#yes i am pleasantly surprised how it turned out

[304wv66]

5.17.2023 // they're my favorites, don't tell the other ocs 🤫

[okaylikeschaewon]

Hot-N-Fun - Part 1

~5k words, Roommates Series, smut

“Call it!”

“They never work,” you chuckled as you pulled your pants back up.

“Yeah but what if this time it’s real,” Mint pleaded while you washed your hands. “I’d do it if my phone wasn’t dead.”

“Seriously?” you began drying your hands. “It’s scratched into the side of the men’s bathroom. How could you possibly think it’s real?”

“You never know!”

“Call for a ‘hot-n-fun’ time? They didn’t even try. I think I can make a pretty safe guess,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “If anything, it’s probably just some dude messing with his friend.”

“You’re probably right,” Mint replied, staring at the scratching. “Either way, it could be funny.”

“Eh, you have a point,” you pulled out your phone and started dialing the number. “Fuck it.”

“That’s my man,” Mint smiled and jumped onto your shoulder, leaning next to your ear as your phone started ringing. “I owe you a drink for this.”

“It’s actually ringing, guess it’s a real number,” you commented, pleasantly surprised, with the phone against your ear. “I doubt they’ll actually pick-”

“Hello?”

It was a girl.

“Oh, hello,” you stammered after spending an awkward amount of time finding your voice.

“Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you answered, stifling your laugh as Mint stared at you in shock, his eyes threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

The girl on the phone sighed.

“Did you happen to find this number in a bathroom?”

“Yeah, I figured someone put your number here to mess with you but curiosity got the best of me,” you explained. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Are you a student?”

“I am.”

“Tomorrow, 9 a.m., coffee. The cafe down the street.”

Mint began frantically nodding his head at you, mouthing ‘yes’ over and over, almost jumping on you in excitement. You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of what was going on, but you made it this far, might as well see it out. At least, that was your excuse. In reality, you just found it incredibly hot that she told you instead of asked you.

“Sure,” you answered. “How will I know who you are?”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Could you do me a quick favor and please scratch out the number.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you replied.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mint staring at each other.

“Did that really just happen?” Mint broke the silence first.

“I’m still not convinced this is real,” you shook your head when suddenly your phone vibrated, the message leaving you in shock once again. “Holy shit, yeah this definitely isn’t real.”

“Let’s see,” Mint grabbed your phone and his jaw immediately hit the floor. “Yeah there’s no fucking way. They’re harvesting organs for sure.”

“I’m still going.”

“True, who needs two kidneys anyway,” Mint laughed, giving you back your phone.

“Fuck it, this girl can have both if she wants them.”

—

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kazuha hung up her phone and turned to her roommate.

“Oh my fucking God about time!” Chaewon squealed. “Where the heck is Sakura, I need to tell her.”

“I’m not actually doing this am I?” Kazuha whined as Chaewon frantically tapped her phone screen.

“She got a call! Tomorrow morning! Yes! I know!” Chaewon screamed into the phone. “Okay! I’ll see you soon!”

“Chaewon!” Kazuha started hitting Chaewon’s arm. “I don’t want to!”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Chaewon grabbed Kazuha into a hug to stop her barrage of attacks. “I can’t wait to see him, what if he’s really hot?”

“I hope he is,” Kazuha sighed, falling face-first onto the bed.

“He will be, I can tell by his voice,” Chaewon jumped onto the bed with her. “So! What are you going to wear? Pick something that shows midriff, trust me.”

“I’m never making a bet with you two again.”

—

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” the girl looked up at you with a bit of a deer-in-headlights expression.

“I know, but it looks like you’ve been waiting. Therefore, I’m late,” you smiled warmly at her, gave her your name, and held out your hand.

“I’m Kazuha,” she shook your hand with firm but incredibly delicate fingers, holding on for a bit too long to be considered a ‘normal’ handshake. “Sorry, I would have waited before ordering, but I got kinda nervous.”

“No worries!” you sat down across from her. “I know it’s not exactly this simple, but don’t be nervous.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha laughed. “Just don’t be, right?”

“Is it working?” you asked while pulling your chair over so that you were sitting next to her instead of across from her.

“Umm,” Kazuha began blushing, her eyes frantically scanning you up and down as you moved right next to her. She ended up completely ignoring your question, biting her lower lip subconsciously as she picked up her mug and put it back down without even taking a sip. “Were you going to get a drink? I can come with you to the counter if-”

“No, I’m okay,” you gently placed your arm on the backrest of her chair.

Her eyes darted to your arm before going right back to you, that adorable deer-in-headlights expression returning with a vengeance.

“Here, we can share,” she picked up the mug and held it out for you to take, spilling a little on her own fingers in the process. “Oops!”

“Sure,” you ignored the error in an attempt to save her some embarrassment, and as you accepted the mug from her hand, you discreetly gave her a tissue. “Oh wow, it’s sweet.”

“Do you not like it?” she asked, looking up at you with an aura of innocent purity, as if your enjoyment of her coffee actually mattered.

“I love it,” you answered warmly, taking another sip. “What is it?”

With pure excitement, she started to explain her order, speaking too quickly to maintain any sort of semblance of coherency. The way she spoke about one pump this, one pump that, and not that a single word connected with you - in one ear out the other - was just too cute to handle. You were significantly more drawn to her appearance, focusing in particular on her expressiveness.

Her antics while she spoke were making you melt, you didn’t even bother hiding the smile on your face as you nodded along, pretending to care about whatever she was saying. She really was stunning, you could probably stare at her pretty face all day and never tire. Her beautiful wavy brown hair perfectly framing her cute features. The picture she sent definitely did not do her beauty justice. Have you mentioned that she was beautiful?

“Have you?” she waited expectantly for you to respond.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, still mostly lost in her beauty.

She cocked an eyebrow at you before she burst out laughing.

“You haven’t been listening, have you?”

“Alright, you caught me,” you chuckled. “I got lost in your eyes for a second.”

“Oh,” she blinked rapidly a couple times before looking down at the mug in her hands. “You shouldn’t just make up stuff like that,” she added softly.

“I’m not making it up,” you reached forward and very gently pressed up on her chin so that she was looking at you again. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” she stammered, trying desperately to look anywhere but into your eyes, before suddenly changing the topic. “So, what about you, tell me something. Why would you call a random number like that?”

“I can’t say it’s something I do often,” you chuckled. “Although, maybe I should.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because apparently it can lead me to a coffee date with a beautiful girl.”

“You’re not even drinking coffee,” Kazuha giggled as she took another sip. “Does this really count as a coffee date?”

“I thought you said we could share.”

“We can share if you can tell me what my order is,” Kazuha teased, knowing you weren’t listening.

“Easy, two pumps of hazelnut-”

“I hate hazelnut,” Kazuha interrupted you with another giggle.

“No you don’t.”

“Wow,” she smirked, pretending to be impressed. “Were you actually listening?”

“Nah, lucky guess,” you replied with a smirk of your own.

“You’re so dumb,” Kazuha laughed, hitting your arm playfully. “You should have just ran with it.”

“You’re the one who said not to make up stuff,” you replied defensively.

“I meant about compliments.”

“Then it’s a good thing I haven’t.”

She began blushing again, tapping the side of her mug nervously before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me honest on our next date.”

“Next date?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Confident, are we?”

“Should I not be?”

“Then where’s the next date,” Kazuha played along. “I chose this one, now it’s your turn.”

“Well, have you tried this thing called ‘dinner’ before? I heard it’s best with one other person at 7:00 p.m. tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?”

“What gave you that idea?” you leaned back in your chair, acting surprised for a brief moment before smiling at her. “I would have suggested a painting class or something, but it might be a bit too last minute to book something like that.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to settle for dinner tonight,” Kazuha smiled alluringly.

“I’ll call and make a reservation,” you smiled back. “Speaking of calling, want to explain that one to me?”

“I’m just going to be extremely transparent,” Kazuha put her mug down. “I lost a bet, the punishment was that I had to go on a date with the first person who called.”

“I figured it was something along those lines,” you chuckled softly. “Hopefully, I made it at least somewhat worth your time? Considering you already contractually agreed to go on another one with me, I’d say it’s going well.”

“Contractually agreed?” Kazuha laughed, tilting her head back. “Is that how this works?”

“Exactly,” you replied. “I took an intro to political sciences course in freshman year, I’d know.”

“And when was freshman year for you?”

“Last year,” you answered. “You?”

“Last year as well. How have we not taken any classes together if we’re both sophomores?”

“I assume we’re in different majors.”

“I’d bet that’s a safe assumption,” she giggled. “If you’re not in poli-sci, what are you in?”

“Wait, who said I’m not?”

“You obviously took the intro to political sciences course for fun,” Kazuha answered. “I’ve seen the poli-sci kids at this school, none of them are so…” she paused for a second while her eyes fixated on your forearms. “Toned.”

“Excuse me? You’re one to talk,” your eyes quickly darted down to the subtle midriff she was showing. “Having abs even while sitting means you’re also far too toned for whatever your major is.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. “What if I’m in something like kinesiology? They’re usually fit.”

“Fuck, beautiful and smart? That’s just not fair,” you mumbled, earning you another embarrassed giggle from Kazuha. “How long before I can hire you as my personal trainer?”

“I didn’t say I’m a kin major, I was just suggesting it.”

“Can I still hire you as my personal trainer?”

The conversation paused for a bit while Kazuha laughed, and in turn made you laugh with how contagious it was. She spoke next, after finally composing herself, in a much softer tone.

“To answer your question, I’ve actually been really enjoying this,” Kazuha smiled back before biting her lower lip again. “There’s a bit more to the punishment, though.”

“Oh?” you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m supposed to actually-” she paused to lean closer to you for a second before leaning back again. “Actually, nevermind.”

“Nah, you can’t tease me like that. What is it?” you implored.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated after her.

“Well, part of the punishment…” she trailed off again. “I can’t do it.”

“Hey, don’t stress it,” you leaned back. “We can talk about something else.”

“Fuck it,” she sighed, leaning forward. You moved closer until she was right against your ear. “I’m also supposed to blow you.”

“Wow,” you leaned back again and put your hands on your head. “That’s… a bit intense.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge!”

“I’m not judging.”

There was a long, silent pause, where numerous unholy thoughts flooded through your mind. Before you could even make any sense of anything though, Kazuha spoke up again.

“Yeah,” Kazuha was now starting to get really embarrassed. “Sorry, that was… I didn’t know how else… I don’t think I was supposed to actually tell you that part. This whole thing was probably super inappropriate, I’m sorry for bringing that part up, that was stupid. I feel like I just ruined this-”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off, placing your hand gently on top of hers to calm her down.

There was another pause in the conversation. During it, you simply admired Kazuha’s beautiful features some more while she absentmindedly stirred her coffee. She couldn’t find the courage to look up at you. She was clearly waiting for the conversation to continue, but she was too shy to be the one to speak next. You had to be the one to break the pause.

“I’m not going to make you do that.”

Her head snapped up and she looked at you with eyes filled to the brim with surprise. She really was quite beautiful - an aura of pureness surrounded her, almost making her glow in a way.

“I’m serious,” Kazuha announced with this intense, newfound conviction. “I’ll do it.”

“And I’m serious when I say I’m not going to make you do it,” you repeated firmly. “That’s an awful punishment, and there’s no way I’d force that upon you.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but I really have to do this. I can’t explain,” Kazuha sighed. 

“Then just tell them you did, I’ll back your story up if needed,” you replied casually.

“They’d know I’m lying,” Kazuha suddenly lowered her tone. “They’re actually watching this date right now.”

“Are they?”

“Please don’t look around,” Kazuha panicked. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part either.”

“I’m not stupid,” you laughed. “Look, how about the two of us sneak off to the bathroom for like five, actually ten, minutes. We can keep chatting or just stand there in silence, how’s that sound?”

“Would you actually do that for me?” Kazuha looked at you with that same shocked and pure expression that you were starting to fall in love with.

“Yeah of course, I’m going to look around as if you just offered to blow me,” you replied while standing up and over-exaggerating the motions of looking around the cafe before holding your hand for Kazuha to take. “Now we look suspicious as fuck, come on.”

Kazuha giggled at your foolishness before grabbing your hand and following you to the bathroom.

—

“Thank fuck it’s clean,” you laughed as you closed the door behind you. “Bit cramped for two people, but at least it smells nice.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Wait,” you leaned over her shoulder into her neck. “Oh, that nice smell is just you.”

“Stop,” Kazuha whined, stretching the word. The mirror showed her eyes rolling and her lips smiling. 

“Still haven’t lied by the way.”

“Well, thank you,” Kazuha awkwardly giggled as her backside lightly touched your crotch. “Oops!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Kazuha interrupted. “It’s a small bathroom. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Don’t need to thank me, this ended up being a fun adventure. I got to grab coffee with such a lovely girl.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Kazuha smiled at you in the mirror. “Do your dates usually end up like this?”

“If I had a nickel for every time I found myself in this situation, I’d have…” you pretended to count for dramatic effect. “Exactly one nickel!”

“You’re so silly,” Kazuha giggled, maneuvering around so that she was face to face with you. “Alright, I can’t lie, this is a tiny bit awkward.”

“Want me to face the door?” you laughed.

“No don’t,” Kazuha giggled, covering her mouth. “That would be so weird.”

“Well, I’m gonna ask for at least ten or fifteen minutes in here, I got a reputation to keep.”

“What about my reputation?”

“Good point,” you tapped your chin. “Are you known for being good?”

“Want to find out?”

“Kazuha,” it was your turn to feel warmth in your cheeks. “You might be one of, if not the, prettiest girls at this entire school. I really do want to take you on a date, I really do want to get to know you properly.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have made that joke,” Kazuha stuttered, avoiding your gaze.

“The joke was fine,” you leaned closer to her face. “I just really want to do this properly with you.”

“I do, too,” Kazuha looked into your eyes without pulling her face away, leaving her lips slightly parted.

Everything, other than the little frogs jumping around in your gut, slowed down. It was truly quite peculiar how the world worked. One moment you’re squeezed in a tiny bathroom fit for one, then one moment later it felt like it was taking hours to reach Kazuha’s lips. Were you even moving at this point? Surely by now you would have made contact. You shouldn’t have closed your eyes so early, but it just felt right. How much longer? Maybe you could open them back up, but would that ruin the moment? Then it hit you.

Strawberry.

Who even wears strawberry lip gloss? Is that a common flavor? Does she always wear strawberry? Why did it taste so good? Why did it feel so good? Have you been kissing her for too long now? Shit. Maybe you’re the one that shook her hand too long earlier, maybe it wasn’t her fault. No, that was definitely her not letting go. Speaking of letting go, are you supposed to stop kissing her now? When did your hands end up framing her face, cupping her cheeks? When did her hand end up on the back of your neck? Where’s the other one? Oh, it’s on your hip, when did it get there?

“Wow.”

“That-”

“Felt right,” Kazuha finished your thought.

“Yeah,” you agreed, suddenly noticing just how tangible the tension was between the two of you as you let go of her face and brought your hands to her hips. “Were your cheeks always this pink?”

“Are they?” Kazuha giggled, turning her face in embarrassment to try looking into the mirror.

“Don’t,” you gently turned her face with one finger until she was looking at you again. “You’re so pretty.”

“Th-Thank you,” she stuttered, physically fighting the urge to look away and hide herself.

“Can I-”

She didn’t even let the words finish leaving your lips before lunging forward and kissing you again. The force pushed your back into the door, leaving a small bruise where the doorknob hit your body that you wouldn’t even notice until later tonight. While strawberries attacked your taste buds again, you began pushing back, slowly moving forward until Kazuha’s soft body began squishing your hand into the porcelain sink.

“I think I could do this all day,” you gasped as both of you began panting for air. “But I think we’ve probably convinced your friends by now. Should we head back?”

“Wait, not yet,” Kazuha panted, licking her lips. “Can you help me get a picture?”

“A picture?”

“To prove that I… you know.”

“You mean, like, with my thing out?”

“In my mouth,” she began blushing. “Just for a second.”

“Umm.”

Was this real life? You weren’t sure anymore.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Kazuha stammered. “Forget it, dumb idea, they’ll just have to believe me.”

“I can,” you wrapped your arms around her and embraced her softly. “But are you comfortable doing this?”

“I am,” her voice was muffled by your shoulder.

She pulled back, smiling at you for a second before leaning forward for another kiss. This one was softer than the previous two, her lips barely brushed against yours, her tongue barely touched you.

“Ready?” you breathed into her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” Kazuha stared at you tenderly. “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s really no big deal,” you rubbed her arm gently before unbuckling your pants.

“Just umm, tell me when you’re… you know,” Kazuha stuttered as she turned away from you.

It was incredibly adorable the way she stood there, trying to avoid looking at you in the mirror. You lowered your pants down to your knees and began slowly stroking yourself. It definitely felt a little bit odd, but you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for her sake.

“Excuse me,” you reached your arm around her body and turned the sink on, wetting your fingers. “Let’s make it look even more believable.”

Kazuha furrowed her brows at you in the mirror, confused by what you meant.

“I assume the inside of your mouth isn’t completely dry?”

“Oh,” she finally understood what you were doing.

“Alright, I’m ready if you are.”

Kazuha turned around and kept her eyes on yours, seemingly physically incapable of looking down.

“You’re probably going to have to see my thing at some point if you want this picture,” you tried to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry, you have my permission.”

She giggled, the rosy tint returning to her cheeks in full force, before looking down at your wet cock. As soon as she looked down, her body froze again and she looked back up at you, bringing that deer-in-headlights look that you were growing so accustomed to now by now back.

“It’s big.”

“Hey, we don’t have to actually do this,” you said gently, moving her hair out of her face for her.

“No,” Kazuha replied softly before sitting down on the toilet cover. “Sorry, I just, I didn’t, yeah, I’m ready.”

Kazuha pulled out her phone and flipped her camera to selfie mode, holding it up to the side, looking for the proper angle. Once satisfied, she turned her head to you, nodded once before opening her mouth wide and staring at you.

This was your cue, and you took one step forward before gently placing your tip into her mouth. You inhaled sharply as her lips immediately tightened around your tip, her tongue resting against your hole. Despite your cock already being stiff, as soon as it entered her mouth you could feel the blood rushing into your cock, swelling it up.

Kazuha held her phone up and took a few selfies at various angles. It was wild, such a beautiful girl with your cock in her mouth in such an erotically casual way. She had her lips pouted, almost like she was kissing your tip. It didn’t really make much sense, but it was incredibly hot - she was incredibly hot. Before you knew it, Kazuha released your cock with a little pop and wiped her lips.

“Do you think you could like, push against the inside of my cheek,” Kazuha asked innocently before the realization of what she just said hit her and her face turned bright pink in embarrassment. “Sorry, that’s a crazy thing to say.”

“Of course I can,” you ignored her embarrassment and pushed your cock in front of her mouth again.

Almost reflexively, she parted her lips wide and let your cock slide back into her cozy mouth. Just as she asked, you pressed your cock against her inner cheek as she took more selfies. Your cock was exploring every crevice of her mouth, pressing and shoving against her cheek. You found, somehow, both of your hands on her head, guiding it while your cock roamed freely.

It seems that your ability to see things had completely vanished, since you failed to even notice that Kazuha had put her phone away. She was just sucking your cock; she was no longer snapping pictures. When you finally realized what was happening, you hurriedly released her head while attempting to ignore how wonderful her mouth felt.

The real shocker was that Kazuha continued to move her head back and forth along your shaft even after you released your grip. Her lips were caressing your length as she closed her eyes, totally engrossed in the moment. You were certain that her mouth was designed to suck your cock since it was now entirely her decision to blow you, and it was impossible to deny how fucking great her mouth felt.

“Kazuha,” you gently moaned, carefully pulling your hips back. “I think you got enough pictures.”

“Does it not feel good?”

Her voice felt like a dagger in your heart. She sounded disappointed.

“Hey,” you crouched down so that you were level with her and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, but I told you I wanted to do this properly. This feels… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“It feels forced,” Kazuha smiled understandingly at you. “I promise you it’s not, I know I don’t have to do this. I want to do this.”

“Kazuha-”

“Zuha. My friends call me Zuha.”

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “Zuha, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, standing up from the toilet and maneuvering you around before pushing you down to sit. “Now close your eyes, and let me prove to you that I’m good at this.”

Fuck that was hot. You obeyed her request, closing your eyes as those delicate fingers of hers gave your cock a couple of pumps. Not being able to watch truly was a tragedy, but you felt her tongue with details you never could have imagined possible as soon as she pressed it against your tip.

She slipped your cock into her mouth again, bringing back that gentle warmth, swirling her tongue around the tip a couple of times before she began using her lips to stroke you. Back and forth her lips went, your tip prodding her tongue each time she went down your shaft, while her hand firmly gripped the bottom half of your shaft. A soft moan escaped your lips, one that told Kazuha it was working - but she already knew that. The girl definitely knew how to suck cock. Even without seeing that beautiful face of hers, you were already nearing your climax.

Somehow, she also felt it coming. Or, just by coincidence, she decided to start pumping your cock. Her hand and her mouth worked in tandem, stimulating your entire shaft. Up and down, a soft slurp echoing in the small bathroom each time her mouth moved. She slowed down for just a second, leaving you spewing agonizing moans into her ears, before speeding back up.

“Zuha,” you groaned, squirming on the seat, lifting your hips up into the air. “I’m…”

That was all the warning she got, because that was all the warning you could muster. Whether or not she was ready, the next thirty seconds of her life were going to be taken over by your cum shooting into her mouth. Your eyes shot open as the first gush launched against the roof of her mouth, just in time for you to see her visibly flinch.

She looked up at you, locking eyes, and held her mouth steady. Even as the next few spurts flew out of your cock, she never flinched again. You could see your cock throbbing, each pulse shooting more cum into her mouth, but she held steady, not even blinking, staring at you with those beautiful eyes.

With one hand, you pushed her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek tenderly, using your thumb to wipe the little glob of cum that spilled out of the corner of her lips. As your cock finally began to relax, Kazuha slowly pulled back. Inch by inch, she released your cock, making sure to keep her lips taut until they reached your tip.

She gathered all the cum in her mouth and struggled to take out her phone. When she finally got it, she snapped a selfie with your cum all on her tongue. Once she was content with the picture, she bent over and spit it all out, holding her hair to prevent it from going into the sink.

“Sorry, there was just too much,” she apologized, looking back up at you. “I swear I usually swallow.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled reassuringly at her.

Kazuha smiled back before she bent down over your cock again.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, shuddering as Kazuha gave your cock a lick from the base to the tip.

She pursed her lips around your tip, prodding your frenulum a couple times with her tongue, coaxing out a little glob of cum. Without even lifting her mouth, she swallowed it. After a few more licks, making sure you had no more cum to drain, she released your cock with a little pop.

“So,” she stood back up proudly. “You tell me, how was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you stood up in front of her and grabbed her face with both hands.

This next kiss went on for a few minutes, or perhaps longer. It would have been even longer if it wasn’t for the aggressive knock on the door.

“Hello? There’s only one bathroom here!”

Both of you began giggling while staring at each other.

“We’re fucked,” Kazuha whispered.

“It’s your fault,” you whispered back. “Fuck it though, we’re already screwed, might as well keep going.”

So you did just that, and the two of you kissed again until a staff member came by and berated the two of you, kicking you out of the cafe and telling you to never come back.

“Worth it,” you laughed as the two of you walked out into the warm morning afternoon.

“Worth it,” she repeated, clutching your arm with both of hers and smiling. “I can’t believe it’s almost noon already. Lunch?”

“That sounds perfect.”

---

A/N:

Inspired by a prompt given to me by @mintwithchoco!

So, turns out Roommates is becoming a whole universe. I'll explain more in my Masterlist at some point, but my goal is to write a collection of fics from this universe that are all following the same OC. They're going to be readable completely independently of each other, but there will be a lot of references and foreshadowing since I've actually already plotted out like 10 fics, so if an idol is mentioned in a fic, they're probably getting their own fic at some point.

This particular one will probably be split into two parts, just so I can avoid making it too long. Hope you guys enjoy this one, I've been on a crazy Kazuha high lately and just had to write her.

Feel free to let me know what you think about this idea. I won't be releasing fics in chronological order either. This takes place in the OC's sophomore year while the Eunbi fic took place in the OC's senior year. I'm pretty committed to this now with how much worldbuilding and theorizing I've put into this, but I still love hearing feedback!

[pearlywritings]

The scent of being mine

synopsis: lately your husband has been staying deep in his thoughts as if bothered by something. It's only natural you want to figure it out and help.

pairing and characters: Neuvillette x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), tiny hurt/comfort, draconian features (scenting, growling, implied sharp nails)

word count: 3k+ words

“Beloved, you are brooding. More than you usually are.”

Your comment snaps Neuvillette from his thoughts, long lashes fluttering in surprise. He blinks, primordially beautiful eyes finally focus on the document in front of him, and the man makes a frustrating discovery - he’s been staring at one single line of text for who knows how long.

“Beloved?” Your sweet voice soothes the momentary disappointment, and Iudex’s undivided attention is on you in a second. 

“Yes, my dear? My apologies, I didn’t quite catch what you said. Could you be so kind and repeat, please?”

You lower the book onto your lap, and the man can’t help but relish in the sight of you comfortably lounging on the sofa in his office at the Palais Mermonia, with your shoes neatly put near one of its legs and your legs hidden under the light embroidered plaid. Your back and side sink into multiple pillows, half of which he fetched for you previously from the second sofa, and you look pleasantly relaxed within the walls of his work space, knowing very well that he has no meetings scheduled for the day, and the only people who can enter his office are the melusines with document delivery. And who would be uncomfortable in the presence of their own ‘daughters’?

“I was saying that you are brooding. And It won't be superfluous to note your sour mood too,” you nod in the window’s direction, where the sky is cloudy and gloomy. It has been this way for a couple of days already. “I wasn’t bringing it up since I thought you were simply a bit stressed, but after observing you for some time, I am sure there’s something on your mind that’s been bothering you immensely.”

Neuvillette exhales deeply. How could he ever hide anything from the woman he’s been married to for so long? Not that he ever tried, but subconsciously he sometimes tends to push his own worries aside not to make you fret. Besides, usually it’s not something of a big deal…

Watching the thoughts overtaking his mind again, you grab the bookmark from the armrest and soon the closed book takes its place, at the same time as you push the plaid off. Not caring to put the shoes on, you make a quick way to the grand doors to turn the key left in the hole from the inside. But changing your mind a little, you take a hold of a handle instead and crack the door slightly open, enough for the melusine at the reception to hear you.

“Sedene, sweety, Monsieur Neuvillette is taking a small break.”

You can’t quite see her perking up in her booth, but you know she is aware of what that means.

“Thank you for informing me, Madame. Would you like anything to drink or eat? I could send someone to put an order in whatever restaurant you’d like.”

“Much appreciated, but we’ll be fine.”

You hear her hum in understanding and only then close the door and lock it, turning the key two times.

“Now…” glancing back at your husband, you slowly walk back to your previous place of resting, but making it past the sofa and then around the desk, stopping right at his side. Neuvillette lifts his head, looking at you, and immediately pushes the chair back to make room. Gloved hands take a hold of your waist when you step closer and help you settle down onto his lap. One stays gingerly on your hip, the other is placed upon your knees, as you adjust your position, turning half-around to face him. Mesmerizing eyes with slitted irises stare at you with hardly-veiled adoration, and for a moment it almost fools you into thinking that nothing is wrong. Until he inhales and white eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Neuvi, what’s going on? Is it something I can assist you with?”

The man leans forward, pressing his face to your neck, silky locks of his fringe tickling you when he releases a breath. Your fingers find the back of his head, softly scratching the scalp, making him groan in satisfaction. His own digits flex, and you think you feel the claws digging slightly into your flesh through the dark material of his gloves and the skirt of your own clothes, and you let the dragon be a tiny bit greedy in expressing his affections.

“It’s not something I thought would bother me,” you hear him murmur into your neck. Instead of rushing to ask him to elaborate, you encourage him to take his time with a soft touch, gently following the pointy shape of his ear with your fingertip. The man shivers, but quickly relaxes, leaning into your body a bit more.

“Why logically I understand I’m in the wrong, but on an instinct level it doesn’t give me rest. Remember the celebration Lady Furina threw three days ago?”

Ah, of course you remember. It was a nice little feast the Archon organized to mark another successful staging of hers, to which your husband and you were obviously invited. You can’t, however, recall anything particular that could upset Neuvillette. He wasn’t offered anything to taste he didn't enjoy - had his own supply of fresh water even; he had no cases to worry about, having finished everything rather important beforehand, and he was not engaged in any interactions he could potentially be uncomfortable with. Maybe it was something related to you? However, you can’t think of anything: most of the time you spent conversing with Furina, discussing her next outstanding and grand performance, or dancing with your beloved, happily twirling in his embrace. Sure, other people approached you too, but…oh. Wait, there was something.

“Do you mean the celebration during which that opera performer from Li Yue was flirting with me?”

Immediately his body tenses and a low sound, kind of sounding like a growl, escapes his strained throat. He quickly composes himself though, once you drop your hand from his head to his back, drawing circles there.

“...I apologize for that.”

“Please don’t, I don’t mind a bit of jealousy,” you assure him, and the man finally leans back, looking at you with those fairytale eyes.

“You think it was jealousy?”

“Well, maybe right now it was just a bit of frustration, but back then I think it was jealousy,” Neuvilette hums, lowering his gaze, processing the information. You meanwhile decide to ask more. “But what sparked it? You know I am yours and that no human will ever be able to steal me from you.”

“Ah, my love, I am fully aware of that,” gloved palm leaves your knee and cups your cheek instead. “I know all that, but…but what I felt is hard to explain in words.”

“Try,” you encourage, turning your head and kissing his palm, “I’ll get it.”

“Alright,” with a sigh he lets his fingertips outline the contour of your jaw and travel down the side of your neck, sending a pleasurable sensation down your back. “I suppose I should start with what happened before, when we were still back home. You looked so ravishing and regal - a true gem to an eye, - and I just couldn’t help but let some of my scent linger on you.”

Which is absolutely fine, you love doing the same for him.

“Keeping that in mind I felt all those strange emotions wringing my heart, as he was giving you compliments, especially about the scent, not realizing it’s mine. And then more and more.”

As he doesn’t find what more to say, you stare at him, trying to analyze the information. After a couple of minutes of silence, during which you absent-mindedly braided a little braid out of his straight lock, you decide to summarize.

“So… If I understood you correctly, it felt upsetting that, basically, he caught the whiff of you on me, yet didn’t stop his attempts to hit on me. Am I right?”

“Exactly,” a small smile graces his pale lips, and Iudex presses a delicate kiss to your shoulder. “I could not have worded it better.”

“Hmm… Now I see why you are torn. It is annoying for sure, but it’s not like an ordinary human could know of draconian peculiar properties.”

He nods, thumbing at the pulse point on your neck, staring a little bit past you. His state is saddening, really, even though a tiny slither of pride infiltrates your heart - knowing your husband wants the world to know you are his as much as you want to claim the same about him… Would’ve made you purr if you were a feline.

You shiver when Neuvillette brings his face close again, soft lips pressing to the side of your neck.

“You are so dear to me, my love…” he breathes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, voice full of unbridled devotion, something not many can hear from this stoic man throughout their whole life. “There are days when I can’t bear the thought of you not being close to me, I overcome with desire to be in your presence, to hold you in my arms, to listen to your divine voice… When you call my name, I want to bring everything I have to your feet.”

“But you already do so,” you cup his cheeks, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to say all of it - you sound like you are apologizing, like you are trying to excuse your natural behavior. Don’t do it, please. You are so precious to me, I’d be damned if I ever felt unnerved by something like this.”

“I apologize if it sounded like this,” he sighs, long lashes flattering close, when you proceed to kiss over his eyelids. “I just meant to express how thankful I am that you chose me.”

“Oh, Neuvi,” you chuckle, kissing the bridge of his nose and when the tip of it. “I adore when you are so affectionate in private. As for the public display, if we return to the topic of scent… I think I could figure something out for the both of us. If you trust my judgment, that is.”

“How can I not?” Those eyes are staring back at you, bottomless pools swirling with wonder and elation. “Only if you truly want this.”

“I do,” your lips hover dangerously close to his. “And I will find the way.”

Soft thuds rhythmically yet quite leisurely cut through the lofty noises of the Court of Fountaine, catching the attention of the passersby. One hit of an elegant cane against the pavement equals two steps of yours, as you and your husband walk through the main square of the city. Your appearance - no matter together or by yourself - always gathers attention, and you could bet that if Fontaine didn’t have a law prohibiting photography of executives without their permission, your picture would’ve adorned tomorrow’s copy of The Steambird.

And you are a sight to behold - your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, gloves matching perfectly his today’s cravat of choice, jewelry specifically picked to mirror the beauty of their wearer’s partner, clothes tailored to clearly be a ‘couple outfit’... It is pretty evident that this outing is planned, if the Iudex’s absence from the Palais Mermonia didn’t serve as a clue.

You hold no conversation, rather relishing in the warm rays of sunlight (you did though tease Neuvillette upon stepping outside that his mood seemed to improve). Despite looking like it’s you who is clutching onto the man and him leading you somewhere, it’s completely vice versa. Your beloved has absolutely no idea what kind of ‘surprise’ he is soon to experience, but your previous words keep his mind at rest - you found a solution for his concern.

As a result, his high spirits are pretty apparent to the people who know him well. Or the melusines, if one is being accurate, who approach you two along the way with warm words of greetings and cute waves of their hands, which brightens Neuvillette’s features more evidently.

“I think we should soon visit the Merusea Village,” you suggest after bidding goodbye to Tristane. “And do a little gathering for our girls who work here, in the city. I am sure they have many stories to share with us.”

“I would really like that,” Neuvillette's smile is a heart-warming sight. You can only hope that you’ll get to see it more after today. “How about we start planning tomorrow after work?”

“That would be wonderful! I can’t wait to write an invitation to every single one. And to the village too.”

“Then it’s on you as always,” he agrees without objection, leaning a little to subtly kiss your temple when you turn the corner. Letting out a soft chuckle, you give him a fond look, and then focusing back on the street.

It’s barely a couple of minutes later when your partner sees you perk up. Trying to pinpoint what caught your eye, the man scans the signboards of the shops and boutiques lining up at both sides of yours. Jewelry? No, he doesn’t think so - you adorn each other with fine gemstones regularly. Clothes? Doubtful, given you’ve just received a couple of new outfits a week before. Maybe it’s-

You disturb these wandering thoughts, tugging on his elbow to catch his attention. Looking at you and then following the direction of your raised hand, Neuvillette lifts his eyes to read the signboard above the shop you’ve stopped in front of.

“Palais des parfums”

“So,” you start when he gives you a questioning look, “it’s a perfumery, yes. And my suggestion is the following - let’s choose a scent we could wear together. Before you get concerned about it becoming too popular, because we will use it, this shop has an option of creating something personal. We can just pay a little more to make it exclusive.”

“The same…scent?” Your husband hums, touching his chin in thought. This actually sounds quite good - created by a human master, it is to be perceived by humans, and by utilizing one fragrance on you both it will be made clear that the two of you are spouses. Not to mention the newspaper that will spread the fact for others to know. “My dear, that’s a marvelous idea.”

“Really?” A wide smile lifts the corners of your lips.

“Really. I like it a lot,” he assures you with a smile of his own. “And I do favor the possibility of making perfume specifically for us. How did you know though, my love?”

“Have done my research. And already spoke to the vendor before. Furthermore, I think we can order the creation of two perfumes. One for every day, and one for grand events where our presence is required.”

“I see you’ve done your research indeed,” his words are soft and gaze is full of admiration. It’s so hard to resist and not kiss him right in the middle of the street, yet let your fingertips gently scratch his forearm.

“I promised my husband a solution, didn’t I? Couldn’t disappoint you.”

“You can never disappoint me, if anything you astonish me every single day of our lives. Shall we get inside?”

“We shall. Just please, beware, there are a lot of fragrances mixed in the air. I am afraid your nose will be assaulted just like mine was.”

“I can bear with it, beloved. I would be a coward of a husband, if I turned back after the amazing work my wife did,” your cheeks heat up at his praise and you lightly dig your covered nails into his arm.

“Oh, stop it, no need to be so sweet, I already understood your appreciation for this,” your eyes motion to his hand resting on the hilt of the cane and fingers joyfully tapping against the wood. With a barely audible chuckle, the man unhooks your arms, wrapping his around your waist, and steps forward, reaching for the handle.

A soft chime caresses his ears, as the maddening mix of scents hits him right in the nose. Glancing to the side to check on you, he notices how you instantly switch to breathing through your mouth and follows your example. It, thankfully, gets better.

The shop owner is not hard to find, a sweet lady in her late 50’s welcomes you with a glint in her eyes upon recognizing you, which soon is replaced by the look of surprise when she sees your companion.

“Good afternoon, Monsieur, Madame, how can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs Deschamps,” you greet her with a smile, “I came by two days ago, remember?”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget our dear Madame? You were curious about my perfumes and if I do personal orders.”

“Right! This is my husband,” you motion to the man still courteously holding your waist, who bows in greeting.

“Pleasure to be meeting you.”

“O-oh! How could I not know you and your husband? Your wedding was the event of the century!”

“Haha, you flatter us,” you chuckle merrily, covering your mouth. “We are here to put in an order. We’d love to buy a newly crafted perfume. However, we have a couple of conditions…”

It’s almost evening when the doorbells chime again, marking your departure. Once again walking side by side and with arms linked, Neuvillette feels an almost primordial satisfaction. These hours spent in that stuffy, smelly box of a shop will be absolutely worth it when your order is complete. While he does feel the inevitable approach of a runny nose after test-smelling way too many fragrances, and it doesn’t feel like he left work today at all, as he was handling legal documents relied to the exclusivity of the product, he doesn’t regret a single mora spent and to be spent in the future for this.

Soft thuds once again cut through the sounds of the city, and they are gently lulling your mind. Maybe your head hurts just a little bit, but it pales in comparison to the invested state of your husband and how much evident fun he had in meticulously choosing the right aromatic notes to your future shared scent.

You can’t wait to help him apply it every single morning to come and get the same treatment in return. This is going to be a new, hopefully a long-staying option to your usual scenting routine.

taglist: @meimeimeirin

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes. 

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

*** 

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you. 

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass.  “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic. 

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it. 

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out. 

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago. 

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost. 

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to. 

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.” 

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay. 

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you. 

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment. 

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?” 

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?” 

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?” 

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

[jeongharine]

syntax ERROR

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, light smut

⚝ notes: the one where jeon wonwoo is your nerdy math tutor. but he’s unexpectedly hot. and you’re his friend’s sister. obviously. (part ii)

“a pc bang?” “yes she’s always there,” says hoshi, while munching down his sandwich.

“but i can’t teach her there-” “of course you can’t, but you’ll find her there. it’s the one on the left around the corner,”

“now, remind me why i am doing this,” “because you’re my friend and i’m fantastic at being one,”

wonwoo just gulps down his apple juice, looking at the time on his phone.

“you should change this narrative, it’s getting boring,” “wonu, i just need you to do me this favour because if she doesn’t pass this class it’ll be a problem, okay?”

a sigh. “yes, that’s fine. but only for this class okay?” hoshi grins, all teeth “you’re the best,”

“yeah.. i better be going then, i hope she’s a well-mannered student otherw-” wonwoo says, setting off.

“oh.. about that..” “what?” he stops.

“nothing, she listens well,” hoshi says, scratching the back of his head.

x

she listens well when she wants to, he should have said.

not that this a surprise for wonwoo, knowing her brother. but damn, this girl is getting on his nerves.

“okay y/n, let me be clear. your brother begged me to give you lessons, so now please can we go to the library?”

“nu-uh, i have a tournament here this afternoon. we can do another day,” you crack your fingers and re-position your chair.

“see, maybe this is why you’re not getting through this class. you can do the tournament another day, it’s more important to study matrix systems to pass the exam than gaming,”

“boooooring, i will do that tonight if i feel like it okay? i don’t need your-” you turn your chair around to face him. “...help...”

since when your brother’s friends were this handsome. holy fuck, with that cap on before you couldn’t see anything and maybe he should have kept it on for your sanity. fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. fuckity fuck.

you can see that he is deeply annoyed by your behaviour, probably he’s used to people who take academic life very seriously. nah, he’s friend with hoshi so. you scoff a laugh.

and he’s just there, looking at you, waiting for an answer.

or maybe to beg you.

“but on second thoughts...” you begin to say, “we can come to an agreement..” “that is?” he shifts in his position.

“we game for about an hour, because you game and i can see that just by looking at your face. and then, we can look at the first two chapters of maths analysis. i think this we’ll do, yes.” you grin widely.

and he hates to admit that the grinning suits you best.

wonwoo promised hoshi that he would have at least gotten through the matrix systems today with you, but here he is. without a fucking clue of what to do.

and you are just looking at him smiling prettily, as if you absolutely don’t know how charming and good-looking you are.

so wonwoo just sighs, and turns his head to glance at the pc screen near him.

even his side profile is pretty, you think to yourself.

“fine. but at least let’s play some battlegrounds.”

“can’t promise you anything,” you say pleasantly, eyes creasing in a glittering smile that suddenly makes wonwoo skittish.

x

“do you want to fuck my brains out?”

the air in his little dorm becomes unbearably stuffy all of a sudden but you refuse to let it show, after finally voicing the thoughts that were possessing your head for the past few weeks.

wonwoo turns to face you, looking far more collected. you never would have thought it would all come to a head like this in his room on a monday afternoon. but here you are, feeling a little light headed but inexplicably brave.

“i mean,” you say. “doesn’t every girl on campus you know want you to fuck their brains out?” “that you have to tell me, i don’t think i can give you an answer,” he says, piling up the books on his desk.

he starts to drum his long fingers on the cover of the statistics textbook for a good minute, eyes focused on the dusty windowsill while he is chewing on the inside of his cheek.

and it takes you a second to really make that sink in: wonwoo is restless. he is hanging on your next words.

“so, are you going to say something or you will make me wait here all afternoon?”

you smile. and he hates how his palpitations go up by a notch.

“neither. just knowing that you rubbed one out to the thought of me is closure enough to me.” he clearly tenses up. “who says i have?”

you close your textbook with a thud. “oh, don’t be embarrassed wonu. we’ve all been there at one point or another.”

he’s at the brink of being disgusted with himself for getting a hard on when you just used his nickname like that, but despite it all his heart still leaps up into his throat when you sit up from his bed and collect your bag.

“you touched yourself thinking of me?”

you look at him with one hand on the door handle and wonwoo swears his vision blurs slightly as you grin at him like that.

“you say it like you’re surprised.”

there is no build up, no easing you into the uncharted waters. he kisses open the seam of your mouth without any hesitation, the heat of your tongue against his. it feels so harsh and erotic, so completely unlike the wonwoo you just got to know.

so polite and so pleasant.

but now his hands are on you. and you haven’t had the time to realize your eyes were closed until his hands come up to palm around your waist, searching for skin while you whine against him.

your brain is foggy with the taste of him. he pulls back just as you starts to sway in his arms.

“you don’t even know...” he traces up your back. “..what you do to me, uhm?” you gulp, lips all wet.

the muskiness of him makes your head spin fast, especially when he leaves soft kisses on the skin behind your ear. his mouth is so hypnotic, every move perfectly placed.

“wonwoo,” you stammer, not knowing what else to say. your voice has gone croaky and his hand is venturing up your sweater now, not looking like it would stop any time soon.

your breath catches in your throat when wonwoo trails his fingertips over your clothed breast, dancing across it before brushing the underside. you expected his touches to be harsh, sharp. but they are slow, feather-light. practiced.

his chest heaving like he’s just run a mile, the skin of his stomach hard and hot under your fingers from where you shoved his t-shirt up. his lips are smooth when you inch up to kiss him, gently by his cupid’s bow just to make him grunt. wonwoo’s hands curl around your wrists gently, pampering you with kisses for a couple of minutes before pulling away.

“fuck me,” you whisper. and then, because he has to double take like he didn’t quite hear you right. “fuck me wonwoo, please.”

“please. please, wonu. i’m begging.”

“y/n…” wonwoo growls, because he is really close to pop a blood vessel when you sound all whiny and shameless like that.

“i don’t care if someone will hear us,” you murmur against his mouth before pressing it there for a short kiss. you proceed to trail wet pecks all over his jaw and neck, so that he has to close his eyes with a soft sigh. 

“fuck,” he whispers, “you’re really begging me to fuck you here when your brother could come back any minute,” wonwoo says, kissing you.

it’s getting difficult for you to respond when his hand ventures down to undo your jeans though, mouth hanging open in pleasure while he nips at your bottom lip before pushing you back down on his bed. 

“you have to be extra quiet, okay?” he huffs. and there is something wonderfully satisfying for wonwoo to see you like this, underneath him and all putty in his hands.

“wonu,” you whine again, accepting the soft kiss he presses on your lips before he turns you over and positions you how he wants: on your knees, ass up, face pushed into a pillow to muffle your moans.

“you’re so impatient,” he chuckles behind you, but it sounds so soft. fond, even. he pecks your ear swiftly while you listen to him sliding down your jeans and undies and prepare himself, your heart thudding in anticipation. you’re so thrilled you barely register the embarrassment and awkwardness of being left to wait like this, propped up and ready for him to fuck you stupid. and you gasp when you finally feel his erection against your weeping slit, hot and everything you want.

he keeps grinding against your slick folds. “wonwoo,” you whimper, because his tip keeps slipping in and that alone is making you gush. you push your hips back, tears blurring your sight with how desperately you want him inside you. “please.”

he chuckles softly, leaning over to kiss your shoulder before finally pushing into you.

x

“so, i assume the lessons are going well since you two see each other three times a week now,” hoshi says, voice muffled by the noodles he’s slurping.

his eyes are set on wonwoo’s face, lost in the gimbap in front of him.

because if wonwoo has to be real honest, the lessons are going really well, yes. but also his dating life.

and how can he say that to hoshi... ‘oh yeah, she’s really smart hosh and also a fucking star at giving head!’

in his defence, wonwoo would probably never get over the fact that he has succeded in pulling someone like you. he suddenly turns pink thinking about your pretty smile and your prettier laugh. the glint in your eyes when gaming together and the concentrated face you make when trying to understand math concepts that even he has difficulties in teaching. you clinging onto his arm, the late night ramen runs at the convenience store and your honeyed sighs and moans when you’re in the private of your own.

so yeah, he doesn’t really know where to start with this.

“wonu-yah?” hoshi hisses, and suddenly wonwoo gulps when his friend is holding his stare in a vice grip.

“we’re fucking hosh,” he admits timidly, and hoshi starts swearing.

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Cuddle Trouble(s)!

Masterlist

(From the 6th to 30th April, I am having a mini 100 follower milestone event!)

Tags: Scaramouche x gn!reader, fluff, modern au Summary: Scaramouche loves both you and your plushies but a man has his needs and that includes abundant cuddle time.

When Scaramouche was invited to your room, he was quite honestly unsure of what to expect. You were the shining light of his life and he would accept anything you throw at him anyways (not that he’d tell you that). He was expecting the worst and was pleasantly surprised by the best possible outcome. Your room was befitting of your personality, especially the numerous stuffed animals lying around. Scaramouche was even impressed by the sheer variety in your room, both in types of animals and sizes. From dogs and cats to bears and even dragons and small, palm sized plushies to ones that were even his height.

Scaramouche would make fun of you upon finding out, yes, but inside he is already plotting to do two things. One, which kind of plushy he should buy for you to decorate your room with, and two, how to push the bigger ones out of the picture when you two cuddle. Ever since you showed him your little secret, you had been a lot more open with cuddling your little friends, even during the time you were supposed to be doing that with him! Gears turned in his mind. He had to solve this problem as soon as possible.

Scaramouche, despite all of his brain and intelligence, could not come up with anything for the life of him. Hell, out of desperation, he even tried to send his thoughts over telepathically! It obviously did not work. In the end, he resolved to just push you into his chest and essentially prevented any space for the stuffed toys between you and him. It did work for the first few times until you started to question him and he relented to you and your adorable annoying puppy dog eyes. You laughed until he turned bright red and refused to communicate in any way shape or form. You two eventually reached a compromise, the plushies got one hour with you everyday, and he got at least two hours. 

Bonus: You had to tell scara to stop getting you more stuffed animals after a while because your shared home was running out of space to put them. In response to that, he got a new shelf.

A/N: i should've touched grass more... Taglist: @amyminhminh (comment if you want to be tagged in future scara x reader posts~)

[jjkamochoso]

Obviously Oblivious

Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Request from Wattpad: "Reader and Hoshina are being so oblivious that they both like each other to the point where this absolutely annoys Mina and Okonogi because they are ITCHING to see both of them together."

Warnings: none

Another mission done, another celebration was happening at Third Division’s base. Though her subordinates were known for their high success rate, Captain Ashiro was pleasantly surprised by just how smoothly the last kaiju disposal went, opting to treat her soldiers with a special catered feast. Thanks to Izumo’s family connections, the chef served sizzling plates of A6 beef and endless amounts of accoutrements for the standard price, making Mina’s soldiers happy and the military budget even happier. Mina captured a piece of meat between her chopsticks, quietly observing the rowdy group in front of her. Konomi Okonogi sat to her right, a steaming bowl of soup fogging up her glasses. Mina stifled a giggle as she watched the girl wipe her lenses with her sleeve, heavily squinting. Satisfied with her work, Okonogi placed the glasses back on her face and blinked a few times, looking around the room. All of a sudden, her eyes went wide.

“You alright?” Mina asked her, noticing her change in expression.

Okonogi nodded, sputtering slightly. “Huh? O-oh, yeah, I’m fine.”

Mina wasn’t convinced, raising her eyebrows at the bespectacled woman expectantly.

“Well, I…” she hesitated before finishing her thought. “Hoshina and L/n are sitting awfully close together.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Yes!” Okonogi exclaimed, Mina surprised by her outburst. Her face turned beet red as she hurriedly explained herself.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Captain! It’s just that their behavior together is strange. Quite frankly, they’ve been getting on my nerves.”

The operations leader took a sip of her drink and Mina’s curiosity was piqued. Having had her own thoughts surrounding the actions of a certain vice captain and officer, Mina was wondering if she finally found someone she could vent her frustrations to.

“They seem to like each other,” she mused, treading lightly in case she misread the situation.

“Like each other?! Total understatement. Those two are hopelessly in love but won’t do a thing about it!” Okonogi complained, irritated.

“I thought I was the only one that noticed!” Mina replied, excited that the woman beside her was the perfect confidant she’d been yearning for. “They drive me crazy with their cluelessness!”

“Exactly! I don’t know how they don’t see their feelings for each other! I mean, they’re blinder than I am without my glasses! It’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t usually condone relationships in the workplace but those two really are perfect for each other,” said Mina, eyeing you and Soshiro as you giggled over something he had whispered to you. It made Mina’s heart soar in her chest seeing people experience happiness in these moments, when the death and destruction you all faced almost every day could be forgotten for a short time.

“Oh my god, Captain.” Okonogi tugged at Mina’s sleeve. “I think Soshiro’s gonna put his arm around y/n’s shoulder!”

“No way,” Mina breathed out, anxiously watching as Soshiro scooted closer to you, if that were even possible. He looked fidgety.

Probably nervous, Mina thought, staring down the lovebirds. Soshiro was ready to make his move. He brought his hand over his mouth—

He wasn’t going to do that. Was he?

“OH MY GOD!” Mina practically yelled as Soshiro faked a yawn, stretching his muscular arm behind you and resting it comfortably on your chair. The room went silent almost immediately, soldiers turning to see what was going on with their captain.

“That food was really hot,” Mina lied, trying to hide her embarrassment behind a napkin. “I’m fine. Everyone, back to what you were doing.”

In an instant it was like nothing happened, rambunctious chatter filling the space once more. You and Soshiro weren’t phased either, easing back into what Mina figured was your previous conversation. Soshiro’s arm was still around you and Mina was relieved that she didn’t jeopardize this huge stride in your non-relationship.

“What a classic move,” Okonogi said, resting her chin in her palm. “If that wasn’t enough to make them realize their feelings, I don’t know what will.”

“Don’t underestimate their ability to be emotionally unaware,” warned Mina, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if y/n read that as a friendly gesture. They’re both oblivious to romance.”

“They’ve made that quite clear,” griped Okonogi, observing you holding up a spoon to Soshiro’s lips as he took a bite of whatever you offered him. You were laughing with each other again and Okonogi was confused at how any of that behavior could be so deeply misconstrued as anything other than flirtatious.

“Should we do something about this? I don’t know how much more I can take,” Okonogi said.

“I worry it may be unprofessional to get involved, however helpful our interference might be,” replied Mina.

Okonogi sighed. “You’re right. Besides, it is pretty fun to watch this play out. It’s like a soap opera.”

Later that night, Mina and Okonogi were about to say goodbye to one another after making sure no soldier was left passed out at the dining tables. With dinner cleaned up and everybody walking or stumbling back to their rooms, they closed the door and made their way down the abandoned hallway.

Actually, they made their way down what they thought to be an abandoned hallway.

The two women shared a knowing look when they heard stifled giggles echoing from around the corner.

“You’re always so funny, Soshiro,” your voice rang out, and Mina and Okonogi could only imagine the sickly sweet smile you were giving the man.

“Gotta stay on top of my game to keep ya around,” he teased, and they could only image the lovesick grin he was sending your way.

“It’s getting late. I should get going,” you told him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

Mina and Okonogi didn’t miss the hopeful lilt coating his voice.

“Of course,” you had replied. “I’d miss you too much if I didn’t see you.”

It took everything within themselves to not slam their heads against the wall. How were you two so… so…

Dumb?!

“That’s it. I’ve heard enough,” Okonogi said, marching down the corridor. Mina had no idea what was about to happen, she just knew she couldn’t miss it. She hurried behind Okonogi, rounding the corner at the perfect time.

“Both of you! You’re driving me insane! Kiss already, dammit!” Okonogi demanded, startling you and Soshiro. She left as quick as she came in, leaving Mina dumbfounded.

“Have a good night,” she told you, hands awkwardly clasped behind her back as she nodded before hurrying away. Recovering from the unexpected chewing out, you glanced at Soshiro, a mischievous gleam in your eye.

“Okonogi’s never given us a bad command, has she?” you asked, hoping he understood what you were getting at.

“Our impeccable Operations Leader has never led us astray, you’re correct,” he responded, his fangs glinting in the dim light. His hands found purchase on your hips while yours rested on the back of his neck, the distance slowly lessening between your bodies. As your lips began to touch his, you realized you owed Okonogi big time for her help.

[rax-writes]

Rolan x Reader

↬ Warnings: afab!reader, oral and fingering (f!receiving), cumming untouched (Rolan), sub!Rolan. MDNI!

The noises filling the room are positively obscene. A cacophony of curses and moans fill the air, both from you and from the Master of Ramazith’s Tower – whose face is currently buried between your thighs, lying comfortably atop the lush comforter of his bed, one hand holding one of your thighs to keep it spread open, the other fucking you with two skillful fingers as his tongue lavishes attention on your clit.

Although your relationship with Rolan wasn’t new, the sexual escapades of the relationship were, so the two of you were still discovering turn-ons and kinks of one another’s. But gods, was he a quick learner. This was the first time he’d ravished you with his mouth, and it only took one or two pointers for him to have your entire body glistening with sweat, practically screaming as he brought you to climax for a second time.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had the sense to be pleasantly surprised at how much Rolan seemed to be enjoying himself. Every groan and moan that fell from his lips caused your body to twitch and jerk from the vibrations of it against your clit, and the few times you glanced down at him, he seemed to be grinding his hips into the mattress. The fact that he was getting off on eating you out was enough to send you hurtling toward the edge of your second climax, one hand grabbing a fistful of his hair in a firm grip, the other grabbing one of his beautiful horns and pulling him even closer to your quivering cunt.

“Gods, Rolan! So good, my love, you’re doing so good. You’re so good – fuck!”

You came with another strangled cry of his name, barely registering the sound of whimpering preceding a few murmurs of your name. Still feeling as though you're floating, you feel Rolan retreat from between your legs, and move upwards on the bed to rest his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. Once your breathing steadied, you tapped the top of his head, and he mirrored the lopsided smile you wore when he looked up at you.

“May I return the favor?” you asked, voice breathless but sultry.

“Oh, that’s not – that’s not necessary,” Rolan quickly answered, and you could swear he turned a few shades of red darker.

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to,” you noted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Your fingertips brushing over the shell and point of his ear sent a shiver through him. “But if you aren’t comfortable with that –”

“No, no, darling, it’s not that,” he hurriedly explained, then let out an awkward, dry laugh. “I am, um…. I have enjoyed myself a sufficient amount already.”

With furrowed brows, you opened your mouth to ask him to clarify, when you realized the groin area of his robes felt slightly damp where it pressed against your leg. Rolan expected you to tease him, or comfort him in a way that would only make him feel belittled. Instead, a wicked grin spread across your face, and he became the one with furrowed brows.

You ran your fingertip over the point and sides of his ear again, following it down his jawline, before hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards.

“Do I taste that good, my pretty wizard?” you purred, and Rolan’s eyes fluttered shut, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. “Or was it me telling you how good you were to me? Or, perhaps, me pulling on your pretty horns and pretty hair?"

“Yes,” he breathed, too lost in the feeling of your other hand carding through his hair before tracing circles on his back.

“Yes to which, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“All of it.”

“Good boy,” you praised, and Rolan let out the faintest groan.

You hummed amusedly, leaning down to kiss him – much too quickly for his liking, as he chased after you for more. You stopped him with a finger to his lips, and stated, “Don’t be greedy.”

[crowsongcaws]

Jimmy and Tango looked happy together.

Scott couldn't look away from them.

He'd been the one to tell Jimmy it was okay to visit the Hermitcraft server without him. Jimmy had asked him a million times if he was sure, and each time, Scott had told him yes because he trusted Jimmy and trusted everyone on the Hermitcraft server. What was a relationship without trust?

Jimmy was leaning against Tango. They were sitting on a picnic blanket looking out across the bay, occasionally talking about Grian, who sat at the other side of the bay. The two of them watched as Grian reeled in a pufferfish, and together they laughed at Grian's misery. It was only once their fit of giggling died down that Tango spoke again.

"I'm glad you're here, Rancher," he said.

Scott didn't need to see Jimmy to know how he looked in that moment—his pink-flushed face split by a wide, fond smile.

"So am I. I love you," Jimmy replied in a tone so soft it made Scott's heart flutter even if the words were directed at another.

Scott felt his throat close up.

He needed to break the moment, but he didn't want to. Scott was suddenly somehow glad that Joel was there. When he'd hopped into the Hermitcraft server, Joel had been the one to help him search for Jimmy. Now, Joel had a surprisingly comforting hand on his shoulder.

"If you don't say something now, you're just gonna go back and beat yourself up about this," Joel murmured to him.

He knew Joel was right.

"I just..." Scott trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat as he heard Jimmy and Tango laugh again—Grian reeled in a leather hat across the bay.

"Go get 'em, Scott. You deserve to be happy," Joel eventually told him, catching Scott off-guard yet again. He managed to weakly smile at Joel, and then he started walking towards the two.

It was pleasantly warm despite still technically being Winter, approaching the beginning of Spring. A slow breeze drifted through the air, the sun just now beginning to set. The bright blue sky above them was tinted orange, fluffy clouds lazily crossing above.

Scott couldn't believe that this was going to happen.

Neither Jimmy nor Tango heard Scott marching towards them until he was within feet of them. Only then did Tango turn around, the sun glinting off his circular red glasses. The motion caused Jimmy to turn around, and within seconds, the confusion on his face morphed into surprise.

"Scott?" Jimmy tried to say, "I thought you said you were busy—?"

"I was," Scott interjected. "I was busy, but I..."

Tango was just looking at him equal parts curious and confused. His mouth was parted ever-so-slightly, the sharp tips of his teeth barely visible. His golden-blonde hair looked somewhat messy as if he'd gone on a run recently. Scott swallowed hard.

"...I just wanted to say that both of you are very important to me," Scott finally managed to say, forcing himself to muster up the usual confidence he suddenly found himself lacking.

Taking a deep breath, he reached a trembling hand into his pocket and pulled out a box. He barely managed to hear Tango say oh under his breath as he dropped down to one knee.

"I've known of both of you for years, but I never really got the chance to know you until Grian's games started," Scott said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I know those games have caused so many nightmares, but if I could go back and change it, I'd keep it all. Meeting both of you was the best thing to ever happen to me."

Jimmy's hands were cupped over his mouth, tears already streaming down his sun-kissed cheeks. The wings on either side of his head flapped in shock, no doubt beating just as fast as his heart. Tango, on the other hand, looked almost blank to just about anyone else, but Scott saw his hair sparking to life and the way his tail flicked here and there. His attention was on Scott, and the look in his eyes made Scott feel revered. He forced himself to keep speaking.

"3rd life was hard, but moving on after it ended was harder. I hadn't seen you for you until 3rd life, Jimmy, but how could I forget after it all? People joked that you were only dragging me down, but no one saw just how much I depended on you. You made each day brighter and easier, you made me confident, you gave me the strength to make myself strong. When I thought we were done for that game, you saw another chance, and you always convinced me to get back up and try all over again because giving up just wasn't for you, and it never has been." "Stop it, Scott, you—" Jimmy cried, his face already flushed and tear-stained. "Oh, Hun—" "Petal, you're going to make me cry, and I'm not even done yet," Scott said with a watery grin, and then he faced Tango. "Tango, lovely, double life was hard. The circumstances were difficult, and every single day was a struggle with Pearl and Martyn. Seeing Jimmy so happy without me used to make me so, so jealous, and then double life ended. I never would've expected you to come to me and ask if I was okay after I... well, after double life ended. But I'm so glad you did. The moment you did that, I saw what Jimmy saw. Kind, thoughtful, and just as resilient. None of it was a mistake. I would go through the hurt all over again for the love you've shown me afterwards." At that, Tango's blank expression shook to keep his composure. His hands were trembling, almost like even his own body wondered if he should dare to accept the praise and affection. However, all Scott had to do was smile at him, teeth and all, and a few tears began to slip down Tango's face. One long second passed, and Scott realized he needed to open the box. Inside it, two rings sat side-by-side, both with rose-gold bands designed to look like twisting vines dotted with the occasional miniscule gem. Though both had identical bands, one had an oval-shaped sunstone while the other had a similarly-shaped moonstone. "Sunstone for you, Jimmy—bright, reliable, and charming. Moonstone for you, Tango—resourceful, clever, and persistent," Scott explained, and then with another pause, he added, "There's no one else I'd rather be with than you two. Will you marry me?" "Yes—" "If you take my last name—" Jimmy and Tango both glanced at each other, and before any of them knew it, they were all laughing. "Scott Tek?" Scott asked with a grin heavy in his voice. "Better than Tango Major!" Tango cried out. "Jimmy Tek has a ring to it..." Jimmy murmured. "Wait, wait, why aren't either of you taking my last name?" And the cool breeze swept their good-natured bickering into the air all while crickets chirped and people across the server worked and laughed and haggled for supplies. It would be just another day for anyone else, something that would turn into an event that happened a few weeks ago, then last spring, then a few years back until all that was left was the memory of the warmth Scott felt in his heart and the way Jimmy and Tango laughed together like a melody only they knew in that moment, but wasn't that enough? More than enough, Scott thought to himself. And it was the truth.

[taylorsburner]

Good Mornin'

✧Summary✧ Billy wakes up early to take care of your baby boy and prepares a sweet surprise for his wife for a cozy morning in bed.

a/n: this is my first Billy fic so I hope y’all like it. it's just something cute and fluffy🫶🏾

Unlike most mornings where you were the first to wake up (if your little Theo hadn’t beaten you to it), Billy was the early riser this time around. However, unlike other times he’d woken up earlier than usual, his early rising this morning had no obligations for him to be anywhere but home with his family.Upon waking up, Billy was immediately met with the soft babbling of Theo in his bassinet on your side of bed. He slowly inches out of his side of the bed, making sure to not disturb you. Your husband rounds the bed to get the baby, dressing himself in his discarded clothes from the night before on the way over.

“Good mornin’ little guy.” Billy whispers with a wide smile, reaching down to pick Theo up out of the bassinet. “Did you sleep well?” He continues on, quietly bouncing back and forth with the baby.

“Since it’s just you and me, how about we do something nice for mama huh?” Billy whispers down to Theo, his eyes immediately turning up to his father at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles. Billy reaches down to pull the covers further up your body before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Billy had the thought of making a nice breakfast in bed for you and had enlisted the help of Theo. First on their agenda was to pick out to a couple of flowers for a little sprucing. He let Theo grab whatever his eyes landed on (and plucked a couple with less crumpled petals) and headed back inside to get started on cooking.

With Theo on his hip your husband singlehandedly, quite literally, cooked a miniature breakfast spread for you. He made a little something for the baby, feeding him as he cooked to tie him over until you fed him.

❃❃❃❃

When you woke up you were a bit more refreshed than usual, appreciating the extra time you got to sleep. However, you were a bit confused to find Billy’s side of the bed empty and the bassinet next to you was empty as well. You were pleasantly welcomed though, by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

You pull back the covers and smooth out your nightgown, leaving the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen to investigate. And as you approach the entryway, your eyes fall on your husband towering over the kitchen counter cooking with Theo on his hip. You couldn’t help but to melt at the sight.

Without making a sound you step into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning” You mumble against him, your words vibrating through his shirt.

“Good mornin’ honey.” Billy replies through a smile.

“Can’t go dissapearin’ on be like that.” You playfully scold. “I don’t like waking up by myself”

“I know, but I got a little somethin’ for ya. Supposed to be a-“ Before Billy could finish his sentence, Theo cuts him off, wanting to get your attention. “Seems like someone wants to talk to ya.” He chuckles motioning to the little boy clinging to him.

“Good morning my beautiful boy.” You coo, softly pulling the little boy from his father’s hip, immediately leaving kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

“I thought I was your beautiful boy.” Your husband pouts, exaggerating the puppy dog eyes and pouted lip.

“You are, he’s just a bit cuter.” You reason, lightly tickling the baby’s pudgy tummy, causing an immediate stream of giggles that absolutely melt both you and Billy.

“I guess you got me there darlin’.” He concedes, beaming down at you and Theo. “How ‘bout you two go back to bed so that I can still try and surprise you.”

“Yes daddy” You whisper just for him to hear as you reach up to peck his lips before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“What am I gonna do with you” Billy chuckles to himself, finishing up the remainder of your breakfast that was sizzling in the pan. ….. Not long after you and Theo get all snuggled up and cozy underneath the warm covers, Billy is making his way back into the bedroom. He carefully walks down the hall and into the room tightly holding a tray with the food he’d made for you and a jar containing the small bouquet of wildflowers he and Theo picked earlier in the morning.

“Now what were you and daddy up to while I was asleep?” You happy whisper down to your son who was beaming at the reappearance of his father.

“We figured we’d take care of you the way you always take care of us darlin’” Billy says, gently placing the tray down on the bed in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to get back in with you.

“You two are the sweetest boys in the world” You gush.

“Well you’re an even sweeter mama.” Billy lovingly counters, leaning in to plant a proper kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” You contently sigh against his lips

“And I love you more doll.” Billy replies, leaving your with one more kiss before settling back into his spot next to you. “Now eat up darlin’, don’t want you eatin’ a cold breakfast.” Your husband instructs, removing Theo from your arms to free up your hands to eat.

Unlike most mornings where you were the first to wake up (if your little Theo hadn’t beaten you to it), Billy was the early riser this time around. However, unlike other times he’d woken up earlier than usual, his early rising this morning had no obligations for him to be anywhere but home with his family.

Upon waking up, Billy was immediately met with the soft babbling of Theo in his bassinet on your side of bed. He slowly inches out of his side of the bed, making sure to not disturb you. Your husband rounds the bed to get the baby, dressing himself in his discarded clothes from the night before on the way over.

“Good mornin’ little guy.” Billy whispers with a wide smile, reaching down to pick Theo up out of the bassinet. “Did you sleep well?” He continues on, quietly bouncing back and forth with the baby.

“Since it’s just you and me, how about we do something nice for mama huh?” Billy whispers down to Theo, his eyes immediately turning up to his father at the mention of you. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He chuckles. Billy reaches down to pull the covers further up your body before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

Billy had the thought of making a nice breakfast in bed for you and had enlisted the help of Theo. First on their agenda was to pick out to a couple of flowers for a little sprucing. He let Theo grab whatever his eyes landed on (and plucked a couple with less crumpled petals) and headed back inside to get started on cooking.

With Theo on his hip your husband singlehandedly, quite literally, cooked a miniature breakfast spread for you. He made a little something for the baby, feeding him as he cooked to tie him over until you fed him.

❃❃❃❃

When you woke up you were a bit more refreshed than usual, appreciating the extra time you got to sleep. However, you were a bit confused to find Billy’s side of the bed empty and the bassinet next to you was empty as well. You were pleasantly welcomed though, by the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

You pull back the covers and smooth out your nightgown,  leaving the bedroom and making your way to the kitchen to investigate. And as you approach the entryway, your eyes fall on your husband towering over the kitchen counter cooking with Theo on his hip. You couldn’t help but to melt at the sight.

Without making a sound you step into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning” You mumble against him, your words vibrating through his shirt.

“Good mornin’ honey.” Billy replies through a smile.

“Can’t go dissapearin’ on be like that.” You playfully scold. “I don’t like waking up by myself”

“I know, but I got a little somethin’ for ya. Supposed to be a-“ Before Billy could finish his sentence, Theo cuts him off, wanting to get your attention. “Seems like someone wants to talk to ya.” He chuckles motioning to the little boy clinging to him.

“Good morning my beautiful boy.” You coo, softly pulling the little boy from his father’s hip, immediately leaving kisses all over his chubby cheeks.

“I thought I was your beautiful boy.” Your husband pouts, exaggerating the puppy dog eyes and pouted lip.

“You are, he’s just a bit cuter.” You reason, lightly tickling the baby’s pudgy tummy, causing an immediate stream of giggles that absolutely melt both you and Billy.

“I guess you got me there darlin’.” He concedes, beaming down at you and Theo. “How ‘bout you two go back to bed so that I can still try and surprise you.”

“Yes daddy” You whisper just for him to hear as you reach up to peck his lips before heading back to your shared bedroom.

“What am I gonna do with you” Billy chuckles to himself, finishing up the remainder of your breakfast that was sizzling in the pan.

❃❃❃❃

Not long after you and Theo get all snuggled up and cozy underneath the warm covers, Billy is making his way back into the bedroom. He carefully walks down the hall and into the room tightly holding a tray with the food he’d made for you and a jar containing the small bouquet of wildflowers he and Theo picked earlier in the morning.

“Now what were you and daddy up to while I was asleep?” You happy whisper down to your son who was beaming at the reappearance of his father.

“We figured we’d take care of you the way you always take care of us darlin’” Billy says, gently placing the tray down on the bed in front of you and pressing a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to get back in with you. 

“You two are the sweetest boys in the world” You gush.

“Well you’re an even sweeter mama.” Billy lovingly counters, leaning in to plant a proper kiss to your lips. 

“I love you.” You contently sigh against his lips

“And I love you more doll.” Billy replies, leaving your with one more kiss before settling back into his spot next to you. “Now eat up darlin’, don’t want you eatin’ a cold breakfast.” Your husband instructs, removing Theo from your arms to free up your hands to eat.

The three of you end up spending the rest of your morning in bed, too wrapped up in each other to even bother doing anything else.

Request new stuff here♡

[thelov3lybookworm]

Overprotective Bat (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Azriel has to apologise for being mean. He hates it.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: i got nothin to say except 🥹🥹🥹

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Azriel clutched the tiny hand of his daughter in his, wishing more than ever that he could melt into the ground.

He was more than ready to just vanish into thin air, but the glaring eyes that burned the back of his neck made it impossible to even move his little finger.

The front door of the small, cozy home opened, a head peeking out. The female's eyes widened, taking in the menacing form of the shadowsinger.

"Y-yes? How can I help you?"

"I..." Azriel glanced back at his wife for help, pleading silently. She simply shrugged. With a sigh, Azriel turned back to the female in the doorway, wondering what to say when Hazel spoke up.

"Hello! I am Kaden's friend, Hazel! I made him some cookies!"

The female smiled at Hazel, opening the door wide. "So you are Hazel huh. Kaden's told me all about you sweetheart. I'm Penelope, you can call me Penny. Kaden is playing in his room, why don't you come in?"

Hazel nodded happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet before she followed the female in. Y/n entered after, throwing a warning glance at Azriel.

"Oh for fuck's sake.." Azriel mumbled under his breath, wondering if he could run away now that Y/n was not watching.

One glance at Y/n's retreating form told Azriel he was not going to be saved today.

With a sigh, he tucked in his wings and squeezed himself through the small door, walking in and settling in next to Y/n on the couch Penelope had gestured to before vanishing up the stairs to inform her son of their arrival.

Hazel grinned up at her father, excited to reunite with her friend, unknowing that he was the reason Kaden had stopped talking to her.

Soft steps ran down the stairs, and a moment later, the blonde head of the little boy appeared in the doorway, a huge smile on his face.

"Hazel!" He squealed, taking a step towards her before he paused, his eyes going wide when he realised that the broody spymaster was again staring at him.

His lower lip quivered, and he took a step back and hid his face in his mother's skirt. She looked up at Azriel and Y/n in confusion, her brows knitted.

"I'm sorry, he isn't this shy usually." The female tried to tug on the boy's shoulder, trying to make him look at her to no avail. "Kaden, what is it my boy?"

He sniffled, shaking his head, and Y/n nudged Azriel's side.

Azriel glanced at his daughter, who was twisting her hands nervously in her lap before blowing out a tight breath through his nose and opening his mouth.

"Kaden? Hazel made you some cookies. Here, try them." Azriel grabbed the box of sweets from his shadows, opening the lid and showing it to the boy who was peeking at him.

Kaden stared at the cookies, his sniffles quieting. He glanced up at Azriel, the Y/n and his mother, both who gave him encouraging nods. He slowly made his way over to Azriel, timidly reaching out for the box.

He pulled a cookie out, glancing at Azriel. The spymaster, feeling guilty, offered small smile to the boy, who immediately relaxed.

"Thank you." He turned to hazel, his previous tears forgotten as he mumbled something about toys and games.

Hazel went to grab Kaden's hand, and then the both of them ran away and up to his room.

Azriel glanced at Y/n from the corner of his eyes, who was all smiles as she followed Penelope into the kitchen.

Azriel leaned back into the couch, wondering how he, a spymaster, had to apologise to a little boy.

And he felt absolutely pathetic for being upset over something so trivial.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

She had been talking to Penelope for over two hours before Azriel declared he was tired, having become fast friends and bonding over their love for baking and cooking. Y/n was pleasantly surprised to find out that Penelope was a chef at one of the restaurants next to the Sidra.

When Y/n had told Penelope the real reason for their visit, Penelope had nearly died laughing.

"So let me get this straight," Penny huffed between bouts of laughter, "You somehow got your husband, the spymaster of the court, to come apologise to a little boy?"

Y/n grinned. "Yes."

Penny giggled again. "Oh I can't wait for Berald to find out that his son created such chaos."

Hazel was currently snoozing on her father's shoulder as he and Y/n walked home, promising a sleepy Kaden that Hazel would come to play again soon enough, much to Azriel's displeasure.

"Azzie?" Y/n mumbled as the two of them entered their home, his silence becoming unbearable.

"Hmm?"

Azriel glanced at Y/n for a moment, then turned back to his daughter as he gently set her sleeping form on the couch.

"Kaden is a child, you know that right?"

He sighed, his hand brushing over Hazel's forehead. "I do."

"You also know that he can't hurt Hazel?"

He sighed again, frustrated. "You can't blame me for trying to keep her safe." He mumbled, his voice small.

Y/n's shoulders slumped in understanding, and after a moment of staring at her husband and daughter, she walked over to the two people that were her world and settled down next to Azriel where he kneeled on the ground, his eyes soft and worried as he stared at his princess. "Azriel, no one can hurt Hazel as long as you live. I'm sure of it."

Az's eyes did not budge from where they rested on Hazel's sweet little face, but Y/n watched as they hardened.

"You're right. No one will ever hurt my princess while I'm alive. So no more boys-"

"Oh for fucks sake Azriel-"

"You said I would keep her safe!-"

"You can't stop her from interacting with every human being-"

"But-"

"Shut up!" Azriel pouted, wrapping his arms across his chest, the action reminding Y/n of Hazel. "Shut up. You can't isolate her Azriel, it will not be good for her mind and growth. You understand me?"

Azriel grumbled but stayed quiet as Y/n climbed to her feet, glaring at him until he nodded. Then, after a moment of staring him down until he started squirming, Y/n pulled him in for a hug, hoping that his worries wouldn't hurt Hazel.

Because if they did, she knew Azriel would not be able to live with himself.

He had too many insecurities as it was, he didn't need more.

•○🌑○•

Sometime in the future.

Y/n knew Azriel would get emotional, and she had bet with Nesta that he would cry.

And she was so very happy for that as she had just won. The look on Nesta's face was as priceless as the trip to the bookstore Nesta had promised her.

But right now, Y/n had no time to jump around happily, so she hastily turned back to the altar, where stood Hazel in a white wedding dress and Kaden in a dark blue suit, staring at each other with tears streaming down their faces as the priestess read the vows to bind them together.

"I knew he was trouble the moment I saw him." Azriel mumbled quietly, though the quiet joy shining in his eyes and emanating from his side was at odds with the statement.

"You know he would never hurt Hazel, right?"

He laughed quietly. "You can' blame me for trying to keep her safe."

Y/n smiled knowing he too was thinking of their conversation fifty years ago. "Yeah well, now you can stop. She now has Kaden, who will die to keep her safe and happy. Nothing you need to worry about now, old male."

The small smile on Azriel's face didn't waver as he whispered. "I'm not old, you hag."

Y/n rolled her eyes, turning back to the altar, where Kaden now leaned in to kiss Hazel. "Sure. It's not like I hear your joints cracking whenever you move."

Y/n had never seen him this happy ever before, knowing his little girl was happy.

Azriel reached out to hold her hand as the two of them watched their daughter, as they realised she was now all grown up.

•○🌑○•

General ACOTAR Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3

@candyjaypoppins @cherryjain17 (Tagging yall because you wanted part 2 😉)

[xximpressions]

The Duchess (2)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: You have another chance encounter

Word Count: 1,743

A/N: Yup! This is happening! I plan on five chapters for now, but I honestly love this idea so much that I could extend it way out depending on the comments I get, so let me know what you think below! :)

Bridgerton Masterlist

Previous | Next

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The greenery of the park was an enjoyable sight to see as you took a leisurely stroll by yourself on such a sunny day.

With your gaze full of the stretching grasses, towering trees, and manicured bushes, you found that you were easily lost in a serene daze.

It was only when you noticed an unexpected pop of blue amongst all the shades of green that your mind slowly came back to reality.

Squinting, you tried to make out what the pop of blue was as it fluttered in the wind on a low hanging branch.

Reaching up and pulling it between your fingers, you held the object out in front of you and saw that it was a beautiful silk ribbon.

You were about to wonder who it might belong to when the sounds of an inconsolable child reached your ears.

“No! You do not understand, Daphne! Mama will never let me have another ribbon again!”

Turning your head to see a little girl now openly crying nearby with two other people trying their best to comfort her, you cautiously began to make your way closer as the one you assumed to be Daphne spoke in a kind voice.

“Oh, I am sure that is not true, Hyacinth. Mother will be nothing but understanding if you have misplaced your ribbon.”

But the child only shook her head in fervent disagreement as her sobs continued.

Having finally neared the group of three, you tried to be as gentle as you could when you opened your mouth and said,

“Excuse me, Lovely?”

Speaking directly to the young girl, you waited till her cries had slowed into sniffles and she looked your way with brokenhearted eyes.

“I saw that this matched your dress perfectly and wondered if it might be yours?”

With a friendly smile, you held your hand out for her to see what you were holding and got to watch as her expression changed from devastated to astonished within a second.

“My ribbon!” She happily gasped with disbelief.

After hurriedly taking it from your grasp and giving it an inspection, the child looked back up to you with a bright grin on her face as she said,

“It is mine! Thank you!”

You waved a dismissive hand as you kindly responded,

“Oh, it was my pleasure, sweet one.”

Pleasantly done with your task, you were turning to walk away when you suddenly heard,

“Wait!”

Looking back, you listened as the now enthusiastic girl said,

“My name is Hyacinth! This is my sister Daphne and her husband Simon.” She said while pointing at the nearby couple.

Turning back to you, she eagerly asked,

“What is your name?”

Charmed at her genuine curiosity, you smiled as you introduced yourself.

Recognizing your married last name, the one called Simon began to speak.

“Ah, I was an acquaintance of your late husband. You have my condolences on his passing.”

You gave a customary nod of thanks while his wife proceeded to sympathetically say,

“Yes, mine as well, Duchess. I know how difficult it can be to rejoin society after a loss. If you are ever in need of a listening ear, I would be happy to fulfill that role. Especially after you found my sister’s ribbon.”

Touched at the kind offer, you were about to reply when the aforementioned sister gave a surprised gasp and looked at you with wide eyes.

“You are a Duchess?!” She incredulously asked. “Daphne is a Duchess!”

Unable to contain her sudden glee, the once crying girl started to jump in place as she asked,

“Are you in need of a husband?? My eldest brother says he is in need of a wife, and I think you would be perfect!”

While Daphne said Hyacinth’s name in reprimand, you were trying to hide your bashful and humored laughter at her childishly audacious question.

Immediately brushing off the other titled women’s attempt to apologize on her sister’s behalf, you decided to give an amused reply to the girl’s inquiry.

“Oh, is that so? And who might your eldest brother be?”

Without hesitation, Hyacinth proudly announced,

“Anthony Bridgerton! He is a Viscount!”

Without another moment’s pause, her eyes started to dart around in search of something as she excitedly said,

“He is here today! But where has he gone to?”

When her small stature failed to help in finding her brother, the Duke and Duchess of Hastings also began to look and only stopped once they noticed a sizable number of females crowding one man.

While they both smirked to themselves at what they saw, it was the Duke who inevitably explained with a touch of cheekiness,

“That is Anthony being surrounded by all the other women who want to become his wife.”

Following his gaze with your own, you had to stop yourself from freezing in place as you recognized the person he was pointing out. 

Because with a thrilling flutter, you realized it was your handsome rescuer from the ball.

As you continued looking, you saw that Simon had not been exaggerating when he said the one called ‘Anthony’ was being surrounded.

There must have been at least half a dozen Mamas and their daughters trying to get the attention of this apparent bachelor. 

Admittedly, you could see why.

But before you could dwell on the sight any further, Hyacinth let out an offended sound.

“But they cannot be his wife! I did not choose them!”

As you looked back at her brother clearly struggling across the way, your mind quickly came to a decision about the situation.

Giving the young girl a reassuring smile, you said with a playful seriousness,

“Then we must do something now, mustn’t we?”

Without waiting for a reply, you began to make your way toward the mob-like chaos.

You allowed yourself close enough to the fray to be heard before you politely called out over the pushy chatter of this season’s debutantes,

“Lord Bridgerton?”

All the talking ceased when Lord Bridgerton’s head turned and his eyes locked with yours.

Seeing the recognition on his face, you hoped you were not too bold as you continued by saying for the sake of your audience,

“Were we not to promenade through the park today?”

Phrasing the question so he could refuse your help if he wanted to, you saw the immediate gratitude shining in his eyes when he caught your meaning and did not.

“Yes, we were!” He happily agreed in reply.

As he started to give his regrets and apologies while smoothly extracting himself from the crowd of silently stunned ladies, he kept flicking his eyes back to yours as if to ensure you would not disappear until he was securely next to you on the sidewalk.

Wanting to put some distance between the mob still watching and himself, Anthony was only too glad to offer you his arm as he escorted you away.

Once you were safe from being overheard, Lord Bridgerton quietly admitted while keeping to a leisurely stroll,

“I did not expect to see you again.”

Given how your second meeting had come about, you could not stop yourself from giving a coy smile as you shrugged and said in response,

“You looked like you were in need of rescuing from where I was standing.”

Because you were facing forward as you both walked side by side, you did not get to see the humored smirk on Lord Bridgerton’s face as he recalled saying those exact words to you. 

But you did get to listen as he replied in an amused tone.

“Merely a matter of perspective, was it not?”

Glancing toward you as he asked this question meant you each caught the other’s gaze when you happened to look his way as well.

Only being able to hold the staring contest for a few moments, you and the Viscount wound up letting out small chuckles of laughter seconds later. 

After collecting yourselves, you continued to walk in a comfortable silence that was broken when Anthony decided to ask,

“So how are you?”

When you looked at him with surprise, he briefly cleared his throat and followed up with,

“It is just that I could not help but wonder how you were doing after the ball?”

Not wishing to think about that night or the drunk who ruined it, you were quick to say,

“I am fine, thank you.”

While flashing him a reassuring grin.

Somehow unconvinced, Anthony hesitated for a moment before proceeding to say, 

“I also could not help but to wonder why that man was trying to attack you at all?”

Huffing a small sigh at the question, you responded with a rueful smile on your lips. 

“And I am afraid you will have to continue wondering.”

Pulling away in order to face the Viscount, you switched to a more formal voice as you decided it was time for this interaction to come to a close.

“Lord Bridgerton, while you have my gratitude for what you did that night, I would say that we are currently even. So, I think it best that we go our separate ways from now on.”

With that said, you gave a polite smile as you dipped your head in goodbye and started to take your leave.

But you had only just made it past him when a bold question stopped you in your tracks.

“And if I disagreed?”

Pausing, it took a quick second for you to understand the implication of his words. But once you did, you slowly turned your head to look back at your former rescuer and saw the sincere expression of a simmering challenge.

Stuck in his gaze, your eyes mimicked a challenge of their own as you slyly replied with a smirk now on your face,

“I was unfortunately not asking for your opinion.”

And turned to continue walking away.

Anthony could only watch as your figure moved further and further into the distance before his approaching eldest sister caught his attention.

“Brother? What was all that about?”

Still in a state of complete intrigue, Anthony was honest when he responded by saying,

“I am not sure.”

As his mind began to whirl at the thought of needing to see you again in order to find out, he turned toward Daphne after being struck with a brilliant idea.

“But we are going to throw a dinner party,” He said, now smiling. “And I very much look forward to getting an answer.” 

Previous | Next

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[thedazzlesun]

Balalaika x Fem!Reader

(1.5k+ Word Count) (Suggestive material, some swearing)

Note: Reader has gun trauma/phobia

You hear the clinking of familiar metal. You freeze up, quickly trying to get yourself to brush it off. You were surrounded by drinks and idle chatter; it had to be an unfortunate mixture of sounds that you heard. She looks at you in confusion, eyes contemplating whether or not to worry. She shifts and you hear it again, softer. She has a--

You immediately swallow rising puke in your throat. It had to be a mistake. There was no possible way you could hear a soundless gun in the middle of a nightclub. Even if her scars screamed battle, even if she’s still with the military, there’s no way she’d have a gun.

She opens her mouth to offer to get some water, since you’re turning pale and starting to shake but you break yourself out of whatever trance you were in before she can speak. 

“Can I get you anything? You haven’t gotten a drink since you came in.” 

She had introduced herself as a military captain on special orders, and she was looking for someone who liked coming to this particular bar. 

She shook her head.

“Ah, no, thank you. I’d much rather you stay here. My target fancies pretty girls like you, and I don’t want to jeopardize you in case he’s already here.”

She drums her fingers on the table. The acrylic nails sound softly comforting. 

“Right, yeah, I’m helpless and defenseless…”

“No, that’s not what I imp-“

“Don’t sugarcoat it. I’ve heard plenty of it working here.” 

She looked pleasantly surprised at your bitterness. 

“I see.”

“…are you sure I can’t get you anything, miss….”

“Call me Balalaika.”

“I hope that's a codename.” 

She smiled, and it looked genuine amidst the atmosphere.

“Why’s a pretty girl like you working at a place like this?”

“Well, uhm, money. They pay me better here because I’m young and pretty.”

“Does it compensate for how you’re treated?” 

“It… it’s better than my other job.”

She doesn’t pry. Her fingers keep tapping away on the table. Your eyes keep wandering to them, getting in a small trance as you watch. 

Without a new conversation you look around awkwardly, wanting to get away. Not really, you liked where you were. This strange woman gave you a strange sense of comfort. However, your boss wouldn’t be too happy to find that you’ve been with a new customer since you started your shift…

Speaking of the devil, you see him coming out of the back room. He comes over to you after meeting your eyes.

He slings an arm behind you, his grip going to your shoulder.

“What are you doing all the way back here? The party’s in the front.”

“Ah- Well-”

“Is this your boss?”

The two meet eyes, and she smiles dryly. 

His grip tightens and he eyes you sharply. A small sign of ‘look at the trouble you’ve made, I'll punish you later.’

“Why, yes. I’m the owner of this place. Would you like a drink? I’ll send my girl here to fetch you one right away-”

“She’s staying.”

Her fingers stop drumming on the table.

He blinks, taken aback. No one ever spoke back to him.

“Sorry?”

“I said she’s staying here with me. Have you been here so long the moans and music made you fucking deaf?”

Whoever this woman was, you loved her. 

Your boss began to speak, probably of his authority or something. But then she stood up.

And took a gun out to point at him.

You jolt.

As if on cue, you hear more guns at the ready around you. In barely lit parts of the room, a few soldiers stand with guns pointed at the man with an arm around you.

Right. Military captain…

“Let’s not act like you don’t know who I am.”

Realizing, your boss clicks his tongue and lets you go to storm off.

The guns are back to being holstered.

But the sound is still in your head.

How fast the things were pulled out, almost as fast as pulling the trigger.

Military captain.

She has a gun.

“You have a gun.”

Balalaika sits back down and looks over you.

“Are you scared?” She sounds almost amused, but not in some derogatory way. In an interested way.

You don’t answer and instead pull over a chair to take a seat in front of her. 

Most people laughed when you jolted at the sound of a gun.

Her eyes narrow at you, intrigued by something. 

You force yourself not to stare as she starts drumming her fingers again.

I want them inside me.

You jolt, surprised at your own thoughts.

Balalaika raises an eyebrow at your sudden movement.

“Something wrong?”

“Ah- no, it’s…”

You swallow, forcing yourself to relax. And you must’ve had blush on your face because she stares a bit longer and smirks. Her fingers tap a few times more, almost on purpose. 

And then she’s back to scanning the crowd like she wasn’t able to just enter your head for a moment. Or maybe you’re just that bad at hiding your thoughts.

Her hands soon began to idle again. 

You unconsciously bite your lip as you watch, letting the lewd thoughts slip through. She couldn’t read your thoughts. 

She can.

A sly smile comes across her lips and her eyes narrow. She wasn’t scanning the crowd at all. She was waiting for you to let your defenses slip. 

Your teeth unhook your lip, a slight gasp coming through your lips as well as blush lining your face. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The soft laugh in her voice. Her fingers tapping in sync with your pulse. Those unreadable eyes consuming you…

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. I- I’m going to go to the bathroom.” 

“I’ll go with you.”

When she gets up the chair scratches the floor, and you hear the entire world go quiet. You can see the breath held in her throat. The small flame in her eyes. 

You wanted to get away, to take a moment to breathe.

Was she trying to stay by your side to protect you? Or to have you to herself? 

You brush some hair behind your ear. 

“I… Thanks. If you’re worried about me, I’ll wait. I appreciate you--”

The soft tap of her heels on the floor shuts you up. 

She’s closing in on you, heels impossible louder than everything else.

Pink nails reach out to caress your cheek. Her thumb brushes over the corner of your lip. 

Balalaika smiles.

“Oh no, I’m not worried. Not anymore.”

Her other fingers tap in unison on your skin, and you know she can feel the shiver you get from the movement.

You turn away, suddenly blushing more at remembering she has soldiers here. Probably watching her for a signal. Watching you. 

You swallow, the saliva catching in your throat when she leans closer. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Kiss her.

Make her feel how hot you are.

Breathe.

Tell her you want her fingers inside you.

Breathe-

The majority of things you wanted to say were beyond dirty, and you were afraid to death that saying one of them would make her see you as a whore. Nothing but a desperate slut, lonely and needy for attention. Wanting someone to put you in your place.

She leans in closer when you don’t answer, bangs fluttering your face and eyes piercing into your very soul. 

Her hand is on your waist.

You gasp.

You see stars, your life flashing in slow motion as she’s so quick to capture your open mouth and steal your breath-

The contact never happens.

Balalaika pulls away instead, face serious and eyes scanning behind you. Her hand on your waist tightens, ready to pull you towards her if anything happens. 

You breathe hard, caught in a daze.

“M-Miss?”

“He’s here.”

Disoriented, you turn around. You can’t see a thing. The strobing lights dance across your vision like galaxies, and the people are nothing but darker blobs.

You rub your temple, trying to take a step away from how close she was.

“I- I need some water.”

Her grip tightens and her other hand catches your arm.

“Stay.”

You want to but you really feel like you can collapse any second.

She apparently gives some signal, because a minute later a soldier’s handing you a glass.

Still dizzy, you watch him almost immediately disappear back into the shadows.

There’s a sound of hard leather boots coming close.

You choke on a sip of water, almost spitting it out.

“He—“

Your vision starting to clear with the drink, you look around frantically.

You know you heard it. You knew it had to be who she was looking for. 

Her eyes scan your face as you look back to her. There’s confusion and something of intrigue in her eyes. 

You close your eyes, trying to focus year ears among the sounds. Nothing was there.

“N-Nevermind. I thought I heard leather boots.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“You can hear that well in here?”

You bite you lip and stammer, brushing it off as 'the music dying down at the right time'. You had always had sharper hearing than most, and she would think you insane if you told her.

You excuse yourself as you see a familiar patron waving at you. They were only a few tables over, and she would still have a view of you.

"I'll only be a moment. Still have to do my job you know, or at least look like I'm doing it."

Balalaika smiles and presses a paper into your hands.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've gotten what I came here for."

You wonder what she meant, since all she's been doing is chatting with you and scanning the crowd. Perhaps a soldier found something.

She leans in close to your ear.

"Call me if you find yourself in trouble. I appreciate your company tonight, and if you need anything from me I'll always answer for you."

You're immediately caught in confusion, but she's already walking away before you can ask anything. Soon the tap of her heels are lost to the atmosphere.

The patron waving at you calls your name. Suddenly out of your trance, you give a smile and walk towards them.

[middlingmay]

“Let me get this straight: You’re calling me at 3 am, disrupting my beauty sleep on a workday, to ask me out?" - for Buck and Bucky please!

Hello Anon!

Thanks for the request - this one was so fun to write. I hope you like it :)

They’d settled near each other, after the war.

On that Florida air strip, where Wisconsin lay one way and Wyoming another, it had taken root inside Gale: the life ahead of him with patient, wonderful Marge, who no man could ever deserve, had stopped driving him on, compared to the life behind him with John.

When Gale had turned up on John’s doorstep, all his bags in hand and asking if he knew of any rooms to rent in town, he’d gotten to enjoy the sight of Major John Clarence Egan speechless for the first time in his life.

Gale had achieved what the combined forces of the US military, countless missions, German fighter pilots and a POW camp could not.

John had tried to offer him a room at his house, but Gale refused. It would have been easy, so easy to say yes and slip unspoken into this something between them. But Gale was sick of it being unspoken. He wanted to do it right this time.

In the days following his arrival, they found Gale a place to live, and like John, he found himself a little part time job to keep him busy and keep him from plundering his savings from his military salary, which remained largely untouched and offered a pretty little nest egg should he ever need it. (But not for the little apartment he and John found for him; that was hopefully only temporary.)

In the weeks following his arrival, they spent time together doing up the parts of John’s house that had gone without care for a little too long, and making Gale’s apartment feel a little more like a home. They went to eat in restaurants and John showed Gale his favourite haunts (not all of them bars, he was pleasantly surprised to see). They drove and walked around, perfectly aimless for once in their lives.

But none of it, Gale thought, could have been constituted as a date. And Gale did so want to date John. He wanted to take him out and make him feel special and walk him to his door at the end of the night and see if he could be lucky enough to steal a kiss.

He just had to ask him. Because apparently John was a gentleman, following this thing at Buck’s pace.

Gale had almost asked him that first day he’d turned up tired and hungry and John had taken care of him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He’d almost asked him when John had dragged a heavy second-hand bookshelf up a flight of stairs to Gale’s apartment because he knew how Gale loved books and cleanliness in equal measure.

He almost asked him when Gale had a bad day and a worse evening, and John had steered them passed all the bars, up to Gale’s apartment, settled him with a poorly-made tea, and read to him from a physics book where he mispronounced half the words (Gale thought at least half must have been on purpose).

And now Gale was lying awake at some ungodly hour because he almost asked him.

Gale had been a cocksure pilot; one of the best, him and John. He had led squadrons of men in war, kept his guys together in a POW camp for a year and a half. He knew himself and what he was about. But here he was, flaking out, being a coward - a whole big pile of chicken shit - over John, who'd never made him feel anything but brave.

What kinda man was he?

Gale threw back the covers and hauled himself out of bed.

He was Major Gale W Cleven—Buck—goddamn it, and he could do this.

One of the selling points of his apartment had been its own private line. He padded out to the tiny lounge and picked up the phone and dialled the number he knew off by heart by now.

*

They were finally flying home, he and Buck. Just like he promised.

Gale grinned at him from the left. It was that grin he tried to hide sometimes, the one that showed off the apples of his cheeks and couldn't disguise his soft eyes when he looked at John.

When they both turned eyes front to enjoy the clear blue skies together that would take them home, Bucky saw them. The white far-off pinstripes of a hoard of incoming German fighters. But they were still a way off; they still had time. Buck still had time.

“Bail out, Buck!” They were so close to going home, he wasn’t risking Buck now.

But Gale just smiled at him. “Since when have you backed down from a challenge, Jon?”

The Germans were nearly on them.

“Gale! Go—get out! I’ll cover—!”

Gale petted the yoke unhurried. “Easy, Bucky. We’re safe as houses up here. Last two pilots left in the sky, just like you said.”

The Germans opened fire with a shrill ringing, ringing, ringing—

John bolted up in bed, chest heaving and heart beating hard and fast.

The phone was ringing.

He collapsed back onto the sheets. “Fuck.”

He almost let the phone ring out. It was fuck-knows-when in the morning. But then he remembered the very exclusive list of people who actually had his number, and he felt like he was jolting out of a nightmare all over again as he scrambled to catch it before it ringing stopped.

Buck. Buck might need him.

In the hallway, he snatched up the phone as soon as his fingertips grazed the smooth dark plastic. “H-hello?”

Whoever was on the other end was lucky to hear his voice over the thundering of his heart.

“It’s me, John.”

Buck. He knew it. “What is it?” He asked blunt and panicked. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’! Nothin’ John, I swear.” Buck exhaled slow. “Uh, I uh, god. I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking.”

Sheepish. Buck sounded sheepish. He could work with sheepish. It wasn’t frightened, afraid.

“It’s fine, Buck,” he said. Heart finally getting under control. “C’mon, it’s fine. What’s on your mind?”

“I just, um. I was wonderin’. You promised me a baseball game. I was wonderin’ if I could take ya.”

Bucky frowned. Much as he was warmed by Gale remembering a promise he made what felt like a lifetime ago; and as much as something inside tingled and sparked at Gale asking him to one, he did wonder if Gale hadn't woken up from the same kinda dream as him. The kind that made it hard to fall back asleep and left you reaching for distractions.

But still, like hell he was going to pass up this kind of opportunity. “Well—well, yeah, Buck, of course. I'll take you to a game. “

“No.” Gale blurted too loud down the line. “No, I wanna take you. Like a…”

That tingling and sparking thing caught and used up John’s body like tinder. “Let me get this straight,” he sad faintly and cast a look at the hallway clock finally. “You’re calling me at three am, disrupting my beauty sleep on a work day, to ask me out?”

Maybe Gale’s blood was pounding as furiously as John’s, because that was the only reason he couldn’t have heard the delighted, tremulous, terrified disbelief in John’s voice.

Instead, Gale rushed out over the line, “No, no. I know. It was—God, I’m sorry, John. Go back to sleep. It was stupid—just—goodnight.”

John was left calling the dial tone Buck.

Stupid, Buck had said. Well, John felt everything he had ever wanted at his fingertips. If Buck wanted stupid, he would give him stupid.

It wasn’t far from John’s house to town, so he didn’t bother with a coat. He simply shoved a sweater over his undershirt and some boots on his feet and took off running.

By the time he got to Gale’s apartment building, the cool night had turned to fog, to a gentle spray, to a light rain. The thin pajama pants he wore started to stick, and his curls caught droplets of dewy moisture and sprinkled them on his face and neck.

He unlocked the door to the building with the key Gale had cut for him and headed straight for 1B. He knocked once and Gale didn’t answer within three seconds, so he let himself in the apartment, too.

The lights were out and Bucky headed for the bedroom, figuring Gale had gone back to bed to try and get some sleep. The curtains were thin and some strains of the street lights lit the room a little. John saw Gale, his back shoved against the wall, all bundled up like they’d never been able to do at the stalag.

He got close and gently shook his shoulder. “Buck. Buck.”

Gale woke quick and was upright in a second, eyes alert but mouth full and puffed up in sleep. “John? What’s wrong?”

Gale tried to get up out of bed but John pushed him back down. “S’okay. All good, Buck.”

“What are you doing here? It’s—”

“’Bout 3.20am. You never let me answer. On the phone.”

Gale cleared his throat and looked at his covers like they were some new textbook that demanded all of his attention. John smiled small and cheeky out of Buck’s sight and reached out to pluck up a strip of covers with his fingers to tease the material out of Buck’s grasp.

“Yes,” John whispered, smug and happy. “Obviously you can take me on a date.” He sat on the edge of Gale’s bed who now looked at him eyes wide and full of wonder. “But I want the whole nine yards: good seats, hot dogs, you desperately trying to follow along—the whole shebang.”

Gale smiled that same apple-cheeked smile from John’s dream. “You come all the way here in the rain to say yes to a question I chickened outta askin’?”

“Mhm,” John agreed cheerfully.

Gale laughed and collapsed back onto his bed. Only John’s damp clothes and the crumb of decorum he had left stopped him from collapsoing down with him.

“Thank you, John. I would love to take you out.”

“’Kay,” John said softly biting on his lip before collecting himself before it was too late. He stood up and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, g’night Buck. Sleep tight.”

He turned on his heels to make from the room and Gale called after him.

“John!”

John spun round, hand on the door jam. Gale looked at him, exasperated and fond.

“It is 3.30 in the morning. It’s rainin’. You can stay till morning.”

John shook his head, droplets spattering the wall. “You gotta wait for that, Buck. Your girl isn’t easy.”

Gale gave an amused huff and leaned his head back against the wall, before John’s words took root. He sat up at the gall of of the man and yelled through the open door. “Since when?!”

He heard John’s laugh even as the front door to his apartment swung closed.

[merrybloomwrites]

Ian Hecox - Secret Smiles

Summary: If everyone in the office knows about Ian and Y/N's crushes on each other, how long will it take for the two of them to finally figure it out?

Word Count: 992

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Ian Hecox wasn’t known for being the most romantic person. Once, on the podcast, when asked about the most romantic thing he’d done for a girlfriend, he replied that he’d gotten waxed for her.

So really, he brought it on himself.

But underneath that persona he’s made, there’s another side to him. 

One that’s shy, and sweet, and secretly, has a big ol’ crush on you.

He keeps it a secret from everyone, or so he thinks. What he doesn’t know is that everyone has caught on to what is happening. How he brings you coffee or tea at least once a day, but normally more, just so he can say hi. How he was the first to offer to give you a ride when your car was in the shop, even though it’s out of his way. 

But what’s most obvious is the way he looks at you. The smile that never leaves his face when he’s in your presence. It’s obvious who it’s for. 

Or we’ll, obvious to everyone except you. You remain pleasantly surprised each time he pops up nearby, excited to talk to the man that you may have a tiny crush on as well.

Weeks turn into months, and everyone in the office has to suffer watching the two of you share these looks while never acting on your feelings. 

It’s Angela who finally breaks first. You both have a long lunch one day, and she insists that she needs a real Italian sub or she won’t survive the afternoon. And for some reason, you are the one who needs to go with her. She claims it’s because you’re the only one in the office who appreciates a good sandwich, but you can tell there’s an ulterior motive here.

You’ve just pulled out of the parking lot when she turns to you and says, “Okay, what’s the real scoop on you and Ian? Is it still just mutual pining or is there a secret relationship there? Because the way you two act, it could really be anything and I am dying to know.”

You sputter for a moment, unable to form a sentence after that accusation. Finally, you manage to reply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me girl, you know exactly what I mean,” she says.

“Okay fine. Yes, I may have a crush on Ian. But that’s it!”

“Why haven’t you acted on it yet?”

“Why? Because it’s just a crush. And he definitely doesn’t feel the same way. I don’t want to put myself out there and get rejected. Especially not at work. And especially not by my boss!”

“Okay okay okay, I understand the whole boss aspect. But seriously, Y/N, are you blind? That man is totally smitten with you.”

“Smitten? Really? That’s the word you’re going with?”

“Yes, one hundred percent,” Angela replies, fully serious.

“There’s no way he likes me, I would’ve noticed,” you say, your voice now somewhat unsure.

“Honey I love you, but you have absolutely missed about a million signs. He doesn’t personally deliver hot drinks to anyone else every day. He doesn’t have a special little look reserved for any of the other people in the office. Just, pay attention when we go back and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Alright, but I think you’re making things up.”

Angela drops the subject for the rest of the trip, but you can’t help but think about what she said. You don’t want to hope that she’s right, but a small part of you starts to daydream what the next step would be if she is.

That afternoon you’re working at your desk, headphones on, so you don’t know someone’s coming over until a cup of tea is placed in front of you. You slide off your headphones and turn to Ian to thank him.

“How was lunch with Angela?” he asks. 

“I was good,” you reply, intrigued to see he paid attention enough to know who you’d eaten with. “It was uh, eye opening you could say.”

“Really? What did you talk about?”

“Oh nothing,” you say, mortified by what you’d have to explain if you told him the truth.

“Well now I’m scared,” he replies with a laugh.

“Why’s that?” Is it because he actually does like you and knows Angela is onto him? Did Angela say something to him as well? Your mind wanders, coming up with numerous theories until he replies, “Because it’s Angela. I’m always scared when it comes to her.”

You agree and he says, “Well I’ll let you get back to work.”

He walks away and you look back at your computer. But you watch him from the corner of your eye and notice the way he turns back to look at you with a fond expression. If the butterflies in your stomach are anything to go by, that look absolutely means something. Maybe Angela is right.

For the next week you keep a closer eye on Ian. You catch him watching you with a soft smile and after a few days, you stop hiding. Each time he glances your way, you meet his eyes, sharing a soft smile with him before you both turn away blushing. 

This goes on for another few days, until the next Friday when you’re packing up to head home and he wanders over. The office is nearly empty, everyone having left already to start the weekend.

He makes casual conversation for a few minutes, and you can tell he’s beating around the bush just trying to build up confidence. When he finally asks if you’d like to go grab a drink together, just the two of you, you immediately reply yes. 

You walk out together, sharing yet another shy smile, completely oblivious to the entire cast and crew silently cheering from their hiding places. The months of watching you two idiots pining are finally over, leading to a happy ending for everyone.

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AN: Thank yo for reading! Hope you enjoyed some cute and shy Ian!

[whumpshaped]

Whumpee going into a toy shop and being turned into a doll by the sinister proprietor!

-- @oliversrarebooks

tw doll whump, magic whump, kidnapping, captivity, multiple whumpees, noncon drugging, dehumanisation, lady whump

“Your dolls are beautiful,” Whumpee said in complete awe, trying to take in the entirety of the shop at once. “They’re so… realistic. They’re gorgeous.”

The shopkeeper smiled and stood up from their chair, placing their current sewing project on the desk before circling around to stand beside Whumpee. “Thank you. I can give you a little tour, if you like. Or you can just point at any doll and ask whatever you wish to know about them.”

Whumpee’s face lit up. “Oh, I have so many questions. Are you sure it’s okay? I’m pretty sure I don’t have the funds to buy such fine art…”

“It’s a slow day,” they said pleasantly. “Every day is slow when you sell dolls, honestly. Especially ones like these. People are either scared to approach them, or don’t even want to come in if they can’t purchase anything. I rarely get to ramble.”

“It’s a crime, really. There must be so much to say about them.” Whumpee walked over to one close to their own size, staring into its brutally realistic eyes. It felt like they had life behind them. “How did you come up with the idea?”

“I’ve always liked dolls. It was only natural that eventually, I would figure out a way to make them. And here I am.”

“How long does it take to make a doll like this?”

“Oh, months, dearest.”

Whumpee nodded, not surprised in the least. The doll was a real work of art — all of them were. “And you make them all on your own?”

“For the most part, yes. But the dolls themselves do the heavy-lifting. They have so much personality… All I have to do is accentuate it.”

Whumpee looked at the tag that had been adorably tied to the doll’s hairband, reading the name and the price off of it. They could never even dream of purchasing something like this. “Belladonna…”

“I just call her Bella,” the shopkeeper said with the sort of fondness in their voice that made Whumpee feel like the doll had been created a long time ago, sitting in the store without any potential buyers for a while now. “I made her five years ago, I believe. One of my first dolls.”

“Five years… It looks– well, new. I would’ve never guessed.”

“Yes, dear Bella holds up very well under my care.” They stepped up to the doll and ran their fingers through its long, silky hair affectionately, fixing some frizz in the process. “Patiently awaiting her knight in shining armour. Isn’t that right, sweet?”

The doll was so realistic, Whumpee half-expected it to respond; it didn’t, of course. That might’ve put Whumpee off doll-shopping too. “I’m sure the knight is on their way,” they said warmly.

-

“Good afternoon!” Whumpee said with a wide grin as they walked into the shop, breathing in the scent of flowers and beeswax.

“Good afternoon.” Whumper had the usual serene smile on their face, and a half-finished garment in their hands.

“Has there been a purchase?” they asked, looking around. “It feels so empty for some reason. Someone’s missing.”

“Oleander, but she’s merely in the backroom.”

Over the past few weeks, Whumpee had gotten used to all the dolls being named after flowers and plants; poisonous ones at that. When asked, Whumper simply said they liked the ring of them, and well, they were their dolls, after all. They could name them whatever they wanted.

“How come?” They walked up to the desk and started poking around in the bowl of decorative candy, picking out their favourite flavour and popping it into their mouth. “Did something happen?”

“Her hair wasn’t doing very well in this humid weather. She needed a more controlled environment.”

Whumpee nodded, eyes glued to the fabric in Whumper’s lap. “That’s a very pretty purple. Very… royal, I guess. Noble.”

The shopkeeper glanced up at them, noting the candy in their mouth with a soft smile. “Yes, we could say that. It feels expensive, too.” They chuckled. “And it was. But only the best for my dolls.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Be my guest.”

Whumpee walked around the desk and gently ran the back of their hand over the fabric, humming in agreement. “It does feel very luxurious. Is it for a new doll?”

“It is, actually. I have been working on the doll themself for a few weeks now, and I think they’ll turn out to be quite spectacular. I wanted a dress to match that.”

“Do you have a name in mind, yet?”

“Lantana, I think. Tana. Or maybe Hydrangea,” they mused. “Angie.”

“Tough choice.” Whumpee wandered out into the open area again, checking on the dolls one by one. They had almost become friends in this short time. “I think I like Lantana better, personally. It sounds softer.”

-

“Oh, I could never,” Whumpee said quietly, voice filled with adoration and want. The dress had turned out absolutely breathtaking, and Whumper wanted them to try it on? The offer was beyond tempting, but what if they ruined it? What if they tore it by accident? It was made for a doll, there was no way they would fit into it.

Though they had become quite frail recently. They were pretty sure they’d become sick with something, but the doctors could never tell them anything. Whumper was the only person willing to take them seriously, always offering healing herbal teas and candies from their own personal stash. A kindness Whumpee didn’t feel like they deserved.

Whumper gave them a reassuring smile. “I would love to see it on you. Please.”

Whumpee had no idea why they nodded so easily. Why they just went along with whatever Whumper wanted by this point. Why their wants always seemed to align so perfectly. “O-okay.”

“It’s going to be alright.”

The dress was dazzling: hours and hours of work, all by hand, frill and lace and flowers adorning every inch of it — and they were about to try it on.

They were playing with the piece of candy in their mouth, nervously pushing it from one side to the other with their tongue. It didn’t help with the fuzzy feeling in their head, but at least it seemed to soothe their worries, just like the teas and the scented candles around the shop.

Whumper gently helped them get dressed in the backroom, and despite all of Whumpee’s worries about the size, the dress fit them perfectly. It was as if it had been made specifically for them.

“Wow,” they breathed, barely believing the mirror in front of them. “I look…”

“Beautiful,” Whumper whispered, their expression full of fondness and warmth.

“Like a doll,” Whumpee added with a small smile. The flowery scent was so strong in this room, it almost made them want to close their eyes and drift off. “Though… I think I should take it off. I feel a little dizzy. I can’t imagine what it’d do to the dress if I were to fall.”

“Of course.” Whumper carefully helped them out of it, skilled fingers quickly untying the bows that held it all in place. “You can sit down behind the desk outside.”

-

Whumper turned the key in the lock, opening their shop for the day. They hung their coat and turned the lights on, illuminating the faces of all their precious dolls, sitting and standing in all different positions, just as they’d left them the day before.

“Beautiful weather today,” they said casually. “People will be out walking, for sure. Hopefully, some of them decide to visit.”

They checked on the dolls one by one, gently fixing their dresses and brushing their hair. They were humming as they worked, filling the air with magic soft as silk, wrapping around their beloveds’ minds like a comforting blanket. It was impossible to escape; the sedative scent of the candles, the taste of candy infused with traces of poisonous plants, the alluring tune of their song.

All of them had been caught as soon as they entered the shop and expressed interest. It was only a matter of time before their inevitable demise.

Once the soul left their bodies, it was easy to trap the delicate thing and tuck it away into a little jar, just until Whumper was ready to put it right back in its place. Making sure the fragile human body was prepared to withstand an eternity in the condition they’d received it in was a finicky process, but one Whumper found greatly satisfying.

They walked into the backroom to check the state of their newest acquisition, noting with a pleased smile that the body was finally ready. They took the glass bottle with Whumpee’s matching soul in it, uncorking it and raising it to their doll’s lips to allow it slip back inside.

Whumpee’s glassy eyes were suddenly filled with life, confusion and fear taking the place of the blank, corpse-like stare. Only for a moment, though. Only until Whumper ran their fingers through their hair, gently shushing them.

“The dress really does look gorgeous on you,” they cooed. “I can’t wait to put you on display, so everyone else can admire you too.”

-

The soft chime of the bell above the door signalled the new customer’s arrival, and Whumper greeted them with a smile. They seemed entirely mesmerised by the doll collection, asking all manner of questions after Whumper assured them it was fine to do so.

The stranger spent a few moments looking at the tag that had been adorably tied to one of the dolls’ hairbands, reading the name out loud. “Lantana…”

“I just call them Tana,” they said fondly. “They’re the latest addition to the family.”