

“Welcome home you big idiot,” she grinned at me, and I put her back down on her feet. Uh, not even back for a minute and she’s already teasing me.

“Oh, that’s how ya welcome me back home?” She walked past me and started laughing. She picked up one of the lawn chairs.

“I could also have started by saying you should trim your beard. It looks like shit right now,” she mocked as she walked past me. I placed my hand on my heart, pretending she’d hurt me.

Shaking my head, I picked up the other lawn chair and followed close behind her. She looked good, really good. The jeans she wore hugged her in all the right places. She placed the lawn chair down and looked at me. My eyes immediately left her behind, and I placed the lawn chair I was carrying down as well. She better not be standing with her ass towards me again, or I will smack it.

“Ya know, being disrespectful in the army can get ya in a lot of trouble,” I said and grabbed a beer for her. I handed it to her, our hands lightly touching. Quickly, I grabbed my own beer from the table.

“Really? You’re going to punish me then?” The sunlight caught her face, making her look like an angel. She tried not so smile, but the glistering in her eyes gave her away.

“Who knows.” I chugged the rest of my beer and cocked my eyebrow. I know a few ways I’d like to punish ya darlin’.

Before our conversation could continue, the door to the terrace busted open, and Shane and Benjamin stepped outside. Cheering loudly, chanting my name. They walked over to me and threw their arms around me. They tried to tackle me, but even though they were strong, I was the strongest one of the group. Tim joined us, and they let me go so we could talk.

“Welcome back man,” Benjamin said and slapped me on my back. “We missed ya.”

“I understand, my presence is gift. Y’all should be glad I’m back,” I declared.

“Whatever Sy. Don’t get too cocky,” Tim said, he stood beside me and lifted his arm to smack me on the back of my head. I simply shot him a look, and his arm fell down next to his body again. I chuckled, and from the corner of my eye I saw Holly and Brianna had also arrived. I liked the girls, they were nice and sweet, but most of all good friends.

“Sy! Aren’t you going to say hello to us or what?” Holly shouted. I walked over to them, the other men following close behind.

“Hi girls,” I said and opened my arms for them. I gave them a hug, and everyone started asking me questions. I tried to answer them, when suddenly Brianna yelled.

“Stop! Everyone, stop talking for a minute!” she shouted. “Since Holly and I were a bit late, we missed the famous welcome back hug between Sy and Kathy.” Might have been a reason I was here early.

“I was there,” Tim laughed. “Maybe you should’ve known they would both be here early.”

“We were planning on being early, but sweet Holly over here was being incredible slow,” Brianna said, and I noticed how she looked at Holly like she would kill her. Soon the look turned into a smile nonetheless. Thank you, Holly.

“I think they should do it again,” Holly grinned. I had to try not to grin too much. Being close to her, felt so good. I would love nothing more than to hug her more often, or to cuddle up on the couch together. The chances of that happening, were very slim, and my heart sunk a little in my chest.

“I think they should too, apparently we all, except Tim, missed the highlight of Sy’s return. We should not be robbed of that moment,” Shane agreed, and a smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, come on guys!” Kat said. “The man has just gotten home! Give him a break.” Her comment made them cheer even louder. Doesn’t she want me to hug her again? Well, that’s not my problem ‘cause I’d hug her anytime if it were up to me.

“C’mere darlin’. Let’s give the audience what they want.” I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around her. I could smell her perfume, and I didn’t know what kind of scent it was, it just smelled like her. It smelled like home.

Every time I hugged her, there was just one thing I was afraid of. That I would not let her go again, because that’s where she belonged. She belonged in my arms, and I wished she would realize that one day. But I had to let her go again. Shane immediately wrapped an arm around her, while everyone cheered. Soon I noticed someone had put on some music.

“Hey guys, who wants to eat?” Tim shouted. I’m starving but not for that kind of meat.

“Better give me a sausage, I’m in the mood for some meat,” Holly answered with a mischievous grin. She was a sweet girl, always joking around, but don’t you dare mess with her. Don’t you dare mess with Brianna or Kat either, they will make you regret it. I liked that about them, that they were strong women.

An hour later we had finished eating, and we sat around the firepit in Tim’s garden. The sun long gone, the moon and stars providing us some light. The last hour I had mostly asked them how they’ve been, and it did me good to hear everything was going well. Tim’s construction company, where Shane and Benjamin also worked, was doing great. They were happy I would soon be joining them again. Holly’s clothing store has made a big profit in the last month.

I was happy to hear that Kat and Brianna started their own interior design business after the company they worked for went bankrupt. Kat’s eyes lit up when she spoke about it, and I loved seeing her with this passion.

After they were done talking about what they’ve been up to, it was my turn. I told them quickly a few things I could tell them. That I wanted to tell them. Thankfully, none of them asked anymore questions. They knew I preferred to not talk about it.

“Sy, a toast to you!” Benjamin said, and raised his glass. “Welcome home man.” Me and everyone else raised their glasses as well.

“Thanks Ben, it’s good to be back. And I’d like to thank y’all for writing me those letters. They mean a lot to me,” I said. It was true, getting letters while being far away from home, is the best feeling ever. Especially her letters, she had written me long letters, talking about the little things in life. She’d wrote about the weather or an awful client at work. She would just write about her day-to-day life, like she would if I were there. I had kept every single one of her letters, safely stored away in a box that was now underneath my bed.

“Well, next time you could try and write longer ones back you know,” Kat spoke. “I have put so much effort into my pages long letters, and all I get back is a paragraph from you just thanking me.” She pouted, and looked incredible cute, but started laughing. “Nah, just kidding. We know it means a lot, so we’re happy to write them.” She gave me a smile, and I wished she sat closer to me. Instead, she sat across the firepit from me.

“Don’t be funny darlin’. Might not answer yours next time,” I joked.

“Like you would ignore her Sy,” Shane mocked. Shut up Shane. Everyone but her started laughing. Oh no, what is she thinking? Kat looked confused, and I knew she wanted Shane’s comment to be explained. Thankfully, Holly started telling a story about a client in her store, so the moment to address the comment was over. Thank god.

Soon, the fire went out and that was the universal sign for us to go home. We stood up, and started helping Tim clean the plates, cups, and cutlery. I looked at Kat, I liked watching her move. The way her hips swayed when she walked, was one of my favourite parts about her.

“Guys, why don’t you all just go home. I’ll help Tim clean up the rest!” Brianna suggested. I chuckled. Smooth Brianna. I had known for a while she had a thing for Tim, and I knew he felt the same. We all laughed and agreed with her plan. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin walked home together since they lived close to each other. Kat and I had to go the other way.

“I’ll walk you home darlin’,” I said to Kat, and she nodded in response.

“I’m going to grab my cardigan from inside, and then I’m ready to go,” she added, and quickly walked inside. I noticed the lawn chairs still had to be carried back to the shed, so I lifted two up and walked to the end of the garden. I heard the others talk behind me, almost whispering, but I didn’t pay any attention to it.

When I came back, the conversation between them stopped immediately. What were they talking about?

We said goodbye to each other, leaving Tim and Brianna behind. Holly, Shane, and Benjamin went to the left, while me and Kat started walking to the right. It was nice, to be alone with her. Calmness washed over me, while at the same time a fire inside me burned.

During our little walk, we talked. I wanted to know everything about her business, and she happily answered my questions. I watched her from the corner of my eye, when she talked, she uses her hands to gesture around, and it was an adorable sight.

Way too soon we reached her house. We stopped in front of it, and we fell silent. The moon provided a little light, bringing out the beautiful features of her face. I wanted to cup her cheeks and kiss her. Sy, dude, get yourself together. She is a friend. A. friend. You don’t kiss friends like that. Right?

“Alright, well, it is so nice to have you back Sy,” Kat said.

“It is nice to be back here,” I smiled. We fell silent again.

“I should go inside,” she spoke softly, and opened her arms for a hug. I could also go inside with you.

I let out a hum and wrapped my arms around her thick waist. I squeezed her tight, and she nuzzled her face in my neck. I loved it that she wasn’t fragile, and that I could just hug her like I wanted to.

We broke up the hug. I did not let her go yet, I wanted to kiss those soft lips so bad, but I settled for kissing her cheek instead. I hoped she did not hear my heart beating fast, or my sinful thoughts. She let out a little whimper, and I knew I had to let her go before I would drag her into her bedroom.

“Goodnight darlin’,” I said and winked. Shit, forgot I can’t wink.

“Goodnight captain,” she said and laughed at my attempt to wink. I shook my head and took a few steps backwards. I watched her go inside and waved before she closed the door.

I turned around and starting walking to my parents’ house. A few years ago, we had built a cabin at the end of our property. While I was serving, I lived there at the times I was back home. I was now back for good, but I still had to tell Kat, and my friends. It was time to come home, I was ready. I was ready to settle down. With her preferably, but I knew that would never happen.

I sighed, and dropped my head. Why won’t she notice me the way I notice her?

•••

> chapter two

taglist: @keanureevesisbae / @klaine-92 / @xxxkatxo / @stxlemate / @oddsnendsfanfics / @amberangel112 / @seriouslygoodlookinggents / @sillyrabbit81 / @pixie88 / @cynic-spirit / @rn7rocks / @daddys-littlewhitegirl / @little-brattyangel / @omgkatinka / @myloveforhenrycavill / @eldarwen333 / @kebabgirl67 / @mansaaay

I have to idea if any of you want to be tagged in this, but I did anyway so if you did not want to be tagged, i'm sorry and please let me know!

[helliontherapscallion]

Who? (Forlorn Tale of Dionysus Part 2)

Part 1

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,843

(A/N): I’m not exactly sure if this will continue any further, this was just a fun little thing I had in my drafts for a while after some interesting convos in my discord server (which you totally should join, it’s a vibe). This is lowkey word vomit, but eh. This is all strictly platonic btw

“Michael, are you sure you saw a house out here? I really don’t think-” You were interrupted by your much shorter friend yanking on your sleeve to get your attention. You looked down at him in question and watched as he raised his hands.

‘I am sure I saw that house, (y/n)! It is here somewhere.’ 

You fiddled with the sleeves of your thick coat with unease, “alright, but if we don’t find it soon I wanna head back. Uncle Boo and Uncle Tubbo are probably going to start to worry.”

Michael huffed at the mention of his parents. You knew how overbearing they were, causing your friend to crave new experiences and adventures. You’d known him for a couple of years now and he was rebelling more with each passing day. You could relate slightly, Philza and Technoblade had hardly let you out of the house without another person to accompany you. You never really understood why, you were almost thirteen now so you should be able to explore what you want. 

An excited squeal left your friend’s mouth before he started to pull you towards something in the distance, startling you out of your trance. You matched his pace with ease and felt nervous excitement tingle in your chest. 

As you got closer, you could make out small details of the cabin. It was a simple small cabin built out of spruce planks with glass windows and a brick chimney, but you liked it. It strangely felt homey. 

You pulled Michael into a nearby shrub underneath a window and peered in. The interior was also as simplistic as the outside was, looking untouched and tidy as if nobody was living there. You could see that the ceilings were taller than average, perhaps a hybrid of some sort lived here? 

Michael tapped your shoulder, ‘it doesn’t look like anybody’s home right now. Let’s go in.’ 

You opened your mouth to object before the sight of his set jaw and his eyes dead set on something inside made you close it. You learned from experience that when he was this determined, there was no stopping him. You sighed, “fine, but the second we get caught, it was your idea.” 

You both made your way to the front door. Without a second thought, Michael twisted the doorknob and swung the door open. A startled snort left his throat as he stumbled inside, making you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He jabbed the side of your lower torso, ‘shut up, I thought it was going to be locked.’

He pulled you inside and you both explored the living room. Bookshelves and portraits lined the walls, a single large couch sat off to the side, and the fireplace mantle was lined with a few small golden hooks. Michael made a beeline towards it, admiring the metal. It seems that’s what he saw that made him so determined to get inside. You hoped that he wouldn’t steal them and explored the area further. 

The portraits on the walls were a slight shock to you, they all included some people that you could recognize; in one you could make out a picture of younger versions of Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, and Niki. Technoblade and Philza were sparring with shining golden swords while Ranboo and Niki sat in the grass on a hill watching with interest. Maybe this was just one of their old cabins? 

You saw people that you didn’t recognize as well. Namely a cat hybrid with striking sapphire blue eyes, a man seemingly human (you say seemingly because your eyes caught sight of pointed ears) wearing a white bandana keeping his jet black hair out of his face, a tall man with green freckles and a creeper mask, an anthropomorphic diamond block with beady black eyes and a wide smile, and a man that looked strangely like Ghostbur except he was wearing a uniform of some sort. However, a demon quickly caught your eye and made your heart leap for joy. There was someone out there that was like you! 

The man looked kind, always wearing a cheery smile and occasionally waving at the camera. He was tall and lanky, always towering over the others by a considerable amount. That made sense, Philza had told you that demons were naturally very tall when you asked him why you were growing faster than Michael when the zombie piglin was two years older than you were. Large wings and horns akin to yours sprouted from his back and head respectively. If he wasn’t constantly smiling, you would’ve thought that he was malevolent. 

You heard the rapid footsteps of Michael’s boots behind you as you turned around. You bounced on the balls of your feet excitedly, “Michael look, another demon! Do you think he lives here?”

You watched as he shrugged and pulled you towards the kitchen. ‘I don’t know, but look! There’s another demon that looks exactly like you!’ 

On the kitchen table surrounded by various trinkets (bottles of wine, gold bricks, stale bread, and the decomposed remains of flower crowns and bouquets being the majority of the items) laid a framed picture of said demon lazily smiling and looking off to the side. Michael was right, they looked exactly like you except at least a decade older. Everything matched your physical features to a tee; from the red accents on their black wings to the way they smiled, it was like they were your clone. The only thing of yours that they were missing was the three circular birthmarks on your forehead. It was eerily uncanny. 

Your eyes widened before you snatched the picture off from the table, studying them further. If you squinted, you could see that there was someone barely in frame. You flipped the frame around and took out the picture, unfolding it. In the picture was your adopted father and adopted uncles and aunt. What was going on? If they knew the demon, why didn’t they ever tell you about them? 

‘Woah, that was smart. Do you think you might be related to them or something?’ He tilted his head before he perked up, ‘could they be one of your biological parents?’ 

“Maybe, but if they were, why didn’t my dad tell me about them? I… have a right to know about them, right?”

He nodded firmly, ‘you definitely do. It’s kind of fucked up they haven’t told you anything about them.’ 

“Yeah, it is. Do you think something bad happened to them?... Oh shit, is this a memorial?” You hurriedly refolded the picture and put it back into its frame. 

Michael’s eyes widened and flickered around the table at the trinkets before he fished out two gold bars from his pocket and placed them onto the table. You crossed your arms, “what the fuck man?” 

‘I thought they wouldn’t miss a few pieces of gold! You would’ve done the same thing if you were a piglin,’ he defended himself before he paused and shuddered, ‘we’re in a dead person’s house, that’s creepy… What if their ghost is right behind us?’ 

You spun around and put yourself slightly in front of Michael, your heart beating in your throat. Nothing was there. Michael snorted, making you slap his arm, “not cool, man.” 

You were about to stomp off until a piece of paper caught your eye. It was a drawing of this person done in messy purple crayon, probably done by a very young child. It was signed by a Michael. 

You turned to the wheezing zombie piglin and patiently waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, you showed him the picture, “did you draw this? Did you know them?”

He scrunched up his brow in concentration, squinting at the paper. Eventually he shook his head slowly, ‘I don’t think so. At least I don’t remember drawing it… This is getting weird.’ 

You nodded in agreement, putting the drawing back onto the counter. You walked towards the stairs and climbed them. They creaked under your foot loudly, a part of you was scared that you would fall through them. It was clear they haven’t been used in some time. 

They led to a small loft, the ceiling coming to a point far overhead. A part of you was glad that this stranger (relative? Parent?) was a demon, it wasn’t often that you found lofts that fit all six and a half feet of you. 

Like the rest of the house, it was very simplistic. A gigantic bed laid in the center of the furthest wall, made neatly with multiple fluffy blankets, part you was tempted to catapult yourself onto it. On the nightstand next to it sat a redstone lamp and a frosted glass of water, cracks spider webbing up the sides presumably from the cold. 

You opened the lone drawer and discovered a book. Upon further inspection, you discovered that it was a journal with the name (y/n) written inside the cover. So this person had your name as well as your looks? This merely raised more questions than answers, so you slid the book into a pocket in your coat to read later. Under the book laid another picture of them posing with the strange group of people from the portraits downstairs. The de- (y/n) looked younger there. On the back, the word family was written and it was dated to be about twenty years old. You also pocketed the picture.

Michael walked over to the window and looked out at the vast tundra only to squeal in alarm. He ran over to you and pulled you downstairs. You looked out the window only to yelp when you saw a few crows standing on the window sill staring at you with their beady eyes. 

You and Michael ran out of the house as fast as the both of you could, the snow being slightly tough to run through for the five and a half foot tall zombie piglin. You could hear the crows following you overhead. After a while of running, you both finally got back to Snowchester and raced past Ranboo and Tubbo. You hid in Michael’s room with the curtains tightly drawn. 

You sat on his bed with your legs crossed and your back pressed up against the headboard. You let your head bang against the wall and you ran your hand down your face. “We’re fucked, dude. We’re literally so fucked.”

‘Uncle Phil’s still out of town so it’ll probably be a few days until they find out.’ Michael plopped next to you, panting and trying to regain his breath. “Still, we’re gonna be in so 

much trouble for going that far out. I didn’t think my dad’s crows were still here.”

‘Might as well read the journal you found before we get grounded.’

You nodded and took out the journal, flipping it open to the first page. You both read the journal until it was dark outside and Michael was passed out on your shoulder. Subconsciously, you wrapped your wing around him as you read the journal. 

The other (y/n) acted like you did for the most part, the only differences between you two was the lack of swearing and the fact that they felt alone even when they were surrounded by people. Your family’s names were dropped several times, especially when they were talking about ‘The Syndicate’. The code names they used were after various Greek myths, leading you to believe that Technoblade was one of the founders of the anarchist group. 

You had learned that their family (potentially your family?) was strangely possessed by an egg and that they were previously possessed by said egg. They had a brother named Sapnap (your potential uncle?) that helped them escape to the tundra. It was there that they found the Syndicate, reminding you of the found family tropes you would read in books. The last journal entry detailed their last mission, how they were going to destroy the Eggpire from within and get their family back. That entry in particular gave you chills, even someone with half a brain could tell what happened to them after that. 

By the time you had closed the book, it was dawn and the sun was peeking out from behind the closed curtains. You shook Michael awake and stretched out your aching body. Your neck muscles protested movement, sending a wave of pain across the area. 

‘Damn, did you stay up all night reading that?’ 

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I? I needed to find out about my biological parent somehow. I just- nothing makes sense, Michael.” You growled out, your voice deepening and distorting slightly as your frustration rose. 

‘Chill! You’ll figure it out soon, let’s just focus on staying under the radar.’ 

“Too late for that.” 

You both jumped and fell off the bed as you heard Philza’s voice. In the doorway, Philza stood with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Technoblade by his side, all looking equally angry and disappointed. Next to you, Michael shrunk in on himself and smiled sheepishly. He was about to raise his hands to sign, but a pointed look from Tubbo next to him told him that there was no getting out of this one. 

Behind the anger, you could tell that something changed about the way the four were looking at you. You couldn’t tell what emotion they were hiding, whether it be wariness, longing, sadness, or just more unleashed anger, but you could tell that they knew something you didn’t. If the frustration that overcame you when you were reading the journal at the lack of questions answered burned inside of you, then what you felt now was a blazing inferno. 

“We’re going home, grab your stuff (y/n).” 

After a short staredown with the older man, you huffed in anger and gathered your things into your bag. The entire time, tense silence filled the room. Your hands were shaking with the rage you felt searing every inch of you. You could hear the sharp flicking of your pointed tail cutting through the air and occasionally hitting objects near you. 

When you were done you stomped over to your adopted family and shouldered between Philza and Technoblade, speed walking down the hallway. They quickly caught up with you after saying a quick apology and a goodbye, Technoblade grabbing your arm and holding it in a vice grip. 

They led you out of the mansion and into the harsh winds of the tundra. It wasn’t until Snowchester was far off in the distance that Technoblade shook your arm, “what the hell were you thinking, going into someone else’s house like that! You don’t know who lived there, you could’ve gotten yourself and Michael killed!” 

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out, didn’t you?” You ripped your arm out of his hold and spoke in a low voice, struggling to contain your full rage. “I have a goddamned right to know about them.” 

“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Philza muttered out and resumed walking back towards your house. “You’re grounded when we get back, no flying or dueling lessons for two weeks.” 

“Of course you know what I’m talking about, Dad! Why are you hiding them from me? I have a right to know about my biological parent even if they’re dead!” 

They both halted in their tracks and glanced at each other in slight confusion. “What-”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. Gods, I can’t believe you thought I’d never find out,” you laughed sardonically as your hand subconsciously gripped your growing horn. “(Y/n)! You know, the demon that lived in that house? The one that looks exactly like me?! Does that ring a bell or do I have to show you this?” 

You rummaged in your pocket and ripped out the picture, shoving it into Philza’s hands. Technoblade looked over his shoulder at what you gave him. You watched as their expressions turned blank when they saw the demon in the picture. 

Minutes passed with them continuing to stare down at the picture and you were slowly getting impatient. “Why did you never tell me about them? Why are you keeping me from them?!” 

Without looking up at you, Philza mumbled, “you weren’t supposed to find out about them. You were never supposed to find out.” 

“Do you have any idea how ambiguous that is? Just tell me who they are!” You could feel your eye twitch as your frustration grew. 

You could see the internal conflict on Philza’s face growing by the second before he dipped his head downwards and stalked off in the opposite direction of the house. You spread your wings to chase him in the air, but Technoblade’s hand on your upper arm stopped you from lifting off. 

When you looked up at him, the look of regret and sorrow etched into his features caught you by surprise. “Let him go, he needs to do some thinking… (y/n), do you know what reincarnation is?”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur  @nottheotheruser  @ohworm-writes  @localwolfanon  @realitycanbeajerk  @v10dw4lk3r  @esylwen  @seraphsema  @boiled-onionrings  @smolgreenybeany  @louistommosnesquickmilk  @hyacinthrosearsha  @ryxjxnnx  @autumnpleaves  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @0ton1n  @self-righteous-dumbass  @a-simp-for-block-people  @fortunatelylazystranger  @m1lkmandan  @mirios-sunflower  @ahmya-4  @shinipii  @noyasblush  @auroraskyfall  @cryptocry  @hee-hee-haw  @blackstar-gazer 

Gender neutral reader taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@totem-awooga  @parkeepingparker  @whatislifebutlemons

[ms-starflower]

Spook-tober Day 1 — Decorating

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, technically, it’s October 2nd for almost two hour here, but it’s probably still the 1rst somewhere, right? Well, I don’t care anyway.

It’s my first time writing for an event (Maribat or otherwise) and I wanted to write both prompts for Spook-tober - Maribat Month and the Maribat Rare Pairs Month, but didn’t have time to start writing before 11pm.

This one's for Spook-tober, though it could also qualify as rarepair since it's a Stephinette (is that the correct shop name???), because Steph is my Queen (Cass too, but I wanted Steph today). Though they don't interact (yet) but I think I’ll write a follow up for other days' prompt, maybe (day 9 and 21, I’m looking at you,).

Anyway, let’s start.

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

“You sure you got the right address, miss?” The cab driver asked her with a skeptic expression. It would have been alright if the man hadn’t asked the same thing in at least twenty different ways during the ride.

“Yes, thank you Monsieur. I’m exactly where I wanted to be,” Marinette answered with a tight smile, like the twenty previous times. Giving him the money she owed him, she got out of the car to stand in front of the gigantic gate of Wayne’s Manor. The place was kind of intimidating.

Still hearing the car behind her when she reached the intercom, she turned toward it. The driver was shamelessly looking at her, probably waiting for her to get refused access.

“Are you waiting for something, sir?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“You’re gonna need a ride back, don’t ya? I’m already here, might as well,” he smiled at her with condescending amusement. Marinette was tempted to tell him that she would prefer to go back to the city on foot than to get into his car again. But her parents raised her better than that, so she only smiled politely.

“There is no need, sir, I really don’t know how long I’m going to stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” the man huffed, still staring at her.

Deciding to just ignore him, Marinette turned to push on the intercom’s only button. It took a minute before an elegant and accented voice responded.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Ah, hello sir. I’m Marinette, Jason asked me to come?”

“Indeed, Master Jason warned me to expect you.”

When the gate opened, Marinette made a point to turn around to smile and wave goodbye at the cab driver. She would cherish his dumbstruck expression for a long time.

Her victory was short lived, though, when she saw how long the march from the gate to the house was going to be. Jason better be on the brink of death. Or the world, she wasn’t picky.

When she finally got there, an old gentleman she thought might be Alfred was waiting for her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m Alfred, the family’s butler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alfred said with a kind smile and a nod.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And just Marinette is fine,” she told him kindly, walking into the house. “Jason is okay, right? He didn’t say why he wanted me here, and I have to admit that he got me worried.”

Jason had been determined to keep her as far away from his family as he could manage before, and the sudden change was really odd.

“I see,” Alfred said slowly, closing his eyes for a second. “Master Jason is alright, Miss Marinette, do not worry. He just… Well, why not let Master Jason explain the situation to you himself. If you would follow me.”

Marinette followed him for a couple minutes through a couple of corridors, before he opened the doors to… a battlefield.

She thought that, maybe, it was supposed to be a living room, but it was hard to say, under all those decorations. They were literally everywhere. Throwing on the couches, a couple of boxes were overturned in a corner, a couple of garlands of little cartoon ghosts hanging hazradly from the chandelier. It was a mess, but she could see that someone probably tried to… decorate? Maybe? It was a really bad job, though.

Jason and a man she assumed to be his brother were battling with a plastic pumpkin and a skeleton respectively, while two more men and a woman—probably also Jason’s siblings, she heard Bruce Wayne was kind of a serial adopter— were cheering on the sidelines and a brooding teenager was glaring at them. Everyone froze as soon as they realized that they weren’t alone anymore. Alfred only sighed, nodded at her before going back to where they came from.

“Hey! Pixie! Great, you’re here,” Jason exclaimed excitedly, letting go of the pumpkin he was shoving into his brother’s face and stauttered toward her.

“Jason, in the name of everything that’s holy, what the hell?” Marinette asked with a voice deceptively calm. She could see the woman and one of the men behind Jason wince at her tone. Good.

“Well, see, we wanna decorate the house for Halloween, now that it’s time—”

“Jason,” she interrupted incredulously. “We are in September!”

“Well, technically, it’s already October in Russia,” the man that had been fighting with Jason piped up.

“Yeah, what Timbers said,” Jason said with a serious nod while Marinette could only look at him in astonishment. “Anyway, Bruce said we can decorate all the room in the Manor like we wish if we can make this one presentable, without the help of Alfred. And I really want to make a cat theme for his bedroom, so I thought; hey, you know a designer…”

“I’m a fashion designer, Jason, not an interior designer!”

“Same difference, Pixie. You’re my only hope, all of them are hopeless in terms of good taste.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the various protests from Jason’s sibling, before taking out her phone.

“So you proceeded to send me ‘Hey Pix,” she said, reading the message he sent her earlier with a bad imitation of his voice. “‘Need you at the manor asap, urgence lvl 3’ before ignoring me, making me think that the world was probably ending—”

“World ending is at least a lvl 5, Pix, come on,” Jason interrupted with an offended expression. She ignored him.

“—Forcing me to take a cab with a absolute jerk driver—”

“Why did you take a cab? You have a car!”

“Adrien took the car, he is visiting Chloé in New York. But that’s not the point. The point, Jason, is that all of that was because you needed me to help you decorate for a day that is literally in a month?”

“Hey, Halloween is a very important celebration,” Jason’s brother, the one that had been cheering the loudest, told her with a solemn expression.

“I’m French, I don’t care about Halloween,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, what?” The one Jason had called Timbers, probably Tim Drake, looked pained at the very idea that someone could not be obsessed by Halloween.

“I mean, we used to make speciales and sales at the bakery, and I’ve been to a couple of costume parties, but we don’t really pay attention to Halloween until around the 25 of October.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” Jason said, and almost all the others agreed in a way or another.

“Maybe for you, Americans,” she told him with amusement. “But it doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to help you.”

What? Why?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Because, one, I don’t have anything to gain from it,” she said, showing him one of her fingers before adding a second. “And two, do you know how long the walk between the cab and the door had been? And all of it just for decorations?”

“Aw, come on, Pix! Bruce is going to make Alfred judge, and I have projects for the cat theme!”

“There is nothing you can say that is going to make me change my—”

“Hey guys!” A cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her, the owner barging into the room like a whirlwind. The woman was slightly taller than her, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a beautiful smile that brightened the room and Marinette could feel the hearts that were making their way in her eyes. The girl was cute. Uh oh. “You are decorating already?! Cool! Be right back, let me just grab my stuff!”

Then she was gone, and Marinette could only blink slowly, before turning back toward Jason.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“What? Why— Oh, no, no, no! You’re not going to crush on Steph—”

“Oh, her name is Steph? What a lovely name,” she mumbled, looking back in the direction she disappeared. “But if you don’t want my help, I can just ask for her number and let you fend for yourself with the decorations, you know.”

“Pixie!” Jason complained, making his sibling laugh or snicker at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: when Marinette says that France doesn't care about Halloween until around October 25th, I’m talking from personal experience. I don’t know if it’s the same in all of France, but I grew up in Paris’ region (It’s not Paris Paris, but it’s like, the places all around and we call it régions parisienne) and they don’t care about it. Where I live, the shops don’t start selling Halloween themed candy before, like a week (maybe two?? when they start early) before Halloween and the children rarely go trick or treating. (I lived in this house for ~five/six years, and I’ve never got a child knocking for candy on Halloween.)

Again, I’m not saying it was like that for everyone in France, maybe it was only my city, but I thought it funny to have this opposition between Marinette and the Batkids.

[volturiwolf]

Unorthodox - An Embry Call x vampire!fem!Reader Story - Part 3

A/N: I thought the second part was big, but this is bigger.

A/N 2: I'M SUPER HAPPY BECAUSE STEFANIA AND GREECE ARE ON THE EUROVISION 2021 FINAL !!

A/N 3: Again, (Y/N) likes expensive things.

A/N 4: This part is a bit cheeky, and it makes my heart melt thinking about Embry.

A/N 5: Enjoy

No of Words: 6300+

Through the parts, mentions of: Abusive relationship, Attacks, Hunt, Illusions, Loneliness, Mental health, Murder, Sex / Sex language / Sexual activities, Suicide, Swear language, Wild imagination

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

Part 1 / Part 2

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

"Unorthodox" Tag List (reply if you want to be added or removed): @eunoia-kth @eugeniapet @aquanova99 @foggyturtleknightangel @avecletempsy @girlgirlgirlnormal @hshehdyhd @musicandpenguins @letskidnapsenpai @foreveror-never @kpopgirlbtssvt @adaydreamaway08

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

Embry’s POV

Hunting was a first-time and unique experience for me. As shifters, we didn’t need to hunt like regular wolves did; we ate normal, human food. We mostly ate the food Emily would prepare for the whole pack, and, thank God, her food was just as amazing as she was herself.

Honestly, we had to give her more credit than she accepted. She had to cook huge food portions to satisfy our insatiable wolf appetite, and she spent too much in her kitchen cooking for us every single day. She was like our wolf mom - if we could consider Sam as our wolf dad, making sure we were fed, healthy, and unharmed every day.

(Y/N) was running beside me, led by her vampire instinct to hunt. She was truly beautiful - she exuded so much power and confidence in whatever she did. I couldn’t help myself from turning to look at her every minute or so, watching the wind passing through her (y/h/l) hair, her eyes glistening in a deep gold color, her lips slightly parted. Every now and then, we would pass by a ray of sunshine, and her skin would glow like the most beautiful diamond I have ever come upon.

I didn’t know if it was the imprinting, but watching her doing her “vampire stuff” did not repel me at all; on the contrary, I felt closer and more drawn to her. She felt comfortable enough to open up to me, though I knew I had many more things to learn about her, and I was willing to wait for her to tell me anything she wanted.

I didn’t realize that transforming into a vampire could be as stressful as it was phasing into a wolf. I never had to think about it, because they are supposed to be our enemies, not people to sympathize with. In the end, I realized that we weren’t so different - just like us, most of the vampires we’ve come across, did not choose this lifestyle. In their case, though, it was someone else who decided for them; someone else who took away their choice in living a normal life.

I knew that, under normal circumstances, I would have never met or come across (Y/N) - and if I did, I would probably keep my distance from her. But I also knew that I was grateful that the pack made this “unofficial” agreement with the Cullens, and I could meet her, and be together maybe? Things were going fast here, and I didn’t exactly know if we were dating or just casual friends because of the imprinting. I didn’t want to believe she felt no connection to me, but I also would not receive the vulnerability she showed before as a sign she was into me. I would wait for her to decide, to tell me what she wanted for us. Whatever she chose, I’d accept it, as long as she was happy and alive.

She slowed down a little, looking directly at me. “At this point, we have to take in our surroundings, to take in every sound and smell around us. It is important to distinguish between an animal and a person, and control ourselves, to avoid anything bad happening.” She started explaining the process of hunting, and I could only nod at her for now, to assure her I understood what she was telling me.

She stood still for a few minutes, closing her eyes and breathing in every smell around us. “It’s a bit easier for me to “read” the environment around me. I create an illusion up to a certain distance, and if anything or anyone falls in the illusion, I can basically “see” them and understand their nature, what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling. That’s why it became a bit easier for me to abstain from human blood in the years after I decided to follow the vegetarian diet. I already kept my distance from humans, so I could avoid them easier.”

She suddenly opened her eyes and ran forward. I ran after her, trying to be close to her but also keep my distance. She stopped on top of a boulder, eyeing a mountain lion a few feet below us. She turned to me and nodded towards the lion, motioning me to stay quiet, before stroking my cheek lightly. I shivered under her touch and when she let go, I craved more.

In a swift move, she launched towards the lion, growling. The lion growled back at her, and I couldn’t help but growl at it as well. (Y/N) let out an animalistic growl as she fought to immobilize the lion, before sinking her teeth into its neck. Normally, the sighting would make my stomach turn, but, again, nothing was normal in our lives.

I watched closely as she sank her teeth in the lion’s neck once more, gulping the blood in the process. When she finally lifted her head, there was only a small strip of blood falling out of the left side of her mouth - her whole appearance still perfect, despite the fight. She looked at me, sweeping the blood with her pointer finger and licking it slowly. I don’t know why I was turned on by the sighting, but I was. Quite turned on.

She smiled cheekily at me, starting to giggle. And then, as if she was air, she suddenly disappeared in front of my eyes. She didn’t run away; she literally disappeared. I slightly freaked out, but then, I felt a small kiss under my ear, and I knew it was (Y/N). The sneaky little bastard “blinded” my vision, and was playing games with my head.

“Sorry. I was just messing with you.” She grinned, and snuggled in my side, wrapping her hands around my face. The smell of blood was still prominent in her breath, but I couldn’t care less. It felt as if she was reciprocating my feelings for her, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Are you okay? Shall we continue? I’m still pretty hungry.” She questioned me, her words barely coming out of her mouth, whispering so as not to ruin our happy little moment. I nodded, and she rubbed her face into my fur, before letting me go and running forward.

A couple of hours and many deer later, we were on our way back to (Y/N)’s place. She invited me over to spend some time together. She lived about 1 mile away from the Cullens; she told me that she appreciated them as much as she appreciated her own privacy and space, and they understood her need to spend time on her own.

She waited a few minutes for me to change back to my human form, giving me the space and privacy I needed. Though I had no issue changing in front of her, I thought it would still be too early for that. After shifting back to human and getting dressed, I came out of the woods.

She waited for me in front of her house. Her house was pretty big, a mix of dark wood and glass, making it extravagant but also warm and welcoming. Her very expensive car that I noticed in the clearing we "trained" a few days ago was parked in her driveway, along with a white silver Cadillac Escalade Hybrid.

She saw my wide eyes and overall shocked expression and laughed. “That is..my “more casual” car, you know, to drive around.” I gulped and nodded, as she motioned me to come into her house.

Matching its exterior, the interior also exuded a mix of luxury and warmth. There was a big bronze chandelier in the foyer, but it was nothing compared to the ones further into the house. At first glance, there was a huge living room, decorated with brown fabrics and furniture of different hues, enhancing the warmth. The kitchen was pretty big, especially considering there lived a vampire who didn’t need to cook. The counters, the cabinets, and the drawers were made out of white marble, in complete contrast to the living room. A wide wooden staircase led to the upper floor. My jaw was probably on the floor by now.

“I really like buying expensive things and such.” (Y/N) grinned at me, watching me turn around the place and take everything in.

“You must be pretty hungry, huh?” She looked at me, serious now, and my stomach growled in response. She smiled widely. “I have quite a few pizzas in the freezer if you don’t mind. I usually wouldn’t buy anything, but I thought that someone, or even you, would come over, so I went out yesterday and bought a few things. Would you be okay with that?” She looked unsure, waiting for my response.

I didn’t realize I hadn't said anything for a few minutes, until (Y/N) came in front of me. “Embry?” My name came so pure out of her mouth. “Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?” Her voice sounded concerned, as she examined my face for any signs that would “betray” a lack of wellbeing or something.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t expect that you would go out of your way to make sure I ate if I ever came here.” I was indeed shocked, I didn’t lie.

“No, of course I would. I didn’t expect you to come over, but I just hoped you would.” She smiled, lowering her eyes to the floor.

I came closer to her and stroked her cheek lightly. She gasped slightly, but I felt her melt on my hand. My heart was beating so fast, pounding so loudly, full of love and nerves. I didn’t think about it twice before I leaned in and pecked her lips lightly.

I heard her gasping at my action, and I pulled away, worried that I scared her away. That wasn’t the case though, as she grabbed my neck carefully, afraid of her own strength, pulling me back to her and kissing me with more passion this time. The fireworks and stars I saw and the fire that was burning deep inside me were definitely not a part of any illusion. It was a reality - the reality we were currently living and experiencing together.

I captured her face between my hands and she swirled her hands around my shoulders and neck, keeping me close. She cooled down my nerves, and I set her body aflame. Even after we pulled away, we stayed close, foreheads touching, eyes closed, just feeling each other and relaxing under each other’s touch. (Y/N) was the first to speak.

“How about you go take a hot shower, and I’ll prepare the pizzas?”

She stroked my hair while looking me deep in the eyes and I just wished this moment would last forever. I was absolutely delighted and felt blessed to have met my imprint and mate for life. I couldn’t even remember what life was like before her, and I couldn’t even bear the thought that I would have never met if she wasn’t bitten and transformed into a vampire, over 100 years before me. I didn’t mean I was grateful for the vampire who bit her, or vampires in general, but I was grateful I had her.

“Okay.” The words barely came out of my mouth, before I kissed her once again.

“Let me help you.” She took my hand and guided me upstairs. She showed me the bathroom and brought me freshly-washed, fluffy towels, clear underwear, long jeans, a woolen t-shirt, socks, and slippers. I looked at her curiously.

“I bought a few things if you ever wanted to crash here.” She confessed, a kind of guilt on her face. I smiled widely and kissed her once again.

“Thank you, love.” She relaxed and smiled.

“Okay, now, go shower. Relax, have fun with the jet streams.” She winked before running downstairs. I chuckled at myself, and hopped in the shower, turning the jet streams on, and relaxing further into my thoughts.

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

About half an hour later, I jumped off the shower, clean and relaxed. I quickly dried off and got dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I would have never thought of being this happy in my life.

I didn’t have the best childhood. I never met my father; I never knew who my father even was, but I definitely knew he was a Quileute by now. My mom, however, was a Makah, an outsider of the Quileute tribe, so she didn’t know about the shape-shifters.

There were a lot of one-sided fights with her when I came home after a long night patrolling. She thought I was going through a rebellious stage, and I just let her believe that. Even Sam offered to tell her the truth about the Quileutes, but I refused. I couldn’t have her getting in trouble or hurt; it would be better if she didn’t know. I sighed deeply and slowly walked downstairs to meet with (Y/N).

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

(Y/N)’s POV

I didn’t mean to watch Embry’s head, but I couldn’t help it. All these images suddenly started flooding my mind; his mother yelling at him for being out of the house at odd hours, but him never yelling back at her, never revealing the real reason for his absence. He was thinking about all the times he asked his mother about his father, but she refused to say anything more and dismissed Embry’s inquiries.

Embry’s head was heavy with these dark thoughts, tangled and disorganized, reminding me of my own. His thoughts were all over the place; small images and scenes here and there like little flashes of memories.

I heard him coming down the stairs and tried to forget about everything for his own sake. In a minute, he entered the kitchen. He looked so beautiful, even a plain pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. He was mesmerizing, his face calm, a small grin lighting up my world, and, if I hadn’t seen his thoughts, I would think that his head produced only happy thoughts.

Anyone who saw Embry, saw a quiet, reserved, but seemingly happy young man, not what I had just seen for myself. I decided not to talk about it; if he ever felt comfortable talking about it, he would, and I would wait for him, no pressure.

“Like what you see?” Embry grinned seductively. Cheeky bastard.

“I do, actually.” I leaned forward, over the counter standing in the middle of the kitchen, pressing my breasts against the surface. It only lasted for a few seconds, before I sat back straight, but it was enough for Embry to gulp down and his cheeks to turn red under his already tan skin, his eyes wide in shock. Two can play the game, babe.

“Well, come on, the pizzas are ready.” I acted as if nothing happened, and continued acting normal, taking the pizzas out of the oven before handing a plate to Embry from the nearby cabinet. He was standing close to me, watching my every move with a look of questioning.

“Are you okay? You seem as if something is bugging you.” I didn’t see a single image in his mind that could give me any clue as to why he looked concerned.

“I just have a question. It is a weird one, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t feel comfortable. I suppose that’s personal, but I was just wondering.” I nodded at him to continue. “How did you come up with all this money? Like, I guess the Cullens are rich, Dr. Cullen is a doctor and they probably come from old wealth or something, but how did you afford to buy all these things?” He motioned around the house.

I sighed. “I actually waited for you to ask this question, eventually. First of all, I should let you know that most of Cullens’ money - if not 90-95% of it - comes from trading stock, bonds, foreign exchange, investments; Alice’s visions have helped A LOT. And, everything is legal. Nobody says that visions count as fraud; inside info does, but visions don’t. So..that’s their story. Mine is complicated. It is on the verge of being illegal but not really.”

“What do you mean “illegal”? What, like, you sell drugs or something?” He laughed but then, upon seeing my blank face he stopped. “YOU SELL DRUGS?” He plopped down on a chair.

“Yes, and no. I sell..candy, sugary sweets, gummy bears, anything really that is considered candy. But, I present them as “drugs” to people who I know are interested in buying drugs. I sell them the candy, which is regular candy, sugary and sweet, something a kid would eat. And then, I just stand nearby or a few kilometers away - it depends - and cause them to see illusions, so they actually think they are on drugs. The more they pay for a “drug”, the more intense illusions I create. Most of my regular clients are CEOs, CFOs, businessmen, investors, you name it. Usually, they will organize a party and “book” me in advance to provide them with “drugs”. I always make sure they pay half price in advance and half price when I arrive with the stuff so that I don’t get fooled.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught? Isn’t it dangerous for these people?”

“Embry, I never, ever, present my true self to them. Again, I create an illusion of myself when I collaborate with them. And I am never the same person more than once; they actually think there is a whole network behind it. And, I always make sure they are safe and don’t take things too far. That’s why they “book” me. I’m like a designated babysitter for the “junkies”. I take all necessary precautions so that they have fun, don’t harass others, and don’t do things that will get them killed. It’s an extra paid service.”

“And that pays a lot, huh?”

“Everything you see around, and many more, have been purchased with this money. Though, I recently had Alice manage my money and invest them wherever she thinks it’d be profitable for me. You know, so I don’t risk getting caught, and actually start making money in a completely legal way. Though, I have to admit, I liked the small doses of danger, and the money was REALLY good.”

Embry looked skeptical. “Normally I would say that this still seemed illegal and it would be better for you to stop. But,..” He stood up from his chair and came closer to me. “...I also know that you must know what you’re doing by now, and you’re not doing anything that is more illegal than what your clients are doing. So, I think you should choose for yourself, see the pros and the cons, and see what would be better for you.” He wrapped his hands around me and held me against his hot chest.

“If I’m being honest, I have enough money by now to last me a lifetime - a human’s lifetime, maybe two or three. And..I think it is time to go legal. I think Alice’s idea was the right one. It will also give me a chance to be closer to her and the rest of the family - though I told her I didn’t want to take advantage of her gift, she assured me that I wouldn’t.” I sighed. There was a lot of pressure in my head, but Embry’s presence and touch actually managed to keep me calmer than usual.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“I guess it’s time to go deeper, so shoot away.”

“When you said it was easier to stay away from humans when feeding, did you ever actually kill people?”

“Well, I do have pretty good control over my thirst now. I still had to go through the newborn phase though, for a year or two. I killed many people, I couldn’t contain myself, until my gift started developing more, and I could see my ugly, scary side in their head. When I told you I can see what people are thinking..? I basically can see the images and illusions in someone's head - kind of like what Edward does, but he can actually read someone’s very thoughts at a specific moment. I can only see the images. So, I could see that I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t realize it at first. But I didn't want to be like the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t want to be that kind of monster. I know I am a monster, but I didn’t want to live at the expense of other humans. My life being taken away from me did not excuse me from taking other lives.”

Embry was speechless. He only had to squeeze me harder for me to understand that he was trying to sympathize with me. It couldn’t be easier for him when he first phased, and every other moment from that point on couldn’t be any easier. I had to leave my family behind for their own good. He has to live with who he is; he has to keep the secret from his own mother to protect her while going through her critical and vigilant gaze. She was certainly concerned for her son, but knowing about the shifters would most likely put her in great danger, and Embry could not risk that.

We have long forgotten the pizzas, but I reminded myself that the wolf had to eat, so I forced myself out of his arms. Embry looked upset as if I rejected him. “You MUST eat. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

He nodded and grabbed a few slices, devouring them in under a minute, taking a few more on his plate. I looked amused at him; I never saw anyone eat so much so fast. Within ten minutes, he finished all five pizzas I had baked. He looked proud of himself, a wide smile spread across his face.

“You sure have an appetite!” I laughed at him.

“I could say the same about you.” He grinned back, reminding me of the fact that I did actually kill one mountain lion and about a dozen deer.

“Touché.” I laughed and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up in the air. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we just stayed there, foreheads against each other, eyes studying the other’s soul. He kissed me lightly and I could only feel happiness, my undead heart bursting with love, forgetting about everything and everyone.

Suddenly, my phone rang. We both sighed deeply. “Moment ruined.” I said disappointed, climbing out of Embry’s grip, and unwillingly picking up my phone. It was Alice.

“Alice? What happened?” I was worried. Alice did not just call without any reason.

“(Y/N). The newborns. They are coming earlier than we thought.” Alice was panicking by now.

“What do you mean “earlier”? How much earlier?”

“They may be arriving early in the morning, sometime after the sun has risen.”

“Are you sure? That’s like...” I checked the kitchen clock, it was already 11 pm by now. “...in less than 9 hours!”

“I’m positive. Edward and Bella just left. They will be camping in the mountains, where they had agreed. Jacob will probably be on his way there. The wolves will be getting ready by now. I called Sam. They will be staying away from the reservation tonight, just in case. Is Embry with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Okay, good. It will be better if he stayed with you for tonight. The further he is from the reservation right now, the better. The wolves don’t want to risk the safety of their families right now. Only Brady and Collin will stay behind, to make sure everyone back in the reservation is safe.”

“I understand. Thanks for calling, Alice. I’ll see you in the morning. Bye.” I hung up the phone and I turned to look at a shocked Embry, his jaw clenching. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” He sighed deeply. “We’ll manage, (Y/N). Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter if it’s 9, 10, 12, or 15 hours. We’ll be good.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I paused. “I hope so. Can..Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“Can you communicate with the pack? You can use my phone. Tell them to come here. I have plenty of rooms for them to sleep in.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s kind of you, but, won’t the smell annoy you?”

“The smell will be fine. What matters now is that they are safe. They can’t stay in the woods. They need a good night’s sleep. Please, talk to them.”

“Okay.” Embry took my phone, dialing a number, and waiting for a reply. Finally, somebody picked up, and Embry was talking almost frantically to the other person. About 5 minutes later, he ended the call and gave me my phone back. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’ll go get things ready.” I pecked Embry’s lips and ran to turn the heater higher on and get pillows, bedsheets, covers, and blankets for the rooms. I also laid some hair, body, face, and feet towels, in case they wanted to have a bath or a shower.

Apart from my own, the house had four additional rooms that I used as guest rooms. When I bought the house, my thought was that the Cullens may be visiting someday and would like to stay over, so each pair could have their own room. Now, they will accommodate the wolf pack and I was just as happy as if it was family coming over. Well, technically, they were family - they were Embry’s family, so that would likely make me family too? I just hoped they saw me like family.

I finished getting everything ready, spraying some spray freshener around each room and through the corridors, to cover up my own scent. I said I wouldn’t mind their scent, which I wouldn’t, but I didn’t know how my own scent would make them feel, especially when it is spread all over the house. I just wanted them to sleep well, and rest; for tomorrow would be a tough day for all of us. I smelled and heard them quicker than I saw them, and I ran downstairs to stand next to Embry. He took my hand in his own, and we walked towards the door.

Opening the large entrance door, we were greeted by six tired and upset shifters - Sam, Jared, Paul, Quil, Leah, and Seth; though Quil and Seth were a bit happier to be there, compared to the others.

“Hey!” I greeted them, extending my hand to Sam, the Alpha of the pack. He looked at my hand, looked at Embry who nodded, and then, he shook my hand.

“Thank you for having us in your house. I hope we are not intruding.” He was careful with his words, his face serious and stern.

“Of course you are not! Please, do come in.” I motioned them to come further into the house, and they took small steps coming in. I smiled encouragingly. “I have prepared your rooms. Please, follow me.” I walked up the stairs, turning to the left corridor, them following behind.

“Unfortunately, some of you will have to share between you.” I informed them as we were walking through the corridor. “This room is for Sam. As the Alpha, he will be sleeping on his own.” Sam laughed at the others and thanked me. I continued to the next room.

“This room is for Jared and Paul.” Jared and Paul looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t worry. All the beds are quite big, in case you have restless sleep, or just don’t want to be close to each other.” They barely hold their laughs. I had to admit, they were quite amusing.

“Next, this room is for Quil and Seth.” They turned to each other, and high-fived, smiling widely and howling.

I took them further into the corridor, to the biggest guestroom. “And, this last room is for Leah, to have some privacy away for the guys. I know what it feels like being the only girl surrounded by guys, and honestly, I couldn’t handle being surrounded by boys with extremely high hormones.” I turned to Leah, and I saw her smiling at me, mouthing a “Thank you”. I smiled back at her, I felt for her more than anyone.

“Also, as you may notice later, I have also laid some towels on your beds in case you wanted to have a shower, a bath, or use the jacuzzi.”

“THERE’S A JACUZZI?!” Jared, Quil, and Seth practically screamed. Sam turned to stare at them like how a disappointed parent would stare at his 5-year-olds who were causing trouble. Leah rolled her eyes, disappointed but also kind of expecting that. Paul and Embry couldn’t stop laughing. I tried to keep a straight face, stifling my laugh.

“Yeah, every room has a bathroom, equipped with a toilet, a sink, a shower, a bathtub, and a separate jacuzzi. You are also welcome to go anywhere around the house if you can’t really sleep, or if you feel like it. I don’t have anything prepared if you are hungry, but you may bake and eat anything from the freezer. If you need anything else, feel free to knock on my door or call me on my phone. It is written on the phone catalog, near the phone, on your bedside tables. And my room is across the hall, at the end of the corridor. I will leave you to it now. Have a good night's sleep.” I smiled, and they all said their goodnights, walking towards their rooms.

I took Embry’s hand in mine and led him to my own room. I opened the door, walking into the room. “You will be sleeping here tonight. Hope you don’t mind.” Embry was grinning, a wide smile spread across his face, radiating true happiness. He held me in his arms, squeezing me, his wide smile never leaving his face.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping on a cement floor if it meant that I slept with you in my arms.”

“I could say the same. If I could sleep at all.” I laughed and he joined me. “Shhh, the others will hear us. I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable or weirded out.”

“They won’t, believe me. I think that you are the first vampire to warm up to them. Pun intended.” He laughed.

I lightly shoved him back, afraid to put too much force on him. “It’s time to sleep, mister. You have a long day ahead of you.”

“Only if you lay in my arms while I sleep.” He lightly swayed me around, as if we were dancing, and walked me towards the bed. He lied down, me sitting on his lap, each of my legs on each side. It was a very intimate moment but I knew that he had to rest well.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that. You now need to rest. Please.” I stroked his head, my fingers running through his thick hair, which shined even under the dim light that came through the windows, from the full moon in the sky. He sighed and I climbed out of his lap and sat on the bed. He took my hand and kissed it, making my insides melt and my eyes slightly stink with venom.

“You promise you will stay with me forever?” He looked me deep in the eyes, a mix of worry and seriousness in his voice. I looked startled but confident in my answer.

“I promise. You are the most important person in my life now. I won’t leave you, ever. But you have to promise you will stay alive tomorrow. For me, for your mom, for the pack, for the tribe.” There was a pause. Nothing was certain for tomorrow; no one knew what would happen, but we could only hope.

“I promise. I won’t leave you like that.” He shot me a small smile and he leaned in to kiss me lightly on the lips. I kissed him back, thinking that it may be our last kiss, but not wanting this thought to come true.

He slowly laid back on the bed, pulling me in his arms, and kissing me on my forehead. We laid there for a few minutes before his breaths started becoming more steady and heavy, indicating that he finally fell asleep. I looked at the beautiful man in front of me. I wished everything was different; that we met under different conditions; that we were free and careless.

“I promise you, when all this ends, I will take you anywhere, show you everything.” I whispered, kissing him on his cheek, him smiling in his sleep.

We talked for what felt like hours; Embry was telling me stories about the pack, their imprints, the shifting, and everything in between. I lifted a dome-like illusion around the house and the surrounding area, in case anyone came too close to us, and I closed my eyes, listening to Embry’s steady heartbeat, as he took deep breaths. This was the happiest I had ever been in my almost 153 years of life. I sank further into Embry’s arms and wished I could stay there forever.

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

I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I opened my eyes. I was still in Embry’s arms, and thankfully, he was still asleep and really warm. He was breathing deeply and steadily, his lips slightly parted. I smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and pure, I couldn’t imagine him killing vampires. He seemed too good for me, for the world.

However, I couldn’t calm down, too nervous about what was going to happen today. I slipped away from Embry’s embrace, trying not to wake him up. I slowly stood up from the bed and looked at the clock on my bedside table. 3:45 am. Less than 4 hours away from the newborns’ arrival.

I grabbed my phone and ran quietly towards my bedroom door, opening it, and slipping away, trying to go undetected by the wolves who slept across the corridor. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I fixed my brain on a decision I made on the spot, hoping both Alice and Edward would pick up on my actions.

I was worried we would not be able to realize the exact location of the newborns at all times, so I went out to make sure we had the upper hand in terms of time. That’s what I kept telling myself - the actual reason why I did this was actually more selfish. I wanted to know how many of them we’ll be dealing with; how many I would have to mess up with, mentally or physically. How many vampires I would have to fight off to keep Embry safe.

Alice saw the newborns coming out of the sea in her vision, so that was my lead. I assumed they would travel through the Quilcene Bay, which was right in the middle, between Seattle and our fighting location. The 70 miles that separated my house from the bay were nothing for me. I was mostly motivated by anger and protectiveness towards Embry - I had to know and warn the others.

I reached close to the bay and went up to a higher point, so I could watch everything around me better. I looked at my phone. 4:15 am. That was faster than I expected. I decided I would just sit here and wait. The clearing where the Cullens and the wolves chose for the fight to take place was about 35 miles away, which was still far away from Forks, and close enough to the mountains where Bella, Edward, and Jacob would be staying for the night.

My phone rang unexpectedly. I saw the caller ID. Alice.

“Hey, Alice. What’s going on?” I answered casually.

“(Y/N)! Where are you? Why did you leave your home?”

“Hey! Don’t worry. The wolves are safe.”

“You know I’m not worried about the wolves! Why are you after the newborns?”

“I just want to make sure we have the numbers. I need to make sure, Alice.”

Alice didn’t say anything for a while. “Okay. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay. I will call you later. Just make sure the wolves are ready. I will break down the illusion when you are near. I’ll probably meet you at the clearing.”

“Okay. Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye, Alice.” I ended the call and just waited, and waited.

It was almost 5 am, when I saw movement in the water. I leaned closer, trying to be careful to stay out of their way while watching them closely. I knew I would probably be the only one they wouldn’t be able to see, “blinding” their vision if they came close to me.

From Alice’s vision, I remembered about 15 or 20 newborns, but I guessed the number changed during this time. I was now staring at about 30 or 40 newborns, way more than what we expected. It was as if whoever created - I assumed the redhead everyone was talking about - did not just want to take down the Cullens, but the whole town of Forks.

They were walking rather than running, which I thought was odd for newborns, as most of us tend to run all the time at that stage of life. With this speed, they would probably arrive at the clearing in 2 and a half to 3 hours, just like Alice predicted. Hopefully, they would not come across any humans who would, inevitably, become their meal.

I ran away, towards the mountains and the clearing. I would warn the others when I went there, knowing they would have enough time to get prepared.

[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

[broadstbroskis]

the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together). 

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things. 

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them. 

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day. 

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse. 

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done. 

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms. 

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug. 

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down. 

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?” 

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible. 

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced. 

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face. 

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. 

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face. 

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.