#memory book season's greetings

[galaxymagick]

memory book season’s greetings 2023 merch 🌊 | @mint​ 

[prince-taekwoon]

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Nine - Late night scandals

♡♡♡

"What do you think Bridgerton?"

Benedict turns around to find the artist he had accidentally offended at the gallery the other night.

"This one more to your liking?"

"Mr. Granville--" Benedict raises from his chair to approach the man.

"Perhaps they should take it over to Somerset House so it can be skyed right next to mine."

"I believe I owe you an apology, sir." Benedict says, feeling rather embarrassed.

"Unnecessary. I actually quite enjoy the eloquent stings of your critique. So?" He gestures back to the painting on the wall.

"A touch morose for my tastes," Benedict says.

Henry points to the next one.

"A tragedy. The hound deserved better," Benedict comments.

Granville laughs. "Where is yours?"

"My..."

"Your work," Granville clarifies. "Are you tell me you're not an artist yourself?"

"Well, I-- I suppose sometimes I like to... Well, I mean, I almost--"

"I believe 'yes' and 'thank you' are the words you seek. But either way, you should come by my studio." Mr Granville holds out a small card to Benedict, who accepts it. "The pieces I do for myself are there, and I think you will find my real work far less, um... Oh, how did you put it? 'Cold and lacking inner life?'"

Benedict scrunched up his face as he nodded, still burning with embarrassment. "I shall never live that down, shall I?"

Mr Granville leaves.

Benedict returns to his table where he had been absentmindedly doodling. Eyes. He was sketching out a pair of eyes. Pretty ones. From memory.

He sighs and closes the sketchbook.

♡♡♡

As you sit in the drawing room of the Bridgerton house, as invited by Violet, you discover that she had no idea about the boxing match, or that Daphne had been there.

You keep your eyes focused on the latest Whistledown paper, though you had stopped reading it.

Daphne was playing the piano while her mother interrogated her.

"A boxing match is no place for any young lady." Violet sighs.

"Is it a place for a prince? Was he at today's match, sister?" Hyacinth asks.

"He certainly was."

"It is a loathsome and barbarous form of entertainment," Violet was very displeased.

That was when Daphne took the opportunity to mention you had gone as well, which had Violet looking at you.

"You too?"

You glare softly at Daphne, who gives you a smug little look. Crafty one, she is.

"Anthony invited me," you admit.

Violet looked terribly ill all of a sudden. You were sure she would being this up with her eldest son at some point.

"What about the duke?" Hyacinth asks.

"What about the duke?" Both Violet and Daphne ask at the same time. You eye Daphne curiously from your seat.

"Was he also present?" Hyacinth asked, less enthusiastic now.

"I do not know," Daphne says. "If the duke was there, I did not see him."

Hyacinth leaves the piano to go see what Eloise is up to. She had been scribbling away in her book since you arrived.

You put the Whistledown column down and rose from your seat to seek entertainment near the window. Watching the street was surely more entertainment than listening in on that conversation.

Anthony enters the room and greets both his mother and his sister. You turn and he greets you too.

"Did you truly take your sister to a boxing match?" Violet hounds him.

"Your admonishment will have to wait. I have news," he cuts her lecture short. "Prince Friedrich has asked for my permission to propose." He looks at Daphne.

She stops playing. "So soon?"

"Well, what did you tell him?" Violet asks.

"That I know better than to answer for my sister. I have no objections to the man. People speak well of him. Whatever you decide, Daph, you shall have my support."

You look at Daphne quietly.

"I... uh... I..." She doesn't know what to say.

"You need not decide now," Violet tells her. "You certainly have no known him long."

"Let me know when you have an answer, and I shall convey it." Anthony says to his sister.

"Indeed." Daphne looks at him.

Anthony leaves as quickly as he came in. It was clear Daphne needed time to think.

♡♡♡

When Daphne had pleaded with you to attend the next ball with her, you couldn't say no. There was a sadness to her gaze, and you wondered from where it had risen.

Something had happened between her and the duke, and she had been off kilter ever since.

The ball, like all had been so far, was wonderful. The theme was a little more out there this time, but everyone was behaving quite perfectly.

You were standing with Daphne as she scanned the crowd. Exactly who she was looking for, you weren't quite certain. You would suggest the prince on the account that the duke was apparently leaving London tonight.

The prince could be seen across the room. He was in conversation with someone. You glance toward Daphne, but your gaze shifts as Cressida Cowper comes over. You give Daphne a gentle nudge.

"Daphne." Cressida chuckles. "You look beautiful, as always."

"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne says politely.

"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you? I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us, but I never thought youcapable of being my enemy."

"The man made his choice, Cressida. What did you expect me to do?" Daphne asks.

Daphne walks off in the direction of the prince. You look at Cressida and then walk off in the other direction.

There is nothing you could ever say to her.

You begin to walk alongside the dance floor, watching the couples dance. A hand comes into view, and you turn to see a friendly looking young man smiling at you.

"May I have this dance?"

You take a moment to gather yourself. You had hoped one of the Bridgerton boys would be here to dance with you, but you supposed you couldn't rely on them every time.

"You may."

You go with him to dance.

It seemed Benedict wasn't here.

♡♡♡

Benedict was, in fact, making his way to the studio of Mr. Granville. He was intrigued by the artist.

He finds the address and knocks on the door. Henry Granville answers.

"Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict stands there a little awkwardly.

"Come in, come in."

Granville lets him in. Benedict enters and follows him. He is led further inside and finds himself in a large room. A circle of easels presented around two nude models.

"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this." Benedict says.

"Oh, simply a gathering of like-minded souls." Henry tells him. "Here, let me show you what I've been working on."

Benedict is led further inside the studio. He passes a couple of painters discussing war so causally.

"What do you think?" Henry asks.

Benedict walks over and takes a look at the canvas.

"Hmm. It's a far cry from Somerset House, I must say."

"I shall take that a compliment."

They both chuckle.

"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asks.

"There are advantages to being the second-born." Henry tells him. "Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun."

They both chuckle again.

"So... why not go have some fun?" Henry gestures to the models. He's giving Benedict the chance to epress himself through art.

Benedict picks an easel and sits down.

♡♡♡

As you dance once again tonight, you spot Anthony standing off to the side. He's staring at the opera singer.

You hard heard whispers about him being infatuated with an opera singer, but had no idea if there lay any truth to them.

You continue dancing with your partner.

Benedict was still a no-show tonight, which you found to be rather disappointing. You had been looking forward to another evening of his little quips and teasing.

When the dance ends, you curtsy to your partner and head in the direction of Anthony and Violet. Lady Bridgerton had tries to introduce her son to a rather pretty young lady, but he showed no interest.

"Shall we dance, Lord Bridgerton?" You ask, looking at Anthony.

He turns and looks at you, for half a second, thinking you were another lady his mother was intent on pushing on him.

"Yes, let's." He offers his arm, and you take it. Violet watches you both go. Even if he chose you, she would be pleased, but she knows her son will not take you as his wife. You're his friend who has come to rescue him from her for a while.

Violet downs a third glass of champagne.

"She is persistent," you say.

"Hm?"

"Your mother."

Anthony chuckles softly. "Yes. Quite."

"The opera singer..."

He looks at you.

"Nevermind. Its not my business."

Anthony's expression softens. "I was - am - found of her."

"Yes. I assumed as much."

Anthony sighs. "It's complicated.

You nod and say no more on the matter. Anthony spins you around elegantly.

"Is Benedict not here tonight?" You ask, twirling with him.

"Benedict? No." He gazes at you. "Why do you ask?"

"I just noticed his absence."

"Missing your dance partner?" He teases.

You chuckle. "Am I that obvious?"

He winks at you, and you shake your head with a smile. "I'm fond of you boys. I can't help it when I notice one of you is missing."

Anthony grins. "How lucky we are to have gained such a special friend such as you."

As Anthony gives you another turn around the floor, you spot Colin speaking with Penelope. You smile softly at the sight and then turn your attention back to the eldest brother.

At least you'll have one Bridgerton on your dance card tonight.

As the next dance begins, Anthony keeps your company longer. You're aware this may catch attention from others, especially Lady Whistledown should she be here, but none the less, you dance with him twice.

You soon see that Colin has left Penelope on the sidelines to dance with Miss Thompson, and you also find the prince talking to Daphne amidst their dance.

The dance ends, and you manage to catch sight of Daphne fleeing the ballroom.

Anthony bows, and you curtsy.

"Until next time." He nods his head at you. You smile and nod, taking your leave. You worry about Daphne and intend to go check on her, but you're stopped by another gentleman.

You sigh and realise you'll have to dance with him before you can flee again.

The dance feels like it drags on, and on, and on. You smile, you listen to your partner talk, but your mind is focused on Daphne. She did not look well when she fled.

When the dance ends, you spot Anthony leaving the ballroom. You waste no more time and follow him.

He heads outside. You follow.

"Anthony?"

He turns and looks at you. "Go back inside."

"What's the matter? What's happening?"

"Did you see him?" Anthony asks urgently.

"Who?"

"The duke."

"He is here?"

"He was, and now I can't find Daphne." You realise he's concerned about his sister.

You hear something further in the garden, and Anthony hurries off. You follow him, close on his heels.

What you find is not what you ever expected to see.

Simon and Daphne were not just kissing. His hands were all over her. Her dress had been pulled down. You cover your mouth, though you can not hide the gasp that escapes you.

Anthony runs at Simon.

"Bastard!"

Simon receives a strong punch to the face. He falls to the ground, and Anthony takes another swing. He punches him a third time and then stands beside his sister. You hurry to her other side and checks her over.

"Daphne..."

She is speechless. She has no words for you. They have been caught in a compromising position.

"You will marry her," Anthony declares.

"What?" Daphne looks at her brother.

"Immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved further mortification. You will marry her!"

Anthony is angry.

"Brother!"

"I cannot marry her," Simon says.

"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand? I knew you were a rake, Hastings, I never thought you a villain."

"I cannot marry her," Simon states more firmly.

Daphne looks hurt.

"Then you leave me no choice. I must demand satisfaction."

"A duel? Anthony, you cannot--" Daphne begins.

"He dishonours you, sister." Anthony looks at her. "He dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name. I have misjudged you, indeed. You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."

"I understand," Simon agrees. "I shall see you at dawn."

"I do not understand," Daphne says softly. "You would rather die than marry me?"

You look at Simon quietly.

"I am truly sorry."

"We need to go, Daph. Before anyone should see us." Anthony says softly.

You reach out for her arm gently and pull her away, Anthony follows you both.

Daphne takes her brother's arm after he begs of you not to say a word about anything. You swear by it, looking him in the eye. Anthony thanks you.

You drift off from them as you enter the ballroom once again.

Anthony approaches Colin and tells him he is taking her home. He asks Colin to take care of their mother. You decide to step in and help. Anthony looks grateful.

Anthony and Daphne leave.

Colin looks at you, but you just smile softly at him and ask him to help you with Violet. He doesn't say anything about Daphne or Anthony.

Neither do you.

♡♡♡

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[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin’ Way To Start The Day

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy,

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The morning begins the same way it always does, with your neighbor Mike blasting "I Will Always Love You" in his apartment at exactly 8 am just as he had each day since you met two years ago. It was the only constant in your life, but at least you didn't have to use an alarm clock anymore. The sound of Mike belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs was enough to wake everyone in the whole building, including the people on the eighth floor, five stories above him.

But because Mike bought the super’s probably illegally made cologne and because the super was dating Mike’s mother, something that made you regret supe hearing very much, it never stopped despite the numerous complaints.

Then again it was Annie's favorite thing about sleeping over, she liked to scream the lyrics back at the wall and jump on your bed like a crazy banshee. Honestly you hoped that it would stop after Ben had pretended to be your boyfriend, that Mike would finally figure it out and give up.

Guess not.

You sit up in your bed, stretching your hands over your head while humming the chorus under your breath, but you were more of an ABBA fan. If Mike had decided to serenade you with "Take A Chance On Me" or even Aretha Franklin's "You're All I Need to Get By," you might have looked at him differently.

The memory of the dream of his mullet smothering you in your sleep momentarily passes over your mind, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. Or maybe not.

Your bedroom was similar to your living room, covered in plants. Trailing jasmine and bougainvillea blanketed the wall behind your bed in deep red and white, budding lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle sat in pots along the top of your dresser, and a blush colored rose bush, that never went out of bloom, stood proudly in the corner. The only difference was that there were two large piles of books almost as tall as your ceiling, some old some new, braced beside the rose bush like Roman columns. You kept trying to remember to buy a bookshelf, but each time you thought about going to pick one up, Butcher usually called and asked you to help out. Both piles were covered almost completely in pothos and more hung from the brick walls above your only window, that opened the floor length pale yellow curtains with a flick of your hand.

An annoyed purring sound greets your ears as the honeyed light from the now open window wisps over your covers. Bean, your cat, stalks up from the end of the bed, his yellowed eyes narrowed with annoyance at being woken up so early while his charcoal gray coat turns lighter in the brilliant sunlight. Last night he had been in your bedroom when you got home, which meant that he hadn't been around Ben when he came in.

A good thing, because Bean hated just about everyone except Butcher, which you thought was weird. But whenever Butcher dropped by to talk to you Bean always came over to look for rubs, while hissing at anyone who tried to interrupt them. Hughie was actually afraid of Bean, and because Bean was a cat he immediately picked up on this and purposely would jump on the couch next to Annie so Hughie couldn't sit there, Bean also followed after Hughie to the bathroom and waited outside the door to swipe at his ankles whenever he would come out.

But you didn't love him any less.

He puts his paw on your thigh lightly extending his claws to get your attention.

"Oh are you talking to me now?" You smile, rubbing him behind the ears. "I thought you were angry because I woke you up?"

He purrs and pushes his chunky gray head against your hand, but startles when the song switches to "My Heart Will Go On" which causes Mike's mother to join in to his karaoke session.

I'd move if my apartment wasn't so damn cheap.

"Maybe they should take the show on the road. Huh buddy?"

Bean purrs his response while pushing his head further into your hand.

His mom wasn't that bad of a singer, in fact, you thought that you remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between her and the super when she talked about a career as a cabaret singer a while ago.

"Come on, let's see if Gramps killed any of my plants." You smile down at your cat. "If he did I'm going to turn him into a tree."

Bean purrs in agreement.

You get out of bed, adjusting your shirt back down over your shorts before walking to the door with Bean following behind you. You step out into the cool hallway, with more enthusiasm than usual as you try to escape the butchering of the Titanic's soundtrack and collide into something warm and wet.

It takes you exactly seven seconds to realize that the warm, wet, thing that your face is currently stuck to, is in-fact Ben's chest, his shirtless chest. Why he's standing in the hallway outside your door, soaking wet and wearing a towel you have no idea. All you know is that your face is physically laying against the warm flesh of his pectoral muscles.

"Why are you NAKED?" You scream as you peel yourself off of him and turn your gaze away. Your face felt so warm that it was like you'd been standing in front of a volcano for too long and you were sure that you had blushed to the roots of your hair.

You'd only seen him without his shirt on once, when the door to his bedroom was cracked at the apartment he shared with the rest of the group. But it was from the back and you had been walking by to go to the bathroom, and you hadn't looked…

Well, you may have stopped for a second to admire the powerful muscles on his muscular back and maybe thought about waiting for him to turn around so you could see if the front was as good as the back… but you hadn't.

And he certainly hadn't been soaking wet then, and it made you hate him more now, because no one should look as good as he does soaking wet. You personally knew that you looked like a drowned poodle whenever you stepped out of the shower, but him? Soldier Boy looks like he just finished filming a shampoo commercial.

You could see it in your head, him standing under a crystal blue waterfall with the water splashing against weathered rocks before running through his soft brown hair, curving around his broad shoulders, down his toned stomach straight down to his-

NO. Not gonna go there. You could feel your skin heating in embarrassment, almost as if you thought he could read your mind.

"I'm not naked doll, I mean I could be if you wanted me to." He smirks as he hears your heartbeat begin to pick up and reaches for the end of his towel. The towel that was almost too small to wrap around his waist and left very little to the imagination.

"NO!" You shout holding up a hand to stop him, but again brush the front of his chest.

Fuck, you could zest a lemon on those abs.

"Are you sure?" Ben smiles wider, taking a step forward. He's so close that you can smell your grapefruit mint shampoo on him and feel the humidity and warmth of his body as he stands there. For some reason the fact that he used your shampoo, and smelled like your soap, made you feel warm and tingly. It was almost hypnotic. You hated how much you liked it. "Because you're turning that cute little red color you always do whenever I'm around, and your heartbeat is kinda fast."

"No. I don't." You grit your teeth together. "Why are you standing outside of my door naked?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you to come out." His hand presses against the doorway next to your head. "You know, I already took a shower, but if you wanted I'd be happy to get back in with you."

"No thanks. I don't need a shower and I wouldn't shower with you if it was the last shower on earth and I hadn't bathed in forty years." You purse your lips. "Oh right, that happened to you."

Ben frowns at your mention of his time in Russia. You didn't often tease him about being trapped in a lab, you knew that it was a sore spot for him. Plus you'd seen the footage of exactly what those doctors did to him and it was enough to make you want to book a one way ticket to Russia and personally show them what happened when a tree got shoved up your ass.

You open your mouth to apologize.

"I was going to ask if you have any other clothes here. Mine are still wet from last night." He raises an eyebrow, but the humor is gone from his eyes.

"Oh. Um. I can take a look." You turn and walk into your bedroom, trying not to feel awkward about bringing up the lab.

He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve a reminder of how shitty the last forty years have been.

Truthfully, you weren't sure if you had anything that would fit him. Ben was a lot bigger than you, taller and broader. You usually did wear things that were a little big for you, but you didn't think that Ben would fit in any of them.

Maybe I have something from when my brother was here last time.

Darren often dropped by when he was in the city visiting his friends or had a new "business" venture. The ones that never seemed to last and the friends that always seemed happy to spend the moan you "loaned" him for his "best idea yet" as he always phrased it. But he hadn't been by in at least a year.

"It's really green in here too." You hear Ben say under his breath.

You didn't think that he was going to follow you into your room, you thought he was going to stay in the hallway, but no, he had followed you. And he made the room feel even smaller than it was with his broad shoulders and over six foot stature.

The sunlight from the window glinted off his still wet chest and it made your throat uncomfortably tight. For the love of chocolate pudding, WHY does he look so good all the time?

"You can wait in the hall-"

"Wanted to see your bedroom." He smirks. "Though I think that you wanted to show it to me last night-"

You ignore him and turn back to your chest of drawers while Mike and his mother switch to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. You wince as they begin.

"Do they always do that?" Ben asks.

"Yep. Since I moved in." You sigh, shuffling through your t-shirts.

"He's really got it bad Sweetheart. Maybe you should throw him a bone. Kinda seems like the poor guy needs to get some ass-"

"If it's any of your business- which it's not- I do not like him that way."

"Well they're a little loud." You feel Ben take a step closer to you. "But I bet you and I could give them a run for their money. We are in your bedroom after all, might as well make the most of it."

"I didn't know that you liked Karaoke. I'll keep that in mind for you 105th birthday party."

"What? No I meant-"

Bean purrs loudly from his position on your bed and you wait for the telltale sound of Ben shooing him away when Bean tries to puncture Ben's impenetrable skin with his claws, but it doesn't come.

You glance over your shoulder. Are you kidding me?

Bean is sitting on your white plush comforter, rubbing up against Ben's hand, purring while Ben scratches him behind the ears.

Traitor.

"Didn't know you had a cat." Ben says continuing to stroke his hand down Bean's spine, who stands up and turns so Ben can have a better angle.

"I didn't peg you for a cat person. Kinda ruins the whole all-American Man image you have going on."

He shrugs. "I like dogs more, but I don't hate cats. Usually they don't like me very much."

"I wonder why that is." You grumble watching Bean lean into Ben's hand again. "His name is Bean."

"Bean? Why?"

"Because when I got him I was trying to grow green beans in the linen closet and he would sit outside the door and screech until I gave him a green bean to play with."

"You were trying to grow green beans in the linen closet?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good idea, but they like the bathroom more-" You finally find the oversized Led Zeppelin shirt your brother left the last time he crashed at your apartment and a pair of jeans. "A lot of my plants like the bathroom more actually."

"I was going to ask you why the bathroom floor and wall was squishy."

"It's moss. It thrives in humid environments." You hold out the clothes for him.

"Uh-huh." He frowns at the clothes for a minute. "So you're saying you wouldn't want a guy to serenade you like that?" Ben nods his head towards your bedroom wall, just as Mike and his mother begin to belt out the chorus. "Thought girls liked sappy shit."

"I'm not a fan of One Direction."

"Right. You like ABBA more." Ben turns towards your door to go back to the bathroom to change.

Shock momentarily spikes in your chest. "How did you know that?"

He freezes as if you caught him doing something bad, turning slightly towards you. "Um- well, you hum their songs a lot."

"When?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Whenever you're on stake outs. Sometimes when you're reading those files or waiting for Annie at the apartment." He shrugs. “When you were walking last night you were humming ‘Fernando.’"

He noticed that?

"How long exactly were you following me?"

"Long enough." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to keep me talking because you want me to change in here? Because I would be more than happy to drop this towel and show you what a real man looks like Sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself Gramps. If you drop that towel the only thing that'll happen is Bean will think you brought him a green bean to play with." You roll your eyes. "Now get out of my room. I have to change."

Ben begins to say something, but the vines hanging above the door push him out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

That felt good.

After you put on a white t-shirt, your favorite pair of jean overalls and your dark green converse, you make your way out into the living room. Ben is there, lounging on your couch like he owns it. He’s wearing the jeans and t-shirt you gave him, but you can't help but notice how the clothes are just a little too small for him. The way his muscles pull at the t-shirt, the way the jeans hug his thighs and butt-

He's getting way too comfortable here. You think to yourself to avoid the thought of how good he looks on your couch. How it almost feels natural that he's sitting here in your living room, inhabiting your space.

"So what's for breakfast doll face?" He leans his head back to gaze at you with a mischievous smile that makes a warm tingle travel down the length of your spine.

"Well, I'm going to have oatmeal and you're going to have whatever you want I guess?"

His eyes darken. "Whatever I want?"

"Calm down Gramps I meant that there's cereal in the cabinet." You roll your eyes to avoid thinking about the kiss last night and then thinking about how it felt for your body to be pressed against his in the hallway when you ran into him.  Which inevitably leads back to the waterfall fantasy and-

No. No. Not going to do that. Not with him. He's just good at getting women into bed, he doesn't care about you. You think about how he remembered that you liked ABBA. That doesn't mean anything. He doesn't see me as anything more than a conquest and he probably remembered that because he's changing tactics and trying not to act like a creep.

“You’re not going to pour me a bowl?” His smirk pulls down in an attractive pout.

“I think it’s simple enough for your little brain to do.” You don’t turn around from the kitchen cabinets, grabbing a raspberry from the refrigerator and popping it in your mouth. For some reason you noticed that whatever you grew tasted better than anything you bought at the grocery store. You hoped that it didn’t mean that your powers supercharged whatever you grew and that it was actually radioactive or something. 

Because that’s exactly what I need, to turn bright green. 

“There’s nothing little about me doll.” 

“Can’t you ever have a conversation with someone without it revolving around sex?” You grumble banging around in your cabinets to find your instant oatmeal. 

It was a valid point and you were tired of getting whiplash every time Ben acted caring and then flipping back to horny manchild.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben laughs. He stands from the couch and makes his way into your kitchen.

It was hard not to notice how small each room in your apartment looked with him in it. His head was only a foot below the ceiling, not to mention the kitchen was only composed of six cabinets, a small sink, a microwave shoved into a corner, a stove top, and a refrigerator that only came up to Ben’s shoulders. Your bathroom was worse, sometimes the shower was small even for you and you didn’t know how Ben fit in there. 

He probably had to duck down to stand under the shower head. 

And then as you thought that, the image of Ben standing under a waterfall comes creeping back, making the strawberry plant on top of the fridge, the raspberry vines, and the blackberry vines covering your refridgerator burst into bloom.

Thankfully Ben didn’t notice, because he was rooting through the white top cabinet in the corner for one of the cereal boxes. 

I’d never hear the end of it if he saw that happen. 

You glare at the plants in question, eyes shifting to a deep green as the flowers develop into fresh fruit to cover your slip. 

Ben pulls out a box of Lucky Charms, but frowns at Lucky on the front cover, who is throwing a handful of marshmallow charms into the air around him. 

Guess he's not a fan.

 “If I’d known you were going to sleep on my couch I would have gotten Bran flakes and prunes for you.” You smirk as you pour water over the oats in the bowl before placing it in the microwave to cook. “I know people your age need that kind of thing sometimes. Gets the bowel moving.”

“Make fun of my age all you want.” Ben steps around you to grab the almost empty bottle of milk from your refrigerator. “One day you’ll be happy to find out just how experienced I am.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “You’re all I dream about baby.”

You can feel his breath on the side of your neck from how close he is to you, the kitchen seems smaller than it ever has, and he leans forward, sensing your hesitation. One of his hands goes on the kitchen counter to your right, the other places the milk down and then braces on the counter to your left caging you against him. 

“Do any of your lines actually work?” You say, throat tight.

“You’d be surprised.” He smirks wider, green eyes sliding up and down your body. 

 The air in the kitchen electrifies, something passing through the air between the two of you that makes you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His eyes are softer green now, reminding you of the color of fresh leaves on an oak tree in spring, bright, strong, and full of life. His body is pressed gently against yours, the strong muscles of his abdomen laying on your hips, muscular arms making sure that you don't walk away.

You try not to think again about how good he looks in your apartment, how calm and relaxed he seems when he’s away from Butcher and not wearing his uniform. 

Standing here in your apartment, he looked normal, human. Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were, when you could do what you did, when you saw him get hit with a car and shove it away with one hand. 

He was still ridiculously attractive, the kind of attractive that you’d read in romance novels and in classic Roman literature, the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, the kind of ruggedly handsome that made smart girls stupid. 

You were really feeling that last one. Because you were desperately trying to hold on to your dream of being with someone that understood every part of you, but Ben was making it hard.

It wasn’t that the idea of sleeping with him was terrible. It wasn’t. It was far from terrible it was the idea of having sex without feelings that you didn’t like. You didn’t want to sleep with him because you knew that he only saw you as something to be possessed not as an equal or someone he cared about. Soldier Boy only cared about himself, that was apparent.

He’s only interested in you because you haven’t given in. You think to yourself. It's all about the thrill of the chase, nothing else. I'm worth more than that. I'm worth more than one night.

“In fact, I think it’s working on you doll.” Ben leans down towards you so close you can feel his words in the air between your faces, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say no.

That made you pause. Ben didn’t seem to be the type of man who was patient. You’d walked in on him making out with numerous women on the couch back at the apartment he shared with the rest of the team, saw how he took control, saw how he didn’t seem to wait for them to say no or really say anything at all. Not to mention one time when you walked into the shared apartment and could hear Ben with one of his "dates" in his bedroom. Nothing about that seemed patient at all.

But this Ben standing in your kitchen was different. He was almost smiling, dark hair still damp from the shower curling on his forehead, the t-shirt damp around the collar, jeans a dark blue, and the smell of your shampoo fills your senses again all over again. It made you wish for this person all the time. The one that you could see yourself falling in love with, not the racist, sexist, and inappropriate jerk that seemed to dominate his persona at all other parts of the day.

Funny, the only time you’d ever seen Ben like this, was when the two of you were alone- well sometimes- other times he annoyed you without end and made you want to jump out a window. 

But why? Why only around me?

The feeling in your chest grows. It jumps from synapse to synapse, pulses along your skin, buzzes in your blood, tangles through your hair, and radiates through the air like a sound wave. Your eyes drift down to his lips remembering exactly what it was like to kiss him last night. How he seemed to consume you whole, how everything else fell away, how Ben curled himself around you, how he-

Your cell phone rings, breaking through the moment, and making you remember exactly why you didn’t want to give in to Ben and remember the kind of person he was. 

You push him away and pull your cellphone out of your pocket. Butcher's photo and name appear on the screen.

Shit.

"Hey Butch, what's up?" You look away from Ben, forcing yourself to calm your racing heart.

Ben perks up at the mention of Butcher’s name.

“Do you have any idea where Soldier Boy is?”

“Soldier Boy?”

“Seems like our blunt smoking man out of time has vanished. Been trying to text him all bloody morning.”

At least he doesn’t know that Ben is here. That’s good. I’d never hear the end of it if-

Ben snatches the phone from your hand and holds it up to his ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

The softness was gone, his eyes had hardened again, and the spell was broken. Ben was no longer relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and guarded, jaw set.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ben didn’t like Butcher. Sometimes you wondered why Ben decided to stay.

Probably because the alternative was being frozen like Han Solo next to his son.

When Ben had knocked Homelander out, you hadn’t believed it, and despite Ben’s arguing Butcher wanted to keep Homelander a supe, and just put him on ice. You had no idea why, especially since Butcher had been gunning for him forever, but had the sneakiest suspicion that it was because of Ryan.

But you didn't blame Butcher for that, watching your father get killed in front of you seemed traumatic, not to mention Ryan was still reeling from watching his mother die.

You turn back to your microwave to pull out your bowl of oatmeal with a groan.

Now Butcher’s going to mock me endlessly about going home with Soldier Boy. We didn’t do anything! Well…

Your mind flits back to the searing kiss you shared and to five seconds ago when whatever the hell just happened.

“You want me to meet you in fucking Jersey?” Ben laughs.

You choose not to eavesdrop on the conversation, instead you busy yourself with sprinkling brown sugar onto your breakfast and plucking a few more raspberries from the vines.

“Fine.” Ben almost growls before holding out the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Of course he does. Maybe I can pretend to lose the signal with a piece of paper or a candy wrapper.

“Hello-“

“You crazy wanker.” Butcher chuckles into the phone. “Guess your night was a little more exciting than mine eh? Oi Hughie, you owe me a tener!” He shouts to Hughie who you can guess is sitting nearby.

“What? He’s with y/n! No way!” You hear Hughie shout back, muffled but there.

Damn it he’s gonna tell Annie. She's going to start sending me pictures of babies photoshopped in supe suits.

“You guys were betting that he was here?!” You shout making eye contact with Ben who only smirks before he busies himself with getting a bowl for his cereal.

“He left about two minutes after you did. Said some bullshit about a smoke break.” Butcher is smiling and you know it. “How was he? Was he as good as all the girls say?" Butcher coos on the other side of the line.

“Nothing happened-“

“Sure it didn’t Cherie!” You hear Frenchie crow. “Hopefully you got to relieve some of that tension no?”

“I hate all of you.” You grumble, and before Butcher can say anything else you hang up the phone and glare at Ben. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“You just had to follow me home!”

“You shouldn’t have been walking out there alone.”

“I do it all the time!”

“Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you walk around alone in the middle of the night.”

"Like hell. I don't need a babysitter!"

"I think you do-"

"No I don't. In fact why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" You shout, snatching your bowl of oatmeal before moving to the wobbly kitchen table that you smooshed up against a window that looks out onto your fire escape.

"Because I tend to like morning sex. It's a great way to start the day. Thought you'd be interested." Ben winks as he sits across from you, barely fitting in the wooden chair.

Your phone buzzes where it sits on the table beside your bowl. When you flip it over, you see the text from Annie.

Annie: YOU SLEPT WITH SOLDIER BOY?!!!!

You: I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

Annie: That's a yes. TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!

You sigh and shovel a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, eyes drifting up to the top of your phone screen focusing on the time.

"SHIT! I'm late for work!" You shout before shoving as much oatmeal as you can into your mouth.

"Work?" Ben looks up from his bowl of cereal confused as you begin to run around the room.

The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal falls into the sink with a resounding crash, Bean's cat food lands haphazardly in his bright green food dish, and you practically run to your tote bag that hangs on a peg by your front door.

"I told you. I work at a plant shop." You glance back at your barren coffee maker mournfully. The thought of trying to get through the day without coffee seemed impossible, not to mention you didn’t have time to grab one on the way to work from your favorite shop just around the corner.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Some of us have to work for a living." You run your fingers through your hair quickly pulling it back in a loose ponytail.

"You should leave your hair down." Ben says from the table watching you.

"What?"

"It's prettier when it's down."

"I don't have time for your misogynistic comments. Come on let's go."

"What?"

"I'm not going to leave you here in my apartment alone. You don't have a key."

"You could give me yours-"

"HA. No that's not going to happen. Come on." You tug on his muscular arm, trying to get him up out of the chair, but he barely moves.

“You know you could call out of work and we could spend the day in bed.” He smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “I mean you look good baby, but I think you'd look even better naked. Plus, Butcher and the rest of those fuckers already think we slept together so we might as well-“

“Not a chance Gramps. Either get up out of the chair and leave through the door or leave through the window. It’s your choice and I have no qualms with throwing you down to the street. But please don't make me do that because I can't afford a new window."

Ben rolls his eyes, but finally gets up to follow you. He actually tries to open the door for you, but you place your hand on his chest.

“Nah uh uh. Bowl in the sink. I’m not going to clean up after you.”

Ben sighs and mumbles something under his breath that’s lost in Mike’s inhuman screech of “Love on Top.”

Yeah. What a great fucking way to start the day.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

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[munsonsfairy]

I always see bbf abby but never sbf, so maybe older abby x friends little sister (of age of course, like about to graduate college) 🕺🏽 reader is visiting her sister and she sees abby type thing idk

Btw, your work is amazing 🙂‍↕️🩷

love me tender ✨🐚🤍🌸🐠

author’s note: thank you so much! i appreciate you for reading and sending in a request. i hope you enjoy! thank you for @katemartinis for proofreading. 🤍

abby wants say yes to heaven, say yes to you, and let fear she has fall away. you thought you were only a lost memory to abby until this summer. now, you’re standing in front of abby in the rain with shoes full of water staring at each other.

content: fluff with angst. summer before graduation. 18+ no smut. no specific descriptions of reader but is feminine.

word count: 2.2k

The salt air coming in from your open window cools your skin from the summer heat. You're lying on your bed watching season three of stranger things as you always do at the start of summer. Or at least you were watching it until your best friend, Jackie, came over. It's the summer before your senior year and you’re trying to soak up every bit of it before you graduate.

You and Jackie made a list of what you want to do this summer consisting of tanning to getting matching tattoos to trying out surfing. Luckily you live on an island making it easy to complete. today you wanted to check off going to the aquarium off your list. While you were going through your closet for an outfit, Jackie was talking about a boy she swears she’s in love with after knowing him for two weeks.

Finally, you found the dress you were looking for. You always felt your best while wearing it and thought your skin glowed with the color. you stood in front of the mirror in awe.

Downstairs, you hear the door slam and someone yell to your mom that they’re hungry.

It's your older sister, Sarah coming back from volleyball practice. You both might be lesbian, but someone was definitely dropped too many times as a baby. You hear your mom greet Sarah and someone else.

“Well look who it is. my favorite Anderson!”

Abby. Anderson.

She's your sister’s best friend and also plays in the same volleyball team. You've had a crush on since you laid eyes on her. The way she carries herself and listens to you always filled you with butterflies. making eye contact with her blue eyes made you dizzy. Her love for books makes you wish you didn’t get so flustered around her so you could ask her about what she’s currently reading.

There was something about Abby that had your heart wanting more. she always knew how to pull you in. Unfortunately, she was off limits. your older sister made you promise you wouldn’t complicate things and ruin her friendship, but it takes two to tango. the stolen glances and subtle touches can only last so long before Sarah gets suspicious. Neither you nor Abby have confessed any real feelings, but it was enough to raise red flags for Sarah.

You feel yourself getting nervous at the thought of seeing her again. You haven’t seen Abby since last summer since she wasn’t home for Christmas. the four of you camped out together at the beach since the weather was more tolerable compared to summer. Sarah and Jackie fell asleep, so the both of you laid down next to each other looking up at the stars. Abby was a nerd when it came to constellations. She pointed out every single one she found, then it got quiet letting you only hear the waves crashing.

You felt at peace and closed your eyes to take it all in. Abby turned her head and admired you as she always did. The next morning, you woke up to Abby holding you close to her chest; her breath tickling your neck. You look up to see the blonde deeply sleeping. Her eyes lashes so long and freckles covering her skin. Being an early bird has its perks when you wake up before your older sister sees you cuddling her best friend.

Your reminiscing is soon interrupted by your older walking into your room eating a sandwich and laying on your bed with Jackie.

Just in record time, Abby comes behind her but doesn’t go into your room. Instead, she leans against your doorway focusing on the one person.

Through your mirror your eyes made eye contact with the bluest eyes you’ve seen. her freckles covered her sun kissed skin. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest making her arms show off for you.

Abby’s eyes rake over your body, drinking in every curve before meeting your eyes again. She tried to be discreet but couldn’t help but admire you.

She thought you were glowing and couldn’t believe such beauty existed, but you always proved her wrong. She loved way your eyes crinkled with your laughed at her joke. Oh my god she thinks I’m funny. Those were one of the few times she saw your true personality.

SAY HI IDIOT. Abby’s mind screamed at her.

“Hi.”

Her voice filled with honey and softness. You feel your knees get week and feel a shiver run through your spine. Abby notices and smirks then looks away to let you breathe.

You mentally kick yourself for not evening answering. It's one word!! two letters!! stupid stupid stupid!!

Thankfully, your sister and Jackie were too busy in their own world to notice or so you thought.

“I’m sure it would be fun if Abby came with us!” you turn to Jackie with wide eyes who is smiling knowing what she’s doing.

𓆉⋆.˚ 333 °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

Since Sarah and Jackie went to the reptile exhibit, you and Abby stayed on a bench admiring the open ocean exhibit. Reptiles weren’t really your thing. The blue hues fill from the water paint the walls. It feels like the fish are moving in slow motion. You're in awe of the two stingrays swimming together it almost looks like they are dancing.

Although, the sea creatures were beautiful, Abby couldn’t focus when she felt your arm touching hers, or your hands brushing against each other when you were walking next to each other earlier. If only you knew how it took everything in her not to reach for your hand. she has been this close to you before but today felt different. The peace she was feeling was something she wouldn’t be able to put into words.

“Do you think seals have spots?” Abby asked as suddenly.

“Hm?” You missed her question when you turned to look at her. you feel a little embarrassed by how she can easily throw you off.

She laughs, “Do you think seals have spots? Owen swears up and down he saw one spotted. He says saw one and I haven’t heard the end of it. Not saying I want to prove him wrong but…” She trails off.

“Oh, definitely. Have you considered researching your question? I mean you do know how to use your phone, right or do you need assistance?” You laugh at her.

Abby playfully rolls her eyes, “You think you’re so funny, huh? I personally would love to see this seal in person.” She shrugs.

You laugh but this time Abby fully sees you. She wishes she could freeze time and just look at you forever. To make you laugh and smile every day.

“Do other people think you’re funny?”

Abby looks towards the fish tank shaking her head but still smiling, “No, they don't.”

For a moment you didn’t let your nerves hold you back, so you squeeze her bicep, “Let me be the first to tell you that you are very funny.”

You lay your hand back down to your lap, but Abby reaches for it and holds your palm up. She traces the lines on your hand and finally decides that it’s now or never.

It felt like she was on Saturn, and it was only the two of you. Nothing else mattered. All of her nerves were gone. It felt like a dream, but the warmth of your hand reminded her it was real.

“You're staring,” you whisper.

“I like looking at you,” Abby whispered back smiling.

Abby raises her hand reaching for your cheek. Her thumb gently rubbing your soft skin; scared to break you. She drags down her thumb to your lower lip sending a shiver down your spine. The world slowed down for the two of you. Abby admired every detail on your face just in case this was the last time she was this close. She could smell the coconut perfume you spayed earlier. She knew what color your eyes were, but they were so much better up close. Her eyes flickers from your lips to your eyes. Abby felt herself leaning towards you as if it was the most natural thing.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?” Jackie asked smiling.

Out of fear, Abby dropped your hand and pulled away from you. “N-no,” she stands up quickly and walks in front of you away from the group. Luckily, your sister didn’t see since she was walking a bit behind Jackie. The rest of your time at the aquarium Abby avoids looking at you after that. It's all gone.

𓆉⋆.˚ 444 °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

The car ride home was filled with tension. Abby had barely said a word to anyone. You sat in front while she drove back to your house staring at the raindrops that filled the window. Summer might be your favorite season, but hurricane season makes you wish it was over already.

You finally got the confidence to look at the blonde next to you and see nothing but an emotionless face. Her eyes aren’t the same blue you saw earlier. They look empty. Abby must have felt you staring because she sighed and made sure you heard it.

Your brain replays what happened earlier over and over like a record player. There was never a moment where Abby looked at you the way she did right now.

After what felt like hours, she drove into the driveway of your house. Your sister and Jackie quickly got out of the car leaving you alone with Abby. You felt a knot in your stomach and don’t feel words come out when you open your mouth. Out of habit you anxiously pick the skin on your fingers.

“Wanna come in? I think we’re going to order some pizza. Sarah always orders way too much food for us to finish,” you ask trying to break the tension.

Abby clears her throat, “Uh, I can’t tonight. rain check? I’m pretty tired it was a long day.” Her eyes never met yours since you were at the aquarium. You missed her blue eyes filled with love. Now you couldn’t tell what she was feeling.

“Oh sure! We have the whole-.”

“I think it’s getting late don’t you think? I’m sure they’re waiting for you,” she interrupts. You hear the irritation in her voice and almost leave, but you needed to ask her why she changed her attitude in a matter of seconds. You really thought today was the day you’d finally tell her what your heart feels. How you much you find her funny and think she deserves to have someone love her.

“What changed, Abby? I know it wasn’t only in my head what happened earlier, or did I imagine it?”

Abby sighs and looks towards her fingers, “You didn’t imagine it, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be together. We're just good friends and I don’t think it’s the best thing to do. I mean what will you sister think?”

Her heart beats for you but she could never admit it to you. She's watched you go from relationship to relationship to break up to break up. yet, she can’t get the words out to tell you.

You scoff, “Just good friends, huh? you’re so full of shit, Abigail. I mean you were there! was I the only one who felt the feeling?”

“What feeling,” Abby asked confused.

“You know! the feeling! The feeling you get before you kiss someone for the first time. The excitement, anticipation, and butterflies in your stomach. The way your heart flutters when you finally kiss the girl you love!” You were talking so fast and just ranting now that you didn’t even notice you confessed your feelings to her.

“Wait what?” Abby was shocked but knew she shouldn’t be. She was there and so were you.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here explaining this to you and expecting you to understand. Just next time, don’t look into a girl’s eyes and say you like looking at her if you’re planning to be an ass.” You open the car door and start running to your front door without getting soaked by the rain.

It took Abby two seconds to finally realize the girl of her dreams is running away from her. Abby ran out of her car leaving the door open without a care.

“Do you really want to know how I feel?!” she yelled out.

“I’ve never loved anyone like you! I’ve never felt so much peace before in my life! Everything about you consumes my being it’s frightening. This love I feel for you is so beautiful yet so scary. If choosing you means that I am losing your sister as a friend, then fine!”

You felt like your heart was beating so hard as you stared at Abby trying to process everything.

“And you couldn’t say all of that in the car, Abigail!? I have water in my shoes, I’m cold, and we-.”

Abby grabs you with both of her hands and kisses you. It takes you a couple seconds to process and kiss her back. Your eyes fluttered closed and you felt everything happening all at once. Her lips are softer than you imagined and so familiar. Your hands move to her braid making her moan into the kiss and letting you slip your tongue inside. She wrapped her arm around your waist bringing you closer to her.

“Wow…” you were breathless with your eyes still closed. When you finally opened them, Abby was smiling and looking into your eyes. She leans in again and whispers, “Can I do that again?”

[pirateprincessblog]

Read For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three (new!)

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: books, fanfictions, TV shows and games took your excitement about real life away. nothing has your heart beating fast, everything is pretty much the same and dull to you. nobody could pull you out of your void of fantasy for a long time. still, your best friend decides to try one last time. she does succeed, but not in the way she meant. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, best friend's father seonghwa 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: in my dilf atz phase.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

Buried into your books and the void of the fantasy world, you had little to no excitement left in your body for the real life events. They lacked... something. Everything was awkward, miscalculated, weird and stiff. In books, the world was so fluid. Tension, passion, strong emotions like love and hate were on almost all pages. It filled your empty memories and fantasies just right. You now wished to drop out of college, buy a castle, run into a mysterious higher vampire and be the reason he exists as a good person now. Or maybe succeed in going through the wall and ending up on Platform 9¾, preferably face first into Cedric Diggory's chest.

Erotica isn't foreign to you either. They say the dirtiest ones are usually the virgins. And they weren't wrong. The amount of frustration trapped in you did you no good. You used to wonder how your male friends could do it so often, but once you got a taste of that side, you understood better than anyone. Countless nights of your fingers working on all your sensitive buds had you only wishing for more, even after release. It just wasn't enough. You hoped for a miracle every single time. You hoped that one of the men from your fantasies would appear in your room and satisfy you just how you wanted. Wouldn't it be just perfect if Henry Cavill appeared in the room? Preferably in his Witcher costume? If not him, then Lee Dong Wook would do equally good.

You drop your book on the bed. Your eyes skimmed over words, but you didn't pay attention to a single thing that was written. You decide to take a break from reading. Maybe you could even drink your first glass of water today. The sun was almost setting, yet you only had a bowl of cereal and half of a pizza slice. You glance at the clock. You despised it. It only reminded you of how fast time flies. You didn't even get to the steamy part of your fantasy, yet you already had to get dressed and wait for your friend in the driveway.

Your college best friend is back from her seasonal vacation in the Alps. Or was it Greece this time? It didn't even matter. It seemed like they only went to keep the tradition, not because they wanted to. She was probably richer than the whole college combined, yet she didn't know where to use all her fortune. So she settled for buying presents for her friends, which is why you now have a full wall covered with books and collectible figures and movie props.

Thirty minutes later, you are outside, your eyes searching for a black Mercedes with light up wheels and a suspicious looking driver. All three of their bodyguards were funny. They weren't as they described them in books. Her bodyguards were stiff, bland, and didn't say more than a greeting. You didn't exactly expect them to flirt with you any chance they get like you were used to on the pages, but the behaviour was still a disappointment for you.

Chills run up your spine as you watch the sun set. You regret picking out the outfit you are wearing. As if you weren't aware that the summer days are far behind. You wore the dress you got from her last trip to Paris. She had a great fashion sense and loved fashion in general, and to turn down her clothes meant a heartbreak for her.

"As soon as I saw it, I thought: her."

The way she described how she found it was amusing to you. It was knee-length and had long see-through sleeves. You felt the prettiest in it.

Finally, you heard the familiar engine. You didn't even have to look. The vehicle pulled up in front of you, and before the driver could get out, the door opened. A tall masculine figure stepped out of the car, and opened the door all the way for you. You feel chills run up your spine once again, this time not from the cold, but from the sight in front of you.

The man in front of you was absolutely stunning. He had the sparkliest and biggest eyes you had ever seen, broad shoulders, a confident smirk and-

"Dad, stop messing with her! She will think she is going to get kidnapped!" Your friend's voice yelled from inside the car.

You gulped, eyes still not leaving his face. In the three years of your friendship with her, you never saw her parents. Especially her father. Not even on photos. So, naturally, you'd need time to recover from this shock.

"Whenever you are ready."

The man politely bowed his head towards the seats, then stepped back so he could close the door after you. He sat in the front seat, then nodded towards the driver as a sign to turn on the engine.

The ride was peaceful, if you exclude your friend's nails clicking against the phone screen.

"I hear you like books." The words drip from his lips like honey.

You blush at simple eye contact through the rear mirror. His gaze has your fingers playing in your lap and your thighs pressed together.

He is so hot.

"I do, Mr Park."

"That's lovely. It's rare to find people in younger generations that enjoy reading. They mainly use it as a reason to bully someone."

"It truly is," you confirm, wanting to keep the conversation going. "You enjoy books too, Sir?"

Fathers of your other friends usually tell you to call them by their names. But not Park Seonghwa. He sure as fuck is not like other fathers you've met. You don't remember the last time your cheeks felt so hot because of someone.

"Of course. I have a whole library in my house. You are free to see it if you wish. My sweet social daughter will show you. Won't you, darling?"

His gaze switches to your friend, who is too invested in the ongoing conversation on her phone to pay attention to the one happening in real life.

"Sure, sure."

Park Seonghwa shook his head with a chuckle, then sat back in silence. You looked around you. The girl next to you was dressed beautifully as usual. It surprised you how she could make all those weird elements feel so ordinary and pretty. You, on the other hand, struggled to pair the jeans and a top. You barely figured out which shoes went with the dress. You felt underdressed. Her father wore a suit, and she had an elegant short blazer which matched her trousers, paired up with heels and a matching purse. You had a phone in your hand and a tote bag with your pajamas for the night. And a jacket to keep you warm. It didn't go with the outfit you had poorly put together at all. You wanted to run back home and wear something more fitting for the house you'll be staying in for a day or two.

You were in it once. You felt ridiculously small inside it. The ceilings were so high, dazzling chandeliers hanging from them. The windows were tall and in a minimalistic style. You only wondered how much time it took to clean them. They had all sorts of things you thought were unnecessary. Like a pool. The beach was just fifteen minutes away, the pool was there just to show off. So many bedrooms also had you confused. Since Spring, only two people live there now; your friend and her father. The mother filed for a divorce as she found love in a tourist from Poland. Poor Mr Park.

"Let's go," your friend finally put the phone away.

It took you a few moments to take in all the differences that were made. The portrait of a woman and a child above the fireplace was now gone and replaced with one of the man you just met and a young lady in which you found a sister 3 years ago.

"Anyone want my famous fig cheese prosciutto bites?" The man held a silver plate full of the said bites in front of the girls.

"No, dad, disgusting. Fruit and meat?"

"Growing up this spoiled one would think your taste in food would get better. Chicken nuggets don't really pass as an appetiser meal."

You watch with amusement as the two exchange a few funny grimaces, before your friend makes her way towards her room. "You eat some of that, since I know damn well you didn't eat shit today."

"I so did."

"You're so lying, bitch."

You laugh, ready to throw the word right back at her, when you feel Mr Park's gaze on you.

"Cuss her out all you want. It is none of my business."

"No, no. It's not quite appropriate for someone to talk like that."

In front of you, you add in your mind.

He hums, then smiles at you. "Bite?"

"I'd love to."

It takes only an eyebrow raise from him to let you know that you could've worded it better.

"I mean, I'd love one."

You take one from the plate, then admire it. Were you supposed to shove the whole thing in your mouth? Maybe pull it apart and eat it in rows? Bite into it?

"I don't usually try to poison my daughter's friends, doll. Just enjoy it. If we don't eat these tonight, they will go bad and I'll have to throw them away."

The little nickname slip had your toes wiggling in your shoes. He is so effortlessly breathtaking. Seeing that you're still struggling with the food, he takes one bite in his hand. He removes the toothpick holding the ingredients together, then steps towards you.

Every thought you had in your mind until then disappeared. Park Seonghwa gently cupped your lower jaw, and you relax into his touch. You look straight into his eyes as he puts the food between your lips. When you fail to move on your own, he smirks with amusement. Two fingers gently push the food into your mouth, resting on your tongue for a split second.

"Can you chew that for me?"

You feel your core throb. You feel fragile and weak under his touch. Most of all, you feel horny for your friend's dad. You remember to blink, then start chewing on the delicious food. He does not avert his eyes as you do so. Once you made sure to chew enough times, you finally swallow. A satisfied smile decorated his face as his thumb caressed your cheek, hand still cupping your jaw.

"Good girl."

You think you see stars. Park Seonghwa has an impact nobody ever had on you. And lots of them tried. Park Seonghwa didn't even need to try. He just - existed.

The man lets go of your face, then silently makes his way towards his room. At least you assume it is his room. He walked away so calmly, almost making you think you imagined what had just happened. Your face suddenly feels empty and cold without his touch. He had you in a chokehold with a simple touch and a smile.

You almost forget about your best friend waiting in her room. You hope your blushing won't betray you. After all, she must be tired of people wanting to fuck her dad.

Your conversations and jokes don't stop until after midnight. By now, you've had a stand-up show, a few episodes of your favorite TV show, a few funny clips of your favorite artists, and a fashion show. You are exhausted, almost ready for bed. Almost. You still need to get the frustration out somehow. The younger girl is more than ready for bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, she was out of this world. You laugh at her smeared makeup, then reach for the box of wet wipes. You gently clean her face, then try to do her usual routine. You don't remember it, but you try your best.

You make your way to her tall mirror, ready to clean your face too. If your best friend didn't study and work with fashion, she would surely be a makeup artist. It's a pity that you have to wipe down the art she created. Your hands fall down, and your eyes skim over your outfit and hair. She made you wear the brand new lingerie she got for her birthday as a joke. It was funny when they were in her hands, but you'll never forget the gasp that came out of her when you stepped out of the big wardrobe.

"Wanna scissor?"

You'd be up to try it, just not with her. Not while you have her dad on your mind. Perhaps- perhaps you could suddenly get thirsty and go to the kitchen dressed like that? The lingerie was now hidden under a short silver silk dress she wore for her ex boyfriend's birthday party. It looked plain and stupid, but the young girl had the power to turn it into something jaw dropping. Paired with silver heels and dazzling makeup, you looked ready for, well, someone to destroy it.

You open the door, then slowly step in the hallway. The girl explained that Mr Park's room is at the end of the hallway, but you cannot just walk in and expect something to happen. Maybe he simply liked teasing. Maybe he never responds to all those calls for pleasure. He is surely aware of what an impact he has on people, and maybe he finds it amusing. You still have a shot to see for yourself.

You drink a glass of water. Then another one. He isn't here. He must be asleep already. He is a hard working man after all. All this didn't come into his life easily. God, good looking and hard-working? He must be the whole package. Who in their right mind would leave a man like this? Perhaps she couldn't keep up with his sex drive. You hope.

You set the glass aside, and examine the kitchen again. Many drinks decorated the shelves, along with luxurious looking glasses and other glass decorations. You could only dream of having a home like this. You could probably afford a single spoon from the bottom drawer. You just couldn't wait to meet your soul mate and force your brilliant ideas on them. After all, you have a gift for that. Decorating, I mean. Not the forcing part.

You feel less sleepy now that you've drank so much water. You wander around the living room for a while, hoping he would come down at any moment. Yet it still doesn't happen. Your feet carry you to the door near the staircase. You slowly open it, then look around. With your luck, he will come down now that you are snooping around his home. He better stay asleep now.

You step inside, debating whether to turn on the lights. Fuck it, you think. Your hand finds the light switch on the cold wall. You squint at the sudden brightness. It takes a while for your eyes to get used to it, but when they do, all you can do is gasp.

The walls were covered with antique bookshelves, each filled with books from top to bottom. They were divided in sections, and they had the most beautiful covers and spines you've ever seen. You step inside, closing the door behind. The room was endless rows of fantasy, sci-fi, romance, poetry, educational books, and-

Erotica.

Fuck, lots of erotica. A whole wall, maybe even two, dedicated to the sinful delight. You didn't even need to check if you're right. You'd recognise some of those spines even in darkness. A single desk is placed in the middle of the room, along with a comfortable looking chair. Pens and notebooks are neatly placed in the top corner, and a book rests at the edge. A suit jacket, most probably Mr Park's, is placed over the backrest. The room was organised, clean, and smelled like sandalwood mixed with jasmine. It was pleasant enough to just stand there. Yet the curiosity got the best (or worst) of you, as it always did.

The smell of books takes over your senses. You feel the worn out spines and edges under your fingertips. He has them all: from the very first romance novels with the very first sex scenes to steamy books who had sex written all over them. You weren't sure which ones you liked more. You only knew that you'd settle for anything just to get a little taste.

Your gaze falls on the book which laid on the desk. His most recent read, perhaps? It still had a bookmark, you notice. You sit on the chair, and almost sink into it from the softness. You close your eyes, inhaling all the scents you can. You sense a hint of bourbon. Even his scent makes your lower stomach burn with unreleased sensation.

You take the book into your hands, then turn it over. The summary made your curiosity even worse, and you could forget about sleep for at least two more hours. You lean back, put your feet on the desk, and happily start with the book. It has a plot, of course, but currently? You couldn't give a single fuck about it. But you aren't one to skip pages just to get to a certain point in the story. So you force yourself to read through the little boring descriptions. In the corner of your eye, you spot a box of tissues peeking out of the bottom drawers. You see no other chairs around here. It means that nobody enters the room.

A man and a box of tissues mean only one thing.

You sigh at the picture that forms in your head. You see Mr Park sitting on the chair. He is wearing his suit vest, a book in his hand and legs spread comfortably. His other hand is wrapped around his cock, which you know is thick. Your eyes have dropped down there once or twice. He is lazily stroking himself, his attention still fully on the book. There is just something so fucking hot about watching a man satisfy himself.

You feel your throat go dry. You open your eyes, ready to put the book away and try to go to sleep. Yet the plot has just started to get steamy. You sit back once again, the book in your hand not getting any rest tonight. Your eyes skim over the hot descriptions, each making you more flustered. The thought of Park Seonghwa reading this is driving you crazy.

Nicholas has waited for this moment for months, yet it felt like years to him. He would use every second of it, and he will be the best she ever had.

He worshipped her all night long, explored her body with his tongue, whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and grabbed at anything he could. He devoured her, his wet muscle tirelessly working on her sensitive bud. Her cries of pleasure had him cumming in his own pants, yet he didn't care. He existed for her, and her only.

Was it too much to ask for a simple eating out? You wonder how it feels. You had one, a long time ago. Along with a messy first time. God, the second time might've been ever messier. None of it was enjoyable. You too wanted to be manhandled. You too wanted to be worshipped. You wanted someone to tirelessly eat you out until you cream. And scream.

You groan. Continuing will do you no good, but going to sleep is impossible. You could rub out a quick one and then try to rest. Wouldn't be your first time. You feel yourself dripping through your panties. All these descriptions have your head spinning. You reach for the box of tissues. The last thing you needed was to leave evidence that you snooped around. If you're going to leave one, it better not be an arousal stain on the chair.

You pull the drawer so you can take the box out easier. If your jaw could drop to the floor, it probably would. Deeper in the drawer laid a purple gadget. You knew very well what it was. You were never brave enough to get one for yourself. Your parents liked to snoop a lot, and just now you realise where you got it from. He didn't use it on anyone, did he? Your friend did not mention any women near Mr Park. Besides, it feels good for men too.

You carefully take out the wand. It looks brand new, the see through film still wrapped around the head. It could help you out. You'd be finished even quicker. Nobody will ever know. You cannot afford it anymore anyway, so wasting an opportunity like this seems like a shame to you.

You put each leg over the armrests, then lay back comfortably. You press a button. The buzzing sound has your stomach filled with excitement. You resume the reading, the wand dangerously close to your crotch. You didn't remove the film, nor will you remove the panties. If someone barges in, you can throw it in the drawer and act stupid.

You bring the buzzing device closer, and closer, until it finally touches your burning clit. A gasp leaves your lips, the first vibrations giving you the satisfaction you needed. You try to focus on the words, yet the toy feels so good against you that you choose to drop the book and enjoy. You throw your head back, sighs and hums leaving your mouth as you work the toy on your clit. Your mind is clouded with thoughts of a single man. He is so close, yet so far. The scent from his vest is helping you get a clearer picture. He is skillfully working his fingers on you, filling you up just right and licking your juices off his hand so sinfully.

You groan. The vibrations are strong against you, and you don't think you can take it. You are not used to it. Fingers will have to do. You blindly search for the button. When you fail to find it, you open your eyes.

"Fuck-"

The rest of the words come out muffled. A hand is placed over your lips, and another one is covering yours on the wand. You shamelessly stare into the eyes of the man you want to fuck so bad. Judging by his gaze, you think he shares the idea. Without a single word, he presses the toy back into your clit. You sigh into his hand, head falling back and your back arching. You try to close your eyes, but a slap to your inner thigh makes you jump.

"Look at me."

You do as you are told. He does not avert his gaze, not even when you beg him to stop. You are feeling overstimulated, even though you did not orgasm.

"Found yourself a book to read?" He asks, eyes falling on it.

You nod. Now you know why the scent was stronger in the room. How long was he there?

"Come here."

He removes his hand from your face. You are taken aback by his demands. It is turning you on even more. With a single swipe, he drops all the pens and notebooks from the desk on the floor.

"You like wearing cute little dresses and parading around the house?"

"I wasn't-"

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it." He licks his lips. His hands cup your waist, and you feel your body rise up. He places you on the desk, then rests his hands on your knees. In the most erotic way ever, he looks deep into your eyes, then gently spreads your legs. You want to melt into his arms right there. Mr Park steps between your thighs, hands resting on your cheeks.

"You look so innocent. So pretty for me to ruin."

You say nothing. Instead, you get closer to him. You wish to feel his lips. You wish to feel his tongue in many places.

"But you are far from innocent, aren't you? Probably the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Sir-"

"I don't fuck my daughter's friends, you know."

He places a hand on your chest, gently pushing you to lay down on the desk. He climbs on it with one knee, hand still caressing your cheek.

"Didn't promise anything about best friends though."

His lips hover above yours for a while. He is making it painful for you. He is making you beg. And you are ready to go down on your knees for him.

"I want to fucking ruin you, doll. I want to do all the things you've read about." He whispers into your mouth. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, accidentally touching yours too. "I want to pound into you as you read your favorite book and struggle to focus. I want to tear you apart right on this desk."

You moan at his words. You swear you could cum from his dirty talk only.

"Will you let me get a taste of you?"

You nod eagerly. He chuckles, then presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. He is looking into your eyes in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together so you can get some friction.

"I need to hear you, love."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I'll let you get a taste of me," you repeat. It didn't sound as hot as when he said it. It didn't matter anyway.

Time passed so slow. You had an orgasm to chase, yet Park Seonghwa wouldn't move a single finger.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Will you let me stuff you with my cock like a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you breathe out. The formality is only adding up to the mood. First names are outdone anyway.

"And will you do as I say?"

"Yes," you nod, "yes I will. Anything."

"Anything?" He asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Anything, Sir."

Just when you think he is going to press his lips against yours, he reaches for something behind you. He holds the book in front of you, signaling you to take it.

"Read for me."

Read? It's erotica, not a bedtime story. Yet how can you say no when he asked you so nicely. You clear your throat, then continue where you left off.

"Nicholas held her thighs down to keep her from squirming. His tongue lapped at her clit without stopping. She begged, and begged for - oh!"

The buzzing device is spreading sensation on your clit. You look over the book, and find Mr Park focusing on the space between your legs. He is lazily dragging the wand across your crotch, occasionally pressing into the sensitive bud.

"Keep going," he ordered.

"S-she begged, and begged for more. She had cummed twice on his tongue already. Yet he didn't have enough. He wanted to watch her shake in his arms, beg ‐ ah, ‐ beg for him to stop. Nicholas then inserts his fingers into her, the tips searching for the sweet spot which - f‐fuck - had her groaning with pleasure."

The speed is increased, and your thighs are shaking. You think you're close already.

"I don't think I can handle it much longer." You say.

"I didn't ask."

With that, he increases the speed, this time dragging the toy more forcefully on your crotch. You could spill over the edge at any moment. You want to orgasm with his fingers, not a stupid toy.

"The books isn't going to read itself."

"She held onto his hair for dear life. The pressure was building up at the bottom, and- ah, fuck ‐ and, and-"

"And?"

"I'm going to cum," you cry out.

"I don't remember that being in that scene yet."

"Please-"

"Read."

Your eyes fall back on the words. You just want to lay down and enjoy. Why does he enjoy teasing so much? It's not as fun as it looks or sounds.

"‐and she could feel herself cumming all over his face once again."

You lower the book, just enough so you can look at him. He is focused on his movements. His long, slender fingers are gently pressing your thigh against the wooden surface, while his other hand is working the toy on you. The vibrations change speed and strength, and that's what's keeping you from finishing right in front of him. His tongue wets his lips again, and his lips stay open. He lets out shallow breaths as he watches you clench around nothing.

"Look at you, shamelessly dripping on my work desk." He says, his voice low and raspy. He looks into your eyes, right before he lifts the toy.

He does not break eye contact with you. He climbs on the desk again, spreading your legs with his own and resting his hand on your exposed lower stomach. His hand is hot against your skin. You are ready to give yourself to him in any way.

"You like the book so far?"

"Yes, Sir."

He drags his hand up your stomach, lifting your dress along the way. He takes his sweet time, doing nothing but giving you goosebumps and making your breathing harder. The dress is now scrunched above your breasts, your friend's brand new lingerie completely exposed to his big pupils. It was an ugly colour, but somehow, Mr Park seemed astonished by the view.

"Ah, fuck."

You feel your bra being yanked down, and right after that a warm wet muscle circling over your tense nipples. A gasp leaves your mouth. Then another, and another, with each lick he generously gives you. He squeezes your breasts, massages them, works his tongue on them like it's the most delicious meal in the world. You swear you could orgasm just from this.

Mr Park allows himself to get a bit vocal. He hums around your nipples, gently sucking at them and squeezing the soft flesh around them. He enjoys your squirming under him. He enjoys your moans and gasps. He enjoys your fingers pulling his hair. Most of all, he enjoys how you lift your thighs up and try to meet his crotch, in hopes of getting more relief down there.

He lifts his head from your sensitive breasts, and gets closer to your face. His breathing is heavy against your mouth, and you can almost feel his heart thumping against your chest.

"Tell me, what is your favorite scene from the book?"

"What?" You ask, confused as to why he is insisting on reading and talking about the book.

"You heard me," he speaks into your mouth. He is so close, yet he doesn't dare touch your lips. It's making you extremely frustrating. You wanted to taste the lips that spoke sinful words. You want all of him.

"Well, I kinda liked the first time he fingered her."

"Did you now?" He acts interested. His eyebrow is raised with amusement because of your utter confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, it was hot as fuck. Him fingering her right there in the corner of the club? I swear I'd — oh."

His finger dips inside of you with ease. Your walls swallow it, clench around it, and feel warm against it. Mr Park is lets out a groan. Still, he continues, still looking into your eyes. "What exactly did he do?"

"He made out with her. And fingered her."

"That's all?"

His finger is not moving. It sits there comfortably, enjoying the warmth of your pussy. He licks his lips for the third time that night. He is fighting every urge inside him to just slam his cock into you and ruin you on the table. He wants to enjoy everything you want to give him.

"H-he—" your eyes roll back as he gently presses his finger upwards, "he uses one finger first, to get her used to it. He fingers her slow, and- and‐"

The man slowly pulls out, then equally slowly goes back in. He repeats the motion, and each time it seems slower to you. It is more intense, but you don't think you have the patience.

"He inserts another finger, to stretch her out. He speeds up a bit, and asks her- ah, fuck, asks her if it feels good."

Mr Park leans into your ear. "Does it feel good?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

You feel another finger stretching you our, then another. He watches as his fingers disappear between your tight walls, preparing you so well for him. He speeds up his pace. The sounds of his palm slamming against your pelvis along with your cunt making wet noises is making you arch your back from the table. You shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands grabbing at his shoulders, hair, face, anything.

You are pulled away from the world of ecstasy. You find yourself sitting up straight, your wrists caught in his hand. You are ready to whine about being so close, yet he stops you by pulling you off the desk. The dress falls down your body, covering it once again. The man pulls you off the table, and in a split second, he has you slammed against the bookshelves. You are ready to complain, but he stops you by slamming his palms against the shelves near your head. He looks at you, as if asking if you still want it. You respond by getting closer to him, testing the waters. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he captures your lips with his, hungrily sucking on them and biting them. His tongue is gentle against yours, giving it light strokes and circles. Your fingers find themselves tangled into his hair, then down his neck, shoulders, until they finally rest on his chest. He stops your hands from unbuttoning his snow white shirt. He pulls away too quickly for your liking.

You stare with surprise as he drops down on his knees. Fuck, you love the way he looks at you from down there. His fingers graze the skin of your thighs, then gently lift up the dress.

"Hold that for me." He orders in a whisper. You quickly obey, grabbing the material and holding it above your lower stomach. "Then what happened?"

"The guy took her outside, behind the club. He made her stand against the wall, much like me now. And then—"

You now realise what he is doing. He is recreating the scenes you have just read. He is fulfilling your fantasy. He is doing just what you always wanted, and he doesn't even know it. A sudden boost of confidence enters your body. You could drop a few lines that weren't in the book. He wouldn't notice now, would je?

"He ate her out."

"Did he?" He asks, voice dripping with horny thoughts said out loud. "And just how did he do that?"

"He licked every inch of her skin, explored every curve and bump, and sucked on a specific spot."

The man smirks, then pokes his tongue out. You finally get a chance to see exactly how long it is. He licks a warm stripe over your folds and clit. Your knees are wobbly, and you wish you could've stayed sat down. His hands are gripping you thighs, buttocks, and the back of your knees. He is fully focused into absolutely ravishing you.

He mercilessly licks your clit, each swipe making you more sensitive. He works it up and down, then in circles, then flattens the wet muscle so that he can take in all of you. He makes lewd noises, almost slurping at your arousal and folds.

"So heavenly," he groans. He hums as he speeds up his tongue against your clit.

Short moans leave your mouth, and you find yourself gripping your nipples over the shiny fabric. You pull and squeeze his hair between your finger, and you think you'll choke him with your thighs. He doesn't complain once.

"I'm close—" you whimper, white dots already appearing in front of your eyes.

It was as if you said "stop". He stands up, hand resting on your jaw. He lifts your head to look at him. His lips are glistening with your arousal, and you think it's the hottest thing ever. He dips his thumb and index finger into your cheeks, making you hollow them and open your mouth. He leans in, and just when you think he is about to kiss you, two fingers find themselves resting on your tongue. He proceeds to push them back, right at the end of your tongue. You tear up, but don't gag. He is very distracting with his stare.

You close your lips around his fingers, tongue circling around them and wetting them. He takes them out, puts them in his own mouth. He steps back for a bit, and you carefully follow his every movement. He rips the fabric of his shirt, and buttons drop down on the floor. The sight has you dripping down your legs. You don't get a chance to say much, he pushes you against the desk, this time with you facing the surface. You feel the wet digits spread your folds. You then feel a wet trail rolling down your pussy.

Did he—? Did he spit directly on your pussy?

You hear the belt unbuckling, then fabric shuffling. Something hot touches your other cheeks, gently caressing them and leaving a trail of precum. His hand reaches near you, taking the book and opening it where you marked it. It then cups your neck, gently pressing the sides of it just enough to make you dizzy.

"Read for me, doll."

"But-"

He leans down, feeling a bit annoyed at all your protests. "Read for me so I can stuff you with my cock in peace."

You have no other choice but to continue. You feel him circling your folds, but not touching you where you need it.

"Nicholas couldn't believe how long it had been since he last felt her. He pounded into her like there was no tomorrow. His hips forcefully connected with hers— ah!"

You feel him stretch you out. The sweet burning sensation is back, this time actually pleasant. He fills you to the end, hands tightly holding onto your waist and neck. He pulls out, just to slam back into you, much like Nicholas.

"He watched her tits bounce with every hip thrust he m-made, a sight for sore eyes. He fondled her nipples, listened to her moans and watched her face twist wit-th pleasure—"

His hands move your body towards him, making him reach spots that have you gripping the edge of the desk.

"Please let me enjoy this, Mr Park. Oh please, let me."

He pulls your hair, making your back arch and your head fall back. He looks at you from above, hips still working their pace.

"You're saying you're not", thrust, "enjoying this?"

"No, I just—"

"I spoiled you," thrust, "in such a," thrust, "short," thrust, "time."

He proceeds to thrust a few times faster, then slows down. He fucks you nice and gentle, occasionally letting out a grunt or a hiss. He goes deep, making you roll your eyes.

"Look at me," he pulls your hair more.

You whimper, the pleasant pain spreading over your body.

"Look at your pretty makeup running down your cheeks."

He wasn't lying when he said he is going to ruin you. He turns your body over with ease, and you wonder just how strong this man is. Mr Park lifts your legs on his shoulders, the position giving him more access to all the sweet spots. He slams into them with no mercy, abuses every weak spot you have, and fills your mouth with his fingers to keep you quiet. They don't help much, since you are equally loud even when he tries to make you gag.

"Want me to fill you up like a stuffed toy?"

"Please," you manage to beg.

Your eyes roll back from pleasure, and you are feeling like you're floating. You are so close, and if he cums inside you, you will cum right then. Mr Park is now moaning. His hands are gripping your waist, slamming your weaker body into his hips. Sweat is decorating his exposed body, and his hair is sticking up everywhere. Watching him focus on chasing his high is something you'll always remember with love. He is progressively getting sloppier and louder, and you just can't wait to see him cum.

You are squeezing and milking him so well, he could go all night long with you. He lets out a prolonged moan as he spills into you, hips still working in and out. You follow after, the feeling of warm seed touching the right places.

"Fuck—" you moan, moving your hips and riding out your high.

The man drops on top of you, cock still deep inside.

You notice the windows are foggy, and the smell of sex is more than present in the room. You don't want to move. You want more. It just isn't enough.

"Ah fuck, I could go for a second round." He admits.

"I can handle it."

"But I can't so please go to sleep or go fuck outside."

Shit.

[sorrowsofsilence]

echo of my shadow • ns

pairing: noah sebastian!ghost x fem!reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: implied death, not necessarily 18+ but implied smut (fem!masturbation w/ mention of orgasm), mention of afterlife / paranormal existence

summary: his soul was lost, bound to find yours again in this life…and in every lifetime to come.

authors note: one of my fav movies is Just Like Heaven, and this was kinda inspired by that- and by auroras song Echo of My Shadow. I’d have to say this is probably one of my most emotional pieces other than “desolate love”, and I’m so proud of how it turned out. The “cover” pic is inspired by @veronicaphoenix s layout! (I adore how you present your work!)

“If I stay here any longer, I will stay here forever And the echo of my world will fade Will the edge of my sorrow be gone in the morning?”

Seasons changed and the years moved on, yet he remained the same.

Noah never knew why he stayed. Perhaps it was heartbreak, the loss of his love that restrained him; years dedicated to the mourning of his first and only devotion.

And as he wandered the earth he never knew what he was meant to find, until he saw you, the oak bench you sat upon withered with age.

At that moment his world stilled as his feet stopped carrying him across the gravel, the air around him stagnant as though the clock finally stopped, after all this time.

The sun was warm against your skin as the pencil scribbled across the page of your notebook. The dream was always the same, and reality faded as thoughts floated to the scene that had bothered you for months.

You sat along the river, waiting, and once his eyes met your own, the smile he gifted you made everything disappear- everything except him.

You swore he was a stranger, someone you never met before; but with each subconscious greeting he felt familiar, like a blanket being wrapped around you as you basked by a window, enthralled with the nostalgia of a thunderstorm.

It was as if his memories were being woven into an intricate tapestry, placed in your mind for his narrative to shine, ready to entangle with your own.

His voice was the only whisper evident in your realm of sleep.

As time passed the memories began to consume you, blurring the lines between reality and fiction; the image of him surrounding you even when awake.

These dreams carried on for months, and everything felt like it led up to this moment as you finally sat in the place that beckoned your name.

If he wasn’t here, perhaps you lived in a world of delusion, fated to fall into an abyss of lost vitality.

How would one mourn the loss of a dream?

As your pencil took over you let yourself rewrite his stories, the presence of him stronger with each stroke.

Noah stood further ahead on the path, a slight breeze inviting him closer, causing his long brunette hair to sway as his heart raced, knowing that pieces of himself were amongst the words you wrote.

He tried not to smile as you jot down the remembrance of him from your subconscious, watching as your leg bounced in concentration, fingers rising to tuck your hair behind your ear.

After all these years he thought you were gone. That his eyes would never find yours again.

With each step his soul yearned harder for yours, legs carrying him down the path.

He then stopped, mind rushing: what if you didn’t want him? What if you didn’t love him the way he had always loved you?

And as he stood there, vulnerable and afraid, you closed the notebook.

Shivers ran down your spine despite the sun that graced your skin, and your heart began to pound. His presence engulfed you as you pulled the book to your chest.

There was no one else in this world that could make you this nervous, it had to be him.

So, was he real?

Noah’s ears echoed as he watched you suck in a breath, leg bouncing faster as seconds passed.

Should he say something? Should he just walk away?

But then your head turned and your gaze met him, his October eyes staring into your spirit with longing.

He had been a soul with no home until he found you.

As he smiled with awe you couldn’t help but let one fall upon your lips in mimicry, the anxiety you once had leaving, replaced by the manifestation of him.

“If my life is just a moment and this world is ancient Then the light through my window will fade Young mountains, old rivers, I let them become me Right now”

Your skin grew cold as he stepped closer, and he hesitated to sit beside you for a moment before joining you on the bench.

Your eyes never left his, afraid he would disappear if you looked away.

He smiled again, and you melted, immersed in the world he had to offer.

Noah’s gaze was fixated as his eyes danced across your face, entranced, “You’re here.”

He knew you were in a different body, but you were the same soul that once encaptured his own; his very being devoted to you in every single life, until the day he perishes completely.

And although he was bound to this earth, the mere idea of you existing once again eased his racing mind, memories of the past leaving him something he hadn’t felt in a long time…hope.

“You’re not just a figment of my imagination,” You laughed quietly, almost reassuring yourself as it took everything in him to not reach for your hand, afraid to scare you away.

Noah shook his head and you studied his brunette locks, immersed in how they flowed and caressed the sides of his face. Your eyes trailed across his tattoos which had faded due to time, and somehow in the back of your mind, you remembered the stories of what each one meant.

You relaxed as he lingered next to you, his presence innately familiar and comforting. You recognized the way his hands rested on his thighs and the way his inked fingers brushed his hair away from his cheeks.

Your eyebrows narrowed in contemplation as if you’ve lived this moment before, not just in a dream. The Deja Vu made you feel like you’ve known this man for years- as if you’ve spent countless hours with him.

“Stay right here, stay in the light, my dear Until the love you crave falls in your arms, ooh I know your mind moves like a wave sometimes If you can't rise for us, do it for love”

You wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around his torso, head pressed against his chest while he whispered delicate words into your ear.

It was the soul’s recognition of past connection.

“I’ve spent years searching for you,” Noah whispered, leaning toward you for a moment before pulling himself away, hesitating.

His words warmed your heart, the intimacy behind them a testimonial memoir to what once was.

“What makes me so special?” You asked, harboured by doubts at the stranger’s confession. How did he know you this whole time?

How have you not known him?

“You won’t remember,” He said thoughtfully, turning his gaze away from you for just a moment, staring at the water ahead, “Until I show you.”

The two of you watched the river carve through the sediment, years of memories washing along the path it created. Its song mirrored the echo of your love, entranced in the shadows your body created against the soil beneath you.

“I’ve dreamed of you,” the soft words left your lips as you pulled the notebook from your chest, resting its pages on your lap. Your thumb brushed along the suede cover, tempted to expose its secrets to the man next to you; but he already knew what was written.

“I know,” He replied, turning to watch you with admiration, “You called me here.”

Shaking your head you laughed, “But how? You were the one haunting my mind.”

“Your soul was finally ready.”

Noah was radiant, his skin almost glowing from the sun that shone above. He was here, and every other worry and thought left your mind, captivated by him.

You opened the notebook, showing him the pages of your words.

“You’re Noah,” You breathed, and he bit back a smile, beaming as his name fell off your tongue with an elegance no one but you could muster.

“And you’re Y/N,” he whispered, another cool breeze running down your neck as he breathed your name into the air.

⊹˚.

They were inseparable, as Noah got to know who she was in this life. He learned everything about her new being, who she became, and who she will continue to become.

But as the clock continued, the world was ready to let go of him.

He knew it would be time to go.

She stood in the mirror, her lover standing behind her. And when her soul begged for the stories of their past, he grew the courage to finally touch her, arms wrapping around in armoured protection.

Her body cooled, hands reaching up to hold his apparition as his touch passed the memories of them into her heart.

She loved him, then and now; always and forever.

How will she spend the rest of this lifetime without him?

“Promise me you won’t disappear,” She cried, staring at their reflection with the sorrows of silence embellishing her.

He leaned into her, caressing her earthly body as tears for him fell.

“If I stay here any longer, I will stay here forever Till the echo of my shadow is gone”

Noah promised her he would love her again. He would search for her in every world and every spec of existence he is to be in, just as he had finally done now.

As they laid upon her satin sheets she closed her eyes, his lips ghosting against hers in fated promises. His body sunk further into hers, possessing her being with his eulogy of confession.

Tenderness as sweet as honey, passion as strong as his dedication to her. Everything.

Her fingers danced down her skin, guided by his shadow as she pleasured herself. The breath of his touch against her desire made bumps adorn her skin, the chill from his distant lips gravitating their love.

Noah whispered to her that he would find her when this life came to an end.

“There are heroes within us, there are lovers around us They will be here forever, I know I know, I know”

She reached for him as her body clenched from intimacy, climax approaching as her chest heaved from his memory.

And as he began to fade away she smiled at him: a smile of pain and grief; of fortune and faith.

He would be there, waiting for her on the other side when the time came for them to live together once again.

Tags:

@spicywhenspeaking @calleyx13 @blackveilomens @thatchickwiththecamera @thefallennightmare

@xserenax-13 @xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch

@blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @reyadawn @silentglassbreak @lma1986

@darkmxgician @philomenie @amberrndall @sammyjoeee

@dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies

if you want to join my tag list you can join here, and if you would like off it pls just let me know :) some tags are reused from previous fics!

[myosotisa]

deep end - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You and the gang have a pool day and some bad memories come up.

‖ tags: angst, hurt with very little comfort, post season 4, everyone lives (but that don't mean they ain't got trauma lmao), no y/n, no pronouns, reader is referred to as "honey". depictions of PTSD, anxiety/panic attacks. tw for fear of drowning. past tense? present tense? the fic is tense, that's for sure.

‖ word count: 2k

Today, May 6th, 1986, was a good day.

Up until very recently, most of the days had not been good at all. Spring break had done a number on all of you – nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. Some worse than others.

But today was a good day.

At least, until it wasn't.

Summer sun had invaded Hawkins and left everyone sweating and seeking shade after even a few minutes outside. AC blasted indoors and opened windows begged for a breeze to come through and bring some solace from the heat. The community pool was packed shoulder to shoulder and nearly impossible to get into – but that was fine.

Because Steve Harrington had his own pool.

Eddie, Lucas, Dustin, and Max were all already in the suburban backyard by the time you showed up with Robin. Steve had joined the other boys in the shallow end to start up a game of chicken – Dustin on Steve’s shoulders and Lucas on Eddie’s. Max sat on the pool’s edge with the water up to her shins, not able to get in further with the cast still on her right arm, and rolled her eyes as her friends tumbled over and into the water just to get back up again.

Robin went to go and sit by Max while you let yourself into the Harrington home, a container of drinks destined for the fridge just inside. By the time you had them chilling and pushed back out into the oppressive heat, Steve had pulled himself out of my pool to wait for you.

“Hi honey,” he said with a sticky sweet smile, ducking in to press a kiss to your cheek and dripping water on your cover-up.

“Hey handsome,” was your easy reply, Steve's smile lighting up further at the compliment. You called him handsome all the time and he still reacted like he'd never heard it before.

“Harrington, come on!”

His smile fell slightly as he rolled his eyes, shrugging at you before jogging back over to the pool.

You were just about to pull out your book and set up on one of the deck chairs when Nancy and Mike pushed through the fence gate.

More happy greetings, a hug from Nancy, and some chatting about the things she'd brought with her. Mike stripped off his shirt and shoes before walking over to the pool steps beside Max, submerging to his chest as he watched the others continue their game.

Robin came over and helped you and Nancy blow up the 3 inner tubes she had brought – Robin having to rescue you both with her superior musicians lungs. She quickly claimed the green dinosaur float, falling into it in the water as Dustin and Mike started to squabble over what kind of dinosaur it was supposed to be.

While you had originally grabbed the unicorn float, with it's pink hair and blue horn, you were quick to notice the longing glances from Nancy and offered a trade. She never would've ended up asking for it – she thought it was too childish to actually want the unicorn float – but you didn't miss the giddy grin on her face as she traded with you and settled into the pool a lot more gracefully than Robin.

So, with your strawberry frosted donut float and book in hand, you laid out on the sticky plastic and began to roast beneath the summer sun.

You and Nancy both had paperbacks cracked open while Robin seemed content to attempt a nap beneath her shades. Max busied herself by using a foot to gently push your floats around like a slow and lazy game of bumper cars. Mike finally succumbed to peer pressure and joined in with the boys playing with a volleyball toward the deep end and everything was good.

Everyone was smiling and laughing. Warm and lazy with the heat of a good, summer day.

Focused on a particularly intense chapter, you hardly noticed someone approaching your float until a wet chin draped itself over your arm.

Steve was looking at you with that lovesick smile again, his hair wet and pushed back as his tan skin glowed beneath the golden rays. “Enjoying your book?”

“I am, thank you very much.” But still, you placed it down on your stomach and turned your attention to your pretty boyfriend. “Are you having a good day?”

“Might have a couple bruises tomorrow, but not a big deal.” He hooks a wet arm over the side of your float, anchoring himself to you, and the skin along your thigh breaks out in goosebumps from the sudden brush of water.

“Steve, that's cold!”

He barely conceals a laugh, grin growing wider, before he tilts further toward you. “What, this?”

Was the only warning you got before he shook his head out like a dog, water flying from the ends of his hair and sprinkling all over you.

You nearly squealed, shoving him off and shouting about him getting your book wet, even though the smile on your face betrayed you.

After a few minutes of insisting it was funny as you fake pouted, and then Steve giving you some pathetic puppy dog eyes, you accepted his half hearted apology and settled again – one hand intertwined with Steve's as he held onto your float.

“Nance seems fine,” he said quietly, bringing your attention to the brunette. You had told him earlier you were worried about today, about bringing her back to the pool she spent two years barely able to look at, but she seemed perfectly at ease on her unicorn float. Just slowly turning page after page as she continued through the fantasy romance novel you’d lent her last week.

“Yeah,” you agreed, exhaling a relieved sigh, “I'm glad. She deserves it, y'know? We all do.”

Steve's hand squeezed yours, bringing your attention back to him on your other side. “You're the best, you know that, right?”

Not expecting the compliment, you got slightly flustered with the praise. “No, that's you,” you joked with a light flick to the tip of his nose.

He released your hand in mock offense, pushing your float slightly away as he put on a dramatic frown. He inhaled to reply, mouth parting, before he suddenly disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

The next few moments played out in slow motion.

In reality, Lucas and Eddie dove under the water to sneak up behind Steve – each of them grabbing an ankle and tugging him under as a practical joke.

To Steve, his heart stopped.

His chest constricted as his heart rate doubled, eyes squeezing shut as the panic gripped him tight and he waited to be pulled through the gate and thrown out on the other side.

Water filled his mouth from his half completed inhale as he was dragged under – his eyes widening and immediately beginning to burn from the chlorine.

But he wasn't in the pool anymore. It was dark; so, so dark and cold. He couldn't see anything through the murky water as he sunk lower and lower. The vice around his ankle held tight as he gave a kick, continuing to pull him back down to hell again.

To you, the world flipped on its side.

The last thing you saw before Steve went under was a flash of panic in his wide, brown eyes. Just like that night, on the boat. When he got dragged down and didn't come back up again.

“Steve?!” Your call is shrill, very quickly panicked as your adrenaline surged and your body tensed for a fight. It gets the attention of the rest of the group but you don't notice – eyes hyper focused on the spot he was before he disappeared.

In reality, you could glance down and see him in the clear water, just barely a foot below the surface. But you're not there in the Harrington’s pool. You're on a boat at Lover’s Lake and the man of your dreams just disappeared into the murky depths below.

“Steve?!” You scream again, rolling off your float and into the cool water, just like you had that night. I have to go after him, I have to get to him.

You vaguely register someone calling your name but you’re diving under, eyes burning instantly as you continue to look at Steve.

Eddie and Lucas have let him go now after sensing some sort of commotion from above, but Steve isn't moving. He isn't trying to swim up, though he is slowly ascending toward the surface. He's completely frozen there in the water, curled in on himself defensively.

You grab him and he grabs you in response, his nails digging into your bicep painfully as his eyes shoot open again. He doesn't even seem to realize its you before the two of you break the surface again.

Steve gasps for air – choking slightly on the water that was still in his mouth – and then starts to cough as he grabs tightly to you with both hands.

Your heart is pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird as your eyes rapidly scan him for the battered bruising across his throat, the blood coming from his mouth. “Steve? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Robin is by your side an instant later, her head and shoulders still dry as she comes around the side to place a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder while he coughs out chlorinated water.

Steve gives a stuttered nod as the coughing stops and he's able to take another deep breath in, his grip on you loosening to not be so painful as he closes his eyes. His inhales are coming through quickly, his eyebrows drawn together tight like he's in pain.

Your tunnel vision begins to scope out and you catch sight of Lucas and Eddie looking pained and apologetic in your periphery. They're both treading water in the deep end as you turn on them, anxiety and panic filtering out quickly into rage.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?!” You snap, causing both of them to jump. Lucas's eyes are wide as saucers and Eddie looks like he's half tempted to book it just from the look on your face. “What the fuck kind of trick was that?! Maybe I should pull a gun on you, Lucas, just for fun. Or maybe, Eddie, I'll loop a rope around your neck for a few minutes and see how the fuck you like being reminded of almost dying!”

Both of them wince, drawing back from your outrage, which only makes you want to advance.

“H-honey,” Steve stutters beside you, half scolding and half terrified as he tries to put on a brave face. “It was just a joke.”

You turn your wild eyes back on him, body still reeling in fight or flight mode, as you realize his hands are trembling and the wetness to his eyes isn't from the pool at all. While you could easily continue to scream at them (which, when you're in a rational headspace again, you will feel guilty for), you focus in on Steve.

“Come on, let's go get you dried off, okay?” You offer much quieter, hovering close to him to try to keep you both grounded. He gives another shaky nod and lets you lead him over to the steps and out of the pool.

No one in the group says a word as you wrap him in a towel and then drape one over your own shoulders before sitting both of you down on one of the deck chairs. He continues to tremble slightly beside you as you tuck yourself tightly to his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to comfort him (and yourself).

We’re safe here. We’re okay. We’re going to be fine.

Everyone else watches silently as your paperback continues to collect water until it sinks down to the bottom of the deep end.

It was a good day. Until it wasn't.

-

-

-

[loves0phelia]

hi could you rewrite the scene in ep 6 season 2 where Electra (now y/n) and Matt kiss to not get caught by security but add your own twist please? :)))

Faking Kiss

Summery: After years you and Matt meet again during a mission?

Words: 3.1k

Warning: Spicy (not smut), violence, grammar mistakes.

A/N: Thank you for requesting i love this scene!

While girls your age were learning to ride bikes or learning how to count to one hundred you were taught how to take a punch. 

The people who had taken you from your family had taken away your childhood. You never got to dress up for Halloween, to go out and knock on people’s doors for candies. You never fell asleep to your mother singing you a lullaby. You never got to sit in a class along with other kids to learn.

You watch kids do all those things while you were perched on a roof with a sniper in hand. You dreamed of being like them. You needed to be free.

As you grew up you started gaining interest in law and justice so you stole books from local libraries while you were supposed to be on missions to kill and read, read and read again. You taught yourself everything you needed to know.

At the age of 17, you took the opportunity to run away. After reading various magazines about college and teenage life you created yourself a name, a life. Before that, all you were was a number amongst others.

During a mission, targeting a wealthy man, you removed the tracker in your neck, changed into civilian clothing, and stowed away your black leather suit in your backpack

Immediately after losing contact with you, the men you worked for began looking for you. For two years you stayed hidden, away from the radar, until at 19 you applied to college.

Since your escape, your once-short hair had grown long, your body changed, seamlessly blending you into society. With fake birth certificates, you became Y/N Y/L/N without any complications. Your fraud skills even secured you a spot at Columbia University in New York. Admittedly, it may have been risky, but you desired more than anything, to pursue law and justice, to help others unlike those who had disappointed you.

During college, you made your first friends. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. It was everything you ever dreamed of.

COLLEGE MEMORY

A very drunk guy with dirty blond hair laughed loudly as he swayed side to side with a white walking cane he held for support. 

“Watch out everybody! I'm blind, Matt Murdock!” he laughed, still walking like he had 5 shots of vodka in his system.

“Most people just say- Matt Murdock” The brunette who wore sunglasses, held his stomach as he laughed. 

“I look like most people?” he asked genuinely.

“I don't know, I can't see” The blind guy answered in a cocky way, proud of his joke.

“Well at the moment that might be a blessing, because I'm the only one who can see the beautiful girl in front of us”  That's what made you look up from your newly bought law book, that you had bought with your very own money. It was the first book you didn't steal from the library since you ran away and you were fascinated by it. 

“Oh?” The blind student stopped abruptly just like his friend had done.

“Hi,” The blond said, catching you off guard. Nobody had yet to try and talk to you on campus since school started about a month ago. 

You looked behind you to make sure he was talking to you and when you realized he was you answered his greetings. Your voice came out more like a whisper.

“Are you studying on a Saturday night?!” He yelled when he noticed the book on your knees that you were previously reading. You nodded and he gasped.

"Hey, Foggy, maybe we should give that a shot too," suggested the other, the extroverted one objected immediately.

“So beautiful lady, I'm Foggy and this boring one over here is Matt what's your name?” his eyebrows wiggled like gummy worms as he flirted making you giggle. 

You didn't know that Matt was starstruck by you. Your laugh, your scent and your aura were something right out of his dreams. 

You gave them your name and like you guys were friends for years, Foggy extended his hand down to you asking you to accompany them on a night of, and you quote, “mischievous adventures”

You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet before you guys started walking nowhere but everywhere at the same time.

As the night ended and the sun started waking, you walked to their dorm and when you entered, you watched Matt help Foggy into his bed like a toddler who had fallen asleep on the ride back home from the amusement park.

You chuckled as you watched him struggle, and a few minutes later, Matt and you quietly slipped out into the hallway.

“Hopefully we'll see you soon?” His hand brushed yours. You thought it was by accident but if only you knew how Matt had desperately tried to touch a part of your body all night. 

“Of course” Your smile was shy. You couldn't understand the strange fluttering feeling in your stomach as he looked at you. It was like something you had never experienced before.

After that night you three spent the integrality of the college year stuck together like glue. Every Saturday day was destined to hang out. Matt and you came so close to admitting your feelings but just as you were about to, they found you.

Freshly graduated, diploma in hand, you strode proudly toward the rendezvous point Foggy and Matt had designated. As you rounded the concrete wall outside, you spotted a car with tinted windows. Even though the car seemed inconspicuous, your heart sank as you noticed four men standing beside it. Locking eyes with one of them, a chill ran down your spine as the man pointed directly at you. Without hesitation, they all sprang into action, sprinting in your direction.

You dropped everything. Your diploma you were so proud of, your backpack with the books you had bought and your life.

END

Each passing year saw you found yourself in new cities or even countries, determined to evade their pursuit. But fate seemed to have other plans when you discovered yourself in Hell's Kitchen at the same time as them. Now, it was your chance to turn the tables and finally catch them.

You mapped out their plan and you found out they were organizing a gala to target parents with children they could steal and turn into their hit man.

You dressed up in the prettiest silk white dress you could find, your hair, now dyed in a different colour, was half up and half down curled and even though your features had changed a lot since your college years you applied makeup to make you unrecognizable.

You entered the gala with no problem. You were trained well you knew better than to get caught the first second.

Soft music and the clinking of champagne glasses rang in your head as you slipped away from the scene. You had to find out where they were keeping the children and you needed information. You knew exactly where to get it.

In a vault, in the boss's office. You would find the exact location.

You spotted a bodyguard, guarding the elevator as you made your way to it. You could have taken the stairs but you needed to be the least suspicious possible.

"Sorry, ma'am, but upstairs is off-limits, restricted area," he informed you, eyeing you up and down, prompting you to fake a pout in response.

“Ugh, the bathroom downstairs is all taken and I have to fix my lipstick, really bad” You crossed your arm under your chest purposely putting on display your breast.

You smirked when his eyes shifted to take a look.

“If it's just for lipstick I guess I can make an exception.” 

"Seriously? You're an angel," you beamed, giving his arms a playful rub as he obligingly pressed the floor button. With a ding, the doors slid open, allowing you to step inside. As the doors closed behind you, a smirk crept onto your face. It was too easy, as always. 

Now on the upper floor, you began looking everywhere for what could be the main office.

Your heels echoed loudly on the floor, earning a frustrated groan from you. Why did they have to be so loud?

You tried walking more discreetly until you bumped into a muscular body. The impact made your hair fall in front of your eyes, shielding your vision. His hands grabbed your forearms and before you could try to beat the man you were pushed against the wall in a dark hallway.

As his hand loosened, you quickly pushed your hair out of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognized the man you had bumped into.

“Matt?” You barely finished the word before his hand was on your mouth preventing you from uttering another word.

“Someone is coming” You stopped mumbling beneath his hand to be let free after he whispered in your ear. Everything was so silent you thought he was crazy until you heard the faint sound of boots approaching.

The guard paced down the dim hallway, clutching his weapon tightly, while you and Matt stood in the shadows. After he passed, you exhaled in relief as Matt gently released his hand from your lips.

“Matt,” you said, dumbfounded. Between all the people you could've run into it had to be him. The guy who you left behind without any explanation.

“You shouldn't be here y/n, it's dangerous,”  He said and your brows furrowed. How had he recognized you? 

“How did you know it's me?” you asked and he shook his head.

“It doesn't matter, you need to leave. These people who organized this gala are bad.” 

“I know Matt, I'm here to stop them” You admitted it wasn't time to come up with a lie. Even behind his glasses, you could see the confusion etched on his face.

“How did you know about them?”

“Why are you here?” You both speak over each other and before you could let him talk again his head snapped to the side, listening to something you couldn't hear.

“One of the guards is talking about you”

“How do you know that-” he shushed you and continued.

“He says you went to apply your lipstick but never came down?” he said, making you groan, you had taken too much time talking with him.

“It's a dumb excuse I used to get up here. Now if you would excuse me I have something to do” You pushed him gently out of your way and went to walk out of the hallway he had pulled you into. His hand quickly grabbed on to your arm again tugging you back.

"You follow me," he growled into your ear and then started walking. You couldn't quite explain why you trusted a blind man to lead you, but you did.

Almost like he knew exactly what you were looking for, he pushed open the door to the main office you were targeting. Flipping the light switch, the room flooded with brightness, light bouncing off mirrors to create an almost blinding effect.

You began opening every door, every drawer looking for the piece of information you needed. But you saw no signs of a vault or anything of the sort. You grabbed your hair in frustration. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Information where the kids they have captive might be. It was supposed to be in a vault in this exact room but I can't find anything”

“How do you know about the kids” 

“Because I was one of them” he listened to your heartbeat, he knew you weren't lying.

He wanted to ask more questions but he knew it wasn't the right time. You were running out of time, not gaining.

As he concentrated on the beat of your heart a harsh buzzing interfered with the soft sound.

He walked and touched the bookshelf with his fingers. He could hear the electricity travelling in the walls. 

He felt an interruption in the current when his finger grazed an old Shakespeare book. He pulled it down, and a secret door revealed itself.

“Holy shit, how did you know?” you smiled and walked into the tiny space the door that previously opened allowed you to walk in.

“I could hear the signal”

“Through the walls?”

"I can hear a lot of things. Look in this drawer," he directed, saving you the trouble of opening every single one by pointing you to the correct drawer.

 The paper with all the information you needed was on top of the files and books. Not very well hidden.

“We have to go, now” You folded the paper and quickly shoved it inside your bra.

You both ran in the main hallway but before you could get to the elevator an alarm started blaring and blue lights flashed. Matt grabbed your hand and dragged you to an empty conference room and through the frosted glass you could see multiple shadows with guns searching for you.

“You have to stay behind me okay? I don't want you to get hurt” You say before tying your hair up. 

"Oh, I know how to fight, sweetheart," he declared just before the men barged into the room where you were hiding. Without hesitation, Matt slid over the table and delivered a kick to one of them in the face.

Impressed but confused you had a sudden surge of energy, you sprang into action, fists flying and they clashed into jaws and noses. The room echoed with the sound of impact as yours and Matt’s strikes landed with an intense force.

Your movements were fluid and precise as you used your kicks and punches against the attackers. You and Matt fought as one, your movements synchronized almost perfectly.

And when the last men fell, defeated and broken, you both stood almost unarmed. But not for long.

you ran to the next level almost getting caught once again. However, you managed to hide again in another room. That's when the idea came to you.

“Kiss me” you whispered as you started to pull down your hair from your ponytail, making them cascade messily down your back.

"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he struggled to process what you said. 

"Kiss me, Matt, please," you pleaded. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his own. 

As you kissed, you instinctively reached for his tie and pulled it. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt and you whispered against his lips.

“Act like we're having sex and act drunk” his lips went to your neck and his tongue laid against your pulse. You moaned loudly, exaggerating it a little.  Without needing to say anything his hand gripped your waist and lifted you on the table you were leaning on. His hands went higher and higher until he was pulling down the straps of your dress. At the same time, you lifted your leg and put it around his hip and his free hand grabbed it and squeezed the skin. His mouth came back to yours and he kissed you until you couldn't breathe.

You let out another moan of his name when the guards entered and put you both at gunpoint. 

“Don't move!” he yelled.

You and Matt put on a show of surprise. Giggling, you swayed on your feet, mimicking the unsteady movements of someone who had too much to drink.

“We are so sorry,” Matt said out of breath and tried buttoning his white shirt.

“We thought we could sneak in here… we'll be right out of here” he laughed before turning and the man grabbed his collar and pushed him roughly. Your heart rate elevated when you saw this.

“Be careful with him!” You said as you tried to wipe the red stain of lipstick that had smudged on your chin.

As the man restrained Matt, he aimed his flashlight directly at his unseeing eyes, prompting an eye roll from Matt that spoke volumes.

 Meanwhile, the second guard firmly gripped your arm, holding you in place. With a nod, the guard said in his walkie-talkie that the situation was under control and that neither you nor Matt was a threat.

“You need to leave,” he said and Matt continued apologizing before earning a firm “ Now!” from the man.

You grabbed his hand and walked away from them with a small laugh. You both walked to the now working elevator and entered with nothing opposing, 

“I don't know what you are Matt Murdock but you're not human” You laughed when the door closed. “You can hear through walls and fight while also being blind?” You heard him snort after you finished your sentence.

"We have a lot to talk about," Matt murmured as the doors of the elevator opened, lacing your hands and sharing a light-hearted chuckle at the absurdity of the evening. You both walked out of the Gala.

Making your way to your car, you glanced at Matt, wordlessly telling him your desire for him to join you. Without a word, he understood, falling into step beside you as you unlocked the car door.

You settled into the driver's seat, and he quietly took his place beside you. A moment of comfortable silence passed before you broke it with a teasing tone.

"Are you going to tell me how you did all that?" 

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why you disappeared?"

 "If you spill your secrets first." you shrugged.

 "Fine, I'm Daredevil," he confessed.

 "What?!" your eyes grew three sizes and he simply nodded.

“I have so many questions,” you said as you wondered,

“Your turn” he grinned.

"Remember I told you those men raised me as a child earlier?" you began, your voice trembling a little. "Well, I ran away, and on the day of graduation because they found me. I had to leave everything behind. I loved you guys so much, Matt. I never wanted to leave, but I didn't have a choice."

With each word you spoke, he could feel the sincerity in your voice, and not once did your heart falter or deceive.

His hand grabbed yours for the millionth time that night.

"I was so lost without you," Matt confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," you replied softly. 

"I don't want to lose you again," Matt admitted, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

You intertwined your fingers in a silent promise. "You won't," you assured him.

At that moment, as you sat together in the car, you knew that you had overcome the past. Nothing would separate you and Matt. If anyone or anything tried to pull you apart you would fight it together.

[galaxymagick]

memory book season’s greetings 2023 merch 🌊 | @galaxymagick 

[prince-taekwoon]

[jeschalynn]

𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮

I think it would be amazing to spend time with this time of year with Diavolo. He's so genuinely excited to learn about the human world and I think it'd be like a dream come true for him. He would be so eager to learn all the things you like best because that's what makes it so special.

This is dedicated to @cals-laundry for @love-and-lore's gift exchange. I wish you the very best this holiday season and a wonderful new year! ♡

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, who has only seen glimpses of the human world's festivities this time of year. Most of what he knows he's learned from demons who spend more time in that world than he does, or from visiting sorcerers or witches. He hardly had the time to celebrate human world holidays until he met you, but he won't let this opportunity go to waste.

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, who eagerly listens when you tell him about how you used to celebrate the holiday season before coming to the Devildom. He's enchanted by the way your face lights up when you share fond memories with him, all the activities and traditions you enjoy, and he wants to be the one to put that same smile on your face too.

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, whose excitement is contagious when he starts planning this year's holiday celebrations in your honour. If he had it his way, the castle would be covered in the colourful lights and ornaments that you're familiar with. He even insists on picking out all the decorations himself and visits the finest shops in the human world he can find. It's a noticeable distraction from his work, but Barbatos forgives his Young Master's enthusiasm when it makes him so very happy.

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, who tries all the festive foods and drinks that are famous this time of year. Your favourite meals are conveniently added to the kitchen's seasonal menu. The yummy candies and chocolates and snacks you like best are available when you visit Diavolo at his castle and watch movies together or spend time in his private library. He's excited that you both like so many of the same things, like it's yet another sign that you're meant to be together. Somehow those sweet treats taste best when you offer one between your fingers, and he kisses your fingertips when you put it to his lips.

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, whose generous nature means that he's determined to give you the best presents. Everything you've ever mentioned that you've wanted—books or music or clothes or even games or toys—he remembers them all. (Barbatos insisted he shouldn't go overboard, but what his butler doesn't know can't possibly hurt anyone.)

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, who kneels next to Barbatos on the carpet in his room while his butler teaches him how to wrap your gifts. Pieces of torn wrapping paper and balls of rolled-up tape and bits of ribbon are strewn across the floor, and Diavolo holds up the finished product—not perfect, but not terrible—with a proud smile. (Barbatos's eye twitches when Diavolo reveals all the other gifts still to wrap, that he somehow managed to hide in his oversized walk-in closet.)

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, who drapes his arm across your shoulders and tucks you into his side when you cuddle in front of the fire on the evening of December 24th. There's soft music playing in the background, a human world album you suggested, and two half-empty mugs of hot chocolate on the table nearby. The festive sweaters and fuzzy socks he bought keeps you warm, and the crackling fire lulls you both into a light slumber. It's only when the embers start to fade and the room grows cool does he wake, smiling at you fast asleep and curled up against him, and he carefully picks you up and tucks you into bed.

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, who greets you with a wide smile and bright eyes when you wake up the next morning. There's an overstuffed stocking at the foot of the bed for you, and a mountain of presents near the lavishly-decorated tree in the corner of the room. He's nearly vibrating with pent-up energy: he's excited, but he's nervous, too. He doesn't want to disappoint you.

Celebrating the holidays with Diavolo, the Devildom's future king that sits cross-legged on his bed beside you, wearing a Santa Claus hat and a sweater with a snowman on the front. His smile softens into something warm and loving and intimate when you tell him, all I want is you.

Holidays With a Prince playlist

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 4

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

We were supposed to get the big Vault 32 reveal, but this chapter just kept getting longer, so I had to cut it off at some point. Sorry!

Part 1 Here. Part 7 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 3 Here Part 9 Here

Part 5 Here Part 10 Here

Part 6 Here Part 11 Here

The workday was over, and you were ready to get home and relax. You headed down the Vault corridor toward your residence, your mind already planning your evening. Maybe you’d watch a movie, you thought as you entered the pin code to unlock the door. The pressurized door mechanism opened with a rush of air, revealing your main living space. You immediately noticed something had changed since you left this morning. Huh, I don’t remember leaving you here. 

A single book rested atop your kitchen table; you didn’t recognize the cover. Puzzled, you reached for the book and flipped it open, trying to jog your memory; as you did, a folded piece of paper fell onto the table. 

The paper read, Courtesy of Overseer MacLean ‘s private library—our little secret. N

You flip the cover over and take a better look. You smile. Of course, it’s a Western.

__________________________

The day of Lucy’s wedding had finally arrived. Most in the Vault couldn’t contain their excitement and curiosity. Everyone was interested to see the results of Triennial Trade. Who was this 32 dweller who would be married to their community? The speculation was endless, but the residents of 33 would have to wait until the ceremony. 

Norm, on the other hand, was wrestling with a different conundrum this morning. He picked up the folded paper atop his dresser and opened it to re-read the contents.

Courtesy of Overseer MacLean ‘s private library—our little secret. N

For a sickeningly sweet gesture, I, (Y/N), owe you, Norman MacLean, one activity of your choosing. 

 You will ask her. Don’t chicken out, he repeats to his reflection in the bedroom mirror above the dresser. Whether to ask (Y/N) to dance at Lucy’s wedding has weighed on him for several days. Does she even want me to ask? Would she be embarrassed if I did this in front of everyone? Then what if I don’t ask? Would she be disappointed? This was all too much. Decision fatigue plagued him. He’d read the room. He'd go for it if she seemed interested and the opportunity presented itself. 

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

The residents of Vault 33 congregated in the atrium's main square, waiting for Lucy to make her grand entrance. Norm could hear little snippets of separate conversations blending into one. 

“The decorations look beautiful!” “I’m so glad the sunflowers bloomed in time for the ceremony. We were getting worried.” “Should I have done something different with my hair?” “Do you think he’ll get the hint and ask me to dance?” 

He glances around to see if he can spot you among the other vault dwellers; when he does, the room goes silent. Confused, he turns around to see the source of the crowd’s change in demeanor.  

Lucy’s appearance in the upper balcony quieted the crowd. 

Norm watches as she comes down the stairs into the main square to greet the onlookers. He can see everyone smiling at the sight of the young woman in her wedding dress, including his dad. 

“Dad,” she chuckles. Stepping forward so he can admire his little girl. 

“My little sugar bomb,” their dad says as he embraces her.

“Gosh, you look just like your mother,” pride exuding from his voice. 

“Yeah, I wish she was here.” 

“Me too.” 

“Were you scared?” “When you married mom?” Norm hears Lucy ask. 

“Me?” he scoffs. “Terrified. I’d never set foot outside of Vault 31.” 

“When did it go away?” 

“The moment I met your mother.” 

How Norm wished his mother could be here to see this day. While today is supposed to be happy, her absence creates a veil of sadness he can see behind Lucy and his father’s eyes. She was supposed to be here to witness her daughter get married, to see them both grow up. He tries to push the sad thoughts and focus on the moment. If he cried on her wedding day, Lucy would never let him live it down.

“From that moment on, Vault 31 was a distant memory.” Hank continued. 

“Overseer, it’s time,” Betty announces to the pair. They take that as their cue, Hank extending his arm to his daughter and the remainder of the group filing in behind them. Norm takes his spot directly behind his Dad and Lucy. You notice and follow suit a few steps behind. 

As the group approaches the vault corridor connecting Vault 32 and 33 opens with a whoosh, and they begin the walk that will change their lives forever. 

Norm shuffles ahead quickly to end up beside his sister. He can’t pass up the opportunity to engage in some sibling teasing.

“Must be nerve-racking. Your husband could be anybody.” 

“I’m aware,” Lucy retorts. Rolling her eyes at his teasing. 

“And as for his looks?”

“Who knows?” she replies. Norm is impressed; she seems remarkably nonchalant in her response. He decides to take it up a notch. 

“Big butt? No butt? But of course, they are just superficial concerns. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” 

“That’s right!” their dad affirms, looking back at his children, hoping they will give it a rest today, of all days. 

“And in that respect, he could be a cannibal or just like crammed full of tumors.” Norm barely gets the words out before Lucy swats him with her bouquet.   

“Norman.” Hank scolds. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Norm concedes. 

Finally, they’re outside the main entrance of Vault 32. Showtime. 

Hank checks his Pip-Boy and gives Chet the okay to open the gate. Norm was surprised at his composure, given the situation. Everyone in Vault 33 knows he’s down bad for his sister. He and (Y/N) expected at least some reaction from Chet today. 

Chet connects his Pip-Boy to the mag lock. Nothing happens. 

“Honestly…” Chet sighs.” It's a Textbook tumbler jam. It’s going to take some time to fix.” 

There is it, Norm thinks. He’s SO not okay with this. Norm snickers internally and turns around to catch your eye. You return his glance as if to say, we SO called it. 

Lucy steps over to take control of the situation, and after a few hushed exchanges, Chet relents. 

The alarms sound, and the door to Vault 32 rolls back, revealing the residents out from behind its cover. 

Norm watched as his dad stepped in front of the group from 33 to welcome their new guests. 

“Welcome neighbors from Vault 32.” He says with outstretched arms. “ I am Hank MacLean, Overseer of Vault 33.” 

A dark-haired woman steps forward in matching fashion. 

“Lee Moldaver, Overseer of 32. Thank you for your hospitality.” 

“Oh, we were sorry to hear of Overseer Jackson’s passing in your telegrams.”

“When blight hit our wheat, we lost a lot of good people, but this trade will help get us back on our feet.” 

Norm frowned as he heard the words leave the opposing Overseer’s mouth. Why did she have to phrase it like that? Disdain bubbled up into his throat. Moldaver’s words made this whole event seem purely transactional. He means he knows it IS a transaction between vaults, meant to keep those in the vaults surviving, but these were people, and that was his sister. His sister, whom someone loosely compared to a few bushels of wheat. Only he was allowed to comment on his sister that way. When he did it, it was just two siblings mocking one another; when an outsider does it, it’s a step too far. 

Norm was so caught up in analyzing Moldaver’s words that he missed the remainder of the Overseers’ exchange. Suddenly, a rather scruffy 32 dweller stood out before both groups—Lucy’s new husband. 

Overseer MacLean was the one to break the ice. “Now that we’re acquainted, if everyone can move into the main square of the atrium, we can begin the ceremony,” ushering everyone to move back through the vault entrance. 

Norm hangs back from the front of the crowd to walk back with you. 

“Lucy seemed particularly happy with her new husband,” you comment. 

“Yeah, she's a little too happy. I still hope he has one ridiculously unexpected flaw, like being massively afraid of the dark. So bad he has to sleep with the lights on or maybe a nightlight, just to make things interesting.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” you reply, shaking your head.

______________________________

The ceremony was completed, and everyone took their seats at the picnic tables in Vault 33’s atrium. You couldn’t help but look around and admire the decorations. The “outdoor” space always turns out lovely when decorated for weddings. It was the same with Steph’s wedding two years prior. 

You continue taking everything in from your seat, focusing to admire the various spots decorated around the Vault’s main space. You spy Norm at an opposing table with Vault 32’s Overseer. You suppose his dad might have placed him there strategically, perhaps as a political test; it wouldn’t be surprising that he’d want his son to follow in his footsteps as Overseer. That would be quite the sight. Norm had the potential without question; you weren’t sure he wanted the responsibility. He catches you staring and gives you an awkward wave back. 

You flash him a toothy smile in return. It’s becoming harder to ignore how much your feelings for Norm have grown. In just a few short weeks, you went from hardly giving him a second thought to having him consume your waking thoughts. While you two were generally ignoring each other, it was easy not to notice how much he had grown into his features, and you couldn’t deny you found them attractive. Handsome. Not to mention how he has always made you feel comfortable being yourself around him. No masking, no walls, just you. Would becoming more than friends ruin your dynamic? Was his friendship something you'd risk?

You didn’t get more time to dwell on your feelings as Overseer MacLean started his speech from atop the stage. You redirected your drifting attention. 

“Good evening, and welcome to the proud denizens of Vault 32. We are bonded not just as neighbors but by a shared duty. To keep the candle of civilization lit. While the rest of the world has been cast into darkness. Soon, if our measurements are correct, radiation levels on the surface are dropping fast enough that the next generation, Lucy and Monty’s children, will be able to recolonize.”

 Your fellow Vault 33 neighbors erupt into cheers and applause while the other Overseer, Moldaver? visibly tenses. Huh. Maybe she’s just as afraid of Reclamation as some of other dwellers. The whole concept is terrifying enough for people who have never left the safety of the Vault. 

Overseer MacLean continues as the volume from the crowd subsides.

“After 200 years, we don’t know much about what’s up there: desperation, violence, lawlessness. These survivors will need to be shown a better way. I’ll admit sometimes I’m afraid that mean old world will change us instead. But then I look at my daughter, who’s such a beautiful bride, and her new husband. And I am not afraid. I feel hope. To Lucy MacLean. And to this marriage. And to hope!” 

Another round of celebration emanates from the Vault dwellers, and he starts off stage—but not without one final decree: “Let’s dance! Hit it.” 

The command stirs the jukebox to life, playing “Some Enchanted Evening,” and the Overseer extends a hand out to Lucy for their father-daughter dance. 

♫ Who can explain it?

Who can tell you why?

Fools give you reasons,

Wise men never try. ♫

As you watch Lucy’s tender moment with her dad, you cannot help but feel a tinge of sadness for a moment you’ll never have. They’ve become fewer and farther between, but times like this really make you miss your dad. You continue to watch them pushing out the feelings of jealousy and embracing the joy you felt for your friend. 

Suddenly, they break apart. Urging another off to the side to join them. Norm. You see him shake his head disapprovingly but gets to his feet anyway; he knows a losing battle when he sees one. Soon, all three of them are on the dancefloor, embracing and swaying to the music. You think your heart might melt at the sight. 

♫  Some enchanted evening

When you find your true love,

When you feel her call you

Across a crowded room, ♫

As the MacLeans start to separate from their family moment, Lucy notices your presence off to the side of the dancefloor and flashes you a “stay here there, I’m coming to you” gesture with her hands as she heads in your direction. You embrace her in a celebratory hug when she makes it to you. 

“Congratulations!” you offer up enthusiastically. “You make a stunning bride.”

“Thank you! It’s all so exciting, isn’t it?!” she says, matching your tone. She shifts her position slightly, taking your hands and moving her mouth closer to your ear. In a whisper, she asks, “ I was hoping to ask if you’d do my brother the honor of sharing a dance?” She pulled back into your line of sight, completing the request with a signature Lucy puppy-dog stare. “Consider it my wedding present.”

“How could I say no to that?” you respond with a laugh. Still holding your hands and smiling ear to ear, Lucy ushers you back to her family. 

♫ Then fly to her side,

And make her your own

For all through your life you

May dream all alone. ♫

As the two of you approach, you can see Overseer MacLean gently elbow-nudging a mortified-looking Norm. 

“I saw (Y/N) by herself on the edge of the dancefloor and thought someone might like to invite her to dance?” Lucy says as she offers your hand up to Norm. 

“I’d be happy to,” he replies, taking hold of your hand to lead you onto the dance floor. With a surprising amount of flourish, he pulls the two of you into a traditional slow dance pose, his right hand in yours and left hand resting softly on your waist. Your bodies tucked unexpectedly close against one another. 

“Sorry about that,” Norm pips up, shooting daggers in Lucy’s general direction, which she returns, blowing him a kiss back. “You know how she can be when she gets an idea in her head—unrelenting.” 

“I don’t mind; I was actually hoping you’d ask. Your sister just guaranteed the odds.” 

He looks up at you, and his expression softens. You two fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying the moment and each other’s company. Swaying back and forth to the music, the world melts away behind you. It’s short-lived, though, as the Overseer makes his way back towards you and his son. 

“Sorry, I will need to steal Norm away for a second,” the Overseer states as he places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Just one family photo, and I’ll give him back,” he reassures you with a wink. 

“Not a problem,” you manage, hiding your obvious disappointment. 

“Find you after.” Norm declares, keeping a loose grasp on your hand as the two of you pull away, clearly not wanting to let go just yet. 

You give him a nod, relinquishing his hand. 

♫ Some enchanted evening ♫

[authoreetea]

𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 (pt. 2)

pairing ; rafe cameron x reader

summary ; you come back to the obx three years later for a work thing, and rafe is adamant on trying to get you back. it's the christmas season 🫣

warnings ; i don't know 😭 THIS IS MY LONGEST WORK EVER? feminine terms maybe. reader is a fashion designer and probs ooc rafe

note! it's december, once again, so i thought why not give losing you a happy ending. part two! I'm in my christmas feels, ill make a part three. you can kinda end it at the first part but christmas feels gets me wanting happy endings so here i am 🫣

p1

Being back at Outer Banks after three years brings back the good and bad memories. It wasn't just a stroll down memory lane; it was a strong plunge into the depths of shared history. The salt air greeted me, it carried whispers of laughter and echoes of heartache.

My return wasnt purely for nostalgia, I had to be here on a work obligation. One of my clients live here, and apparently needed me here for the whole december.

Figure Eight was decorated with festive christmas lights, the holiday spirit clashing with my uncertainty that lingers in the air. I've debated with myself over and over again, that going back was a bad idea, yet I can't turn down my clients.

Unfortunately, the only hotel by figure eight is fully booked and I have nowhere else left to stay. I thought about Rafe's sister, Sarah, but I don't even know where she is now. We've fallen apart since then and I don't know anyone here, but him.

Taking a deep breath, I swallow my pride and went to the Cameron estate. I repeat 'it's for work' in my head as if it's a mantra.

The place I used to call home, the place where Rafe and I share all kinds of memories. It looked sad, it was the only house around the neighborhood that had no christmas decorations, yet it was still clean.

I compose myself, and knocked on the door three times. I hear shuffling and a slightly muffled "hold on" from the inside. I can recognize his voice anywhere, I only now felt the anxiety rushing back to me.

He opened the door, his hair damp and messy. He was in a navy blue polo shirt, with black shorts and his scent wrapped around me. Rafe smelled fresh and citrusy, my body felt comfort and resentment at the same time.

I muster up a small smile, you can barely even see it. Rafe looks shocked, his eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. Time had etched its mark on his face, a complex canvas of emotions hidden behind those familiar blue eyes. "You're back," he stated, his voice a mixture of surprise and a vulnerability he couldn't quite conceal. He looked as if he just saw a ghost.

I give him a curt nod. "Yes, for a work thing. The only hotel near here is fully booked, and this was the only place I could think of. I can find something else, if you mind."

Rafe shook his head and opened the door wider. "You can stay, it's just me, anyway." He said, the shock still evident in his voice. I gave him a quiet thank you, smiling at him as I walked in.

The inside felt cold, the ghost of our past danced around every corner of this place. It looked fine, it was obvious Rafe re-decorated and made it more- him.

"Thank you, really, for letting me stay. I didn't know figure eight was such a tourist spot at Christmas." I said, a slight hint of humor in my tone in attempt to lighten up the mood.

He gives a half-hearted chuckle, yet I could sense his guarded demeanor. "Uh, yeah. Ever since I finally took over, I made a few tweaks and this place became a tourist attraction." He said, scratching the back of his neck.

God, he looked so good.

I smile, trying to contain my thoughts. "You're doing really well, Rafe."

He smiles and thanks me. "Anyway, I have to excuse myself. You can take Sarah's old room for the time, you know where it is." He says, grabbing his keys, wallet, and phone, before walking to the door.

"I'm glad you're back, y/n." And with that, he left.

I felt my cheeks getting warm and I sure as hell looked red as a tomato. I think I'm gonna be sick, He looks so good and it's so hard not to miss him. In those three long years, all I could think about was if he was doing well. And I'm glad that he is.

--

Over days that blurred into nights, work obligations mingled with the tentative reconnection between us. Small talk and shared glances became the thread by which we delicately wove our way through unresolved emotions. Rafe's eyes held an unspoken plea, a desire to mend what had been broken.

It has been 14 days since I've been back, and it was already starting to get cold, only 10 days away from christmas. It was midnight at the Cameron estate as I went down to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa. I've been working all day figuring out new designs for this "gala" thing my client is asking for.

I prepared my ingredients, reaching for a mug when I was interrupted by a deep "Hey" from Rafe.

I gasped and held onto my chest. "Jesus, Rafe, don't sneak up on me like that!"

He smiles sheepishly, and mutters a soft sorry. "Sorry, can't sleep. What are you making?"

"Hot cocoa, you want one?"

He replies "sure" and sat by the kitchen island. It's been like this lately, small conversations with tension lingering in the air. It felt like something heavy was being put above our heads, threatening to fall down in a second.

Rafe looks deep in thought as I made his cocoa and mine. His eyebrows always go upward when he's thinking and he gets fidgety with his hands. Until today, I have all his mannerisms memorized. He wasn't someone I could ever forget.

"Y/n, look. I owe you an apology." He says, quietly as he still fidgets with his heirloom ring. His blue eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity. "You didn't deserve that. My fear pushed away the one thing that mattered the most."

My heart ached, I felt like it was beating a thousand times a minute. "Rafe-" I started, yet he cuts me off

"I wasn't done, sorry. I just want you to hear me first." He says, giving me a pleading smile. I whisper an okay and handed him my special cocoa.

"I knew I would mess it up. Hell, I feel like I really messed up back then. Fear took over me and I thought that it would protect you, but it only hurt you. " He said, his gaze switching from me and the old christmas mugs I bought that he still kept.

"Rafe, it's in the past. We've both grown up and I forgive you, I can never stay mad at you forever." I say, giving him a warm smile and held his hand for a second. He eyed my hand before giving me a half hearted smile.

"In the three years I was alone, I had time to reflect and I realized that some risks are worth taking. " He pauses, standing up next to me.

Rafe was tall, and he towered over me. "I'm sorry for not giving you what you deserved, for being to scared to accept the love you had to offer." He admitted, his blue eyes finally meeting mine. We were less than a meter away and I could basically feel his warmth radiating off of him. and his scent engulfed me like a hug.

"I want to show you I've changed, y/n. I'm willing to do anything, an whatever it takes, to make it right with us." He says, his hand reaching for mine and immediately met warmth. "Come home to me, y/n."

His apology hung in the air, and I stared at him, blinking. I was shocked at how he expressed his feelings, it wasn't something he was open about before and maybe now, he's really doing better.

"Rafe, I accept your apology. But you really did hurt me rafe, and it's gonna take a lot more than this for me to come home. " I say, giving him a tight lipped smile.

What surprised me was the smirk on his face as he looked at me.

"I understand." He says, a smile on his face before getting closer to me. I felt my blood rush to my cheeks at our closeness. The mood definitely changed from emotional to frisky really quick.

"There's ten days left before Christmas, think I can win you back by then?" he says proudly, smirking at me as he maintains eye contact.

I chuckle, "Sure preppy boy. I'd like to see you try."

[samwinchesterswifu]

Dark Side of the Moon (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Requested: No

Season 5 x Episode 16

Warnings: none :))

MINORS DNI

A/N: I'm having such a good inspiration going back and re-watching the show. Including little moments that could have happened if either boys had a partner.

Word Count: 615

Summary: Unaware of being dead, the reader takes a moment to indulge in a memory that she had long since forgotten.

Completely unaware of the current situation unfolding, she finds herself in the entrance of Bobby’s house. However, she was dressed like how she used to when she was 16. A baggy white t-shirt and loosely fitting jeans. The shirt seemed to stretched out, and a cheap cologne came from the top hem of the t-shirt. Realizing it was the old cologne Dean used to wear when they were-

“Y/N?” 16-year-old Dean pops from the kitchen to greet her with the biggest grin on his face. His voice still slightly high from not hitting puberty quit yet.

A small grin forms on her face, she hadn’t seen this version of Dean in years. The Dean she knew.

“Come on, I got this situated on the couch,” Dean motions to follow him. She gives a small nod, following him into the living room.

Next to the couch was a small side table pulled out. A hot cup of tea, presumably fresh, and a thick lore book with a bookmark sticking out on top.

Dean sits on the edge of the couch, one leg stretched out, the other on the floor. He pats his lap, motioning for her to lay down. Doing what he asks, she gently lays her head on his leg. She looks up to Dean briefly, another wide tooth grin forms on his face. This was their favorite summer activity. Bobby was gone, and John had probably left the three of them there away on a hunt. The windows were open slightly, allowing the fresh breezy air to swift in.

Dean picks up the lore book and begins reading were they had left off previously. While at the same time, he began to pet her hair. Hearing Deans soothing voice, she began to drift off to sleep.

However, she was rudely awaken by the sound of rushing footsteps coming from the kitchen. Jolting up from her spot, younger Dean was not responding to what was happening. Merging around a corner, she spots a much older Dean, and much older Sam. The two stopping in their tracks looking between her and the Younger Dean that was left on the couch.

“Guys?” She asks, confused on how they got there.

They quickly explain everything, how Roy and Walt had killed them and they were in heaven living out their greatest moments. Hearing that, a deep blush forms on her cheeks.

“So this is yours..?” Her Dean chuckles lowly. Surprised but also understanding. She could only muster up a small nod.

“Is this what you guys used to do when I wasn’t around?” Sam asks honestly bewildered at how slow Dean used to be with her around.

“Yeah,” She admits with an embarrassed tone on her voice.

Another chuckle is heard from Dean. He walks towards her. Cuffing the side of her cheek and giving her a sweet kiss.

“I miss these moments too sweetheart,” Dean whispers. His green eyes shining like how they did whenever he was happy.

Suddenly, the world around them started to shake, and a bright light flashes into the windows. The boys mention for her duck and to stay quiet. They explain its Zacharia looking for them and that they had to find the next road. Discussing quickly, the boys make a decision to try the front door.

They all move towards that area. Sam opens the door and mentions that it was the correct move. Before leaving with them, she takes one final look back at the young boy the couch. He was in the same position, reading a loud the same book. She smiles, happy to have had a chance to relive that memory.

[girl-next-door-writes]

Something

Characters: George Weasley x reader

Summary: When George bumps into a familiar face he begins to realise what he truly wants for Christmas.

Word Count: 1167 words

Prompt: Best Friends To Lovers. Tugging You Closer By Your Waist. Coffee Shop. “You know you’re stuck with me right?”

A/N: This is the second of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the amazing @achromaticerebus who put these prompts together for my favourite Weasley.

***********************************************************************

It was mid-December and George Weasley strolled through the enchanting scene of Diagon Alley, a swirling snowfall turning the bustling wizarding street into a winter wonderland. The shop windows were adorned with glistening decorations, casting a warm glow on the cobblestone streets. Everywhere he looked, green wreaths and twinkling lights illuminated the magical atmosphere, creating a festive charm that hung in the air. His breath visible in the crisp winter air, he couldn't shake the subtle ache in his chest. The laughter of couples echoed around him, their shared moments of joy accentuating his sense of loneliness. His eyes drifted toward a couple in front of him, heads close together, exchanging whispered secrets beneath the glow of a magical lamppost.

Trying to shake off the melancholy, George decided to visit his favourite coffee shop, "Brews and Brews." The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the warm glow of the fireplace greeted him as he stepped inside. The place was filled with laughter and chatter, providing a comforting backdrop to the holiday season.

As George waited for his order, his attention was momentarily diverted when he noticed someone familiar across the room, and a soft, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There you were, seated alone at a cozy corner table, bathed in the flickering glow of the firelight. You seemed completely engrossed in a book, a world of words and magic unfolding before you. George couldn't help but take a moment to watch you, the fondness evident in his eyes. The two of you had been firm friends since your school days, and this wasn't the first time he had found himself captivated by your presence.

Memories of shared laughter, late-night conversations in the common room, and countless adventures together flooded George's mind. But somewhere in amongst all the shenanigans, there had been a subtle shift that had taken place over the years; a shift that George had only recently begun to acknowledge. As he observed you, a warmth spread through his chest, and his heart skipped a beat. Picking up his coffee, he made his way over to you.

"Hey, stranger," George greeted with a playful grin, smoothly sliding into the seat opposite you. The rich timbre of his voice pulled your attention away from the book, and as your eyes met his, a genuine smile illuminated your face, recognizing the familiar presence.

"George! What brings you in here? I’d have thought you’d be working every hour you could up to Christmas," you remarked, curiosity lacing your words as you closed the book and set it aside.

George leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you see, even pranksters need a break now and then and I thought I'd take advantage of the festive charm. What about you? Any exciting plans for the holidays?"

As the conversation flowed, the warmth of the fireplace mirrored the growing warmth between you and George. The laughter and shared memories from your school days echoed in the air, creating a comforting backdrop to the catch-up session.

"He didn’t! I always thought it was Lee!" Your laughter resonated through the cozy café, and George couldn't help but feel his heart swell with joy.

"I swear it was Fred! Honest! And that’s why Samson had to wear a hat for a month," George insisted, a playful glint in his eyes as he recounted the mischief from their Hogwarts days.

Your sceptical look only fuelled the mirth in George's expression. "And you had absolutely nothing to do with that?" you questioned; your tone laced with a hint of disbelief. The mischievous twins' reputation for pranks was legendary, after all, where you would find one of them it was fairly certain the other would be.

George responded with a nonchalant shrug, his expression confessing more than his words. It was clear that he was just as involved with the prank as his twin had been. The memories of their shared antics seemed to weave a thread between you, a thread that connected past mischief to the present moment.

Time passed in a blur, and before you knew it, the two of you were bundled up against the cold, strolling through a snow-covered Diagon Alley, and every step seemed to conjure up memories of laughter and shared stories. Beneath the gentle glow of the streetlamps, the soft light intermingled with the delicate snowfall, casting a romantic ambiance over the cobbled path. The crunching sound of snow underfoot accompanied your laughter as you exchanged tales of past adventures. The air was filled with a sense of enchantment, the flickering lights and the serene snowfall conspiring to create a moment suspended in time.

"I've missed this, you know," George admitted softly as the conversation lulled, his breath creating little puffs of steam in the crisp winter air.

"Me too. It's been too long since we've just hung out."

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet. George felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and a nervous energy danced in his eyes as he searched for the right way to express what had been quietly brewing within him.

“I didn’t mean that I just missed hanging out. I missed you. I missed us.”

Your gaze met his, and the sincerity in his words lingered in the frosty air. George took a deep breath, hoping to summon the courage to delve into uncharted territory.

“You know you’re stuck with me, right?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

George chuckled, a mixture of relief and affection evident in his expression. "Well, perhaps I want to be stuck with you."

The moment hung in the air, suspended between the snowflakes and the twinkling lights of Diagon Alley. The realisation of unspoken feelings coloured the atmosphere, as the two of you stood looking into each other’s eyes.

Suddenly, George reached out, gently tugging you closer by your waist. The gesture felt so natural, as if he had done it a million times before, and your hands came to rest against his chest. It was right then that George knew he couldn’t let this moment pass.

"You know," George began, his voice low and sincere, "if I’m stuck with you, that also means you're stuck with me, right?"

You met his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Good thing I wouldn't want it any other way."

And just like that, beneath the twinkling lights and the falling snow, George realised that the best Christmas gift he could have received was standing right in front of him. The transition from best friends to something more felt like the most natural progression, a love that had been quietly brewing for years, he just hadn’t realised it until now. Cupping your cheeks, he took a chance, leaning down and capturing your chilly lips in a soft but searing kiss. Perhaps this Christmas he wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.