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taintedcigs · 8 months

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i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u? false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally.

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.”

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought.

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work.

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago.

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked.

You weren’t special.

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him.

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart. why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you.

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him.

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.

Shit.

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration.

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit.

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you.

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?”

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song.

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—”

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips.

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips.

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest.

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates.

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases.

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words.

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?”

“What? What guy?”

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?”

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane.

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about?

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same.

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?”

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same.

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t.

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are.

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie.

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway.

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him.

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode.

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch.

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you.

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt.

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore.

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?”

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you.

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again.

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever.

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips.

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer.

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum.

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before.

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him.

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him.

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him.

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time.

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different.

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you.

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you.

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him.

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it.

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses.

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair.

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again.

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug.

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in.

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead.

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath.

Was he… actually gonna do this?

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod.

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach.

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.”

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body.

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way.

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that.

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.” His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears.

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh.

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back.

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff.

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!”

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson

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fen-luciel · 2 months

Text

Hurt

Thanks to @driksss for the idea:

[I loved your story

please

write a story in which the reader accidentally hurts herself during training and qimir feels guilty and takes care of her injuries]

Warnings: description of injuries/light smut/sub Qimir

"Again" I ordered, with my lightsaber on.

Qimir grumbled, his butt on the ground "Can I take a break?" he complained, getting up and brushing the dirt off his pants, the lightsaber at his feet.

"Come on, Qimir. At least until sunset, as usual. I'll cook tonight" I tried to cheer him up with a bright expression, but he didn't seem particularly pleased.

"It's just that... never mind" he called his lightsaber back to him before starting to walk. "But let's move from here. The ground keeps making me slip, I can't stand it anymore." I sighed but followed him without protest, my saber now off and at my belt.

I silently watched his back as we walked. We were both terribly sweaty, the forest was humid and the afternoon sun was dry, not to mention we had been training for hours. The tank top I wore was now clinging to me, and the loose pants that reached my knees were soaked with dirt, grass, mud, and sweat.

Qimir looked just as worn out, to the point where he had cut off the sleeves of his shirt with his lightsaber for some extra air.

His back was drenched in sweat, and my first instinct was to tease him, but things were tense between us.

It had been an uphill journey for us, friends, colleagues, and now master and acolyte.

Unfortunately, we were still working on the last part, especially considering how we were indirectly or directly... intimate.

I sighed.

I knew it was a bad idea.

But now, telling him to end it seemed even worse.

We kept training for at least a couple more hours, and honestly, I couldn't stand it anymore.

He kept making stupid mistakes, tripping over branches, getting distracted, it was infuriating.

We stood on top of some trees, the first pink and orange lights of sunset coloring the landscape. It would have been almost romantic if we weren't two Banthas soaked and dirty with earth. We definitely needed a shower.

We jumped from branch to branch, red against red, our bodies pulsing with fatigue. The goal was to get him used to more exhausting rhythms, but it was useless if two times out of three I had to divert my own stroke because he was too distracted to dodge them.

"If you're so bored, you could have spared me the trouble of paying attention to you today!" I finally snapped, and without even thinking, I crouched in a fluid motion, aiming at the thick branch under his feet and cutting it diagonally. Whether he was surprised by my shout or the move, I couldn't say, but he lost his balance, one foot slipping on the moss covering the tree, and he began to fall.

I had time to glance at him a little longer and realize my colossal mistake.

Below us, there weren't just a few meters separating us from the ground, we had gradually moved deeper into the forest, where the trees grew denser and taller, and the branches we were on directly overlooked a small cliff crossed by a stream. Qimir was about to fall into it like a sack of potatoes.

I reached out with my hand, pulling him towards me with the Force, just enough to grab his wrist in the panic of the moment. I managed to pull him up, but in doing so, I lost my balance. My other hand still held the lightsaber uselessly, and I began to fall.

I saw him as he clung to the branch where I had been seconds earlier. I instinctively turned off the lightsaber as I plummeted. Qimir reached out to stop me, but in a mix of fatigue and panic, he only managed to slow the inevitable. He lost his grip, and I crashed down the last few meters, finally rolling into the shallow stream.

I hissed as a ringing filled my ears, my body on fire as I tensed my muscles. I couldn't tell if I'd broken something in the process, but I was sure I was bleeding—I could feel it on me, and the stream wasn't deep enough to get me this wet.

I struggled to open my eyes, my vision dark at the edges as I tried to focus around me. I couldn't see Qimir, but I assumed he was about to come down, so I looked at myself, and it was bad.

Nothing seemed unnaturally bent, but I was bleeding profusely. My legs, arms, torso, not to mention the dull pain I felt throughout my body—if nothing was broken, I'd at least sprained something. Qimir's brief intervention had prevented the worst, but I was still in danger.

"Force, wait, i'm here"

I looked up to see Qimir sliding down the cliff before making one last jump near me, panic in his eyes as he looked at me, breathing heavily. "Come on, damn it, okay, I've got this-" he stammered as he knelt beside me, his trembling hands searching for a wound that wasn't even visible due to the blood scattered everywhere.

"Calm down, Qimir—" I tried to reassure him with a hoarse voice before grabbing his wrist. "I need you to carry me, so try to concentrate" He shot me a wide-eyed glance and nodded. He quickly stood up to retrieve my lightsaber, which had fallen a few meters ahead, and after recovering it, he came back to pick me up. It was quite complicated to get me onto his shoulders, everything burned, and while I could somewhat move my arms, I certainly didn't have the strength to pull myself up or bend my legs. He practically had to lie down next to me so I could roll onto him and slowly drag myself onto his back. Once he ensured I was in a stable position, he began to run toward the base.

I don't know exactly how much time passed—I hadn't noticed how deep we were in the forest, and we reached our shelter on the edge of the woods when it was already pitch dark. I kept myself awake by sheer miracle, more to keep Qimir from panicking than anything else, as he seemed on the verge of a panic attack, mumbling something I couldn't hear well and was too exhausted to ask him to speak up.

We had rented a house for a while nearby—a woodland retreat for those who wanted a nature getaway. We were there to train undisturbed, which wasn't in our favor now that we actually needed to be near civilization to call for help.

Qimir opened the door, quickly closing it behind us and heading straight for the bathroom with determined steps. "We have some medicine, but I don't know how much it can help" I could only let out a laughing breath. "I told you we'd regret not stopping by the store"

He shook his head but said nothing more, letting me slide to the floor beside the tub where I collapsed without strength.

I kept my eyes half-closed—the bathroom light seemed to burn my eyes. "Turn it off, please" I whispered wearily, hearing him rummaging through the bottles behind the sink's glass. He grabbed what he needed before turning off the main light, leaving only the dim secondary one on.

"Swallow these—one for the pain, and the other to make sure no infections develop... we only have one more, so tomorrow we need to get you to a doctor" I swallowed them, thankful for the miracles of bacta that might help me get through this.

"Now, I'm going to put you in the tub and heal you with the Force, okay?"

He began to open my robe with trembling hands, and I chuckled. "Don't be shy, it's not like you haven't seen me before" but he didn't find it as funny, given the glare he shot me.

I didn't feel uncomfortable being naked—I had never had too many problems about it, just as he didn't with me, and besides, given my overall condition, neither of us was really focused on anything else. Qimir turned on the hot water in the tub and started to undress.

"We haven't tried this before. You're brave tonight" I noted with poorly concealed amusement and a tired voice.

"Stop it. I need to wash you, and I can't afford for you to slip in the tub."

I muttered something, but I felt my strength leaving me. "I really need to close my eyes for a bit" I whispered as he grabbed me under the armpits and moved me into the tub, which was filling with hot water. I hissed at the sensation—the pills were beginning to numb my nerves, but the dull pain I felt would continue for a while. The warmth of the tub was pleasant, but it burned my skin, and within seconds, the water had already taken on a brownish-red color.

"I've got you, don't worry" Qimir's voice near my ear made me shiver, though I hoped he hadn't noticed. Once he made sure I was in a safe position, he leaned over to grab the soap "Qimir. I really need to close my eyes" I said in an increasingly faint voice. I saw his lips move, his expression worried, but I couldn't hear his words, and I passed out.

When I opened my eyes, I was still in the tub.

The first thing I heard was my heavy breathing filling the small bathroom. The water around me was strangely clean. I raised a hand to rub my eyes and noticed how wrinkled my skin was, a sign that I had been here for a while.

I caught a glimpse of the long abrasion wounds covering my arms when, from behind, a hand gently took mine—Qimir's hand.

"It's okay, I'm here." His rough voice in my ear was enough to finally understand what was happening.

He had sat behind me in the tub, resting me against his chest. I was so confused that I hadn't noticed his head next to mine.

I turned my gaze towards him, realizing how close we were. He seemed more relaxed and calm now, his eyes fixed on mine, and a sad smile on his lips.

“You’ve been out of it for a while" his tone was still low and slow. This time, the trembling in my body was obvious, but he misunderstood the reaction, as he gently slid us a bit deeper into the warm water.

“You washed your hair” I noted with poorly concealed amusement and a tired voice.

He chuckled with a smile. “And for the record, I washed yours too” I giggled, followed by him, the atmosphere much more relaxed now, although a slight glance outside the tub made me notice the dried blood on the floor.

But I was feeling better.

I think.

I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, still feeling dizzy and tired, but the movement was terrible. Though I appeared better on the outside, inside, I was still a mess. I couldn’t tell if the pills had already worn off or if they weren’t strong enough from the start. “Take it easy, I... I haven’t healed you yet” Qimir admitted, tightening an arm under my chest in a hug.

I murmured in confusion, and he sighed. “I... can’t. I took some time to relax and clean us up. I’m feeling better, but... I can’t focus” the discomfort was evident in his tone.

I couldn’t really blame him, it wasn’t such a common power, and during his years as a Jedi, it seemed to have remained dormant, now forcing him to train it from scratch.

Unfortunately, I could only help him from a theoretical standpoint, which made the learning process slower than usual, but he was gradually improving.

“It’s the first time you’ve tried with internal trauma and not external injuries. Not to mention it’s much more complex than the small cuts you’ve been practicing on until now. You need to relax” I murmured against the skin of his neck, my eyes closed as I pressed more gently against his chest.

I could feel the tremor in his heavy sigh through the contact between our bodies. I moved our still intertwined hands to my stomach, while the free hand moved to the side of his face in a gentle caress. I left a slow kiss on his neck before slightly lifting myself up so that my lips were at the height of his ear.

“Do you want to make me feel good, Qimir?” I asked sweetly, looking at him. He had closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly upwards. I released his hand to rest it on my stomach.

“Y-yes” he stammered in response.

“Then breathe. And focus on me.” I kissed his jaw a couple of times, leaving a slight trail of saliva along his skin. His chest rose and fell deeply, dragging my body along with his as our breaths synchronized “Good boy.”

There was a moment of silence before a pleasant warmth began to soothe my aching muscles and bones. I only let it go on for a few seconds, worried he might overdo it. “Slowly now, we both need our strength” I moved his hand away from me, caressing the back of it. He opened his eyes and lowered his gaze to meet mine, his lips slightly parted as his heartbeat quickened in his chest.

He leaned in towards my lips, but I pulled away with a small smile. “Slowly now” The disappointment was clear in his features, his dark irises, and the moisture in his eyes seemed to burn me alive.

“I really need to get out of the water” I whispered against his lips before giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Keep being good, and maybe I’ll give you a reward later.”

This seemed to cheer him up, and we moved to get out of the tub. Unfortunately, Qimir couldn’t help me as much as he would have liked; my body was still in constant pain, though much more manageable than before. All the wounds on my arms and legs had stopped bleeding but needed to be bandaged.

We took a brief walk to the bedroom in a somewhat ridiculous manner. I was still in pain, and Qimir had used some of his energy to heal my bones, so he was feeling as tired as I was.

“Wait, I want to sit down” I said, letting myself fall into the armchair next to the bed with a sigh.

“Okay. One last effort. And then we’ll sleep” he said, picking up the kit that was already on the bed. I glanced at him sideways as he sat down next to me and started covering the cuts with soft, bacta-soaked bandages. They couldn’t completely heal the wounds, but at least I would sleep more peacefully.

A few seconds passed before he spoke “I’m sorry. It was my fault” his voice rough and low as he kept his gaze fixed on what he was doing, the room dimly lit only by the moonlight outside.

“Nonsense. I wasn’t careful” I replied, looking at the ceiling.

So much had happened in just a few hours that I had almost forgotten how it all started, and as much as the dynamic still irritated me, I was partly responsible.

I should have just talked to him.

“Stop it. I... you’re right to be mad at me” I looked at his bowed head, avoiding my gaze. Slowly, he knelt in front of me, and I couldn’t help but blush a little seeing him between my legs, the wounds long forgotten.

“We both made mistakes—” I began, but he shook his head. I saw the way his jaw clenched when he was nervous, and I bit my lips in response. He was finally opening up to me, and I was getting distracted.

I was hopeless.

“No. I was distracted. I deserved a lesson, but you were too kind to me” his long, slender fingers gently held my ankle as he carefully tightened the bandage up to my thigh.

I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“Distracted by what, anyway? You’ve been doing well lately” I tried to focus on his words, but even his tone sent a shiver between my legs, and not being able to rub them together was even worse.

A few seconds passed. He finished the bandages completely before raising his gaze to me, and I almost lost my breath.

He looked at me with those dark, deep eyes, which unsettled my stomach.

Kneeling between my legs, I felt terribly vulnerable given the weakness of my limbs, not to mention he was wearing a loose shirt that allowed me to see part of his smooth chest from above.

I knew what he was about to say.

Our relationship had inevitably solidified into something much more than just a simple friendship or brotherhood due to the time spent together.

I didn’t know if it was I who had seduced him first or if he had fallen at my feet.

But we liked it.

The only thing was that Qimir had still been a Jedi, and now his experiences were limited, if not non-existent. He wanted to learn, but he felt awkward, so he often behaved like a wounded puppy, using some excuse to put his hands on me and feel less pathetic for begging for my more experienced touch.

“By you. By what you do to me” he finally answered, his hand slowly caressing my ankle with his thumb. The fingertips of his hands trailed up along my calves, stopping behind my knees, where his palms gently squeezed.

“I’m obsessed with you. With your scent. With your skin. I can’t stop thinking about your voice,” if possible, his voice dropped even lower.

“I want to make you feel good.” He placed one of my legs beside him before slowly bending down to kiss the bandaged side of my knee.

“I want to deserve everything you give me” Without even realizing it, I spread my legs to let him position himself better between them. He kissed a patch of skin higher up, and even higher, until he was inevitably approaching the part of me that craved his touch the most.

He gently rested his head on my inner thigh, looking directly into my eyes through the strands of hair falling over his face.

“I want to learn to worship you. So please, teach me again how to touch you the way you need”

I had to exhale with trembling lips as I gripped the armrests of the chair beneath me.

"I'll be a good boy for you."

#the acolyte #qimir #star wars #qimir x reader #qimir x oc #the stranger x reader #qimir sub #light smut

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wisteriadumster · 2 months

Text

Cherry Pop ❥Arthur Morgan

･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ.

ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ ⋆ sex ⋆ make out ⋆ oral f!receiving ⋆ f!orgasm ⋆ hickeys⋆this is kinda wholesome ish ⋆

WC➻❥1786➻❥ this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥ one late afternoon your relaxing with your husband Arthur when you come to realization that you’re ready to go to the next with him and he comfortably guides you through “popping your cherry”

A/N ➻❥ I absolutely loved writing this and it took me about one night to finish surprisingly

･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ.

Do Not Steal Or Translate My Work!

You weren’t a saint by any means but you had managed to stay “pure” until marriage.

Your husband, Arthur, hadn’t begged or bothered you about it. He said that whenever you were ready, he’d be ready too.

You laid with him in bed, soaking in his warmth.

His hands rubbed your legs as you played through his hair. “How was fishing?” You asked, he often met with an old friend to fish and hunt, Hamish Sinclair.

“We did pretty good today, I’ll cook it later if you’d like.” His chest hummed against your knees, “how was your day darlin’?”

“I wrote to my mother this morning, I also weeded the garden.” You reminisced.

“You look so pretty upside down.” He smiled, looking up at you through his brows. You blushed, “oh you stop it,” you lightly pulled his hair and laughed with him.

You kept running your fingers through his hair, Arthur gently rubbing your legs, lightly massaging them as he moved his hands. “Arthur.” You were hesitant to tell him you were ready, “yes sweetheart?” He continued on, “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” He attempted looking at you again. “You know,” your voice went quiet as you felt a sense of embarrassment. Arthur nodded once he figured it out, “that kind of ready.” He stopped rubbing your legs, “are you sure?” You nodded.

Arthur had escaped your legs and was on top of you. He looked at you, on all fours, he let a hand run up your thigh, slowly disappearing under your nightgown. “Are you sure?” He asked once more, desperate for reassurance. “Arthur,” you cupped his right cheek, “I am positive.” You slowly kissed, taking it slow as his hand continued under the white fabric of your dress.

Both hands cupped his face as the kiss was truly intimate. “I love you.” You spoke in between breaths, “I love you more darlin’.” He replied as his hand sat on your hip.

You pulled yourself from the kiss, breathing deeply as you prepared yourself. “Do you want me to lead?” Arthur offered, you nodded softly.

Arthur held your chin, slowly letting his lips touch yours. “Sorry for making you wait,” you mumbled against his lips. Arthur pulled back and looked at you, his eyes peaceful and pupils large, “darlin’ don’t apologize for such a thing, I wouldn’t ever force you.” A smile forms on his face, “but you are slowly ruining the mood,” you both had a slight laugh before collecting yourselves.

In the moments of silence you both looked at each other, eyes fluttering as you kept eye contact. Arthur looked down at your lips then back to you, slowly bringing himself closer to you. His lips rubbed yours for a moment, then slightly pulled away. You could see Arthurs chest rise with a big breath before his lips carefully connected with yours.

This wasn’t the first time you had kissed and made out with Arthur, but the tension was exponentially high as you knew what was to come, not that you weren’t excited for the next level of your wholesome marriage. One of your hands cupped his face as the other trailed up the back of his neck into the hair you were playing with moments ago.

Arthurs fists pushed into the pillow that supported your lower back against your bed frame. His lips were soft and wet from your mouth, Arthur pulled his kisses to your cheek, kissing his way to your ear. “I’ll take good care of you darlin’, I promise.” His hot breath whispered, the gruff in his voice sent pleasant shivers down your spine. His lips touched your skin, kissing down your jawline to your neck, leaving gentle love bites as he lowered to your jugular.

Arthur kissed down the deep neckline of your dress, his lips set just above your covered breasts. His eyes flutter through his eyelashes at you. You begin scrunching and pulling your nightdress up, Arthur pulling back and helping to pull the dress over your torso.

Arthur sat for a moment, your dress in his hands as he looked at your bare body. “I am a lucky man,” his eyes traveled up your body, slowly meeting your eyes again before he threw your dress across the bed and onto the floor.

He kissed you again, his hands on your waist, hugging your figure as the kiss progressed from delicate to hot. Your lips wet with a mixture of saliva, it didnt bother you, everything about the moment was making both sets of lips wet, soaked even.

Arthur repeated his kiss trail, his lips continuing past the abrupt block when you were clothed. Your head slightly leaned back as he aroused your breasts, his hands pushing your waist into the pillows, the tight grip making the sensations even better.

Arthur had a hand travel the side of your body, his grip tightening on your left boob. You slightly bit your bottom lip as you waited for him to continue his journey down your body. His kisses and love bites continued down the middle of your abdomen, lingering just above your hips.

Arthur pulled himself back, he began unbuttoning the few buttons on his shirt. He pulled it over his head, revealing the hairy chest you had admired quite often. You watched as he did the single button of his pants, he slightly pushed his pants down, leaving the base just slightly visible.

He crawled back to you, kissing up your right leg. Love bites were covered on your inner thigh before Arthur focused his attention onto your wet pussy. He looked up at you again, his eyes locked with your as he teasingly kissed your lips, watching as your body yearned for him.

His warm tongue slowly entered you, your hands gripped the bed sheets tight as your body tensed. Arthur studied you, watching how when his tongue moved in a certain way it would make you feel better than a different way. “Fuck,” you try to contain the slight moan in your voice but its hard as his tongue works inside you.

Arthur slowed his pace with his tongue, before he removed it. He kissed you again, his face wet from you. He had you distracted with the wet kiss as he slowly entered himself. You pulled from the kiss with a moan, adjusting yourself to the unfamiliar feeling of Arthur’s cock.

His pace was leisurely, allowing you to adjust to the feeling. Once you did, you brought your attention back to Arthur, your hands over his shoulders, allowing him to kiss your neck. The warmth of his mouth on your bare neck combined with the slight thrusts couldn’t keep you silent. Every movement made a noise escape you, “Can I go faster?” Arthur looked back at you, you nodded, Arthur frowned, “use your words darlin’.” You felt another shiver of pleasure with his slight insert of dominance. “Please go faster,” your words trailed off as the new feelings increased.

The thrusts quickened at a slight pace, Arthur again watching to see what was too much for you, not that you believed you could have too much of him. Nevertheless as he hastened, you grew louder, so did your climax; which was nearing its peak.

Arthur looked down, placing his thumb on your clit, which only made you moan louder as you were stimulated. Arthur kept everything consistent, leaving you to wonder why you hadn’t done this sooner with him. You knew that this was going to happen a lot more now that you had enough courage. “God,” you mutter before he kisses your lips, taking in your moans, with a slight mix of his own pleasurable sounds.

It didn’t long for the peak of your orgasm to be hit, your nails dug into Arthurs shoulder blades. Arthur slowed his pace as you continued, your moan long and drawn-out by stimulation. Arthur panted beside you as you finally caught yourself, his own orgasm had yet to happen. Your body relaxed into your bed frame and comfort of the mattress and pillows under you.

Arthur pulled himself out of you, still hovering over you as he laid gentle kisses on your jawline. You cupped his face and pulled him to your lips, he let you dominate the kiss; how your lips mixed together, whether your tongues would dance with each other.

Arthur finally pulled from you and rolled over, falling beside you, a pleased smile on his face. “You’re so beautiful darlin’,” his eyes were admiring yours. You turned your body and adjusted yourself to lay beside him, you both just looked at each other, ignoring how exposed and bare you were. “I love you,” you leaned in and set a small peck on his right cheek before pulling back with a sly smirk. “I love you too sweetheart,” his fingers pushed back loose hair that had escaped your braid.

“Is it normal to be tired after?” You yawned, your body exhausted from such an amazing experience. “I’m that damn good?” He laughed and you playfully hit his shoulder, “It’s a lot of work, and I’m sure your day was more than writing to your mother and weeding. You have reasons to be tired darlin’.” He turned away from you and grabbed your nightgown, “I’ll put you to bed if you’d like,” he offered. “I think you already did.” You giggled and sat up, allowing Arthur to dress you in the laced nightgown that you had made for your wedding.

You pulled down the covers of your bed and slid yourself under them, Arthur pulling them up over your stomach. He leaned over you and gave you a gentle kiss, letting himself linger for a moment; before he rolled over and sat on the edge of your bed. “Are you not coming to bed?” You shifted yourself into a comfortable position, “I’ll be in bed soon, I’m just gonna check on the horses. I’ll be back in a moment dear.” He loosely button his pants and slid on his boots before he quietly walked around the bed and out of the room.

You turned around and dimmed the kerosene lamp on your beside table that Arthur had built when you first moved into this house. You slowly closed your eyes as you reminisced on your “first time”, you had thoroughly enjoyed it and was glad it was with Arthur, your husband, your true love.

As you slowly began to drift off to sleep, you felt Arthur carefully get into your bed. Adjusting himself to not wake you; before he laid an arm over you and slowly moved closer to you before he drifted off with you. His snores comforting you into a deep rest.

#fanfiction #fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #writing #red dead fanfic #x reader #smut #wisteriadumster #arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x reader

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luvv-nikki · 10 months

Text

Tainted Love

Your reserved, idol boyfriend makes you wonder if your relationship is one sided.

Pairing: Seungmin X Fem!Reader

wc: 1387

Tags:

A/N: Hi guys this is my first time writing on this app so I kinda have no clue what I’m doing forgive me in advance if anything is weird!

It had been three months since you started dating Seungmin. From the moment you met him, you knew he wasn’t very out there or even very affectionate, but you didn’t mind, or at least you thought you didn’t. It seemed like every day he grew further apart, or maybe it was your insecurities starting to grow more, but you wondered if your boyfriend even liked you with how cold he was.

You sat front row at the Stray Kids World Tour. You had decided to surprise your boyfriend since it was their last show and you hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever. He seemed so happy on stage, even cracking a few genuine smiles here and there. As they were performing one of their songs, Seungmin came over to your section for the first time since the concert started. The fans started screaming as he reached out, touching some of their hands. Your eyes locked with his, and his smile immediately dropped. He looked surprised, but you couldn’t tell if it was a happy or upset surprise. He got up and walked to his other members, and that was the last time he came over there for the rest of the concert.

After the members ended the concert, the security guards helped you backstage, where you were immediately met with love, greetings, and thank-you's from the members. All but Seungmin, it was like he disappeared.

“He went to the bathroom.” Chan mentioned as he noticed you looking around, and you nodded sitting on one of the couches. Felix came and sat next to you, starting a conversation.

You didn’t even realize how long you were talking to Felix, who indulged in the conversation about your favorite movie. Seungmin hated the movie, so talking to him about it was like talking to the wall. You felt the cushion on the other side of you sink, and a pair of cold hands wrap around you. Seungmin rested his head on your shoulder, looking at you with a blank expression.

“Keep talking.” He said simply before closing his eyes, and you smiled slightly before going back to your conversation. That was the last thing he said to you from then until you all got back to the dorms.

Chan, Minho and Changbin all came to the dorm since they were going to a small celebration dinner. While they ordered the Chinese food, you and Seungmin were in his room. He was unpacking his bag while you sat on the other side of the bed. You watched how tired he looked and how slow he was moving, and you decided to try and help. When you got up, you accidentally kicked his nicely folded clothes on the floor.

His expression immediately changed to an annoyed one, but before he could say anything, you quickly apologized going to pick up the clothes. But luck just wasn’t on your side today because when you got up, you hit your head on the nightstand, knocking a glass of water on yourself and Seungmin’s clothes. He sighed and snatched the clothes out your hand.

“I just washed those! My god, can you do anything without making a mess of yourself!?” He snapped, and you could feel your heart shatter. It was the first time he ever yelled at you like that. You got up, dusting off your outfit, avoiding eye contact as tears stung your eyes.

“I made a mistake while trying to help you, but if you’re going to be a dick about it, fine!” You yelled back before leaving his room, making sure to slam the door behind you. You felt the tears fall and rushed out the door before anyone could say anything, though you could feel the eyes of the other seven boys on you.

It was freezing outside. It was very obvious that it was winter. You shivered as you walked, the cold air hitting the wet parts of your clothes and hair. You were halfway down the steps when a hand wrapped around your waist stopping you. You turned to Seungmin, watching his face drop when he saw you crying. He quickly wiped the tears with his other hand before taking his jacket off and putting it on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, can we talk about it in-"

“Do you want to break up with me?” You cut him off, making his expression change from empathetic to confused.

“What? No, where did you get that stupid idea from?” He immediately rebutted, taking a step closer.

“You never smile at me or talk to me; you ignore me like at the concert today, and you’re so distant and short-tempered like you hate-,” You were cut off by him pulling you in for a hug and shoving your head into his shoulder.

“Don’t finish that. Never say that.” He said and you just nodded. He fell silent for a few seconds before talking again. “I’m scared.” He whispered.

“What?” You questioned, causing him to sigh.

“I’m scared if I smile at you…You’ll think I’m unattractive because of my braces; scared if I talk to you, I’ll say the wrong thing; if I perform near you, I’ll mess up; and scared if I'm close for too long, you’ll think I'm clingy or weird because of the way I admire you because... I have no clue how I got a girlfriend as beautiful as you that makes me so nervous and that I worry about so much to the point I get scared and snap at her whenever I even think of her hurting herself.” He hooked his finger under your chin, lifting your head and staring into your eyes for a second before leaning in and placing a small kiss on your lips.

“I love you so much, pup.” He whispered between kisses, making your heart drop. It was the first time he said he loved you, and probably the nicest he’d ever been to you.

You pulled him in closer, tangling your fingers in his hair, and kissed him more. “I love you too, Minnie.” You whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Once you were close enough, he picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder as he took you back to the dorm. You kicked and wiggled, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment, but soon gave up as Seungmin opened the door. You covered your face, wanting to turn invisible, as you felt all the boys eyes on you yet again.

Seungmin put you down on the bed before getting a hoodie and sweatpants from his closet. “I’ll put your clothes in the dryer when you’re done.” He said handing you the clothes and laying on the bed.

“Oh, you mean like now? In front of you?” You muttered, watching as Seungmin’s face flashed red.

“Oh right. Sorry, I’ll go out-"

"No, it’s fine, but... could you close your eyes?” You asked shyly, and he nodded, closing his eyes.

You peeled the wet clothes off your body, sliding the sweatpants on. When you went to grab the hoodie, you saw Seungmin’s eye start to open, and threw the wet shirt over his eyes. “Hey! No peeking!” You said in a playful tone, causing him to laugh. It was genuine and warmed your heart, especially with the way he was smiling with his gums. You slid the hoodie on your body before sitting next to him on the bed. You leaned in, pecking his lips. He put the shirt to the side before sitting up, so he was at eye level with you. His hand cupped your cheek before he pulled you in, kissing you deeply.

You immediately melted into his touch, kissing him back. You pulled away your face, still only inches from his. “You don’t have to be scared to be yourself around me. I’ll never think any of those things about you. You’re perfect to me, Minnie.” You said while softly caressing his cheek. The door suddenly opened, causing you both to look over. Chan stood in the doorway, digesting the scene, before speaking up.

“Sorry for interrupting. The food is here.” He said before frantically closing the door. You looked at Seungmin, and the both of you laughed before getting up and going out to the living room to eat dinner.

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carooosa · 11 months

Text

Enchanting Distractions

Summary: Tav (reader) has ADHD/is bad at setting boundaries when it comes to their party members. Astarion comforts them.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Semi-canon compliant, takes place after the tiefling party and literally right before entering Act 2. I barely proofread it so sorry in advance. I was feeling particularly upset at myself today and so this is what I wrote up.

The days had been starting to blur together as you made your way through the mountain pass. Tomorrow your party would step into the shadow-cursed lands, so it was decided to set up camp early for the night to ensure that everyone was well-rested and prepared. Tension ran through the camp, everyone on edge with the possibility of finding the cause of the tadpoles. Whatever happens tomorrow could very well be the end of your journey.

As everyone set up their tents, you began to look through your supplies, separating potions, arrows, and scrolls into piles to give to your companions. While organizing everything, the sound of Lae’zel and Shadowheart bickering caused you to lift your head. They had never gotten along since the beginning of this tadpole mess but after the Githyanki Creche their hatred for each other seemed to amplify.

“I would say that I’m surprised that machine was unable to get rid of the tadpoles, but then again, I wouldn’t expect gith to know what they were doing,” Shadowheart had taunted Lae’zel.

“The zaith'isk was tampered with! Githyanki technology is far beyond your understanding, and if you had something other than a tadpole in your brain, you would realize the mistake in your words,” Lae’zel shot back. She turned to herself before saying, “Useless istik, mindlessly following a false god”

“What did you just say?” Shadowheart said as she readied herself to attack.

“Your ‘goddess’ ordered you to steal a precious artifact from my people, and yet knowing that does not change your unwavering belief. A goblin has more integrity than you,” Lae’zel said as she continued to walk away.

“Shar is a real goddess, unlike the githyanki’s petty attempt at a goddess, Vlaakith,” Shadowheart yells as she begins to sprint toward Lae’zel. The fighter had already pulled out her sword and the clashing of metal rang through the air. You sighed, standing up from the mess that laid out before you, and ran towards the fight. Before you could intervene, Karlach had taken her great axe and held it out in between the two aggressors before berating them.

“For fuck’s sake guys, the whole point of setting up camp early was to rest for tomorrow, not argue and waste our energy on dumb fights.” As Karlach said this, Shadowheart cast gust of wind to push her opponent back, accidentally hitting Karlach in the crossfire. She had succeeded at causing Lae’zel to lose her grip on her sword but had caused that sword to slash into Karlach’s leg. The tiefling groaned as she kneeled to the ground, clutching her thigh.

You ran back to your bag and turned it upside down, dumping all the contents onto the piles you had started to make earlier, and rummaged through your items until you found a healing potion and some fire-resistant bandages. When you ran over to Karlach to heal her, Wyll was already yelling at the two women who had caused an unnecessary injury.

“Your recklessness has caused this bloodshed!” he sounded exasperated as you handed Karlach the potion, unraveling the bandages and starting to dress her wound, careful to not burn yourself in the process. “You both are distracted by your own prejudices and disdain for each other that the thought you may be hurting others in the process never crossed your minds. So caught up in yourselves, you have yet to see the irony of the words you throw at each other.”

Wyll continued his lecture as you focus on Karlach, watching her toss aside the empty potion bottle. “Thanks, soldier,” she says with a weak smile. She pushes herself off of the ground, causing Wyll to pause his lecture and rush to her side. “I’m fine, just gonna head to bed early,” she says while sidestepping past him.

You take a breath and start to think of how to address the situation that just happened when suddenly, Gale is by your side, anxiously fumbling with his hands. Realization overcame you and you tried to recall the last time you had given the wizard an enchanted item to consume the magic from.

“I know now might not be the best time,” he starts, “but there really never is a good time nowadays, is there?” he finishes with a chuckle to himself.

“I should have an enchanted ring in my bag—“ you stop when you glance back at your backpack, contents strewn across the ground.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Gale says quickly. “Dinner isn’t going to cook itself!” He makes his way to his tent and you drag your feet back to your backpack, dreading the mess you’ll have to clean up. Sifting through the items, you create another pile of the things you already looked through. Focused on organizing, you don’t hear Astarion sneak up on you.

“My my, these are quite the… piles you have here,” he says while crouching down across from you. “What’s with all these arrows and grenades? Have you decided to try your hand in ranged combat? Because if so,” he pauses, crimson red eyes staring into your soul, “I’d be more than happy to give you some private lessons.” He bares his teeth, his fangs glistening. You’re tempted to take him up on the offer before you remember why you got those items in the first place.

“Oh, those aren’t for me. I’ve been picking up stuff here and there, and I figured before heading out tomorrow I’d give some to everyone. I was actually organizing everything,” you say, completely forgetting that you were looking for a ring, “and I was going to try and figure out what would be best for everyone to have, but since you’re here, you can pick whatever you want.”

“I can choose anything here?” Astarion asks with a smirk. You nod your head and he responds by picking up your hand and giving it a kiss on the palm, “Then I pick you, my dear.”

Your cheeks flush red as you stutter out a response. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Astarion had been teasing you a lot more lately, and while you didn’t mind, it had proven to be an extra distraction.

He chuckled at your pout, caressing your face with his other hand, his thumb pressing down on your lower lip. You both stare at each other for a moment, before he sighs and brings his hands back to his side. “Well, if I can’t have you I guess I need to figure something else out.” He scans over the pile and picks up a necklace.

“Wait, not that,” you say while snatching the jewelry away from him. “That can restore one of Shadowheart’s spells, I should go give that to her.” You stand up and run off to find the cleric, not noticing the disgruntled look Astarion has on his face. He sighs and looks down at the clutter, beginning to sift through the items.

While making your way to Shadowheart’s tent, you hear Halsin comfort a whining Scratch. “There, there, I’m sure we will retreive it soon enough,” the druid says while gently petting the dog. “Ah, Tav, could I bother you for a moment? Scratch seems to have lost his ball in a burrow and neither of us can reach it. Would mind seeing if you can grab it?”

Scratch runs up to you and paces around you in circles before you lean down to him, “Of course I’ll help you out, buddy.” Without thinking, you set the necklace on a nearby rock, crouching down to the burrow and searching for the ball. In the shadows you spot it, deep inside the tunnel, and you reach your arm in.

Your fingers are barely able to reach the toy, and you’re about to maneuver the ball out when Gale speaks. “Tav, I’m terribly sorry to ask again, but were you able to find the enchanted ring perchance?” The ball rolls out of your grasp, and you let out a long sigh before retracting your arm.

“Sorry, Gale, I got distracted. As soon as I get this ball out for Scratch I’ll go and get it for you.” Content with that answer he nods and walks off. Reaching your hand back into the hole, you push yourself against the ground, the extra leverage closing the distance between your hand and the toy. You let out a breath before throwing the ball, Scratch bounding after it.

“Thank you, Tav!” Halsin says as he runs after the dog.

Walking back to where Astarion sits rummaging through your things, Wyll interrupts you. “Tav, do you by chance have a fire resistance potion? I was wanting to give Karlach these flowers to cheer her up,” he says, holding the bouquet in front of him sheepishly. Although Wyll and Karlach had been foes in Avernus, they’re relationship was slowly blossoming into a gentle romance.

“That’s very sweet of you, Wyll. I should have one in my stuff.” You both head over to the piles of items that Astarion had started to organize. It would be nice to have someone think about me like Wyll thinks about Karlach, you ponder as you bend down next to Astarion, grabbing the fire resistance potion that sat buried within the clutter. “Here you go,” you hand Wyll the potion, “I think those will make her very happy.”

Wyll says a quick thanks as he opens the potion with his teeth, hastily pouring the contents over the bouquet and heading off to Karlach’s tent. Clearing his throat, Astarion asks “Did Shadowheart enjoy your gift?” he says with a slight frown and a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“My what?”

He stares at you for a second, before elaborating, “The necklace? The one that you oh so rudely snatched from my hands.” He watches as your face scrunches up tightly trying to remember what he’s talking about before you gasp.

“The necklace!”

“Yes, the necklace,” he sighs.

“Where did I put it?” you say as you frantically pat down your pockets.

Astarion starts to tease you again, “Really, darling, how could you misplace something like that? I thought that necklace was important after you had yanked it out of my hand and ran off to Shadowheart.” He’s chuckling to himself when he notices the genuine frustration that is starting to seep off of you.

“I just had it. I was holding it in my hand. Where could I have put it?” you mutter to yourself, your breath starting to quicken. Dread creeps through your chest as you begin to mentally retrace your steps. “Think, dammit, think!” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, a lump taking place in the back of your throat. Astarion stood up and reached his hand tentatively towards yours, squeezing it gently to try and bring you back to the present.

Gale had made his way back over to you, seeing that you were near your things. “I hate to interrupt this touching moment, but I really do need that ring if you have it,” He says while clutching his chest. Astarion glares daggers at the wizard who is either oblivious or purposely ignoring your stress, but you don’t notice as your mind has drifted off.

Right, you think to yourself, I came over here to look for the ring. Without saying a word, you push away Astarion’s hand and sink to the ground, aimlessly pushing around everything trying to find the ring. Astarion studies you, the way your hands seem to be searching for the relic while your eyes glaze over and stare at nothing, until your hand brushes over the small golden circle and you grasp it firmly. You sigh and recollect yourself before turning around and jumping up to Gale, handing him the ring with a forced smile and laugh. “Sorry for the delay! I’ve been so forgetful lately.”

He takes the ring from your hand, clutching it tightly while absorbing the magic into his chest. When he opens his hand, the ring is broken into two. “Ah, apologies. Dinner should be finished soon. Thanks again,” he says with a bow before leaving.

You sigh before returning to the pile, starting to organize it once again. From the outside, people would assume that you’re just forgetful and easily distracted, most even finding your frantic and hectic demeanor cute. You can’t help but feel like a burden, requiring constant reminders to stay on task, feeling like you need to rely on others instead of yourself. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either, but no matter how many times you repeated tasks to yourself, how many times you had written down what needs to be done, how many times you had try to will focus into your mind, nothing changed. It's always been like this, and now with the stress of the unknown ahead, you’ve been getting distracted more.

Astarion watches you, determined to organize the mess on the ground. When he first met you, you had brushed off your forgetfulness and laughed along with anyone who had made a joke at your expense. It had annoyed him to no end when you would walk into the same room, multiple times, that you had just looted. This aloofness only seemed to grow after you both had come to an agreement that Astarion could drink your blood in order to satiate his thirst, the only side affect being your increased mind-wandering.

After another 30 minutes of watching you return to the same room over and over to loot, he had decided that you both would search the rooms together, if nothing else to lessen the time it took at each town. He didn’t expect that during the extra, private time you both were now spending together he would begin to grow fond of you. While he would be working on a lock of a chest, you would grab a book and immediately become immersed in it. At first, he would use this time to pocket the most valuable items found in whatever container he had just opened, but as time went on, he had started to ask you questions about what you were reading.

It had caught him off guard when you looked up at him with excitement in your eyes as you explained the gossip in the diary you found, and he couldn’t help but become intrigued himself. Quickly, a new routine had started: while Astarion would loot and lockpick whatever he could get his hands on, you would find diaries, notes, and books to read outloud. He would respond to the especially vulgar and outlandish things you would recite with theatrical gasps and awes. One time, you had stumbled across a particularly sad letter from a person who begged their lover to wait for them, only for their lover to respond that they had never returned. A choked sob had escaped your lips when you finished the letter, and Astarion had quickly called you over to distract you.

“It’s about time that you learn how to use one of these,” he said while he pushed a lockpick into your hands. “If you’re going to stare at me while I do all the work, you may as well get something out of it.” He had been joking, but you hadn’t taken it that way. A wave a guilt and embarrassment had washed over you as you resolved to force yourself to learn what he was teaching you. It was all in vain, however, as every ten minutes when he would ask you to demonstrate, your hands would clam up and your mind would go blank.

“Darling, is it really that hard to focus? Or am I just that distracting, hm?” he had joked.

You wouldn’t look into his eyes, instead you had begun to fumble with the lockpick in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you had whispered, “I’m really trying.”

You had expected him to berate you or to even make a joke about how useless you were, but instead he had sighed and positioned himself behind you, placing his hands over yours as he talked you through the steps, yet again, of lockpicking. When you had heard the final click of the lock, you quickly turned to look at the man who had helped you. Inches away from each other’s faces, he smiled softly and brought one of his hands up to your cheek as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“See? You can focus,” he had said while giving you a tight squeeze.

The sound of your sigh brought him back to the present, and he stared at you for a moment before asking, “Do you want me to go and look for the necklace while you do this?” You stop moving things around and just sit there, defeated. The necklace had completely slipped your mind, just like the ring. Your body begins to shake as tears run down your cheek. Astarion slowly kneels next to you, grabbing the potions and arrows from your hand and setting them off to the side. “Hey, it’s alright. Shh-shh-shh, there’s no need to ruin that beautiful face of yours.”

You start to sob quietly. Why was this so difficult for you? You were able to talk your way out of situations, fight enemies with ease, and coordinate a fighting strategy that used everyone to the best of their abilities, yet you were unable to do such simple things. You draw your hands to your eyes, pressing harshly into them to try and stop the tears that fall out. Astarion gingerly moves his arms around you in a hug, as gentle as he can muster as to not startle you. He squeezes you tightly and you stay like that for a while, before you’re able to croak out a simple question that leaves a pain in his chest.

“What’s wrong with me?” You move your hands away from your face and turn your head to look at him, expecting to see frustration in his eyes but instead finding something softer. It looks as if he’s genuinely concerned.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Tav,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper.

“Then why,” you say with trembling words, “why can’t I do such simple things? Why is it so difficult for me to remember what I’m doing, to not get distracted?”

Astarion sighs as he looks at you with his big, round eyes. “You are capable of much more than you know, my sweet. You were designated the leader for a reason. You’re brave, witty, and above all else, kind. You are so sickenly kind and patient with everyone, yet you don’t afford yourself the same grace,” he says as he rubs circles into your back. “You’ve been kind to those that don’t deserve it, but you’re never kind to yourself.”

“Thank you,” you reply meekly. You hated crying in front of your companions, but you found that you didn’t mind being comforted by Astarion.

“Besides, darling,” the vampire joked,” It’s hardly your fault that you keep getting distracted when there are six adult children who need constant supervision.”

“Don’t you mean seven?”

He pulled away from you with a gasp. “I think I am more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Oh, if that’s the case, you don’t need to see me for blood anymore then, right?” you teased.

Astarion squinted at you before his eyes softened and he pulled you into his arms again. You both sat like that for a while before he spoke, barely above a whisper, “I don’t only need you for blood.” Before you can respond, Gale’s call to dinner causes Astarion to push you up. “Go on, enjoy dinner.” You start to protest and gesture to the mess that still needs to be cleaned up before he cuts you off, “I’ll take care of it.” As he begins to sort through the items, he catches your eye before you leave.

“I hope you know that I’m still expecting to see you tonight,” he says with a sultry voice. If you hadn’t gotten closer recently, you would take what he says at face value, a meaningless flirt to rile you up. But beneath his smirk you can see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

It will need to wait for another time as your stomach grumbles, and you remember that you had forgotten to eat lunch that day. You say a quick thank-you before running off to join the rest of the party, feeling more at ease about the adventure that lay before you.

#bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #astarion x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

AITA for not sharing clients with my coworker?

This submission is using fake names for privacy.

So I'm going to preface this by saying I'm very inexperienced in my line of work. I'm a dog bather, and unlike my other two coworkers Andrea (groomer) and Kelly (fellow bather), this is my first time in a job where I work with animals so I'm still trying to get in the groove on how to act with the dogs and how to do my job. My coworkers know I'm inexperienced and said they're willing to assist me in getting better, which I appreciate.

This whole thing started yesterday when I noticed I had 3 dogs scheduled under me, and none for Kelly, which is a rarity. I was excited to have so many clients under me in one day, since it would be plenty of experience for me. I didnt think anything of the difference in our clientele, since there have been days where i had none and she had plenty, and I never took it personally.

While i was drying my second dog of the day, I noticed my third client was coming in. I decided to ask Kelly if she could continue drying my dog while i checked in my next dog. She said she'd only dry my dog if she could put it under her name and I said no, because i was going to complete the rest of the groom; I just wanted her to dry the dog while i was away for like 5 minutes. She said i could do it myself. I brushed off the rude comment and checked in my next dog before continuing with dog #2.

Fast forward to today, i noticed a woman in the salon waiting to be served. Since Kelly and Andrea were chit-chatting in the tub room, I talked to her and she said she wanted a nail trim for her dog. Since i couldn't find the dog on our schedule, i realized it was a walk-in and decided to put the dog under my name since i had nothing going on.

While scheduling I misclicked and accidentally put the dog under Kelly, before realizing the mistake and put the dog under my name instead. Keep in mind that all changes made to a dog's appointment gets logged.

After that, I was putting the dog onto my table when Kelly walked in. She noted the breed of the dog (one of her favorites) and checked the notes, and saw that the dog had been "originally" put under her name. She immediately asked if I had stolen that dog from her and I told her no, it was a walk in, I had just misclicked when making the appointment.

Just then Andrea walks in, telling Kelly that the dog was supposed to be hers. Immediately, Kelly blows up at me and called me a liar, that i was a client thief, that I was selfish, etc. I tried to explain that it really was a walk-in and that i wasn't lying, and Andrea quickly realized what was up.

She explained that she had been on the phone with the client, realized what breed the dog was, and made a mental note that she wanted Kelly to do the dog since it was her favorite breed. However she told the client to treat it as a walk-in and come in whenever she wanted, which meant no appointment could be made until she showed up.

FINALLY Kelly believed me, but she didn't apologize for yelling at me. Instead she told me that she was annoyed with me because I never share clients with her even though she shares clients with me.

My gripe is that I have never asked her to share any of her dogs with me. The only thing ive asked of her is to let me clip her dogs nails on occasion so i could get more experience and become more comfortable. And that was ONLY when Andrea (salon manager) didn't have any dogs to let me practice on.

I can kinda see where shes coming from, it can be frustrating to have no clients while your coworkers have plenty. And I can see how she thinks im being selfish for not reciprocating her "generosity." And its not like we make commission on each dog yet, so it doesnt matter which dog goes to who.

But on the other hand, like i said, ive NEVER asked her for any of her dogs. She doesn't have to share them with me, and i dont expect her to. But she expects me to share mine with her, despite knowing that i need the extra practice.

So AITA?

Tl;dr-

Coworker is mad at me because I dont share clients with her like she does with me; but I've never asked her for any clients, and its well-known in the salon that i need the practice and experience

#aita #am i the asshole

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1-imaginary-girl · 2 years

Text

Annoying

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: It’s no secret Five finds you annoying. In fact, he frequently tells you this. Maybe he even goes too far. But when someone else insults you, Five realizes that only he’s allowed to do that. Reader is gender neutral.

Warnings: Hurtful comments said to the reader

Word Count: 3500

A/N: I’m alive! So long story short, I lost the motivation to write for a while which caused my spontaneous hiatus. I honestly wasn’t sure if I would post anything again. But then, I rediscovered comfort in writing, especially when it’s about my best boys.

My posting from now on may be a bit sporadic as I’m back in school but I do intend to keep posting.

Anyway, here’s my favourite grumpy boy as a treat!

Five Hargreeves had gotten used to working at the Commission. He still hated every second of it: the job, the people, the killings. But he had adapted, just like he had in the apocalypse, and had fallen into a familiar routine that made the situation easier to swallow. He had finally accepted his job and made peace with it. That is, until you came along.

You also work at the Commission as a field agent and until recently, Five didn’t even know of your existence. Then one day, you came into his office and tried to chat with him. He was bewildered of course and told you to get the hell out of his face. But his rude words didn’t deter you. Instead, you asked him if he wanted to be your partner in the field. Again, Five was shocked and told you absolutely not. Unfortunately, you don’t seem to take no as an answer.

Every day since then, you kept popping into his life. Every day you would make nice with him, do him favours, and were overall friendly with him. Every day, he offered you nothing but a cold shoulder. Every day you asked him to be your partner and every day he told you no.

It was extremely aggravating to say the least. He tried to report you to the Handler but she told him you were doing nothing wrong. She even made some suggestive comments that made Five regret ever going to her for help. So he was on his own.

Except none of his usual moves worked. You never shied away from his negative presence. If he blinked away, you would somehow find him again. There seemed to be no way to remove you from his life.

He’s sitting in his office working when he hears a sound he has come to dread. “Knock knock,” you say as you open his door, not waiting for a response. He once asked you, “What if I was doing something private?” but that only made him flush at the accidental implication and you laughed.

“Not now,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off his work.

“Yes now,” you say, entering the room and taking a seat on the other side of his desk. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t just removed the chair since the only person who ever used it was you. “I brought you coffee!”

This causes him to glance up, only a little, and what a mistake that turns out to be. There you sit, a beaming smile spread across your face. Your eyes tend to light up when you smile, bringing attention to how stunning they are. Thoughts like these make him feel queasy, at least that’s what he’s deeming it to be. His face also tends to heat up and his breathing acts funny. He’s considered a few times that he was sick, but every test indicated otherwise.

This is another thing that bothers him so much about you. You bring unknown feelings that Five has never experienced before, and he hates feelings, let alone unfamiliar ones.

“The answer is still, and always will be, no,” he says blankly, his eyes focused on his computer but he isn’t paying attention to what’s on the screen.

“But I haven’t even said my pitch yet!” you complain. Without looking, he knows you’re looking at him with big puppy dog eyes. He would never admit, even to himself, that they affect him. “I think today’s speech is much better—”

“Doesn’t matter, still a no.”

You ignore him and clear your throat. “As your partner—”

“Stop.”

“I would bring you freshly made coffee every morning, just the way you like it,” you continue. He decides to stop talking to you altogether. With concentration, he’s able to read the words on the screen and continue typing. “You can still take lead on the missions, though you’ll find I’m fairly skilled on the field. This will also reduce the danger of getting hurt, and if one of us does get hurt, the other can patch them up.”

It is a pain to tend to my own wounds, Five thinks before mentally berating himself. He’s supposed to be ignoring you. And besides, he’s been taking care of himself for years, he’s used to the difficulties by now.

“Another bonus, is that with me as your partner, the Handler won’t be on you as much,” you say, and despite himself, he listens. “She’ll know that someone else has their eyes on you, and with my reputation, she’ll trust me with it.”

Now that actually sounds desirable. The Handler is always checking in on him and keeping a watchful eye on his actions. She knows he’s a good agent, he’s proved that by now, but she still worries that he might betray them. This makes him a loose canon in her eyes. Plus, with her attention elsewhere he’ll be able to make more progress on his secret project to return to his family—

Stop it, he tells himself. This is exactly what you want. You actually have him considering the possibility of becoming partners. The more your voice fills his ears and the more he thinks about what it would mean to have you as a partner, the more his face starts to burn.

He can feel himself losing control over his emotions and he panics. Clearly, ignoring you is not the solution.

“That’s enough!” he yells, causing you to pause mid-sentence. He looks over at you to see your wide eyes staring at him. For the first time, he sees a crack in your positive shield. He continues. “God, just stop already. I am so sick and tired of you groveling at my feet, it is so annoying. Why won’t you get this through your head? I am never partnering with anyone, especially not with you! So for the last time, leave me alone!”

A deadly silence fills the room. Five is panting from his outburst and when his anger recedes, he finds he’s shocked at himself. He’s never had an outburst like that, never yelled like that before. Sure he gets angry and frustrated all of the time, but he hardly ever yells and his words are never that venomous. He just got so riled up with his emotions…

You also seem shocked. You try to cover it up, but he can still tell. You seem unsure of what to say and your usual peppiness seems to have vanished as well. Five isn’t sure how to feel. He also isn’t sure of what to do.

You then clear your throat. “Well then,” you say, trying to piece yourself together. “You seem busy so I should go.” You grin but its wobbly and it doesn’t meet your eyes. And despite himself, he feels sorry. You wordlessly stand up and exit his office.

The silence remains and Five is left frozen. After a moment, he shakes his head and tries to feel unbothered by what just happened.

†††

A few hours have passed since his conversation with you, and Five is out of coffee. He blinks to the Commission’s break room but then he sees you there. You’re standing at the counter with your back to him and in a moment of panic, he blinks to behind a wall just around the corner from the break room.

He curses silently. He can’t believe that he’s hiding from you after earlier. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your emotions. Or maybe he’s hiding from his own.

He’s about to just toughen up and deal with it when he hears someone else entering the room. “Y/N, how nice to see you,” he hears someone say. He looks to see a woman approaching you. Five thinks he’s seen her around but doesn’t recognize her. He’s tried not to make friends here or fill his mind with useless information. This means he only knows a few people including you and the Handler.

“Cassandra,” he hears you say in a bitter tone. He frowns. He’s never heard you speak like that.

“How have you been?” Cassandra asks and Five doesn’t know why, but she sounds ingenuine despite her cheery tone. He also suspects her smile to be too friendly.

“Fine.” You don’t even look over at her as you continue whatever you were doing at the counter. It isn’t like you to be short with people, and Five wonders if it’s because of what he said.

“I heard you got in trouble with the Handler this morning,” Cassandra says. Oh shit, Five thinks. He isn’t sure if that happened before or after he yelled at you but either way, he doesn’t envy your morning.

“Yup,” is your only response. Cassandra doesn’t seem satisfied by your response. She walks over and leans against the counter next to you.

“That must have been awful. I hope she doesn’t fire you soon,” she says with false concern. You still don’t glance her way. You simply nod your head absentmindedly as your focus remains locked on the kettle in front of you, waiting for the water to boil. Cassandra just keeps talking. “Are you still bugging Agent Five about being his partner?”

Five’s ears begin to burn as the conversation steers towards him. Now more than ever, he thinks he should leave this private conversation, but his feet remain glued to the floor. What does he care? he tries to tell himself, but it doesn’t work.

He watches as you grip the counter tightly. Unfortunately, Cassandra also seems to notice and she takes that as an answer. “Aw you poor thing,” she says, putting her hand on your shoulder only for you to shrug it off.

“Look Cassandra,” you say, your voice filled with agitation. “I’ve had a really bad day, if you could just—”

“I can only imagine,” the woman says, and Five is starting to really dislike her. “It must be hard, getting rejected day after day. I’m surprised you haven’t given up.”

“Fuck it.” You push yourself off the counter. You turn around and Five ducks back around the corner. “I’ll come back later.”

There’s a moment of silence before, “Do you know why he keeps rejecting you?” Five risks a glance to see that you’ve turned back around.

“What?” you say, surprised by the question.

“It’s the same reason why all of the others rejected you,” she says, which takes Five by surprise. He didn’t know there were others. An illogical flare of jealousy rises in him before he stomps it out.

“You’re annoying,” she says, her tone one of false sympathy. “No one wants to be around you. You come on way too strong and, sweetie, you reek of desperation.”

“S-stop,” you say, in shock but also seemingly hit by a bullet of emotions. Even Five is surprised.

“You’re just a nuisance,” Cassandra says. “A pest that no one can get rid of. That’s why you’ve never found a partner and that’s why you never will. I mean, who could like you let alone stand you?”

“Cassandra…” you say and Five can hear the quiver in your voice. He doesn’t know why, but the sound makes his chest tighten.

“Face it, Y/N,” she says, now standing right in front of you. “You were always meant to be alone.” Finally, Five can’t take it anymore. He walks out from around the corner and glares at Cassandra. He finds himself loathing her. Only he is allowed to call you annoying.

Cassandra glances past you and looks surprised to see him there. Just like that, she has on her friendly looking face again. “Oh hey there Fi—” she starts to say to him.

“Get out,” he spits at her. Her eyes widen at his venomous tone but decides to listen, scurrying away. It’s nice to see his fearful reputation precedes him. There’s a silence that settles in the room once she’s left. You seem to be frozen in place, not even turning to face him. He isn’t sure what to do himself, whether to somehow approach you or to ignore you entirely.

Luckily, his decision is made for him as you wordlessly walk back up to the counter towards the kettle. Five clears his throat, trying to rid himself of this awkward feeling, and walks up beside you.

He doesn’t address you, after all he normally isn’t the one to start the conversation. Which is why it’s so odd when you don’t. The two of you move about silently, completing your individual tasks. He finds he can’t even look at you, for the downtrodden look on your face still inflicts pain upon him. Finally, after an agonizing amount of time, you speak.

“Five,” you say, also clearing your throat. “I, uh, I have some good news for you.”

He sees that you’re trying to plaster on your usual happy appearance but it’s broken and he can see right through it.

He expects you to say something along the lines of “I forgive you for earlier” or “I made you some coffee.” He expects you to forgive him and act as normal. He did not, however, expect your actual words.

“I will no longer be bothering you with my presence.” Normally, these words would send him jumping for joy. After all, this is what he’s been wanting. But after the conversation he overheard, something gave him pause.

“Oh?” he says, at a loss for words as he is caught off guard.

“Yeah,” you say with a forced smile. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been respecting your feelings, as you have made it more than clear that you don’t want me as a partner and that you never will.”

He hears your voice crack towards the end and he can’t help but compare your words to Cassandra’s. “Yes I uh…I appreciate that,” he says, hesitant with his words. He isn’t sure what to make of all of this.

“Right,” you say, straightening yourself. You pick up your mug and turn to fully face him. He tries to ignore the shine of incoming tears in your eyes. “See you around. And uh, sorry for bothering you.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn and exit the room, leaving Five in a state of uncertainty.

†††

When Five walks into work the next morning, he’s not on edge like he usually is. He normally expects you to greet him on his way to his office, but there’s no sight of you. After Five recovered from his shock, he decided he should be happy about the situation. Sure, he didn’t want you to get hurt, but he got what he wanted.

He settles into his office and gets to work. He reaches to take a sip of his coffee when he realizes there’s nothing there. Oh, right. You normally got his morning coffees for him. Not a big deal, he thinks. If anything, this shows what a nuisance you had been for changing his routine.

Throughout the next couple of days, he starts to realize what an impact you had made on him. For one, the coffee doesn’t taste as good, which is odd. Then he noticed his plant started to die. Five didn’t even know he had a plant. He got rid of it and suddenly felt that his office was colder. He knows it’s illogical, but he didn’t realize how it brightened the room.

And most of all, he found his normal routine to be rather dull. Normally, you would interrupt his work and give a small relief to the boring workload. His room is quieter than ever and the days start to blend together.

But this is what he wanted wasn’t it? To finally be on his own? It’s not like he missed your ramblings, or the sound of your laugh, or your happy disposition, or the way you brightened his day. No. He’s better off alone…

He doesn’t even believe himself. He scowls. How could he let this happen? How could he let someone in and affect him so much to a point where he missed them? He thinks about ignoring his feelings and soldiering on, as is his way, but the thought of going on like this for God knows how long makes him reconsider.

Goddamn you.

†††

He had never seen your office before. He didn’t even know you had an office up until now. He thought, a bit conceitedly perhaps, that he was the only field agent with an office. Maybe you weren’t exaggerating when you said you were good.

Your door is left open, possibly to be more inviting and welcoming. It’s perfectly you. Five looks in to see your head down, writing something at your desk, and takes a moment to consider you. God, he had missed you. He feels a little excited just seeing you there. Is he that lonely and desperate?

He knocks on your door and stands in the doorway. You lift your head and your eyes widen in surprise to see him. He tries not to look uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Oh! Hey Five,” you say, cautiously. You’re not as bubbly around him anymore, almost afraid to scare him off. He doesn’t like it. “What can I do for—”

Before you can finish, Five drops a file onto your desk. You look at him in surprise. There’s a silence. “What’s this?” you ask.

“Read it,” he snaps at you, his nerves getting the better of him. You open the file and he sees surprise overtake your whole face.

“This…this is a request to have me as your partner,” you say quietly, not knowing how to react.

“This has nothing to do with your pestering, by the way,” Five says. “I thought about it and came to my own conclusion that a partner would be beneficial. I thought since you were already willing, it was the simpler choice.”

As he speaks, he watches your disbelief change into joy and a bright smile returns to your face. It’s almost infectious.

“This is incredible,” you say. And then something changes and your smile drops into a frown, which makes him upset. Not that he was doing this for you, but he thought you’d be happy. “But I thought…I thought I annoyed you. What changed?”

He feels guilt tug at him. It seems his outburst stuck with you. “I…might have overreacted the other day. You do annoy me, but I didn’t mean it like that.” You nod at this and he senses it isn’t enough to convince you. Fuck it. He’s already in this deep. “I suppose, as a gesture of good faith as your new partner, and only for this occasion…I owe you an apology.”

Your eyes shoot up at him and he falters. Then he clears his throat and prays no one else is around to hear this. “I am…sorry, for any hurt my outburst may have caused you.” He could count on one hand the number of times he has genuinely apologized to someone. But apparently it works, as your frown is gone.

“Oh, um, thank you,” you say, unsure how to respond to his sudden change in character. There’s an awkward pause before you smile. You hold out your hand and say, “Partners?”

It’s such a sweet gesture of forgiveness that Five finds his mouth twitching upwards. “Partners,” he says, shaking your hand. He ignores the sparks he feels when his hand touches yours. But he has been sentimental for far too long.

He ends the handshake and clears his throat once more. “To be clear, this is not an official contract, you still have to sign the paper,” he says but the smile cannot be erased from your face.

“Yes, of course! I will handle that right away,” you say. “This is so exciting! You will not regret this.”

“I better not,” he says. “This doesn’t change anything between us, we’re not friends.”

“Yet,” you say with a cheeky smile. He is much more relieved to see you acting as your normal self again.

“Y/N I’m serious—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is going to be so fun,” you giggle, seemingly ignoring what he just said. “Thank you.”

You’re looking up at him, a soft smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye. He falters again as he feels heat rising in his cheeks. He looks away.

“No need to thank me, just make sure that request is signed and submitted.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” you salute him and he takes this as his cue to leave. He turns and you call out, “See you around!”

He doesn’t respond, or rather he can’t. He’s already starting to regret this and not because of the reason you think. Seeing you all happy and excitement caused his heart to swell with a feeling he isn’t familiar with. He doesn’t like this unknown territory and change. But he has to admit…

It felt kind of nice.

#five x reader #five x you #five x y/n #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves #five hargreeves fanfiction #tua #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua fanfiction

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 4 months

Text

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfiction #twst fic #twst fanfic #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #rexii writes twst #rexii writes

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nikosama13 · 6 months

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Captain's Orders! (New! Law x Reader)

Description: After attacking and cleaning out a marine ship you and the Heart Pirates stumbled across some good old fashion booze. But when Law by accidentally swapped his cup for yours things got a little out of hand..

Side Notes: Hello loves! This was lowkey rushed but I did my greatest! (My requests should be open + probably spelling mistakes) (づ￣ ³￣)づ

-Shanks Version Here-

Enjoy the read! <3

Consider following..?

~~~

It was a lively night on the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were celebrating after attacking and clearing out a whole marine ship. You guys came across all kinds of supplies which you all of course took back with you to the ship. But one of the most important things you found was barrels and barrels of booze. Now, nor you or the rest of the crew drank to a great extent, however it was nice to let loose once in a while and today seemed like a great day to do just that. Law sat in the corner of the dining room reading away, struggling to focus on his new book. (Which he also probably stole from the marine’s ship) You and Heart pirates ignored his scrunched up and scowling face, continuing your loud dancing and games. Eventually, Law stood up to go get a glass of water and grabbed your cup instead. After he had inhaled the whole glass it hit him.. He basically just swallowed a load of booze. He wasn’t really bothered about what had just happened, however he knew that his booze tolerance wasn’t really that strong at all… So he sat back down and continued reading his book.. Forgetting the whole situation. You on the other hand.. didn’t notice that your drink was missing. The booze had already hit you hard and you thought that you just never refilled the cup. By the end of the night you were all worn out and plopped on your bed, wasted. But soon after, somebody interrupted your peace of mind.. Law just walked straight into your room, bold and without a care in the world. “Oi, y/n-ya you made a mess in the dining room, go clean it up, now.” He said, his voice had a hint of drunkness to it.

Not like your voice was any better.. “Ugh.. no, not right now.. leave.” you suggled further into your pillow, ignoring the captain's orders. Well that was.. until you felt two hands creep up on your waist. The next thing you knew was you were being picked up, swung over Law’s shoulder. You smacked his back with your hands and kicked your feet up and down. “Lawww!” you groaned, dizzy and unhappy. “Fine, I'll take you somewhere better..” his pace picked up and walked quicker to this ‘Better place’, all while carrying you. You were confused by the random change of heart. He was usually more strict about things, especially cleaning up.. But you weren’t complaining if he was going to get you out of it. The next thing you saw was the door frame of some room and the door shutting behind you two. After he gently placed you down on something soft like a bed.. When your vision unblurred you realized where you were. Law’s Room.. You gasped and sat straight up. “L-law what the hell are we doing here!?” you felt your cheeks burning up. “Well you didn’t wanna clean..” he walked closer to you.. “I-..” you were speechless and frozen. “Why so stiff darling..?” he mischievously smiled at you. Eventually your lips crashed together before you could do anything and in that moment you decided that maybe this situation wasn’t so bad after all.. Maybe this was a blessing to have Law act like this.. But out of all the people.. Law? You were just so shocked why he acted like this..

His lips slowly and gently pressed on your own. He wasn't rushing it, and took his time in trying not to hurt you in any way.

Law continued the kiss softly and slowly, gently moving his lips across your own before slowly picking up the pace. His arms slowly wrapped themselves around your back and pulled you even closer to him.

Let’s just say you two would have a long talk in the morning..

~~~

The End~

Thank you for reading! <3

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daegutowns · 10 months

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idol series: accidentally mentioning you on weverse live

tags: idol!svt, gn!reader, non-idol!reader, established relationship, carats don’t know about you yet, him or another member accidentally mentioning your name on weverse live

seungcheol: this would truly be an accident on his part. he’s usually really good at hiding you from the public, since he doesn’t want to be the reason why your privacy gets invaded! he’d be on live with the other 95z, and jeonghan accidentally teases him, saying, “what, do you miss y/n?” seungcheol’s eyes would immediately go wide and glare at his friend who quickly realized his mistake and covered it up by giggling. (josh pretended like he didn’t hear it.) he would turn off the live with a tight-lipped smile. even if you were okay with it, he would lowkey hold it over jeonghan’s head for a while.

jeonghan: he would be doing a mukbang of a home-cooked meal. he never mentioned who cooked it, though carats could kind of hear someone washing the dishes in the background. chan dipped into the frame and tried to take a bite, but jeonghan immediately protested while saying, “hey, stop… you can’t have any, y/n cooked it.” both of them freeze, and carats can hear coups in the background saying, “end the live!” you thought it was really funny, so jeonghan didn’t mind that much afterwards either.

joshua: during his birthday live, he’d be going through the gifts he got from the members, from friends, from family, and also from you. after he said it, his immediate reaction was to go, “ah!” and stare at the camera. he said while laughing, “sorry y/n,” and kept going. (it was his birthday, after all.) when he ended the live, he immediately texted you to say sorry again. he spends the next weeks trying to make up for it by being extra sweet, even if you reassure him and tell him it’s okay! he’s so cute!

jun: honestly, he wouldn’t even realize he said it until after it was way too late… and after saying your name many times. jun just loves you so much, and it’s more natural for him to be talking about you that he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it half the time. after mentioning your name so many times, he opened the door of his hotel room for seungkwan to tell him, “hyung, stop saying y/n’s name! you already said it so many times.” jun would apologize to carats and end the live early, hoping you wouldn’t be too mad about it.

hoshi: he was doing a live with booseoksoon when a carat asked them all to do the horanghae. seungkwan and dokyeom both jokingly refused to do it to tease your boyfriend. hoshi dramatically whined and said, “y/n wouldn’t do this to me.” he realized his mistake as soon as he made it, and his younger bros laughed at him. seungkwan turned to the camera and said, “i guess we have to end it here today.” he turned off the live for everyone, leaving carats to speculate.

wonwoo: he thought he turned off the live, but it hadn’t actually ended yet! he just walked away from the camera and started talking to you behind the camera. even worse, it was a surprise live! so, a staff member was not behind the camera like they usually were. “y/n, i’m done with the live. what do you want to eat?” the both of you were not making a move to end the live during your conversation, so hybe staff had to shut it down for the both of you. carats had a great time circulating your cute conversation, though.

woozi: he was in his studio with hoshi and vernon. they were having fun making a song together when vernon got a text from you asking what he wanted from a restaurant + the others (whoever was around) if they wanted anything! vernon asked, and woozi answered with his order. when he asked who was getting it, vernon responded with, “y/n.” woozi went over to tell vernon, “tell y/n to use my card then. tell them not to pay with their own card since i’m eating too.” vernon and woozi continued to talk about you off-camera. hoshi was looking at the weverse live camera with a lost face, not sure what to do since his members forgot the camera was on.

dokyeom: he would join someone else’s live, not knowing it was a live. when the cameras are rolling, sometimes they’re doing a pre-recorded video that’s edited later on. he walked into seungkwan and dino’s live to say hi, since he was in a good mood. he said hello to the carats and proceeded to tell his younger bros about how he bought his significant other’s christmas gift already and how much he was excited to give it to you. seungkwan would be looking at him confused, eyes going between him and the camera. dino would keep trying to interrupt him, but dokyeom was insistent on finishing. dino told him, “hyung… this is a live.” dokyeom would immediately panic, saying, “it’s a live?! i thought this was pre-recorded?” seungkwan, confused, said, “you greeted them when you walked in, though?”

myungho: carats would be flirting with him and jun on live. just to make fun of him, jun would read some of them out loud to myungho… who obviously rejected every carat’s flirting. immediately. then, he said, “ohhhh, is this how you’d respond to y/n too?” silence. deafening silence and a ‘boi what the fuck’ look (the way he looks at mingyu when he eats “one bite” of food) on his face. jun’s side eye at the camera. even more silence. the manager ends the live.

mingyu: he would slip up while showing fans some pictures in his camera roll. affectionately talking about his members, his significant other, his family’s dog bobpul, WAIT. his significant WHAT??? he would pause, look at the camera with his ‘oh no i messed up’ face and at his manager behind the camera with the same look. his options were: (1) try to cover it up by emphasizing the friendzone and risk hurting your feelings, (2) admit you were his significant other and make it an even bigger mess, or (3) turn off the live and die. he went with the third one. his manager was laughing behind the camera the whole time.

seungkwan: he is usually great at this. his work-life boundaries are pretty clear, so he would hate for his time with you to be cut off due to his work! it would be during a weverse live at his place, where seungkwan told his members in the background softly to wrap it up since you were coming over soon. they all thought it was safe until another member read the chat and noticed all the comments from the carats asking, “who’s y/n?”

vernon: he swipes his finger across the top of the screen during the middle of the live. literally just says “oh i got a text from my significant other.” and then he moves on. if other people are in the room, they’d be all ????? but vernon…. doesn’t care. welp. i don’t think he realized the weight of the consequences of his actions until after the live ends where someone told him and he started freaking out then.

dino: he was usually okay with teasing from his hyungs (just livin’ that life), but he drew the line whenever they mentioned you. he was a protective boyfriend, and naturally, his instincts popped out over his logic. jeonghan and seungkwan were teasing him, asking him how he grew up so fast and making fun of him being of drinking age. because they were all drinking, jeonghan slipped up and made fun of him having a significant other, to which dino immediately cut him off. “don’t talk about my significant other.”

#daegutowns #idol!svt #svt fluff #svt idol series #svt x y/n #svt x reader #svt x you #weverse live

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ist4rgirlo · 1 year

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𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐨? : 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Summary: Growing up with the Conklins and the Fishers has been a wonderful experience for you; you feel as if you were a part of another family. Your days of stress as a child were over, well at least you thought that was the case not until you had to choose between your two childhood bestfriends, the one who did you wrong and the one who has been waiting his entire life for your decision.

Prev || Steven Conklin x fem!reader || My blog

Warnings: PURE FLUFF (lmk if i missed anything!)

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Steven’s Pov

It has been a year since Conrad gave me his blessing, a year since he decided to let y/n go. I have been helping y/n a lot and it honestly made our bond so much special. We were literally inseparable and I would not trade it for anything else.

Despite my feelings growing over the years, I have fallen in love with her. It all began when we were young. She had just moved into the neighborhood and became our neighbor. She was my first playmate, she was the first girl that made me feel all tingly.

Whenever we played together back then, mom would always call it a "playdate." it was corny but I loved the thought of it. I realized my love for her when we were seven, when we accidentally kissed, a silly little peck. It was still funny back then. My mother and her mother witnessed the incident, and even captured it on video.

She has been always important to me. Mom has always believed we would be together, not until the Fishers came. When it was supposed to be Steven and Y/n, it became Conrad and Y/n but I never hated Conrad, I never fought with him about it.

They were both my childhood best friends, so I let them be.

───────────────────────────

Your Pov

After a year since the incident with Conrad, Steven has been a great help to me. He has helped me move on and carry on with my life. He was the reason why I’m still here, living and breathing.

During those times when he was helping me, I began to develop feelings for him. But I couldn't tell him - no, it was too fast, I don't want him to think that he is just a rebound.

“Y/n?” Steven tappped me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turned to him and smiled. He smiled back, offering a hand — pulling me up from my seat. “You ready?” he asked.

Steven decided to take me out today - it was a friendly date, well that’s what I thought, what I assumed.

I never wanted to make the same mistake again, Steven is a good person — he really is, I know that he’ll never hurt me like that but can you really blame me if i’m just being cautious?

I nodded, following him outside the door. We walked towards his car — he opened the door to his car, guiding me. These were the bare minimum but it sure made my heart flutter.

Steven went around his car and sat at the driver’s seat.

“So.. how’s your day going so far?”

“Steven, we’ve been together all day” I said, throwing my head back — laughing.

“Hey! Is it bad that I’m asking my bestfriend?” Steven frowned before poking me on my side — tickling me.

Yeah “bestfriend” — would lie if I said that it didn’t hurt me a little bit. “Focus on the road!” I giggled — pushing his hands away.

“Sooo.. where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see” Steven said — looking at me, smiling gently.

TIME SKIP

We arrived at the beach, we were in Cousins — the last time I went here was when I got my heart broken.

Steven hopped out of his car and went around it to open my door. I smiled at him as I take his hand as a support.

I took a deep breath and looked at the beach, Cousins has always been beautiful. We both sighed in amazement. He pulled me closer, putting an arm around my waist as we walked towards the shore

“So why exactly did you take me here?” I asked, looking up at him.

He shrugged “Just wanted to make new memories” he looked down at me — smiling.

“Plus I knew how much you love to watch sunsets, and this place was special to you so I decided to take you here” he answered while smiling at me and taking my hand into his

Steven made me feel special in this moment, he always did. He was always the one who remembered the littlest details about me. He always knew how to make me happy. I wonder why I was unaware of it at the beginning.

When we reached the shore, he placed a mat on the sand and sat down — patting the space beside him, telling me to sit down.

I love this place, I always loved Cousins, I always loved the beach house. It was a wonderful escape from the hectic of life to come here and enjoy the breeze of the ocean.

“It’s so beautiful” I whispered — wind blowing against my face. I looked at Steven, smiling gently. He was also admiring the ocean, this is where we grew up, our second home.

Steven turned to me “It is huh? It’s always been beautiful” he smiled — I nodded.

“You know what, let’s put on some music”

I reached for the bag and gave it to Steven, he pulled out the speaker and placed it gently on the mat. He pulled out his phone and started to play our favorite song.

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style someday (someday, day)

A dream maker (maker)

My heart (you heart) breaker

I smiled at him — he stood up “Come on, I wanna dance with you” he said before offering me a hand, pulling me up.

I giggled — he twirled me before placing both of my hands around his neck, his hands placed on my waist.

Wherever you're goin'

I'm goin' that way (the same, the same)

“This feels nice” I hummed — we both moved in a tiny circle, my head leaning against his chest.

Steven moved his hands away from my waist, putting a small space between us. My heart was pounding so rapidly, I felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.

Steven tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear before saying “You look beautiful” — he smiled gently, his cheeks red.

I slapped his chest gently “Gosh, you’re so corny Conklin” I laughed.

Two drifters off to see the world

There's such a crazy world to see

We're all chasin' after all the same

Chasing after our ends

He chuckled before pulling me close again — now his arms wrapped around my waist, my arms wrapped around his neck. He swayed us side to side, still dancing to the song.

The fact that I am this close to him has only confirmed how much I like him, how much he really means to me.

I pulled away gently, “Stev-“

I felt him pull me closer - he leaned then next thing I knew his lips were against mine. My eyes closed — melting against him. Both of us stayed there for a while before Steven pulled away — rubbing my cheek with his thumb.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I- I’m sorry” Steven paused, his voice shaking “I just wanted to do that for so lon-“

My lips pressed against his, cutting him off as he began to melt against me - I could not help but smile against his lips - this answered my question, he likes me too like how much I like him.

I pulled away, catching my breathe — looking at him in the eyes, I smiled gently.

“I like you”

We both said at the same time. We giggled — relieved because we both felt the same. Steven was about to lean towards me again but his phone rung.

I chuckled — he smiled awkwardly before answering his phone, it was his mom.

“Hey mom” he said before kissing my forehead, I pulled him closer and hugged him — he hugged me back using the arm that his other arm — wrapping it around my shoulders.

I left small kisses on his cheek, I felt so inlove — he giggled, his face flushed.

Who knew being in love would feel like heaven - it is absolutely euphoric to know that the man you like, also likes you. His need for me was the same as my need for him, and he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

It feels so nice having this kind of love, it feels so nice having this with Steven.

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taglist : @joeybandthings @scysuxx @fangirl-kimora @avengershoeee @tasha13-blog2 @lemon-lav

so this is the last chapter for this fic !! i hope everyone likes it - i honestly couldn’t wait and just went and got them together I MEAN THEY BOTH DESERVE TO BE HAPPY SO WHY NOT :))

lmk if you guys have any requests i’ll happily do them !!

#tsitp #tsitp steven #tsitp steven conklin #steven conklin x y/n #steven conklin x reader #steven conklin x you #steven conklin #steven conklin fic #steven conklin imagine #steven conklin fanfic #tsitp fic #tsitp imagine #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #we were something dont you think so fic #abtconrad fics #Spotify

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byuljoonie · 10 months

Text

Cozy // Ksj

You hate me, because you want me…

pairing: seokjin x fem!reader

genre: one shot, coworkers to lovers, slice of life, fluff, slow burn, boyfriend material, smut, desperation, fierce seokjin

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, slight age gap, smut, extreme dirty talk, unsafe sẽx (oopsie), spit play, fingers, missionary, stomach bulge (he’s huge), begging, slight exhibitionism (in office), dom!seokjin sub!reader, degradation, dumbification, a little gaslighting, masochism, fake business mumbo jumbo

note: surprise shawty !!! I didn’t know when I was coming back but boom here I am…with the gift of a seokjin smut that I worked hard on for y’all♡. Yes this is another Beyoncé inspired one shot and definitely not the last lol. Sorry for any grammatical mistakes. I hope everyone is doing alright, especially with what’s going on these days. Playlists in bio, masterlist in bio, and have a great week ily! -dubu

You walked into the small coffee shop, the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping your nose as you approached the counter. You flashed a warm smile at your favorite barista, Jimin, he was busy preparing drinks.

"Hey, Y/N! How's your day going love?" Jimin asked sweetly. He was writing names on cups near the cash register, preparing them for their awaiting owners. You smiled, happy to hear his cheerful voice on this hectic morning.

"Well, it's my first day at the new job, and I'm feeling a bit anxious,” you said nervously fiddling with the coin pouch in your wallet.

"I wouldn’t be too worried, Y/N. You know how long I could ramble about you. You're going to do an amazing job, just be yourself!"

“Thanks, Jimin. I really needed the pep talk and maybe a shot,” you said teasingly, grabbing your latte from his delicate hand. As you turned to head towards the door, Jimin suddenly stopped you.

"Wait, Y/N, before you go, I have to say that your outfit today is on point. You look fantastic,” Jimin said giving your body another unapologetic once over.

You blushed and thanked him again before continuing your exit. But your attention was momentarily diverted, and you accidentally bumped into a tall and incredibly handsome man, Seokjin. He was staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. Are you okay?" He asked charmingly.

You froze briefly, bracing yourself as his large hand rested on your waist. "It's okay, I'm fine. And, um, yes, I'm okay. Thank you,” you stuttered out anxiously, skin igniting at his touch.

"You have a captivating smile, beautiful. I hope your day gets better, though I think mine has unexpectedly reached its peak,” he flirted shamelessly. You couldn't help but blush even more, feeling a rush of mixed emotions as you realized you needed to leave.

“I’m sorry I have to go!” You said hurriedly, pushing past the gorgeous stranger. Unfortunately for Seokjin, his quick wit was no match for your hasty fleet. His phone sat idle in his hand, waiting for the entry of your name and number.

Your heels clicked against the pavement, the sound distracting you the entire 20-minute walk to work. The massive HYYH sign greeted you as you approached the tall building. The sleek silver letters glistened in the sunlight.

You sipped the rest of your drink, his face flashing through your mind as the lukewarm liquid made you wince in distaste. You wondered if the coffee shop was a symbol of unrecognized opportunity, maybe he would go back tomorrow.

It was your first time seeing Seokjin, he had the kind of smile that felt like the universe was sharing a secret with you. You set in your mind to frequent the coffee shop until you met again.

As you walked into the building, you were greeted by a towering, skyscraper that seemed to touch the clouds. The lobby was a bustling hub of activity, with professionals in sharp suits and clean attire briskly moving about. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle smell of fresh flowers placed strategically around the space.

The gentle hum of conversation and the soft clicking of heels against polished marble floors filled the air. You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and excitement as you took in the sight of the place. The glass walls offered an impressive view of the city skyline and the bustling streets below.

You approached the secretary's desk, where a well-dressed woman with a warm smile was multitasking like a pro. Her computer screen displayed a meticulously organized calendar, while she coolly juggled incoming calls and managed appointments.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, then stepped forward with a smile. “Good morning, I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the new hire. I'm here to meet Mr. Min, it’s nice to meet you."

“Oh hello, I'm Sara Mr. Min’s secretary. He's been looking forward to your arrival. Just give me a moment to let him know you're here."

You nodded and glanced around at everyone going about their work. You felt a mix of excitement and anticipation.

Sara excused herself, holding up a finger as she made a call. You turned to have a seat across from her desk, your bag lightly tapping your hip as you walked.

“Good Morning! My name is Jung Hoseok and you’ll be shadowing me this morning. I assume you’re Y/N?” He smiled nicely.

You stood up quickly, almost toppling over to the floor. Hoseok let out an airy chuckle, grabbing your hand to help. He wore a black suit, no tie, with a crisp white button-down beneath his pressed blazer.

A colorful Murakami pin sat on his left collar, the shiny gold plating complimenting his tan skin. He towered over you, seeming no taller than 5’10. You shook his hand awkwardly, embarrassed at your primary school behavior.

“Hi, yes I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You said softly, handing him a homemade muffin neatly wrapped from your bag. “I made a small batch of Blueberry muffins for my colleagues, I hope you’re not allergic,” you said smiling gracefully.

His face lit up with delight. He happily took the muffin from your waiting hands, walking you over to his desk to set it down. He thanked you once more before he began the tour. He briefed you on what a typical day at the office would entail for you.

Your primary responsibility is to enter and organize data into the company's systems. Hoseok provides you with detailed instructions on the specific data formats and procedures the company uses.

Due to your degree in philosophy, you will occasionally take on duties in the office library. This includes cataloging, organizing, and assisting workers in finding relevant resources for their research and projects.

Your new coworkers warmed up to you early, your soft smile and warm eyes captivating everyone. You passed out your muffins as you passed by desks, calmly introducing yourself in contrast to your shaking hands.

Hoseok completes the tour by leading you back to the outside of Mr.Min’s office. “Our boss is Min Yoongi, he inherited the company from his father a few years back. The corporate music world was ready to chew down another young bachelor, but Yoongi was different,” Hoseok said appreciatively.

You were intrigued at the mention of him. “He’s strict when it comes to his work and production, but the environment is so organic his predictions are always right,” Hoseok said gesturing for you to stand near the waiting area.

“The former COO and business partner of Mr.Min is also around today. He stepped down from his stressful position as COO, but Yoongi refused to let him leave the company completely.” Hoseok finished, stumbling over which name he should use to address the boss.

“I would warn you though he’s office eye candy, well alongside me,” Hoseok said cockily, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear like a prince. You giggled at his brazen behavior, loving the interactions so far.

Suddenly a deep laugh rumbled from your boss’s office, footsteps grew closer before the large door swung open. In his well-tailored suit, Yoongi looked sharp and polished. The suit, likely straight from the designer, fit him perfectly, draping smoothly over his slender frame. The color of the suit complimented his complexion.

His hair is parted slightly to the side and falls near his face. The jet-black shade is stylishly arranged. He locked eyes with Hoseok, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Good morning again Mr.Min, your new hire is here. This is Y/N,” Hoseok said lightly, smoothing a hand over his suit front. You approached Yoongi cautiously, trying not to trip over your heels.

“Ah, welcome to the company Y/N, I assume Hoseok has already shown you your duties and you’re ready to work?” Yoongi asked firmly, eyeing you suspiciously. Your hands began to perspire, his intense gaze made you uncomfortable.

He let out a dry laugh, his gummy smile peeking through slightly. Hoseok laughed along with him, urging you to do the same during your first impression. You forced out a soft laugh, almost choking on your saliva.

“Hey if my jokes aren’t funny you don’t have to laugh, but I know they are,” Yoongi stated playfully smirking at you. You let out a visible sigh of relief, finding his dry tone funnier than the joke itself.

“Thank you for the opportunity sir, I look forward to working for you,” you said reaching out to shake his hand. The handshake was firm and secure, his touch lingering on yours.

“Hurry the hell out of my office!” Yoongi said loudly, a few stifled laughs being heard from colleagues in earshot.

“I was tying my shoe, do you want me to trip and break my back Min Yoongi? Damn-“ Seokjin complained as he emerged from the office, locking eyes with you immediately.

You both froze in shock, Seokjin swallowing his sentence before he could finish another thought. You eyed him wearily, drinking in his dominant appearance.

“Yeah, this is Y/N. Today is her first day bird brain.” Yoongi said teasing his taller counterpart. Seokjin studied every ounce of you, staring at the way your skirt hugged your hips. He couldn’t pull his attention away from you, he felt his chest tighten.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir, I hope we can get along well,” you said monotonously, offering a small smile as you shook his large hand.

“Call me Seokjin, see you around,” Seokjin said to you dismissively. You were partially stunned but kept your composure. He turned back to Yoongi engaging in conversation like you’ve faded from existence.

Hoseok excused the two of you from the conversation, walking you over to your new desk by the far side of the office floor, unbeknownst to you right next to Seokjin’s office.

“Alright, this is your desk! It’s honestly the best spot in the office, near the restrooms and out of sight of Yoongi.” Hoseok said while peaking over the cubicles to see Yoongi walking out with Jin.

“He seems great, even Seokjin,” you said lying through your teeth. You felt betrayed by destiny, the handsome stranger you intended on meeting turned out to be a total jerk. Oh and best friends with your new boss!

“Mm yeah, Jin couldn’t take his eyes off of you, weird,” Hoseok said smirking coyly. You squinted your eyes at him, silently threatening him to not get any ideas. He raised his hands in mock surrender, bidding you a farewell to attend to his assignments for the day.

Your first day was going great, you finished your first assignment already, and time seemed to be passing expeditiously. A few of your coworkers stopped by your desk to chat and thank you for the delicious muffins.

Although, to your dismay, Seokjin’s office was in perfect view of your cubicle. You’d tense up anytime you passed each other, his cologne filling your senses. He barely paid you attention, though he’d look annoyed anytime a colleague would stop at your desk to speak.

After lunch Yoongi held a small conference for your division of the company, letting Seokjin highlight the main points of the meeting.

“Ms.Y/L/N, what do you think?” Yoongi asked politely, wanting to hear your honest feedback on Seokjin’s idea.

You chose your words carefully, not wanting to offend him in any way. You agreed with his idea but ultimately determined your way was the better route to take. Yoongi agreed, asking your colleagues if they had any questions.

Seokjin cocked an eyebrow at you, wondering where your sudden confidence to challenge him came from. He began to protest, telling Yoongi to think it over before he proceeded.

“I’ll think about it but don’t be surprised at the results tomorrow Seokjin,” Yoongi said patting Jin on the shoulder and walking out of the conference room.

Your team files out quickly chatting amongst themselves, some even congratulating you on your effort. You picked up your laptop and tea heading towards the door before anyone else could bother you.

“Good job Y/N,” Seokjin said sourly, softening his expression when he noticed how tired you looked. Your anxiety had dissipated as the day went on, but your brief importance in the meeting sent your nerves through the roof.

He hated how reactive you made him, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Staring you down in a trance, he wondered what things could have been if you stayed longer in the coffee shop this morning.

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly turning back to walk out of the room. A disappointed sigh escaped Seokjin’s lips.

＊＊＊

The office rings with the steady rhythm of keyboards and the soft murmur of hushed conversations. A month has swept by, leaving in its wake the familiar aura of routine, yet within this unchanging space, friendships have blossomed.

As the youngest member of your team, bad jokes and unserious drama have become your daily life. Laughter usually echoes through the office as your colleagues playfully tease you.

However, you’re the one who calls the taxis for everyone and makes sure the tables are in one piece after a night out. Your motherly instincts are a drastic contrast to your underlying needs.

Amidst the chaos, a peculiar dynamic unfurls with Seokjin. A palpable, fiery tension simmers beneath the surface, not so lost on the perceptive eyes of Yoongi and a select few coworkers.

Meetings transform into arenas for silent battles, where staring contests serve as the unspoken language of competition. Projects become a canvas for rivalry, with each of you silently dying for the unspoken title of office princess.

You sat quietly in the library, deciding to stay behind and read on your lunch break. Nobody frequented the library besides you, Hoseok, and another colleague you’ve grown accustomed to, Taehyung.

The dim strip lights presented a low humming sound in the quiet space. The door opened and closed every so often, but you didn’t bother to look up from your novel.

The buzz of your phone pulled you from your haze. You had a message from Yoongi telling you to come to his office immediately. “Why?” You accidentally whine out loud. “Why me?”

You eventually pull yourself out of your chair, forcing a small smile on your face as you make your way to his office. You fixed your outfit in the reflection of a passing window before knocking on Yoongi’s door.

He promptly called you in, telling you to close the door behind you. You notice Seokjin sitting cross-legged in a perfectly fitted Dior suit. The grey color looked deliciously tight on his shoulders.

You could easily handle a meeting with Yoongi, but sitting next to the older man that makes your palms sweat is a different story. You pulled your skirt down a final time before sitting in the chair furthest from Jin. The both of you now facing Yoongi and his ceiling-to-floor windows.

“I’m sorry sir but may I ask why he’s here?” You say hesitantly, perspiring palms opposing your challenging question. Seokjin scoffed at your starting words.

“Believe me I’m just as confused as you sweetheart,” Seokjin said bitterly, grabbing a pen from his suit pocket to twirl in his nibble fingers. You narrowed your eyes at him, turning your attention back to a smirking Yoongi.

“Well, as you know Y/N there’s a new position opening and I know a few people are interested. I’ve been thinking of ways to go about filling the leadership position. You do seem to be qualified, but so is Mr.Kim.” Yoongi said trailing off his sentence, waiting for your reaction.

You sat there bamboozled, why would Seokjin go after the job when he already has a high-paying leadership position? You try to push the thoughts away, but you can’t help but think he was trying to outdo you.

“I‘ve decided to give you a project, but unfortunately for you two, you’ll be working on it together. That way I can determine who will get the leadership position. Disperse the roles yourself and try not to hurt each other.” Yoongi said cheerfully handing you both a thick, crème colored folder.

Your blood runs cold, and you begin to shift uncomfortably in your chair. “Sir, with all due respect, I think it would be best if we work separately. That way we can both prove our best efforts without stepping on each other's toes,” you said gritting your teeth firmly.

Seokjin sat quietly, Yoongi’s gaze unmoved by your attempts to sway him. He shook his head and muttered a “nonsense,” in your direction.

“Y/N clearly doesn’t want to work with me, she’s not a team player. I’d say I’m fit for the role Min.” Seokjin said smugly, piercing the dense air.

You shoot dangers in his direction, anger seething behind your once warm eyes. Yoongi cleared his throat, apprehensively looking between you both.

You took a deep breath and counted to 5 in your head. Your mild ego got the best of you, you refused to let the handsome asshole win.

“You know what, I’ll do it. I just think it’ll look bad on Mr.Kim’s part when I undoubtedly get the position,” you say letting out a benevolent sigh. Flipping through the folder in your manicured hands.

“That’s the attitude I like to see, good luck to you both,” Yoongi said dismissing you from his office.

You leave the office first, waiting behind to talk to Seokjin. He emerged from Yoongi’s office momentarily after you. He tensed at your presence, ready to rebuttal the words you had aimed at him.

“I’ll meet you near your office after work to exchange information, I have to go back to work in the library,” you said kindly, staring up into his brown eyes. He nodded in agreement, walking away without a word.

＊＊＊

You stood by your desk, waiting for Seokjin to leave his office for the evening. You were usually the last two in the building besides the friendly security officer Jungkook. He was around your age, boyish, and beyond strong.

He would walk you to the door at the end of every shift, comfortable silence filling the space between the two of you. You told him you’d be staying later tonight to work on something.

Seokjin’s door creaks open slightly, the light flickering off before his tall frame emerges from the shadows. He looked gorgeous, even tiredness looked good on him.

“Sorry if I took too long, I had to make some calls.” He said walking up to you with a few long strides. You unconsciously stumbled back until your ass touch the corner of your desk. He smirked at you knowingly.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asks, a small chuckle slipping from his pink lips. He reached into his pocket, presenting his open phone to you and cocking his head to the side.

“You gonna put your number in?” He said coolly, presenting his other hand awaiting your phone. You didn’t speak, afraid of how weak you’d sound at the moment.

You bite your bottom lip, covering the once-forming pout. You grabbed his phone and quickly put your number and full name in.

“Why so professional, princess? I thought our reign as quiet enemies was over since we’re partners now.” He said, a faux pout playing on his lips. You took your phone back laughing at the name he entered for himself.

“Mr.Handsome?” You questioned immediately, throwing your phone into your handbag. You shook your head at him, loving the lines near his smiling eyes.

“I think Hoseok would take offense to that. He said he’s office eye candy.” You said smirking up at Jin. He laughed loudly, filling the quiet office floor.

“Oh we’ll see about that,” he said rolling his eyes and putting his phone away. “Alright I’ll leave you alone, you want me to walk you down?” He asked politely, shocking you slightly.

“No it’s okay, I think I can manage. I’ll call a taxi right now since it’s too late to walk home.” You said pulling your phone out to call a cab.

“A taxi at this time of night? That’s dangerous, I’ll give you a ride home.” Seokjin said, staring down at you softly.

You nod and murmur a quick thank you. You trailed him as he called you with a soft “come on.” His long legs were no match for your slow walking. He turned around and waited for you to catch up to him, presenting his arm to you.

You latched on nervously, swallowing down a whimper at the feel of his muscles. The walk to the car was short, he had a special parking spot for his car near the elevators. The lights were red and the engine roaring as he walked around to open the door for you.

“Thank you, sir,” you said getting in so he could close the door. You heard him laugh as he walked around to get in his vehicle.

“Call me Jin, Y/N. I don’t bite unless you want me to.” He said winking at you and then pulling out of the parking garage.

“Are you flirting with me, Seokjin?” You asked playfully, telling him where you lived. He hummed, glancing over at you for a second.

The ride to your place was quiet but tense. You both kept secretly looking at each other, praying the other would say something first. The moonlight shined through the windows, illuminating his dewy skin.

“We’re here, Y/N.” He says staring at you intensely. You didn’t notice because of your obvious staring at him.

“Oh, thank you again Seokjin.” You said nervously, “I’ll contact you tomorrow for the assignment.” Before he could say anything else, you made your way inside your apartment building.

The next morning you wake up to a text from Seokjin. The message entails his suggestions for working together.

You planned to meet the following weekend at his place. Working separately and then coming together to mend the final results.

You spent the next week working vigorously to come out on top. You find yourself entangled in a web of conflicting emotions, grappling with the frustration of your lingering crush on Seokjin.

The week unfolds with a constant replay of his past insufferable behavior, each memory stoking the flames of anger within.

Questions swirl in your mind: Why is he suddenly trying to befriend you? Is it a ploy to manipulate the joint project? The uncertainty of his motives adds a layer of complexity to your thoughts.

You search through your clothes, silently cursing yourself for not doing laundry sooner. You had to settle on a thong that easily showed on your hips in your joggers.

An oversized black T-shirt is the only shirt available too. You prayed you didn’t look too casual for your work date. You called a cab to Seokjin’s place, grabbing your coat before running to your elevator.

The drive to his place was shorter than expected. He stayed 15 minutes from you, in a taller modern high-rise.

You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but the closer you got to his door the more they persisted.

You knocked firmly, lifting your bag over your shoulder, not realizing it’s pulled your shirt up. Exposing your hip and panties peaking over your pants.

The door swung open a few minutes later, and a very handsome seokjin standing at attention with a warm smile.

He takes in your appearance, eyes widening at how beautiful you look. It took him a few seconds to finally meet your gaze again.

“Hi, princess come in.” He says motioning for you to walk in.

“Princess?” You question breathlessly, taking your shoes off upon entry to his apartment.

“Sorry, you look beautiful today. Couldn’t help myself.” He admits, guiding you over to his comfortable couch.

“Hmm, I like your place. It’s gorgeous.” You say switching the subject calmly.

“Thank you, I like classy but cute things.” He grabs his laptop from the coffee table, typing in a password to gain access.

“Let’s get started?” He asked nicely. Noticeably scooting closer to you on the couch. You nod in agreement ready to work and ignore your increasing heartbeat.

As you find yourself working together, observing the once confident demeanor now replaced by a sense of shared vulnerability, a silent revelation dawns upon you.

Seokjin heard your stomach growl and suggested he buy you guys lunch. You clapped happily at the thought of food causing Seokjin to smile at you.

“I’ve wanted to eat at this place for weeks. Now I’ve finally got a good reason!” He said excitedly placing your orders on his phone.

“It seems that I’m the reason for a lot of your happiness this week,” you say teasingly, poking at his cheek.

He tenses for a second, hoping you won’t notice his momentary lapse of judgment. You felt the shift in his demeanor and decided to back off.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come sit closer to me.” He said, patting the space next to him. You moved back next to him, staring down at your lap.

“Did I say something wrong, Jin?” You asked nervously. Glancing at him as he never moved his eyes from you.

“No, no of course not. Sometimes I just get nervous around you, Y/N.” He confessed truthfully. “Yes even at my age.” He playfully smiled at you, causing you to laugh.

“You’re only like 5 years my senior, but why are you nervous around me?” You asked confused, moving closer to him.

“Because you’re beautiful.” He crooned, closing the last gap between you on the couch.

“Jin, I-“Before you could finish your sentence a knock was heard on the door. The food had arrived.

The subtle shifts in his behavior, the intense stares, the conflicting emotions – it all aligns. Seokjin's suffering alongside you hints at something deeper.

Could it be that he harbors feelings for you, perhaps even more intense than your own? The realization unfolds within your mind, casting a new light on the complexities of your relationship and prompting a wave of thoughts.

You and Seokjin ate at his dining table, casual conversation flowing around. He told dad jokes that were beyond bad, but your sides hurt with laughter.

You finished your work quickly after lunch, ecstatic that you completed the project a few days before the deadline.

As you pack up, Seokjin surprises you by insisting on driving you home. The car ride is a mix of comfort and tension, his intense gaze leaving you both on edge.

In his eyes, there's a subtle shift, a hint of something more than annoyance—lust, perhaps? As you reach your destination, you hastily thank him, excusing yourself before your emotions escalate.

Once inside, you send a quick text expressing gratitude, hinting at a future meeting at the office. Seokjin's response is unexpectedly cool, almost as if he's retracted the emotions that briefly surfaced. You went to bed confused and slightly hurt at his reaction.

Presentation day arrives, and both of you excel. However, Seokjin abruptly leaves the office right after, claiming illness. You went on with your day, spending it mostly in the library. Trying to distract yourself from your probing thoughts.

The following day, he arrives late, a difference from his usual punctuality. To your surprise, Yoongi announces that you and Seokjin will share the lead position.

Nerves hang intensely between you and Seokjin. He mostly hides in his office, only emerging briefly, not even sparing you his once-secret glances. The atmosphere is charged, and the not-so-secret glances now make the air thick with unspoken emotions.

Despite the festive atmosphere, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Seokjin, the way he smiled, his laugh, everything about him.

Hoseok approached you with a mischievous grin. "Why so serious? It's YOUR party, Y/N! You need to loosen up a bit." He handed you a drink, urging you to take a sip.

The warmth of the liquid courage spread through you, emboldening your resolve. Feeling a surge of determination, you decided to act on your feelings for Seokjin. The office felt like a maze as you navigated through the lively crowd, making your way to the stairwell.

Two flights up, you stumbled slightly but pressed on. You couldn’t take the elevator you didn’t need any distractions. The door to Seokjin's office stood before you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. Knocking lightly, you entered, finding him engrossed in his work.

“Y/N? Are you okay princess?” He questioned, turning off his computer and giving you his undivided attention.

"Seokjin," you began, your words slightly slurred. "I've been thinking...can we talk?” You asked finally, the nickname sending a chill down your spine.

He eyes you inquisitively before agreeing. He stands up to pull out the chair across from his desk, motioning for you to have a seat. You walk forward slowly loving the way his eyes follow your every movement.

In the dress you once hated to admit you wore for him, you felt beautiful in your tipsy state. Seokjin takes a few steps back, leaning on his desk. He crossed his legs pulling up his white button-down sleeves over his taut arms.

He coughs suddenly, raising an eyebrow at you for ogling him so freely.

“Well, um we worked great together on the assignment,” you began nervously.

As you delve into the details of the successful project collaboration, you pay close attention to his expressions. Seokjin, maintaining a professional demeanor, acknowledges your points but insists it was purely professional.

Frustration seeps through as you scoff at his denial, sensing the unspoken tension beneath the surface. Slowly, you rise from your chair, your eyes locked onto his, his bulge inches from your face for a few seconds too long.

A silent challenge was exchanged in the room. The towering presence of Seokjin adds an extra layer of intensity to the confrontation as you refuse to back down, daring him to acknowledge the unspoken truth that lingers between you two.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Jinnie. You hate me because you want me.” You say placing a hand on his chest, testing him.

Seokjin, a mix of shock and curiosity in his expression, puts his hand on your waist. "I want you?” He says staring down at you darkly.

He placed his hand under your chin, licking his lips in devilish delight. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. The thought of you in my arms drives me wild. You feel this, baby?” He cooed, and he guided your hand down his body. Stopping your hand over his hardening cock.

“You see how you make me feel, hmm?” He began lowly, “You were all talking a minute ago, what happened?” He asked pressing his lips to your cheek.

You felt like putty in his hands, his warm breath fanning over your glowing skin. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, you swallowed a whimper in response.

“Please, sir,” you whispered pathetically. You squirm in his strong grip, clenching around nothing.

He pulled away from you looking down at you. “Use. Your. Words. Princess.” He said punctuating every word by pulling your face closer to his, leaving you mere inches apart.

“Want you to touch me please, Jin.” You begged breathing becoming erratic.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling you in for a long-awaited kiss. His pillow-soft lips felt like heaven. You moaned into the kiss, pushing up on the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss.

He turned you around, pushing your back against the desk. He leaned down putting all of his weight on you.

“Before we go any further, I want you to know I can’t control myself any longer Y/N. I can’t be decent, I’ve needed you far too long.” He confessed breathlessly.

“Well don’t be decent, sir.” You said tugging him by his collar to pull him into another passionate kiss.

You feel his hand sneak beneath your dress, searching for your panties. His fingers hover over your core, pulling away from your kiss.

“No panties? Such a dirty slut” He growls placing his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto his large desk. He pushed you down, pulling your dress up to expose your already wet pussy to the cold office air.

You nod and mutter a quiet “just for you.”

He taps on your lips with his index and pointer fingering, humming at you to open up. You do as you’re told, parting your lips for him without hesitation.

“You’re so perfect for me, pretty girl. Got such a pretty pussy,” he said bracing his other hand beside your exposed hips.

He smiled down at you sweetly, pulling his fingers from your mouth and depositing them into his mouth.

“There’s not a single part of you that I wouldn’t taste, I’m gonna ruin you,” he murmurs around his fingers.

He unbuckled his belt in one swift motion, pulling his cock out in desperation. You looked at him in shock, his size making you grow afraid. You’ve had big, but never this girth.

He pumped himself slowly, moaning at the tight grip he had on his cock. The head was pink and leaking, you looked down the length of your body, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Can’t wait to stretch this tight cunt,” he said rubbing his palm along your pussy. “wanna make you limp to the car, baby.”

You whined at his touch, anticipation building as he runs his tip through your folds, then along your crying slit.

“Fuck—Jin,” you groaned out, enjoying the delicious pain of his tip probing your slit. He pushed your legs apart further.

“You’re so big, can’t take it,” you choked out pathetically, almost screaming as he slowly pushed into you.

“Gonna make you take it,” he grunts, stilling when he’s halfway inside you.

“Just breathe, princess. You’re being so good for me.” He groans into your neck, leaving sloppy wet love bites behind.

You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing heavily as he finally fills you up. You feel his hand sneaking its way down your body, rubbing small circles on your clit.

You clench around him in response, legs starting to ache as he weighs down on you.

“That’s it, hold on baby,” he croons, still not moving.

“P-please, Jinnie. Need you to fuck me so bad” you cry into his neck.

He lifts himself slightly, looking down to take in your thoroughly wrecked appearance. He groans at the sight before him.

“Fuck- you’re so tight,” he moans quietly trying to keep his composure. “We have to be quiet, baby. Don’t want you to lose your job now do we?” He asks smirking at you.

“Don’t care, just need you to move please,” you say breathlessly.

He pulls his hips back, not giving you a chance to react before he snaps forward again. Watching your face as he fills you up.

Your back arches off the desk, wet noises and grunts filling his office space as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Been wanting to defile you for so long. Need to fuck the brat out of you darling” he groans, desperate to feel you around him with every thrust.

“Look at you, so small and precious,” he moans in your ear. “You like taking my cock like this, hmm?” He coos, leaving a kiss on your earlobe before he rams back into you.

The desk shakes vigorously, your hips stuttering upwards as he presses down on your tummy. He growls at the feeling, loving how you trust him enough to let him invade you in such a professional setting.

“Gonna cum-fuck jinnie,” you moan loudly, a whimper slipping from his lips as you constrict around him.

He slows his pace, still fucking you roughly as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“Such a good girl, cum for me princess” his hand slips down your front, rubbing your clit sloppily.

With a song of his name slipping from your lips, you feel your orgasm rip through you. Pussy pulsing around his cock continuously.

He moans loudly, feeling your cum coat his cock. He places a hand on both of your hips, squeezing as he fucks into you.

His eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, hips moving in a broken rhythm as he comes undone. He opens his eyes momentarily to watch your face as hot strips of his cum fill you.

“Fuck—you look sinful right now, Y/N.” He groans, hands leaving behind bruises as he squeezes your hips.

You feel his cum leaking from you as he fucks sloppily into your ruined cunt. Breathing heavily before he finally stops moving.

You shiver when he leaves you empty, feeling dirty as you lay on his desk. His work is completely forgotten, papers crumbled under your bodies and some even tossed to the floor.

“You’re so gorgeous, darling.” He whispers, leaving a kiss on your lips. You wriggle beneath him, giggling into the kiss before pushing him away.

“We should go home..” you say pushing your dress down, your tipsy state completely dissipated. He nods in agreement, grabbing his handkerchief from his pocket to help clean you both up.

“Trying to take me home already? I want dinner first” he teases as he picks you up from his desk. Letting you hang on to him to steady yourself.

You laughed into his chest, wincing as you walked over to fix your reflection in his mirror.

“I’m sorry, princess. Was I too rough?” He asked concernedly, rushing over to hold you up by the waist.

“I’m perfect, Jinnie.” You said leaning into his touch, staring at your reflections in the mirror.

As you and Seokjin stealthily exit his office, trying to keep your composure, you inadvertently collide with two of your perceptive coworkers, Lisa and Taehyung.

They exchange knowing glances as you nervously explain, "Oh, hey! We were just leaving, I don’t feel good. I think I drank too much.”

Lisa smirks and teases, "You don’t feel good, huh? Seokjin offering to take you home seems awful NICE of him." Taehyung joins in, saying, "Yeah, we've seen the way you two look at each other. Just spill it already!"

You chuckle awkwardly, attempting to downplay the situation. "Nah, it's nothing like that. I'm just feeling a bit under the weather, and Seokjin insisted on being a good colleague, offering me a ride home."

Lisa raises an eyebrow, her expression saying she's not entirely convinced. "Sure, sure. Well, take care, both of you," she says with a sly grin, and they continue on their way.

Once out of earshot, Seokjin laughs opening the door to his sleek car, a low hum of the engine filling the air. You slide into the passenger seat, exchanging a glance with him.

“So much for being inconspicuous, huh?” He asks playfully, resting his large hand on your thigh as he turns into your building's parking lot.

“I blame you for just standing smugly behind me. Where’s your COO attitude?” You say laughing at his remarks.

“Hey! I’m an ex-COO. I’m merely an office worker infatuated with my junior.” Seokjin admits casually, stepping out of the vehicle to open the door for you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, a small smile now gracing your lips. The walk to your apartment is shortened due to your in-unit elevator.

You place your things down telling Seokjin to follow you to the room. You welcome him to get comfortable on your bed while you shower.

“Can’t I join you, beautiful?” He asks pulling you down onto his lap. You smile up at the older man, nodding in response.

“You know, Y/N.” He started lovingly, “I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I’ve wanted you for so long. The first night you stayed at my place, I already knew I wanted you to be mine.” He confessed to you.

“I would sit in the library on my breaks, just to spend quiet time with you. Mostly sneaking glances at you while you sat cutely absorbed in whatever novel you’re reading.”

“May I take you on a proper date, darling?” He questioned smoothly, running a hand down your cheek.

“Yes, if you promise to be mine.”

172 notes · View notes

acerathia · 1 year

Text

Magic Shop || S. Todoroki

Summary:

After 'accidentally' getting cursed, you seek the witch of the forest to fix this problem. Only did you not expect a beautiful man to reside there...

Wordcount: 12.4k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Witch!Todoroki Shoto / GN!Reader

Tags/CW:

witch!shoto, contractual partners to friends to lovers, pining!! lots of pining, aged-up characters, GN reader, honestly mostly vibes in the woods idk what to say, fluff, innuendos, but sfw, maybe shoto is ooc, forgive my transagression <;/3

Note:

Please note that information about witches may be inaccurate as I was only using my fantasy. And any links are safe!! Also!! This is part of the 'Haunted House Collab' by Willow's House, check out the other works!!

Your hand slaps against the surface of your ringing phone, hoping to silence it with a lucky stroke back to sleep. But that only works for a couple of minutes as it starts once again relentlessly chiming, with no way to stop it. With a groan you remember the infinite number of alarms you had set yourself the night before, your past self too aware of your strong desire to sleep overpowering your need to go to work. So you don’t have a choice, you’d like to keep your job for as long as possible, even with your current sleeping habits.

Slowly you swing your upper body up, and blink blearily, just staring into your room for a couple of seconds, just trying to force you to properly wake up. You take your phone into your hand to stop the still blaring alarm and of course every subsequent alarm after that one. You run your hands over your face, once again trying to wake yourself up before getting up. Shuffling your feet, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up. A good splash in your face does wonders against this fatigue, but only sometimes, so you hope it works today.

It actually helped a bit, your eyes stinging from the direct contact with the flying water. After finishing the rest of your routine, you go back to your room and put your work clothes on, ignoring the crinkles in them, even if your hands mindlessly try to flatten them, they will eventually disappear, hopefully. You just don’t have time nor the patience to iron them out. Nobody is going to notice them underneath a blazer. A last look in the mirror tells you that you do look presentable enough to show up at work. So you grab your necessities and hurry out of the door.

You don’t hurry because you might be late, you just like to be a bit early on the street, never sure what might delay your way, a traffic jam leading every car to link its arms with each other, making any other form of transportation nigh unusable. This especially accounts for you being stuck between arms and torsos of other people, holding for dear life on a pole in the bus, trying your best to avoid falling onto the ground with every rumbling stop.

Your stop draws near, and you’re finally able to leave the suffocating transportation can, you take a second to breathe, to collect yourself once again. The shaking of the bus has almost begun to lull you back to sleep, even if you were standing with hands in a death grip. So you slap both of your cheeks and continue your way to your workplace.

At your arrival, you think that luck must be on your side, as you still have a couple of minutes until your shift starts, enough time to calm down after all that speed walk, and simply drink some water. You put your stuff into the locker and begin your work. And you hope to keep that luck running for the rest of the morning.

But it seems that your luck is already strained thin, as you mess up some of the dates by accident, inconveniencing a visitor at their work. So you hurry up to apologize for this mistake before they can ask for your boss.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. We’ll fix this as soon as possible, so feel free to take a seat, Mrs. Nukarumi,” you offer her with a smile, not moving a muscle as her face shifts at the name-drop. You don’t realize your mistake until she steps closer, a menacing aura clogging your airways. You begin to panic, but you keep your face professional, a smile, a questioning tilt to the head.

“Listen, I can excuse some mishap at work, happens to the best of us. But getting my name wrong, and to such a distasteful degree is arrogant, especially after being quite the regular at your establishment,” she puts two fingers on your forehead, her nails pressing against your skin, and now you drop your smile for a frown, as the shadow of her hand covers your face, suffocating in a way only air can be. “It’s Nakamura, and I’d like to know how you will live your life without a soul ever recognizing you.”

Her fingers begin to feel warmer with each second, and at first, you thought it might be due to the prolonged skin contact. That is until this warmth turns into heat, her fingerprints searing themselves into your skull, your skin non-existent. Some kind of pain spreads all over your facial features, not painful enough to coax out a scream, but enough to make your muscles twitch in response. At this sensation, you try your best to pull away, but you seem to be glued to her fingertips, like she’s holding the strings of your body between her knuckles with this simple touch.

You finally manage to take a step back the moment her fingers leave your skin. She seems to be satisfied with whatever she just did, as a grin spreads over her face as she glances over your face. Mischief is coloring the outlines of her lips before she just leaves without another word, not caring if the situation is fixed any time soon.

For some reason, this is the least of your worries, as you make your way to the bathroom with quick steps in search of a mirror. But the moment you stand in front of one, you can’t see anything wrong with your face, not even a small print of her fingers on your forehead. Everything looks normal and proper to you, so you just shrug it off, keen on returning to your post behind the desk.

On the walk back to your space, you come across the manager, who gives you a weird look, and you glance down at yourself, thinking your clothes might have gotten in disarray. But there’s nothing wrong with them. You still straighten your blazer a bit, which doesn’t seem to help, as he finally comes up to you.

“Excuse me, this area is for staff only,” he tells you with a warning in his voice, and you can only furrow your eyebrows at that.

“Uh, yes, I am a staff. It’s my shift right now,” you reply, confusion tinting your voice.

“Lying is useless in this case, I don’t recognize you, and I know all of my staff.” He shakes his head in some form of disappointment before threatening to call security if you don’t clear the space immediately.

Absolutely confused, you just leave the space, and even the building altogether, just heading home, because what else are you supposed to do? You got kicked out by your boss, for some strange reason, and nothing makes sense to you.

What did he say again? He doesn’t recognize you? That’s the wildest reason to kick someone out, ever. Does he want to fire you, or is he pulling some kind of elaborate prank or scheme? You honestly don’t care, you just hope you still get paid for your work.

As you have some time to spare, for obvious reasons, you decide to take a short trip to the store to get yourself some groceries, and maybe you could chat a bit with your acquaintance there, letting a couple of minutes pass in idle talk.

So you enter the store and begin collecting whatever your heart desires, and whatever your wallet allows you, before making your way to the register, where your almost friend works. You smile and greet them, hoping to be able to listen to whatever gossip they have at the moment. But they only give you the usual customer service smile, the usual greeting voice, no recognition sparking in their eyes at all.

Your chest constricts and you try to think of what you might have done to offend them, yet nothing seems to be the problem. And you could hardly bother them while they’re working, so you leave the place without inquiring any further about any possible reason.

Trudging home, you can’t help but wonder if you had done something for all of this to happen. There’s no way this day is filled with one unlucky incident after the other. There’s no correlation for this bad luck, you started your day as you do every single day. The only weird moment was with that weird woman, who just grabbed your face for no reason. But whatever she did, it didn’t work, you checked yourself in the mirror and everything looked fine to you, normal. So why does it seem like no one can recognize you?

You enter your home as the final puzzle clicks, and everything makes sense, well barely. A gasp escapes you at this revelation, and you almost throw your groceries onto the table, grabbing for your phone. With a frown, you open the front camera, seeing yourself, with every feature you know and are used to. Maybe the effect is similar to the one with a mirror?

You decide to take a picture of yourself, not focusing much on looking good, but rather on verifying your thoughts. After you take one where you’re sure your whole face can be seen, you open the gallery to click on the newest picture. But instead of a picture, you’re faced with a blurred mess. Did your hands tremble? There’s no way they moved that much while you took the picture. Still, you take another one, and another one, and another one. And all of them turn out to be blurry.

Chewing on your bottom lip you scroll further to some of the older pictures you have on your phone and they all look normal, your face still visible and clear. So there’s only one conclusion: only the ones you took today have that particular problem, so that means the woman had actually done something unexplainable to you.

With a sigh you put your phone away, driving your hand over your face. You screwed up, you accidentally messed up with the wrong person today, and now you reap the consequences. What are you supposed to do now? How could you even undo this? You can’t go to work if no one recognizes you, and you can’t just not work! You’re ruined, your life will be in shambles over a little mistake, this is so ridiculous.

Panic is running hot through your veins and you do what every sensible human being would do in such a dire situation. You take your phone and look it up, even if you don’t know how to phrase the problem properly. So it isn’t surprising when the first couple of hits you stumble across are different subreddits and medical pages about loneliness. But no matter how far you read into those, there is just no correlation between them and your current problem.

Thus, you dive deeper and you discover some shady-looking forum, all small font and 2000s style of blogging, in which you read a rather recent post.

Does the witch in that forest actually exist? Cuz I heard rumors, but no one has shown real pics smh. If yes, how do you meet them? Like, I wanna get some potions or stuff, idk

– i guess that’s one way to touch grass – that’s some witchful thinking LMAO – ofc, u just gotta go that fb page, there’s proof

Your curiosity gets the best of you and you click on the link, which turns out to be a rickroll. You don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh or groan in frustration. The only upside of this is that you had gotten some form of lead to… something. You’re not quite sure what the whole witch thing is about, but if there’s smoke, there must be a fire. At least you hope so, because it’s the only thing that could solve your problem at the moment. You’re pretty sure the woman put some kind of curse or spell on you, there’s no other way to achieve this kind of effect.

Naturally, you’re going to look for that witch now. You have quite some free time left, so maybe there is some upside to that too…

Trying to be positive about the whole predicament, you trade your current clothes for something more robust, something suitable to endure a visit to the forest. The place mentioned in the post isn’t that far from your living place, so you plan to walk there, getting some blood running to prepare you for the worst.

With a bottle, your phone, and whatever is necessary for your trip, you leave the building. Your phone in hand, you try to discover the fastest way to these woods to avoid losing time.

Finally arriving at the entrance of the forest, you decide to take the already existing paths, leisurely walking along them. And you have to admit it has taken you some time to realize something important in your current endeavor: there’s no way a witch is going to be living on the equivalent of a main street of the forest. No one would do that if they’re actively trying to get by without notice, and witches don’t want people to know where they live. That’s like, their lore or something.

This makes sense, and you nod to yourself, convinced by your own logic before you step off the path. At first, you paid attention to where you put your foot down, careful to not destroy any plants or to get stuck somewhere. But after a while, you simply forget to look at the ground and where you’re going. As a result it shouldn’t be a big surprise when one of your feet gets caught in something, you’re not quite sure what, because the moment you topple over you immediately begin to roll down a hill.

Scrunching your face, you brace yourself for the upcoming impact, hoping sincerely you won’t get knocked against a rock or a stump, breaking something or injuring you in any other way.

Nothing happens. Slowly the rotations come to a stop and you feel your back thud against the ground one last time, even if you still feel the turbulence in your head.

After taking a couple of seconds to get your head straight, you hesitantly open your eyes, only to glance at the face of another person. And for a moment you feel like nothing is real, he’s beautiful. Soft plush lips, slightly agape in surprise, eyes widened and sparkling in the early afternoon sun, and you need to look a couple of times back to notice the different colors, gray and blue, a storm separated from its lightning. His lashes brush against his smooth skin on one side, and against a burn mark on the other, as he blinks, trying to understand what just happened.

You immediately close your eyes again, hoping to fool him into thinking you had passed out, even if he probably saw you staring at his face like a fish out of water.

A slight chuckle, air fanning over your face, tells you that he is no fool. So you have no other choice but to take a breath and to slowly sit up, avoiding looking into his eyes with all your might, even if you’re compelled to look at him just a while longer.

Instead, you start looking around and you notice that you have fallen onto the edge of a beautiful meadow, flowers sprouting all around you, colors bursting underneath the late afternoon sun. The wind dancing between the petals. The delightfulness of this place fills you in awe, and it only grows bigger when you glance back at him, seeing the perfect man sitting underneath the rays of the sun, the wind ruffling his red and white hair playfully. You think about how it feels to touch this cloud in the afternoon sun.

That is until you finally register his gaze lingering on you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you can’t look him in the face anymore, once again. Nerves get the best of you, as you realize that he must have caught you staring at him and you fiddle with your fingers before you gather some courage to talk to him.

“Uhm, sorry for that, heh… You might be wondering why I’m here, and honestly you won’t even remember me when I’m gone, which is for the best I’m not going to lie. But I still wanted to ask, and I know it’s a weird question, but honestly, my whole day has been so weird, you can’t even believe it. What I mean is, do you happen to know where maybe, just maybe, where the witch of this forest is? I kinda got into that situation and I need help…” After getting everything off your chest, you take a second to take a breather.

“Oh, yes, I know where the witch is–”

“Really? Wow, that’s cool, rad, cool, cool! Oh, do you mind telling me? That would be awesome, for real,” you interrupt him, leaning forward in an outburst of excitement, once again just staring at his face

“No, I don’t mind. It’s simple really. The witch is here,” he answers, and if you’d known it better, you could have sworn to see some mischief glinting in his eyes.

But you’re too distracted, squinting your eyes trying to see anyone else in this open meadow. The witch can’t be hiding in such an open space, so you turn around to look behind you.

You jut your lips out when you couldn’t see anyone in the near distance. “Where? There’s no one here?”

The corners of his lips raise slightly. “Well, because we’re the only two people here, the best conclusion is that I’m the witch, is it not?”

You can only nod slowly, mouth agape and eyes roaming over his figure once again. Now that he mentions it, if you focus a bit on his blue eye, the one seemingly illuminating and softening his scar, you could discern symbols circling his iris, whispering secrets only he is to know.

It takes you a moment to bring these two concepts together, as this turn of events just swept you over in a cold rush. Even if you’re going to be honest with yourself, what did you expect? Some beautiful woman with long black hair, miraculously emerging from the waters of some shallow pond? This probably is your sign to read less fantasy… Does it count as fantasy if witches are apparently real?

You blink and push this thought away, this is really not the time to contemplate the structure of your world. So you take a breath, trying to formulate your thoughts more coherently this time.

“Oh, okay. Uhm, so… hold on, no, how am I supposed to call you? Because there’s no way I’m calling you a witch for, I don’t know how long, but that doesn’t matter… Uhm,” you veer off topic before just introducing yourself in the same breath.

Wow, you did amazing, you should pat yourself on the shoulder, because how can someone start at a point and finish at the wrong place? You bite on your bottom lip, slightly crunching your face. But the moment he says your name, the strain seems to melt off, you’re so taken aback by how elegant your own name sounds from his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, I suppose you can call me Shoto.”

With a nod, you do your best to memorize his name and to replace the imaginary picture of a witch with a replication of him, sitting between the flowers, and you’re aware that your memory could never truly replicate this look, this moment; it always be something faded compared to this, and you curse your insufficient brain capacities. Until you remember the actual reason you came looking for him.

“So, Shoto. I need your help, you know, as the witch, because, uh, I don’t know if you noticed already, but I guess someone cursed me? For some reason. Unrelated to anything really…” you laugh nervously and avoid his gaze “Like no one is able to recognize me, which is weird! I look normal in mirrors, but not in pictures? And, uh, see, I kinda need my face to work, you know? Is there something you could do to help me? You’re my last resort, pretty please?” You had hurried to explain your reasons for arriving at this place before the silence between you could even start, or worse, before he got the time to just stand up and leave.

He leans back and his eyes glance over your face, examining you, and you notice how the contrast between his eyes seems to grow for a moment; one almost glowing eerily while the other darkens to reach the depth of the universe. It feels like you’re in the presence of a supernova, a star about to burst by its seams.

But the moment he blinks with a nod the moment is gone, almost like it never was any different. At least he looks like he found whatever he’s looking for, the curse probably.

“I will help you. But in exchange I do need you to aid me in the time it takes me to break this particular spell,” he sets his condition and slightly cocks his head to the side, waiting for your response.

A wide grin splits your face as he agrees to help you. excitement thrumming through your veins at the prospect of working with an actual witch, and even getting rid of this problem altogether. But you still take your time to weigh the choices in your head.

You don’t really have another choice, do you? Because if you refuse, what are you supposed to do? It’s either you help him with his potions, whatever that requires of you, you’re ready to even give your blood for this, or you just suffer for the rest of your life under this horrid curse of unrecognition. Even if you have to admit that this condition of yours could be a real killer in the shady business of the underground, assassinations, break-ins, or whatever illegal activities they entertain. No one would ever be able to catch you, as you practically have no face to be identified by. If you only possessed more usable skills to pursue this potential path of corruption, but you don’t. So you only truly have one choice left.

You readily agree to his terms, on your own condition, you want to be able to go home at the end of the day. You’d like to enjoy your sleep if you involuntarily have to miss work. With the same reasoning, you promise him to come back tomorrow before you’re already on your way home. You hadn’t noticed how late it already was, because the meeting didn’t feel like it took hours off your day. But who are you to judge the sun for packing up a bit earlier, at least it’s still bright enough for you to walk on your own. And on your trek home, you see his captivating eyes every time you blink, almost being able to feel the difference in temperature, coals and ice, hot and cold.

They haunt you, no matter how often you shake your head to get rid of them. You do have bigger problems to concentrate on. But your worries vanish once you land on your bed, all washed up and in clean clothes. The short hike seems to have taken a toll on you, or maybe the revelation of the whole situation, as you fall asleep as soon as you could even think of sleep.

The next morning you wake up all sore, and you whine into your pillow, already despising the possibility, the simple thought of getting up. Yet you sit up and grab your phone to tell your boss that you’re sick. Which technically isn’t a lie, if something does belong in that section, then it’s a curse for sure, and it’s the best option to not get kicked out again, or fired for not showing up to work.

With that you pat yourself on the back for finding a solution to that particular problem, and for giving yourself at least a week to solve this mess. If it doesn’t work out by then, you’d have to get a doctor’s notice, and you honestly doubt that a doctor can diagnose you with this if they even can recognize anything in the first place.

One problem out of the way, you go through your morning routine to head out to start solving the main problem. You put on some proper clothes for this trip, and this time you’re not keen on not tumbling down a hill, and being aware of the hill in the first place will definitely make it a lot easier.

The way to the meadow turns out to be a lot easier once you know the way, and as a consequence, you gain fewer bruises on the way down. You’re glad for that because the ones you earned yesterday throb every time they get touched, even by the barest breeze. But you will survive this horrendous pain, everything to reach your goal of getting rid of this curse.

If only everything is as easy as you wish it to be. Because the moment you arrive at the border of the meadow, you encounter another problem: Shoto isn’t here today.

You curse under your breath while glancing around the empty open space. What are you supposed to do now? You can’t just walk aimlessly and shout his name into the darkness of the woods. That would be stupid, you don’t know what lurks in its insides, and you’d like to avoid disturbing the wildlife and him, probably, if he is actually living in this forest.

Should you just take a seat in the middle of the meadow? Would he be able to see you from wherever his residence is? Once again you curse, but this time at your inability to plan forward, because you really should’ve asked for some details, but for some reason, his agreement seemed enough for you to just up and leave. Now it is obvious how you didn’t think any of this through.

With a sight, you lightly kick the ground. After you take one last look over the meadow, you decide to walk up the borders of the open space in hopes of finding some sort of hint about his possible whereabouts.

It takes you some time to come across a small river, water glistening clearly under the sun. and you decide to follow it on a whim. Honestly, this is probably the next best thing, because everyone needs some form of water, and this forest has no lake, so the river makes absolutely sense.

The flowing water leads you deeper into the woods, but you can’t actually get lost if you just follow the river in the opposite direction, so you’re not really worried about that.

This decision turns out to be the right one because after some time you spot a cottage in the near distance. Surrounded by bushes and the ivory sparkles under the rays of the sun breaking through the ceiling of leaves. As you step closer, leaving the river behind, you’re able to see the veranda filled with all different kinds of plants in pots, hanging, standing, thriving. You think you can even discern some form of garden on the other side of the building, but you decide to stop in front of the door rather than visit that small space. Who knows how a witch is able to protect their place.

Before you even think about knocking, you note how this place doesn’t look like what you expect of a lair, but honestly, you don’t have any other visual than the gingerbread house, and to be fair, that’s a fairytale and as much as Shoto looks like he came straight out of one, there’s no connection between these two. Not that it matters, you’re certainly not a kid, so you doubt he would eat you, which is unlikable in the first place.

You raise your fist to finally knock on the wood of the door, but before your knuckles could even connect with it, the door actually opens, and you make eye contact with Shoto. You slowly lower your fist and notice how he’s holding a basket in his hand, eyebrows raised in silent surprise. For a moment you both just look at each other in confused surprise until he finally starts speaking.

“Oh, good morning. I didn’t expect you to be here so early. Come in,” he steps aside to fully open the door, inviting you into his home.

With hesitation you step inside, looking around as curiosity tempts you with its soft claws. A smell of a mix of herbs wafts in front of you as you inhale. There is a small seating arrangement, a loveseat, a sofa, an armchair, all resting on top of a soft carpet, inviting you to sit on the ground and enjoy some tea or read a book.

Connected to that space is an open kitchen, to which he heads to, and you hurry to follow his lead. It takes you a moment to take your shoes off, so you can’t help but follow his path carefully, too scared to accidentally disturb this calm space of his.

His home seems rather normal, but once again, what did you expect? Some kind of massive cauldron, some random stuff hanging off the ceilings, or body parts in a mysterious liquid? You should’ve expected this, this is just a normal cottage in the depths of the forest, the only exceptional thing, or person, is Shoto, and you don’t mean him being a witch.

Once you arrive in the space of the kitchen, he motions you to sit at the table, and you do, your expectations getting the best of you and waiting for some form of grimoire to thud onto the table. But nothing of that sort happens, he just sits on the opposite side, leaning his chin in his hand and just looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and a small pout on his lips.

You try your best to stay silent, even if the urge to say something is getting stronger with the second, but you withstand his piercing gaze resting on your hot skin. You bite on your tongue to swallow your question down. Especially when his eyes begin to emit a low light once again, all stormy weather, dark clouds shrouded in lightning.

It abates the moment he hums. “I see. Well, I guess I am able to undo this spell, but we both don’t know anything about the workings of the spell, it probably will take me some time to fix the proper counterspell. For that, I need your presence. Should we get started?” He leans back, his eyes glowing under the sunlight, but this time it feels a lot softer, less like magic and more like a fairy tale.

The next thought you have is filled with indignation because he just assumed you don’t know anything about the spell. Well you don’t, but it’s about the assumption itself, not the fact that you have no idea about this craft. So you can’t really say anything in your defense, because there’s nothing to defend but your pride, and it’s not worth it at the moment.

“Sure thing, but I have to let you know: I know how that woman put this spell on me, and… uh…” you start confidently, only to peter out, not knowing how to continue this trail of thought.

Despite that, he does seem surprised by that in some way, indicated by the way his eyebrows shoot up. “Is that so? Would you mind telling me?”

You almost think to hear some sort of accusation in his tone, but you have no reason or idea why that might be. So you just shrug it off before delving into a short explanation of the events that had occurred to you, until you recount the first meeting with him. Of course, there are some details you omit, because you’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of such a graceful person, because he’s a witch, not because you think he’s so beautiful you might turn blind if you look at him for an extended period of time, that would be ridiculous. Also, telling him about your fall is just unnecessary to the plot of this story, isn’t it?

He nods, eyes telling you that he realizes the omission, but he doesn’t comment on it. At least he seems like he understands more about the situation than you, simply from the description of whatever she had done to you, from whatever you had felt.

“This does help quite a bit. Doesn’t make the process much faster, just easier. Not that it matters, I’m qualified to undo this spell either way.” He stands up and begins to open the cabinets, rummaging through their insides before pulling out a notebook and a pen.

There’s no way this is his spellbook. The place where he keeps his most secret, most important spells. It looks like any ordinary notebook from the store, and it probably is, considering how normal everything looks. Maybe he has a special way of safekeeping?

You squint and stare at the notebook, trying to discover something hidden, but the only thing you see is how Shoto is writing some stuff down, the signs clear and elegant.

Only occasionally does he look up, eyes roaming over your face without sitting still on anything in particular. You doubt he could even if he wanted to.

And now your thoughts wander to the possibility that he would actually want to look at you, how his gaze would soften when caressing your skin, the sun sparkling against his dual-colored eyes, making them glisten with adora–

No, you have to stop here, or you’re not going to survive his presence in the upcoming brewing sessions. Healing sessions… Yeah, healing sessions, because he’s healing your hurt ego, getting rid of your predicament. There’s nothing else to call them. Uncursing? Spell Deletion? No, that sounds ridiculous. Healing sessions sound like some form of therapy, and being in the forest is kind of therapeutic, well, his presence sure is. Not that the name matters, you’re never going to talk about it with anyone, ever.

You blink a couple of times to come back to reality, only to make eye contact with him and your breath hitches. You do your best to act casual and prop your elbow onto the back of the chair but you slip and you have to catch yourself with a jerk.

A nervous laugh escapes you and you lean back, crossing your arms in front of your chest to get rid of your fidgeting. You avoid looking into his eyes this time, focusing on the fringe falling onto his forehead, red and white braiding into each other seamlessly.

He doesn’t even bother to say anything about what just happened and just goes straight to business. “Here’s what we’re going to do in the next few days,” he starts explaining like you just didn’t utterly embarrass yourself in front of him. “I doubt a counterspell will work without consequences because we don’t know the exact working of your curse, even if I have a good idea of it. Still, I don’t want to risk it, so I’m simply going to brew a potion, which will wear it out until it disperses on its own. That means we have to go out and collect some necessary materials. We’re going to do that later though, as there are some preparations I have to make first.”

With that, he closes his notebook and leaves it on the table as he stands up. He motions you to follow him and you leave the house at his heels.

Outside he pulls some sort of platter from below a table and hands it to you before he kneels on the ground in front of a pot in the form of a long rectangle. Inside it is a green plant, stalks spreading out like rays of the sun, leaves tiny and feather-like.

“These are Maidenhair Ferns, also called The Hair of Venus. They could have some effect on your current condition, but we have to dry them first for their potency to unfold. I’m going to take care of the cutting of the plant and I ask you to put them neatly onto the platter. That way we can continue our work at a faster rate,” he explains, his gaze only brushing over you before leading his focus back onto the plant in front of him.

You nod, even though you’re not sure he could register this movement with the way he’s intently looking at the leaves of the ferns. You still take a seat by his side and put the big plate on your lap, ready to receive the first leaves and stems.

At first there isn’t a lot for you to do, so you’re busy looking around, taking in the sights of the forest, enjoying the sun on your face, but soon enough you start taking the stalks filled with neat leaves and arrange them properly on the plate, trying to avoid stacking them as much as possible.

Luckily, he doesn’t pick that many plants for you to even begin thinking of that possible problem too much. With a platter covered with just the right amount of leaves, he finally turns around to face you.

“We need to pluck the leaves from the stem because each part is different, and will need a different time to properly dry. We only need the leaves for the potion, but I’d hate to waste the rest,” he murmurs, his long, nimble fingers already running along the stem of one of the plants, picking the leaves off with careful fingertips, barely staining his nail beds in the process.

You proceed to take one fern in your hand, trying your best to imitate him and to rip the leaves at the right spot and not rip them apart accidentally. Sticking your tongue slightly between your teeth in concentration, you manage to not destroy the first fern, even if the process has gotten a bit messy, your fingers turning slightly green. You begin to understand why people who garden have a ‘green thumb’.

You both work in a comfortable silence for some time, simply enjoying the repetitive motion. Before you even dare to think about standing up, you both make sure that everything is properly separated and not layered. Just then you stand up and follow him around the corner to some sort of backyard. You reckon this is the place you glanced at earlier. There’s a table standing out in the open, and he motions you to put the platter you were carrying onto its surface. In that position, the sun is going to dry them for you, essentially doing the work for you.

The moment your hands are free, you get the urge to stretch into the rays of the sun, your blurry, lidded gaze glancing over the edge of the open space between the bushes. And that’s where you spot it. A beautiful deer.

With a silent gasp, you blindly try to tap Shoto on the shoulder, accidentally brushing against his jaw in your hurry. Normally you would apologize, but you don’t dare tear your eyes away from the deer, much less make a noise, in fear of it disappearing without a trace. The doe, you correct yourself, as it lacks any form of horns.

“Oh,” you hear Shoto say softly under his breath, finally spotting the deer too.

For a moment you both just stay silent, not daring to even move too much, simply enjoying the mesmerizing sight of a doe under the shining sun, framed by the lush green of the forest. That is until the deer just turns around and jumps away like it just doesn’t care about you both just staring at it in awe.

You release a small puff of air, some tension releasing as you had been too caught up in the moment. Turning around in his direction, you regret even breathing the second you lock eyes with Shoto, his face closer to you than you had anticipated. It seems like you both have moved closer in that short moment, huddling together for some reason at the mere sight of the doe.

Your eyes jump over his dark eye to the lightning blue one, electrifying you like a summer storm, and you wonder if he’s gotten hit by lightning itself, resulting in these mesmerizing eyes, and the scar around that bright eye, the only blemish on his smooth, soft looking skin. Maybe it’s connected to his powers, to these symbols deep inside the blue, unreadable to you.

To avoid staring at his scar, your gaze travels over his high cheekbones to his plumb lips, and you could almost imagine them quirking slightly, the moment before he reveals a true laugh of joy out of his soul. This thought startles you and you immediately take a step back, bumping into the corner of the table.

A low whimper escapes as you double over, clutching your wounded side in a dramatic manner. At least now you’ve got a reason to avoid looking at him, to avoid getting lost in all these daydreams about him and…

“Are you okay? Did you hit a sensitive spot?” he asks, worry tinting his voice as he puts his hand softly on your back.

You nod at first before you begin to shake your head, these two questions colliding in your head, all while you try to ignore the possible innuendo. If you step into that territory of thought, you might as well run into the woods and bury yourself in some random cave, to never face him again.

The pain slowly abates after you take a couple of breaths to calm yourself down. It’s going to form a bruise, which isn’t that big of a deal, but you wish it wouldn’t feel like something had impaled your guts.

Straightening up, you show him a thumbs up, even if his slightly furrowed eyebrows and jutted lips show that he isn’t quite convinced. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to fight you over that, so his hand leaves your back. The spot is suddenly so cold, and you can’t help but miss the warmth of his skin, even through clothing.

You try your best to divert his attention away, and maybe yours too, as you look around, in particular to avoid looking at his face. You spot some form of wooden fence, probably a small garden, and you step in its direction with a craning neck to see what he could have planted there.

“Oh, is that a garden? What did you put there? Do you sustain yourself like that? How do you know what soil to use for what plant? Are these to eat or just for your potions?” These questions pour out of your mouth, the perfect distraction for you both as you don’t have to pull out some random question out of nowhere. And you’re genuinely interested.

He seems to have noticed your attempt at distraction according to his rising eyebrows, but he still indulged you and steps closer to the high edge of the garden and you join him close behind him.

With a soft voice he starts explaining the use of each herb, each fruit and plant, patiently pointing toward them, all while mentioning neat little details, like their harvest season, how picky certain plants are. And you can’t help but be captivated by his knowledge and the way he shares it. Even if you sometimes break out of the immersion of his voice when your eyes begin to roam over his face instead of listening.

Time passes with you both kneeling in the soft grass and inspecting the little space filled with love. You only notice how late it has gotten with the way your eyelids feel heavy, your gaze unfocusing and hazy. And as much as you’d love to just take a nap in the middle of the grass under this beautiful weather, you have to get home before that.

So with a goodbye and a promise to return tomorrow, you make your way home, the way easier to walk as your body starts to memorize the path. You could say you could find the way to the cottage in your sleep with how tired you currently feel.

It’s no wonder you barely remember getting ready for bed, much less going to sleep because your brain is practically already out of commission before that happens.

The next day you wake up with a satisfied groan. You’ve never felt this refreshed in your life before, and when you glance at the time, you startle, realizing why. You’ve overslept, you’re late for work! You immediately stand up, heart beating a frenzy in your chest and your arms tremble slightly. With a sudden rush, you remember how you had taken sick leave just yesterday, and you slump back onto your bed.

With a shaken sigh, you sink back into your pillow. You could have slept a bit more, but it seems like your internal clock was keen on terrorizing you today. And with that rush of adrenaline, you might as well stay up and get ready to visit Shoto today.

You take your time to eat breakfast and just enjoy the silence of your home before you make yourself ready for the way. You also check on the state of your food, in case you need to get some groceries. But you don’t, so you clean your place a bit before heading out.

And once again you step through the same path you’ve been visiting the last few days, and you wonder if it would inevitably become some sort of established path with the amount of walking you’ve been doing between the same couple of trees. Maybe you should start changing the route a bit the next couple of times.

You arrive in front of his door and this time you’re able to knock on the door before it’s ripped open, and you startle by the look Shoto throws out of the door, all narrow eyes and downturned lips, almost resembling a snarl. You hesitate in asking if something is wrong. His eyes blink before recognizing you, in the widest sense, and his whole face seems to almost soften. With no exchange of words, he steps to the side and opens the door for you to step in.

Mirroring the day before, he makes way for the table and sits down, waiting for you to do the same. And you do, because you’ve been walking closely behind him.

His notebook is already open on the surface of the table, and he leans slightly forward. “The leaves of yesterday still need some time to fully dry, so today we should go out and collect some other stuff I mentioned yesterday. Is that alright with you?”

You would do anything to get rid of that curse on your face, so of course it’s alright with you, and you nod to show him that. He also nods in confirmation before closing his notebook and grabbing a basket to put whatever you will collect today inside.

While he is doing that, you hurry to the door to open it up for him, even bowing slightly with a grin across your face and the moment he passes by you, you think to see a small smile on his lips, amusement sparkling clearly in his face.

After closing the door behind you, you follow him to take his side as he ventures deeper into the forest. His steps are purposeful, and you’re sure he knows where to find the target material. Still, you wish you could help with whatever he’s looking for, but you doubt you would be able to recognize it even if he told you the name of it. Despite that, you’re happy to listen when he starts talking, explaining what he’s looking for.

“I have some vague idea of what could help against your current ailment. Right now, I’m looking for a Bird’s Eye…” he trails off as he seems to have spotted something.

This revelation confuses you. What does he mean with a Bird’s Eye? Is he going to pluck the eyeballs of some poor bird? Is that something he usually does? He doesn’t seem like the person to entertain such thoughts. You want to ask him if there’s another way, but he had vanished between some bushes.

You swallow down the tremble in your throat and fight through the shrubbery to catch up to him. You emerge a couple of steps next to the spot he’s bending over. With some paces to place yourself at his side, only to see him hold some sort of purple plant delicately between his fingers. Petals growing upward the long stem to a soft point. A lavender plant… A Veronica… And suddenly you feel stupid for still assuming something without real proof. Still, you can’t help the relieved breath you let out.

Straightening up, Shoto shoots you a look, all hidden crinkles, and creasing eyes, almost like he’s making fun of you, like he’s amused at your obvious relief. “Seems like you had expected something else, didn’t you?” he asks, his gaze resting somewhere on your cheek.

“Uh, what else am I supposed to think? Telling me, ‘oh yeah, we need some bird’s eye’, doesn’t sound like, I don’t know, like you’re about to pluck an eyeball? How am I– hold on, did you do that on purpose?” you gasp at your own accusation. “You did! That’s so mean of you, I can’t believe you would use my trust like that!”

You pout slightly, even if you doubt he could see it properly, so you cross your arms in front of you to show your stance on things right now, even if you’re aware that you look overly dramatic. But that’s the point.

Your stance doesn’t seem to affect him, because you suddenly hear a light chuckle escape his lips, and when you glance at his face, you can clearly see how his lips quirked up in a silent laugh, all soft and delicate.

While you’re staring at him, you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face clearly, because you probably look stunned, amazed, stupefied, and every other word to describe the way your eyes widen and your mouth standing slightly agape.

His eyes wander over your face, eyebrows scrunched up as if he wants to see whatever the fog is hiding behind that blur. Whatever he’s looking for doesn’t seem to be there, because the frown only deepens before he turns back to the flower in his hand, putting it carefully into the basket.

“These are the flowers we’re looking for. Do you mind picking some up?” he asks, already doing so himself, inspecting each one carefully to only select the ones most fitting.

You nod and diligently begin to pick the ones you seem worthy, collecting them into some sort of bouquet in your other hand. After a while, your hand is barely able to hold onto more, and you’re quite content with the look of your makeshift bouquet. Not being able to resist the urge, you tap him on the shoulder and hold it under his nose.

“Please accept this!” you say dramatically, acting like you just confessed your undying love to him, but you couldn’t stay serious long enough to wait for his response, especially after seeing his raised eyebrow. You burst into laughter. “Sorry, sorry! I just thought it looked like a bouquet, so–”

“Oh, so you wanted to offer me the Eye of a Bird? How romantic,” he drawls, his mouth puckered and eyebrows high on his forehead. Only the gleam in his eyes seems to betray his serious stance.

You nod with a muffled giggle. “The peak of modern romance, of course! You deserve nothing less than the best.”

He takes the flowers from your outreached hand and inspects them, acting too critical of your offering before nodding in approval. “I shall accept these, but only this time.”

You gasp, a hand over your heart. “Only this time? My good sir, then I shall prepare something more glamorous, something you can’t refuse for the next time!” you declare with a boisterous voice and a puffed chest.

Once again his lips purse in consideration. “Well, I don’t know if this is possible, there won’t be a next time, that’s for certain. You shan’t woe me this easily.”

“We shall see how this turns out,” you puff with arrogance, only to break down in little giggles.

The moment you break the immersion, he too breaks his facade with a broad smile, pearly teeth on display and eyes crinkling with happiness and mischief. With the breeze ruffling his hair he looks like the image of pure bliss.

His obvious happiness makes you smile, and you have to catch yourself before you let out a dreamy sigh. You have no other choice but to break the line of sight, lest you do something you might regret, especially with the way your insides feel all soft and malleable at his sight, full, ready to give something to always enjoy the way he seems to be in such peace. But you can’t give in, no matter how much your heart seems to plead with your senses. You should not do this, you shouldn’t even think like this in the first place.

So you redirect all your focus into picking the perfect flowers, paying close attention to the details. With that, you both slowly fill the basket, and before you know it, the evening sun is shining through the leaves, putting everything in a soft orange glow.

The full basket has gotten quite heavy and you both decide to share the burden, each one of you grabbing a side of the handle to carry it together. This arrangement is there to make it easier for you both, so no problems should arise. Even if the path you’re taking is narrow in some passages and trying to get through them together, side by side, his shoulder ends up bumping, brushing against yours more often than not. And every time this contact happens, you do your best to not flinch away or to think too closely about the warmth he radiates; avoiding leaning closer to him than you already are.

Finally, you arrive at the cottage and you feel like you have lost all breath in your lungs, most of it evaporating by the simple look at him, by the simple brush. Despite needing some space, you continue to help him carry the basket to some sort of designated space inside the house. And once you get rid of that weight, you stretch your arms above your head, hearing a silent yet satisfying crack.

Feeling the need to rest outside, even if you just were under the open sky, you take some slow steps out of the door, because you desperately need a moment to breathe without being scared of brushing against him.

That’s how you end up sitting on his veranda. The sun had already set and darkness is swallowing the forest, which is now filled with entirely new noises and movements. Despite the lack of light and the unknown biting at your toes, you don’t feel unsafe or in danger, rather the silence and the cool breeze have a calming effect on you.

With a roaming look into the sky, you notice the amount of stars visible against the deep blue of the night. Without any trees obstructing your sight and no artificial lights destroying their twinkle, you can’t help but be entranced with them. You’re so fixated on their beauty that you almost miss Shoto taking a seat by your side.

For a moment you both stay silent, arm against arm, shoulder against shoulder, knee brushing a thigh, and this time you don’t even dare to hold your breath. You feel the desire to lean against him, to feel his breath flutter against your skin. But you’re satisfied with this moment, with the way he seems to glow under the stars, giving him a halo of silver light.

Only because you’ve been staring at him do you notice when he stretches his hand into the sky and lets his finger connect individual stars into constellations. You squint, trying to see the lines from your perspective but you struggle a bit as everything is shifted, so you don’t even know which stars are connected despite following the way his finger moves.

He seems to notice your struggle, as he scoots closer, his front now almost touching your back, his head hovering over your shoulder to get down to your height. After settling like that he carefully grabs your fingertips and waits for you to pull away or to react in any way to show him your rejection, but you don’t. You rather marvel at how soft his skin feels against yours in that feather-light touch.

His hand leads your fingers to make a fist with only your index finger pointing out. With your hand like that, he rests his palm against the back of your hand, on your wrist. Positioned like that he slowly begins to show you the constellations with your own finger, all while making sure it’s visible from your perspective. While guiding you, he softly murmurs their names and the planets and stars, explaining everything and yet nothing, because you’re almost too focused on his breath against your face, the way his chin brushes against your shoulder, and you try your best to not turn around to directly face him.

After some time you do begin to relax and to enjoy all this information and the light contact. You end up leaning against his torso, his cheek resting on your head, and you both remain like that for some time, simply soaking in the presence, the silence and the warmth between you.

So it’s no wonder how you barely notice the atmosphere wrapping around you, lulling you into something peaceful and welcoming.

You only notice how gone you were when the sun's rays hit your face softly, waking you up with their soft kisses, and you can’t even be mad at being woken up like that. It is comfortable and warm. Still, the moment you open your eyes, you startle slightly at the sight of the unfamiliar, yet familiar ceiling. You slowly sit up and a patchwork blanket slides off your shoulders to bunch around your waist.

With a quick look at your surroundings, you realize where you are: the cottage. And with that realization you put the pieces together: You fell asleep on him, while stargazing, while holding his hand.

You bury your face in your hands, embarrassment flooding your ears. You hope you didn’t mumble, or worse, drool in your sleep. Or you might simply never look him in the face again.

Peaking between your fingers, you spot him in the open kitchen, silently working on something over the stove, his back turned towards you.

“Breakfast is almost done. You can freshen up a bit, I put some clothes that might fit you in the bathroom,” his voice sounds and you flinch, surprised he had noticed you being awake. “It wasn’t difficult, you made quite some noise.”

You frown, jutting your lips out. Is he reading your thoughts? Is that one of the abilities of witches? You sure hope it isn’t, or else he would know about everything that had crossed your mind in his presence… You desperately want to avoid this possibility, but it can’t hurt to try. So you think of something so stupid, so outrageous, he has no choice but to react.

I couldn't read the witch's handwriting at all, she always wrote in curse-ive.

You almost hit your own face with a groan, but you keep your gaze on his back, trying to see if this entices any form of reaction out of him. But nothing happens and you just sigh, even if you’re still curious how he had guessed your thoughts to that degree. Maybe you should ask him later…

A shrug and you stretch the last bit of heaviness out of your limbs before you grab the blanket to fold it and to put it neatly onto the sofa you’ve been sleeping on. It would be rude to leave it crumbled like that, especially after he put the effort to carry… you… For a moment you stop in your tracks and just blink blanky at the blanket in front of you.

He carried you… and put a blanket over you… He carried you…?

This realization hits you like a swinging bat and you have to bite on your lower lip to suppress a gasp. Your eyes jump to his figure, making sure he’s not looking at you, his back still turned towards you, and you slowly make your way to the bathroom, your joints feel like they’re locked up and creaking like a bad oiled machine.

Once you arrive in the bathroom, you close the door behind you and lean heavily on the sink. You feel like you just gave yourself some serious whiplash. So, with a deep breath, you begin to splash your face with cold water, trying to calm yourself down before you turn around to look at the clothes he had prepared for you. Holding the shirt in front of you, you decide that it will fit you even though it might be a bit loose, but you can’t complain about that.

With that you change into the fest pair of clothes, folding your clothes neatly. You don’t even take the time to look into the mirror to check how they fit, almost afraid of what you might see.

You leave the bathroom with another stretch and enter the open kitchen to offer your help to him, but he refuses politely because he already plated the table and there’s simply not enough space for the both of you to cook something without elbowing each other.

So you take a seat at the table, resting your head on your palm, content with just watching him being busy with the food preparation. He moves with a practiced hand, movements smooth and elegant. You can only observe as his surprisingly broad shoulders move, muscles stretching and filling his shirt. Your eyes wander over his lean back and you purse your lips the moment you see his small waist. You wonder if you would be able to put your arms around his whole torso, or your legs…

You inhale sharply, immediately averting your eyes to the window, trying to divert your thoughts to something else, anything but to look back to his direction. It’s a beautiful day outside, there’s no need to stay in the bedroom, or inside, no need to have any thoughts relating to inside activities.

Your gaze jumps around, looking for something to latch onto, but there’s nothing but the wonderful depth of the forest, which isn’t quite enough to distract you from the possible way his muscles could coil when he leans over you…

A bite to the inside of your cheek brings you out of that train of thoughts, and you’re aware of how you need something more concrete for your distraction, like that deer. But you could only vaguely discern some movements in the bushes and nothing really stepped out of the shadows.

The clatter of a plate disrupts your almost desperate search as Shoto puts a plate in front of you, and you can’t stop the excited grin spreading over your face at its contents. He made some waffles, toppings dripping down its sides and its smell luring you in to take the first bite. It looks delicious, an absolute masterpiece. And you can’t resist it, barely taking your time to thank him properly for his efforts, before digging in and letting the soft dough melt over your tongue. You close your eyes and you almost moan out of delight, the taste an explosion of pure bliss. Instead of embarrassing yourself like that, you just stuff your mouth with another bite.

And before you know it, the plate is empty, leaving you full, yet yearning for more. But you doubt you could even manage to get another bite down and just slump backward into the back of the chair, feeling some kind of satisfied drowsiness.

“Shoto, my man, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. You got some magic hands,” you tell him and grin widely when he raises his eyebrows at your choice of words.

Instead of properly answering your compliment, he lets out a puff of air before beginning to collect the empty dishes. You immediately stand up, keen on helping him this time around, especially when you don’t need much space to do the dishes. That’s how you end up drying the washed dishes and putting them away in their respective places. Of course not without him showing you where they belong first.

With this arrangement, you finish doing the dishes at a faster rate. He’s drying his hands as he turns around to look at you. “I’m going to brew the potion today, or at least try to. Feel free to take a book to entertain yourself for the time being.”

He points to the huge shelf covering the entire wall of the living room and you gape slightly at its size. How did you miss that in the first place? Even if you have been distracted by a lot of things, this thing is huge, there’s no way you could have just not seen it.

You barely give him a nod before immediately stepping closer to the shelf, running your fingers along the spines of the books. So many different topics, genres and authors, and there is no way Shoto didn’t read them all. No wonder he has such huge amounts of knowledge. After you have taken a couple of strides along the length of the shelf, you finally choose one of the books and take it out of its place.

With it firmly in your palm, you go and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Once you’re in the perfect position you start reading, thumbing through the book about heroes and their powers, and your brain rattles with all the possibilities and the groundwork of this fictional world.

The background is filled with the sound of utensils clashing and clattering, soft blubbering of his potion, and after a couple of pages, you decide to take a look from afar.

He’s still in the kitchen, bending over his work, a slight furrow between his eyebrows, a thoughtful pout tugging at his lips. And you just look. Just admire the evenly split hair of red and white softly falling, framing his face, the calm demeanor revealing his kind heart. You smile. You can’t help but think, these thoughts filling your veins, coming from your heart, how charming he looks, how beautiful, how handsome. Despite being aware that this relationship is entirely contractual, the chance of seeing him again after this ordeal is slim, you admit to yourself, you like him, a lot. And there’s no way to truly know how he feels about you. To him, you’re probably just another person requiring his services, nothing more, nothing less, only bound by the verbal deal you’ve made.

This realization makes you smile bittersweetly, already accepting the outcome. So you try to get back into the book, to put your focus back on the ongoing plot. But your thoughts circle back to the endless ways this could end, the endless ways this could turn and bend. And no matter how badly you wish for it to end otherwise, every path leads to the same blocked path, a deal done, a face regained and a connection lost. Who are you to interfere with fate?

You force yourself to face it, to accept it, no matter how much your heart resists. It will hurt, but everything turns out to be how it’s supposed to be.

A breath and you begin to digest the story word by word, forcing yourself to take them in until you finally relax and get into the flow of the story and its plot, all while the background noises fade out of your consciousness.

You feel yourself clutching at your non-existent pearls as you near the end of the book when Shoto walks up to you, nudging your foot with his to get your attention. And once you look up from your book, he holds a cup with some sort of tea in your direction. With thanks you take it and immediately sip from the warm liquid.

“I thought you’re supposed to brew that potion?” you ask him, cupping your hands to warm your palms on the glazed ceramic.

“I was. That’s the potion in your hand,” he answers and the corners of his mouth slightly dip upward.

You startle at this revelation and almost let the cup drop. “Wh-what? You could’ve said that earlier!”

“How could I when you so eagerly took it from my hands before I could even say anything?” he chuckles and cocks his head to the side, eyes crinkling at your shocked face.

You gape at him and look at the half-empty cup in your hands, then back at him. “Are you messing with me? It feels like you’re messing with me…”

He shakes his head. “As amusing that would be, I’m not. You’re drinking the potion right now. It will probably take some odd hours to take full effect, if at all.”

Slowly you nod and just down the rest of the tea-potion in one big gulp. You exhale and the warmth of the tea coupled with the late hour begins to make you quite drowsy. There’s no way you’re staying two nights at his place, that would be just so utterly rude of you, especially if you’re going to lend out some of his stuff. That means it’s time for you to head home, as much as you’d like to stay on the couch and continue reading.

You close the book and return it to its place before you thank him once again and take your stuff. With everything in hand you begin your way home, the evening still young and the wood still filled with enough light to not get hurt when crossing it.

Finally arriving home without accidents, the first thing you do is change out of the borrowed clothes and prepare them to wash later so you can return them to him. And you start doing your nighttime routine, even if the initial drowsiness is now gone for some reason, but you’d like to be prepared for the moment you feel tired again, and maybe you need some distraction. If you don’t, you might as well go insane with anticipation, literally expecting something to happen immediately.

This anticipation fills you with adrenalin or something, because for some time you just walk around your place aimlessly, not able to settle down without feeling your heart race. You finally settle on your bed with your phone in hand, trying to calm down to the best of your abilities. It doesn’t quite work, because you realize you never asked Shoto for his number, you never felt the need to, and maybe you shouldn’t even ask in the first place.

You sigh and roll around, beginning to scroll through whatever apps you have in rotations, and you only stop to scratch at your tingling face. At first you don’t think too much about it, as it only itches around your mouth. But then the itch begins to spread over your cheek and you have to stop everything you’re doing, because you have to know if you suddenly have some sort of allergic reaction. After thinking for a while, you don’t remember eating something that could elicit such a reaction, so it can’t be that.

It takes you a moment to realize what that could mean and you jump off the bed, rushing to the mirror only to stop in the middle of the way when you remember that mirrors don’t show your problem with your looks. So you race back and dive for your phone, almost hitting your head on the headboard. You don’t pay attention to that though as you’re opening the camera, facing it towards you.

After you take a picture in semi-good lightning, you click into your gallery, only to see the newest pic and stare at it. There’s you! With every single feature you remember and cherish.

And before you know it, you’re already out the door, dashing through the streets and into the woods. You know you should be careful about tripping, but the need to see him, to thank him, to hug him, is overwhelming. Excitement is coursing through your veins, giving you a boost in energy and you feel laughter bubbling through your lungs.

Then you stumble. Unlike the first time, you don’t immediately take a tumble down the hill, because someone catches you right on time, long before you could even get closer to the ground. You grab their arm to straighten up and end up looking directly into Shoto’s eyes. For a moment you just stare at him, mesmerized by his glittering, compelling eyes, by the way you can so clearly see them despite the darkness surrounding you both.

His words bring you back to reality. “Oh, back so soon?”

“Wh– huh? How? I mean, yes, but how did you know it’s me?” you ask bewildered, shutting your mouth with some force before you keep it open when you remember that he can see your expressions now.

He smiles, plush lips revealing perfect teeth, eyes crinkling with obvious joy while roaming over every detail of your face, taking their time over every little feature; almost like he finally found whatever he has been looking for every time he glanced in your direction. One of his hands cups your face, caressing your skin. You lean involuntarily into his touch, enjoying the soft skin on yours more than you should have.

His next words make your heart beat faster than you thought possible, and suddenly a new path opens itself before you.

“My dear, I would always recognize you, no matter what.”

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