#“You smell like chocolate on fire”
Note
I just had this idea, wouldn’t the smell of the giants be amplified for the smalls? Everything else is amplified. David’s cologne would be overpowering to anyone unfortunate enough to be near him (he would wear it you can not change my mind). Like the bacteria that creates smell would be more/bigger to tinies than to the giants so in my peanut brain it makes sense! I understand if this makes you uncomfortable though as smell is… weird. Just an idea I wanted to share. Have a great day!
Anon, I have made an entire saga on your idea alone.
It just didn't want to work with me! So I made three separate stories, all about 2,000 long, and then I combined them together. I'm not lying when I say I want to write another one to tag onto it.
So I hope you feel validated! We will have peanut-sized brains together because I absolutely agree and love it! AND, I hope you have a great day as well!
Ignorance At Its Finest
Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of murder. Mentions of death. Treating people as lesser than. Unintentionally making someone scared. Being uncaring toward others. Being unsympathetic toward others.
It's all fun and game until Fritz claps back with the 'you smell like'
___________________________
David never thought him wearing cologne would ever be an issue.
Look, he’s a business man. He understands certain things are luxuries, knows the difference between needs and desires.
He’s also a very wealthy man who doesn’t need anyone telling him how to live his life.
Besides, out of everything he has, from the house that’s considered too big for only one person to live in, to the insanely expensive car that sits in his garage and is used once a year, he never thought something that costed a fourth of what one suit in his wardrobe does would make such a ruckus.
Yet here he is.
"Excuse me?”
“The cologne needs to go,” Vincent repeats as he continues to walk toward the door. Because this was stated at the very end of their first meeting, the purple man making it seem as if this is final.
“Hold on!” David exclaims, standing up to follow the other. “You can’t just say-!”
“I did.”
“-there’s no reason-”
“There is.”
“-you have no right-”
That’s when Vincent turns with a look of murder in his eyes. “Oh Davey, I have every right. Besides, it’s just cologne! You’re not going to die without it. The same can’t be said if you keep it, though!”
And that’s how David was left, staring open mouthed after the thing that criticized him for wearing cologne.
He ignores it. Because as much as Vincent terrifies him, it was an inconsequential thing. Honestly he’s unsure how the purple man even knew he was wearing it. Unlike high school boys, he knows how to properly wear it, not to mention it was only spritzed across his neck and not his wrists.
“Go wash your hands and face.”
David knew the name ‘Scott Cawthon’ didn’t belong to a fellow giant. As much as he loathed the idea of one of the lowly creatures technically in a position higher than himself, there wasn’t much he could do.
The only saving grace was the fact the man hadn’t been to his restaurant yet. Only phone calls demanding certain information as well as reviewing the documents that had a singular letter missing. Though it wasn’t certainly fun to realize the resident mutated grape favored the little pest. Meaning when he first hung up on Scott bitching at him, he got a lovely visit, and therefore has to keep himself from so much as accidentally ending the call before his supervisor was truly done.
Today was a special day, however. Apparently, wanting a human to get transferred to his restaurant required a personal visit from the voice over the phone. ‘Ensure the poor boy won’t get stepped on by an egotistical asshole of a giant’ was the exact quote.
When he first spotted the miniscule thing standing in his doorway, he wasn’t impressed. Unlike David as he sits at his desk with gelled hair and a full piece suit, Scott apparently thought appropriate work attire consists of a graphic t-shirt and shirts, his hair left to do as it pleases.
With the words acting as greeting, David’s pissed. “Would you like to repeat that?”
Scott doesn’t hesitate. “Go. Wash. Your. Hands. And. Face.”
“You little-”
“You want a human to come work for you,” the man snaps. “I’m the one who gets to approve or deny your request.”
David glares as it becomes clear Scott does in fact have power over him. And unlike Vincent, someone who should have it considering he stands only an inch shorter than the giant, it’s a human who couldn’t stop being squeezed in a fist or kicked by a shoe.
Yet here they are. Scott having the upper hand with his position in the company, and an extremely dangerous giant who’s at his beck and call.
“May I ask why?” David snarls.
“Your cologne. I know Vince brought it up on your first day.”
Goddamn it!
“What is with you dumbasses and cologne? It’s not like it’s hurting you.”
Scott goes silent. Looks him up and down. “David, out of everyone you could’ve requested to get transferred, why did you want a human?”
He’s not admitting that might’ve only crossed his mind to check once he saw the impressive notes regarding Fritz Smith.
You could’ve backed out.
And let someone waste potential like that?
You own a giant only restaurant. What could a little pest like him do for you?
…that’s a valid question.
“Is this an interrogation?”
“This is an interview. If you have adequate answers for a job description that is nigh-impossible for someone who stands no taller than the fingers of the customers who come here, then we can move onto what you’ll be doing to ensure his safety.”
“I need a face for the restaurant,” David begins with a scowl. “His profile states the animatronics are extremely respectful and mindful of him, some even say they ‘favor’ him. And considering the long list of being fantastic with customer service, glowing reviews, and coworkers stating how reliable he can be as well as the person to go to in any situation, he would be a valuable asset to have him assisting in customer relations while I focus on the business.”
Scott gives a look. “Is it safe to assume you want a secretary?”
Yes.
“My animatronics should be overseen by someone with experience. Considering the dark past Fazbear Corporation hired me specifically to eradicate.”
“God I hate business men.”
“Did I pass your test?” David sneers.
Scott wipes a tired hand over his face. Sighs because he knows the giant is right.
“David, I know this is hard to believe, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Meaning Fritz will need safety precautions put in place-”
“I’m not an idiot, Scott.”
“-and giants realizing how much they affect humans. This includes your footsteps causing earthquakes, yelling capable of bursting our ear drums, and cologne being almost suffocating.”
David finds himself stopping himself midsentence as the last part registers. Because, of course, he never thought about nor cared how any of his actions effected their smaller counterparts. Not to mention he tries to avoid them all together.
“Aren’t you technically a mile away?”
“I can smell it from here.”
The business man immediately scoffed. “Bull-”
“I’m sure you get plenty of compliments on it, I was getting a nice warm smell with spice undertones when I was first entering the hallway. But standing here, I feel like I’m going to get knocked out from the earthy musk, and the flower doesn’t help mixed in with citrus and chocolate.”
David’s mouth drops for a second before he snaps it shut.
“No more cologne.”
. . .
Fritz is well aware David wears cologne.
When he was first getting transferred, Scott had approached him to ensure he was okay with changing restaurants. And not just the typical checking how far the commute will be and confirming his pay will stay the same or increase. No, the meeting was more in the direction of-
“Your boss will be an egotistical giant who thinks humans are nothing more than pests.”
Honestly, Fritz appreciated the sandy haired man warning him. Despite the older being a human himself, certain things are obvious when someone owns or works for a business that’s categorized as ‘giant only’. He might be a naïve teenager, but it’s impossible to completely avoid belittling comments and actions that every human receives at least once in their life.
Those who live in human only cities might not, but it’s guaranteed working at a restaurant that caters to both counterparts.
“It sounds…interesting.”
Scott had stared at him. “You’re seriously considering it.”
“Think of it this way,” Fritz grinned, held his hands out to physically stop the judgement. “On one hand he was definitely too prideful to back out again once he realized I was human. But if you didn’t immediately tell him no once meeting him, then it sounds like he’s willing to make some changes!”
“And turn you into a stress ball.”
The redhead tensed up at that. Paled at the thought that, if he agreed to it, then he’ll be completely at the whim of not just one giant, but an entire restaurant.
He knows there’s multiple reasons for people wanting to go to only businesses. Taking into account the fact they’re talking about a children’s restaurant, putting giants and humans together isn’t always the best idea. Kids get rowdy, don’t understand the moving action figure is actually a person, and it’s almost impossible to constantly stare at the ground while waiting tables.
Not every giant who works or goes there will treat him like a nuisance who shouldn’t be there.
But for those who do, would he feel comfortable knowing not even his boss cares if he’s safe or not?
“…what’s the updated job description?”
“Greeter,” Scott grunted, watched the surprised expression before he continued. “As well as animatronic watcher, coordinator, and on-hand assistant.”
“Like, on-hand-?”
“I can guarantee you will be grabbed randomly multiple times without being asked first, and not just by David. Your potential coworkers weren’t too happy about me being there. Not as much as your boss, but they won’t respect your preference on how to be picked up. Or if you’d want to be in a hand at all for that matter.”
Fritz looked down in thought. Nearly flinched at someone stepping outside the human hallway they walked in to speak privately.
Snapped his head up with something akin to panic. “Did they touch you-”
“No,” Scott stated gently. Smirked. “They know not to so much as look at me. I’m worried about you.”
Fritz hadn’t known where exactly the human blatantly worried for his safety has in the chain of command. Knew he was the person to go to when it came to hiring, finalizing reports for those who ‘quit’ or got fired, but even a lowly waiter knew the name ‘Scott Cawthon’ held respect and power behind it.
He didn’t have to ask the redhead. Could’ve denied David’s request for any number of reasons without even bringing it up to said employee. Or approved without a second thought and let the teenager get thrown into a circumstance without so much as a warning.
But he had gone to the restaurant. Berated the giant none too fond of those who stand no more than 3 inches tall.
Fritz didn’t want that to be for nothing.
“When can I start?”
Scott sighed. Ruffled his hair. Whacked him upside the head with a look that said ‘you’re an idiot’.
“Tomorrow. And heads up, he wears cologne.”
Fritz was actually confused why that had been a necessary add-on. He works around giants all day long, and never had that been brought up before. He’s noticed when customers and his coworkers come in wearing it, so it’s nothing notable.
He realized why on his first day at his ‘new’ job.
He wasn’t really paying attention at first. David hadn’t been at the door to greet him, instead waiting inside his office just like he had with Scott. Meaning Fritz was more focused on simply surviving the restaurant.
No one would open the door for him. It was Fritz vs. making the perfect timing behind a family while avoiding catastrophic shoes and a slow but very unhuman friendly door.
No one would look at him for more than one second, and even then it was only to sneer down at him. So he had to locate the elusive office himself.
No one would offer a hand either, meaning he was thoroughly terrified trying to get to the wall to travel in safety, forced to sprint as fast as possible and hope some kid didn’t stomp or grab him.
Once he reached the hallway toward the back of the restaurant, had gotten far enough from joyful screams of kids he could actually hear his own thoughts, that’s when he realized two things.
One, he made a terrible mistake agreeing to be transferred.
Two, he could smell something warm with a hint of a spiced undertone.
Fritz didn’t think much of it other than it being a weird second thought. He only continued to travel further into the hallway after spotting a sliver of light escaping from a doorway.
On the plus side, there weren’t any giants walking in and out of the hallway. He was able to take his time and let his racing heart slowly calm down.
But the closer he got, and admittedly worried that if that had been the greeting he received from his coworkers than how is his boss going to react, he couldn’t shake the smell from his thoughts.
It kept getting stronger. Nearly dizzying. He could pick out specific notes from floral, to ‘earthy’, to chocolate.
It hit him as soon as he knocked on the door barely open enough for a human to slip inside. Remembered Scott warning about David wearing cologne.
“I do believe you’re 5 minutes late.”
Fritz tensed up, allowing terror to clench his heart, truly afraid he might be crushed without a second thought. And of course, no one would care. No one would report a lowly human employee ‘disappearing’.
Scott would.
He took a deep breath, nearly choking on the overwhelming smell. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Since the beginning of the meeting, he hadn’t been looked at once. The giant suited man remained turned toward his computer, speaking without even looking at the teenager he wanted to hire. But finally hazel eyes much colder than Scott’s glanced over at him.
“Make sure you’re here ten minutes early tomorrow.”
You know, I wonder what I’d prefer. Death by a glare, or death by suffocation via perfume.
“Yes sir.”
Surprisingly, that was the end of it. No specific task to complete. No instructions on what his first day should have. Not even a tour. He was dismissed.
So Fritz did as Fritz’s do. He found the animatronics and immediately struck a deal of having a safe way of getting around the restaurant as well as back up if need be. The best part? He had a long list of bribes thought of on how to convince them to help, but apparently them interacting with a human was enough to bargain with.
And that was that. He had coworkers he could trust as much as possible because Lefty gets grabby when Orville’s around and a boss who ‘trusted’ him on knowing what to do.
He learned the flow of Fazbear Entertainment Center as well as the rules. It really boiled down to getting work done in a timely manner and never bug David. And that meant, if there’s a problem, you make someone ‘David’.
It used to be the day guard named Greg. Until Greg was faced with the issue that Lefty apparently couldn’t keep his paws off the arcade machines. Their boss said ‘take care of it’ and his giant coworker had no idea what to do.
Fritz knew he wasn’t turned to because they realized he didn’t just teleport from place to place. Knew his giant coworkers didn’t pay attention to who exactly swept him off the counter. With the smug look given before a singsong ‘Red!’ it’s safe to say they thought this would be the thing to get him fired.
It’s a right of passage being ‘David’. Fail, and you’re fired without hesitation. Pass, and you get to keep your job.
“Hey Lefty? What if we challenged each other’s high score on the game you choose. I win, you promise to only play before we open and after we close.”
“I win, and I get to challenge you once a day whenever I want.”
Fritz won. Unlike the bear, his other coworkers thought he was delusional for one, trying to bargain with Lefty, and two, think he could play a machine meant only for giants. As if there’s no fancy electronics that can be plugged into any game and allow him to play normally. And if they cared about his safety, they would’ve realized long ago all of the animatronics not only helped him, but respected him with the things he did to make their day better.
Of course, that problem was an easy fix in his eyes.
The issue was that he became ‘David’.
Sometimes it was about the animatronics fighting. Others it was about his coworkers. But a large portion/ was calming angry customers.
He’ll admit, it was draining. But it earned him a lot of respect being able to navigate the best solution for an upset mother or Greg angry at Lefty for hiding his things.
He loves the bear, but the bear is the bane of his existence.
The thing is, with being ‘David’, the true David Harrison took notice.
“Fritz.”
The redhead had to force himself not to jump at the semi-familiar voice he only distantly heard. Because why would the business man waste his time on lowly employees, especially the one human he hired.
Which was fine with Fritz! He didn’t want to be constantly berated with comments of ‘pest’ or looks of hatred or be terrified he’ll get grabbed in a fist and squeezed as if he’s some kind of living stress ball-
“Yes sir?”
“Are you able to join me in my office?”
I don’t have a choice, do I?
“Of course!”
He should’ve expected it. He was standing on the counter for the register. Near the edge because, with how many times his coworkers both giant and animatronics alike grab him, it makes it easier for everyone to just pluck him from his work.
It scared him with the speed David grabbed him. And then he was overwhelmed by the suffocating smell of vanilla/earth/flower.
He couldn’t breathe. And being held in a tighter fist than most giants didn’t help either.
By the time they got to the office, Fritz simply freed onto the desk to catch himself from falling on his face, he felt light-headed.
It’s a miracle he hadn’t tripped and fell. Not with how he stumbled a few times before standing with his legs apart, hands held straight on either side, the world seeming to spin, and with each deep breath he took he was only slapped with yet another wave of the cologne.
David stared at him with an unamused look. “What are you doing?”
Fritz panted, trying to breathe without perfume tainting the air, coughing as it just seems to be everywhere. “C-Cologne.”
He received a blank stare. And knowing Scott being as thoughtful as he was, he’s sure the eldest guard had made a comment about it.
It looks like he’ll just have to get used to it.
. . .
David realizes he is the only one who doesn’t realize how much his actions effect humans.
He’ll admit, he’s egotistical. And despite the fact he’s a giant and therefore should be knowledge of how his actions effect those no taller than 3 inches less tall, he doesn’t take the time to be self-aware concerning the smaller counterparts until he’s addressed and told he needs to change a few habits.
It happened when he didn’t watch the ground as he walked, something Vincent had to physically yank him back from possibly stepping on Scott.
It happened when he didn’t realize he turns whatever he’s holding into a stress ball, James seemingly appearing to save Fritz with the redhead too panicked to speak.
It happened when he allowed himself to forget he had a human in his pocket, Mike promising to kick his ass if he ever forgot about a Jerber, and by extension, Irish Jig, Egged Jackass, Hell Spawn, or Phone Guy ever again.
David trusts the others to tell him when he needs to pay more attention, or change something in his routine. Not because he truly trusts them, but because he has much better things to do than realize what the humans he interacts with need.
The only problem is, while the other giants are more self-aware and therefore will watch and teach him how to ensure no one gets severely injured by his hands, they don’t know everything. And if one of his human ‘coworkers’ ever brought up something to him, he would’ve forgotten about it in seconds.
That’s what he believed happened with his cologne. Because Vincent doesn’t count when it came to his first week of meeting the mutated grape.
The only time David remembers anyone bringing up his cologne was during a birthday party at what’s considered Fazbear Entertainment’s ‘first location’. Considering Mike’s the night guard, he’s usually asked to assist the day guard to ensure everyone is safe. Especially due to the restaurant being a mixed one for humans and giants alike, a large party can become concerning.
The only problem was Mike getting sick and needing to stay home.
If this had been before multiple locations being shut down and needing to turn a new leaf less the entire franchise is shut down for good, any human would’ve been asked. Meaning Jeremy would’ve been contacted, though most likely Scott being forced to take his place.
But this was after. So to keep up the good name David bent over backwards to accomplish, a giant had to be found.
Vincent was an obvious no. James apparently had classes to attend.
That’s why David of all people got summoned.
“You do realize I’m a restaurant owner,” he growled down at Scott. Who, surprisingly, hadn’t looked smug in the slightest seeing him at Mike’s location instead of his own. More just looked tired.
He hated it more that Fritz, Eggs, and Scott had been told to come as well. But apparently three humans working together can’t replace an actual giant.
“David, I might be your supervisor, but Afton had to approve someone ‘unqualified’ to take role of a day guard.”
“No one’s qualified.”
“That’s why I put air quotes around it. Just watch for any humans getting grabbed. Mike can do it, so it can’t be that hard.”
David knew what the bastard was doing, comparing him to Mike of all people. But it worked, and he fell silent. Obediently watched the running kids. Upset with himself he had forgotten to bring earplugs considering he can’t duck into his office once a headache began to form.
Realized with a start Fritz had seemingly disappeared from the human area.
In the back of his mind, he knew the redhead at worked at that location previous to being transferred. He also was aware that, despite Mike being Mike, their lead guard knew how to protect both humans and giants alike. Was arguably the best for keeping track and stopping some brat from snatching someone up before it happened.
David doesn’t really watch his only human employee in the giant only restaurant he owns. He both loathes and appreciates the comparison, but he is a bit like Afton in the way Scott is protected purely by name and association across all locations. Everyone who comes into Fazbear Entertainment Center knows Fritz is his human that is never to be touched.
But unlike Afton, no one at Freddy Fazbear’s know the redhead is his. Not when he’s only stopped at the location previously to draft plans on better improving the reputation past the ‘rumors’ of murder and missing night guards.
David cursed before quickly leaving his post, eyes scanning across tables in the hopes of spotting a living action figure having been abandoned. He moved onto searching the floor, wanting to not think about any human attempting to dodge and hide from giants unknowing and uncaring if the smaller counterparts ended up underfoot.
While his search was methodical, he didn’t see a single glimpse of a human. No miniscule flame of-
“HARRISON!”
David froze. Turned toward where he could’ve sworn he heard “Eggs?”
“TABLE! PARTY HAT!”
The business man hadn’t known what he was expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been the human mechanic breathing in relief when a cheap purple and red hat was lifted up to free him. Yet there he was, and David had no choice but to offer a hand that was immediately leapt onto.
Despite the fact Fritz was still missing, he took a moment to look at the chosen item to keep Eggs trapped. “Were you yelling my name the entire time?”
“If you ever became a human 101,” the blond began, slumped into the curled fingers cupped protectively against the giant’s chest. “Don’t ever make a sound until you know a trusted giant is around.”
“How the hell did you know it was me?”
“Dude, I can smell you from a mile away. We need to get Fritz from Freddy, though.”
The idea of Eggs apparently smelling him left his mind the second the human he specifically went looking for was brought up. “Freddy as in…”
Eggs gave him a look like he was losing it. “Fazbear? How many Freddy’s do you know!”
David rolled his eyes. Dropped the blond into his suit pocket. Made his way over to the animatronics locked on stage. “How would I immediately assume Freddy Fazbear had him.”
“Because despite that fact he’s your employee,” said bear begun with a growl, David left frozen at the hostile tone. “You allowed someone to grab him right in front of you.”
“Have anything to say for yourself, David?” Chica added, looking smug as hell.
David. Demeaning and angry attitudes. He had forgotten not all locations were like his animatronics, programmed to address everyone formally by last name and be nothing more than passive aggressive.
“It’s busy,” the giant bristled. “And I realized he was missing and went looking for him. Now hand him over.”
Freddy’s ears flicked unhappily, but his paw offered the redhead as Bonnie snipped “Shit wouldn’t have let either of them get swiped.”
“Well I’m not Mike. Your fucked up night guard will be back by tonight.”
The animatronics didn’t say anything else as he walked away. Or maybe they had, and he was too focused on checking Fritz over for injuries.
“Mr. Harrison, I’m fine,” told him the human had been more shaken up than he let on, voice wavered and hands shook as his prodding fingers were shoved away. “Thank you for finding us.”
“Thanks for trapping me in a pocket, bitch!”
Scott agreed to forcing the two to have a time out once they were put where they belonged. It wasn’t able to be long, not with the party still scheduled for another hour, but David didn’t let any of the three out of his sight after that.
That’s what lands them to now, with him frozen at the door after walking in for their weekly get-together after Eggs called over to him.
“Harrison, is that a new perfume?”
David mentally stumbles over his words until he finally manages a few. “You can smell it from there?”
He can barely see where the blond stands on a table several feet away. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t unnerved and hoping it was guessed purely to try and get inside his head.
He can’t even confirm the miniscule head is tilting in confusion. “Uh, yeah?”
No fucking way.
“No you can’t.”
“Still an earthy smell like your other one,” Scott joins in, freezing David in his tracks once again. “There’s a really small hint of vanilla instead of chocolate. Vince would be the one who can name the flower if he was here tonight, but that’s different too.”
How in the hell-
“Please tell me it’s not on your wrists,” Fritz pipes up if a bit tiredly.
“What’s that supposed to mean!”
At the sound of him being almost distraught, everyone at the table looks over at him, the humans exchanging looks.
“David,” Scott probes. His gentle tone encourages the giant to finally walk the last stretch to the table. “Do you realize just how much your cologne affects us?”
“No.”
“Vince told me he addressed it with you on your first day,” the human deadpans.
David can believe that. He’s also aware of how much the purple man is a bitch.
“I had also made a comment…” Eggs prods.
Yes. Though it was small. And again, he can’t trust the blond for shit.
Scott face palms as frustration slowly appears. “I also told you when we first met.”
Now David does not remember that in the slightest.
The business man looks the information over in his head. Turns it this way and that. Comes to the conclusion the humans in their group including Fritz are being dramatic. Though it’s hard to explain knowing the key notes to his newest cologne, Eggs could’ve found out and did reckon before tonight just to mess with him.
Despite being silent before, James straightens up. “So, much like how our voices are loud even when we’re whispering, smells act in the same way.”
David doesn’t miss Fritz glancing between him and the horror guard. “Right. When giants wear cologne or perfume, it’s pretty potent. Sometimes gets a little overwhelming, especially around the wrists if we’re picked up.”
“Then it might be a good idea we’re conscious of not wearing too much. Never on the wrists.”
David knows what James was doing. This is how he explained humans shouldn’t be treated like a stress ball at least unknowingly, a calm and specific explanation so it’s easy to understand.
Of course, it works. He’ll change his habits concerning putting cologne on before leaving the house. “You’ll just have to deal with it tonight.”
“Because James said something,” Scott snaps.
“Be happy I'm listening at all.”
“Because you never do!” the eldest guard exclaims, standing up as he begins to gesture. “I guarantee Fritz brought up not being able to breathe at least three times before giving up. I did bring it up and proved it when we first met, but you didn’t bother to even remember. Eggs constantly patronizes you with comments regarding it. But you don’t listen until a God damned giant tells you!”
Well I can trust a giant’s judgement, I can’t trust a human’s.
David nearly says it. And then he sees Fritz’s expression like he’d been betrayed.
“I…hadn’t realized,” the giant says carefully.
Scott narrows his eyes. Eggs makes a motion that says ‘bullshit’.
“In the future,” David sighs. “I will try to listen better.”
“Bet $50 it’ll last a week at the most.”
“$100 it’s two,” the business man immediately fires back at the smug looking blond.
“I’ll give it a day,” Scott snarls.
#thank you anon!#i am so sorry for how long it took#just would not want to be finished#but we did it HAHA#thank you for being so considerate ^^#but there ain't really anything I won't enjoy writing#and besides that's DEFINITELY something Fritz would clap back with#“You taste like Starbursts”#“You smell like chocolate on fire”#it's cannon David wears cologne now#g/t#giant#tiny#FNAF bois#Ignorance At Its Finest#BTE writing#answer#cw#content warning
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Amortentia (Jegulus)
Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes.
He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it.
Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become.
Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin.
James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat.
It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them.
Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep.
Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology.
Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe.
James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell.
Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place.
Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance.
Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them.
It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them.
“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”
James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties
James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever.
“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.
Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”
“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”
“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool”
James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories.
That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did.
So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled.
But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint.
“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”
“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”
“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”
James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe.
James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with.
For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her.
But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same.
James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely.
He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.
He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed.
He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before.
Three simple words.
And what if they were a lie?
A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door.
James would have recognised those curls anywhere.
Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong.
All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.
So yeah, fuck the potion.
James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.
That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.
The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied.
Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.
James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it.
“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”
James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away.
Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff.
Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest.
And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play.
When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look.
“Fucking hell, Prongs”
“Don’t tell Padfoot”
#jegulus oneshot#jegulus#dead gay wizards from the 70s#starchaser#amortentia#james and regulus#regulus black#james potter#wolfstar#remus lupin#sirius black
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cookies — luke castellan
pairing: luke castellan x hephaestus fem!reader
summary: in which luke finds y/n, in order to tell her something he's been meaning to for the past two years
warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, i think thats it ??? making out/kissing
a/n: I FINISHED TLT TODAY- idc if luke is evil (if evil why pookie)
꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱
y/n l/n thought her life at camp half-blood would've felt like a fairy tale. two years later, she was deeply misguided.
the camp experience itself wasn't bad. she loved meeting the new campers, and bonding with her cabin mates, and seeing luke from time to time.
but even when she got claimed by her father, hephaestus, y/n still felt like a square trying to fit in a triangle hole. hephaestus was the god of forge. fire. craft. creation.
when y/n first arrived to camp, she met luke. he didn't know why, but out of all the campers in hermes cabin, he felt as though he needed to protect y/n the most.
two and a half weeks after meeting luke, y/n had been claimed by her father. the boy was sad to see her leave, but glad as well, due to her being claimed to a new cabin.
as soon as y/n and chiron entered the doors of hephaestus cabin, the duo was met with seven boys. five of them were around the same age as the girl, and the other two looked no older than ten.
this made y/n feel even more out of place. yes, they all made her feel at home, and they still do. y/n just can't help but feel isolated.
less than a week after y/n was claimed, she unfortunately found out forging wasn't the exact type of creation she was skilled at. she tried pottery, metalwork, jewelry making, and even knitting. the girl was crushed when none of the activies suited her.
until one afternoon, she was in the kitchen after helping bring in dirty dishes from lunch. a few ingredients caught her eye, and she instantly started bringing them together and made something delicious. chiron soon came inside, and was both surprised and pleased y/n had found her activity. cooking.
this leads y/n to where she is right now. the camp kitchen. ever since the fateful day she discovered her gift, she rarely ever left the kitchen. y/n was considered the new cook of camp, and she enjoyed everything about it.
recently, the girl has taken baking into her small circle of talents. which explains why all day y/n has been baking cookies for tomorrow. it was percy's birthday, and annabeth asked her to make blue chocolate chip cookies for him, one of percy's favorite foods. she had to make enough for the whole camp. almost one hundred cookies were already baked and cooled, and she had one hundred more to go.
annabeth kept checking on y/n every so often, to see her progress (and to make sure she took breaks and to not overwork herself). two times the younger girl came in the kitchen, her and y/n talked for a bit. y/n kept teasing annabeth at all the staring she'd been doing towards percy lately. to be fair, it was annabeth's idea to have the cookies for percy's birthday, so y/n knew something had to be going on between the two tweens.
y/n doesn't notice the person who had entered the kitchen. she heard footsteps, so she guessed it was annabeth.
luke stood in the doorway of the kitchen. he took a moment to admire the girl in front of him. y/n stood behind the kitchen island, with a metal bowl, a baking sheet, and other multiple baking utensils layed out over the countertop. luke could smell a batch of cookies in the oven at the right of the kitchen, along with the fresh ones all placed on the counters behind y/n.
luke finally knocks on the door, making y/n look up from rolling balls of cookie dough. a smile was quick to fill her features, "hi luke."
luke walked over towards her, leaning on the island, standing across from her.
"how are percy's birthday cookies coming along?" he asks, seeing the girl still at work.
y/n nods, "they're going," she laughs, "that's for sure."
"i was looking for you earlier," luke admits, as he continues to watch y/n at work.
looking up from her blue stained hands, y/n sees a small blush covering luke's cheeks. "oh yeah?"
it's luke's turn to nod, "yeah, but the hephaestus boys said you'd be in here."
y/n chuckles, before the two sit in a comfortable silence for no less than a minute.
"did you need me for something?" y/n asks, as she takes two baking sheets to the oven. luke only laughs while watching y/n open the oven with her foot, as her hands were full.
"i just wanted to come check on you," luke moves to side of the kitchen island y/n was previously on. "you have made quite the mess in here."
both luke and y/n look at the batches of cookies, the reminants of cookie dough on the counters, empty bowls in both of the sinks, and flour on the kitchen island and floor.
"what's the real reason you wanted to see me luke?" y/n asks the boy, knowing that he had a tell when he was nervous. he always licked his lips before speaking.
"what? i can't just want to see a dear friend of mine?" he jokes.
"oh you can," y/n responds, "except, whenever you visited me you always wanted seconds, or an extra dessert."
luke doesn't repsond right away, knowing y/n had a point.
the boy licks his lips, nervous from what he's about to tell y/n.
"do you ever wonder why i might've been more protective of you over the other campers? when you first joined hermes cabin?" luke asks, catching y/n off guard.
y/n shakes her head, "no, i never really thought about it before."
luke takes a deep breath, "you seemed more special to me."
y/n's eyebrows furrowed, only making luke continue.
"you just seemed so different from the other campers i've met. special. i just had to protect you. i still feel like i have to."
"luke, i don't get what you're trying to say," y/n admits. luke's confession is only making her confused.
"then i don't have to say it," luke's voice is soft.
y/n's confusion returns, but only for mere seconds before she feels luke's lips on hers. she pulls away from the him, out of shock at what he had just done.
his eyes instantly met hers. his filled with worry as if he messed everything up the two had between them.
before luke could start to overthink everything, y/n leaned up to kiss him. his eyes closed, and his hand went to both sides of her face.
y/n's lips tasted like sugar, with a hint of salt. luke guessed it was from tasting her cookies to get them as perfect as she can for percy's birthday.
luke's lips tasted like a campfire. y/n could only assume it was from the smores hermes cabin had after winning capture the flag that day.
y/n's hands were still blue, and in order to not stain luke or his clothing, she opted to wrap her arms around his shoulders. she felt luke's hands on her waist, only pulling her closer to him.
soon enough luke's tongue pushed through y/n's lips, which caused her to giggle. luke loved her reaction.
before anything could get more heated, a timer goes off in the small kitchen. the loud shrill made luke and y/n stop their movements. y/n only looked at luke sheepishly. the girl leaned in once more and pecked the boy's lips, before retrieving the cookies out of the oven.
"do you want any help?" luke asks, watching y/n again as she started rolling out more balls of cookie dough.
she nods, "if you don't mind your hands getting blue."
luke laughs, "i'm willing to take that chance."
#shelbi writes#luke castellan#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan pjo show#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#pjo#percy jackson#percy jackson series#percy jackson show#pjo show#pjo tv show#pjo tv series
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Adam, Mammon, Alastor and Lucifer if S/O is on their period
Note: AFAB!Reader, not proofread, (should I make a story out of mammons??)
Warnings: Mentions of sex, minor degrading?, fluff 🥺, cute moments
Adam 🕊️:
He has an idea of how periods or the menstrual cycle work. In his time of being married to Eve and Lilith, he basically just let them handle it themselves. But with you, thats not how it works
When you get moody swings, he tells you that your being dramatic.
"Babe what the hell? Take a chill pill, jesus."
Please slap him across the face.
When you get cramps, he will throw you some Pepto bismol and call it a day.
If you send him to the store, he will ask you what flavor tampon you want (???), and if he can have a visual representation on what size he needs.
He tried to FaceTime you 15 times...
Had to disguise himself so nobody knew he was there.
He will offer to have sex with you, since that was what seemed to work with his other two wives
Goes out and buys you snacks, but he forgets that you're on your period so he mostly bought them for himself.
Asks Lute for advice, since he isn't a girl.
You end up with your head resting on his shoulders, while you sit in his lap. He will call you a drama queen, but he will still comfort you.
Mammon 🕸️:
He knows literally nothing about periods or the menstrual cycle.
He never really cared to learn anything about it either, since he had never taken any romantic interest in anybody until you. He considered it a waste of time.
When you have mood swings, he does not take you seriously, and he will probably baby you.
"Awhh, dont get your thong in a twist sugar. Now calm down before i have to hold your ass down-"
When cramps roll around, he will just put his hand over your lower stomach. And just, leave it there? He thinks it helps you, so don't argue with him or he will back off of you.
When you send him to the store, he asks you for your pussy size...
Will FaceTime you, and show you all of the options.
Gets stopped and asked for photos multiple times, so it takes him like an hour.
He ends up getting you Nutella, pads, and a menstrual cup, because he thought it looked funny. He even jokes about it being his next big product.
Offers to eat you out. Yes, while you are on your period. He is a freak. He does not mind getting his mouth bloody. I HC that he actually prefers when you are on your period, because he likes the metallic tase and smell it emits.
Wont let you out of his sights during this time. He will let you lay on top of him while you two watch your favorite show. And he will hand feed you the chocolate and say,
"Heres comes the choo choo train cutie 😙"
Lucifer 👑:
He knows a lot about the menstrual cycle and how it works. He was very attentive to Lilith during their marriage.
When you get moody, he will distance himself from you, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire.
"Hey honey, I just wanted to check in on you, see how you were doing, you know-"
When you have cramps, he hates seeing you in pain, so he will heat up a heating pad and rest it on your stomach.
When you send him to the store, he goes in a disguise. He will call you and ask what specific products you want.
He ends up getting you strawberries, chocolate, medicine, etc.
He treats you like you are sick. Will force you to stay in bed under his supervision.
Will also offer to eat you out. He just wants to make you feel better, and he is an expert.
He will spoon-feed you medicine, and turn on your favorite show. He will snuggle up against your chest and fall asleep.
Will ask Charlie for some advice and help. He really does care for you deeply. So he just wants to make sure you are content and satisfied.
Alastor 🦌:
Knows quite a bit about period and the menstrual cycle.
When you get moody, he will also coddle you like Mammon. Will purposely try to get you more upset. But stops after a while, since he is a gentlemen.
"My little doe, lets stop with this tantrum. Your a big girl, aren't you?
When you get cramps, he will come up behind you and trap you in a bear hug while rocking the both of you. He will do this while using his thumbs to rub your shoulders.
Instead of the store, he goes to Rosie and asks her for supplies and advice. He hates seeing you upset, so what better of a person to ask for advice from than his long time friend Rosie?
He will not want to do anything sexual with you. Not because he does not like getting bloody, (he has, and isn't afraid to.), But because he does not want to possibly hurt you.
He will try to stay near you as much as possible. He maaaay even let you touch his ears if you look up at him all nice and cute.
Tells you a story, or will turn on the radio for you to both listen to.
#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#adam hazbin#adam x y/n#adam x you#adam x reader#Mammon hb#mammon x reader hb#mammon x you#mammon x y/n#hb mammon#adam hazbin hotel#stolas helluva#lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer x you#lucifer x y/n#alastor#alastor hazbin#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x y/n
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Baby bumps and cookie crumbs /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission to find his mate bonding with his family.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,2K
Notes: A little Christmas spirit for this blog since my Christmas won’t be that good.
Main Masterlist
Azriel sighed, removing his boots by the door, the house quiet, the only sound being the soft steps as his feet made it to the master bedroom. Whenever he came home from a mission he would find her there, tangled in the blankets, snoring softly and with a serene expression adorning her beautiful face.
But to his surprise, the house was empty, his warrior instincts kicking in. He held the truth teller in between his fingers, searching around the house for her, but she wasn’t anywhere. Her scent was the only lingering in the air, which made him relax a bit.
With solstice preparations she was probably out in town, but he couldn’t help thinking the worst whenever she was out of his sight. As if sensing his distress, he felt three pulls in his chest, and the bond hummed with life. He took a deep breath, going back to the bedroom so he could have a bath.
A knock sounded by the door, and Azriel went to answer, towel hanging on his hips and another one drying his hair. He opened the door, rolling his eyes at Cassian’s whistle.
“If I knew you would be in the shower, I would’ve come earlier.” He mocked, shoving Azriel aside so he could make himself comfortable on his couch.
“Where’s my mate?” He asked, leaving Cassian in the living room so he could get dressed.
“At the River House, everyone’s there.” Cassian's voice was muffled, and when Azriel got back to the living room, fully dressed and fixing the beanie over his hair, Cassian had a whole cupcake in his mouth.
“Hey, those were mine.” He slapped Cassian’s head.
“It’s not my fault your mate cooks like an angel.” Cassian cleaned the frosting around his mouth and aimed for the door. “I was sent to get you, so let’s go.”
“After you.” Azriel motioned for him to go first, locking the door behind him.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Indeed everyone was there, the house filled with joy and laughter, the whole place was warm, and he thanked Lucien mentally, cuz the short flight to the River House was cold even for him. The redhead was by the fireplace, shoving wood into the fire.
“Hey man, thanks for that, it’s freezing out there.” Cassian said, squeezing Lucien’s shoulder, to which the male just smiled, nodding his head.
“Azriel!” He greeted, and he greeted back. He wanted to find his mate, his body buzzing with energy to be with her. “Y/N is in the kitchen with the other females.” Lucien winked and Azriel thanked him.
He crossed the house until reaching the kitchen, pushing the double doors open, the space was a mess, Feyre was sitting with a happy smile, sipping in her wine. Nesta was by her side, resting her head on her shoulder, the two sisters watched the scene unfold.
With a thin layer of flower covering her hair, Y/N was giggling, pinching Nyx’s cheeks as the boy screamed in joy. Elain was by her side, trying to mix what looked like cookie dough.
“Now, help aunt Elain with the chocolate chips.” She gave him the package and the boy slowly added them into the mix.
Azriel took a deep breath, the smell of pastries, wine and life growing filled his senses. Y/N turned to him, her face glowing in happiness as she spotted him watching her from the doorway.
She walked to him, and she tried to wrap her hands around his neck to pull him in for a hug, but a 9 months pregnant belly got in the way, preventing her from holding him like she wanted, making her adorably pout.
“I love our baby, but I can’t wait to get rid of this belly.” She smiled and Azriel felt his heart melting.
“Maybe this helps?” He suggested turning her around and hugging her from behind, head resting in the crook of her neck and hands cupping her belly, holding the weight for her. Y/N leaned into him, moaning a bit too loudly.
“Ew, get a room.” Nesta groaned.
“When you’re carrying a baby and your mate holds the weight for you, let’s see if you’re not going to be moaning like a lady from the pleasure hall.” Feyre poked her sister’s side, prompting Nesta to wiggle away from her.
“Uncle Az.” Little Nyx grabbed his legs, making grabby hands towards the male. Azriel scoped him up, kissing the boy’s cheek.
“How are you doing buddy?” The boy looked at him.
“We’re making bat cookies. Aunty Y/N and Aunty Elain are the best at making them.” Y/N giggled.
“Only because we have the best assistant in the world.” Nyx turned to her, lowering his body until he kissed her belly.
“When I’ll get to play with my cousin?” He asked and his mother shimmed in, grabbing him from Azriel’s lap.
“Soon baby, soon. Now let’s get clean for dinner.” She took the baby away.
“You should get cleaned too, you’re covered in flour.” He pulled her as close as possible, brushing the white powder from her head. He lowered until he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. “I missed you two.”
She reached for his face, caressing his cheek, tracing the contour of his lips, like she could never get enough of looking at him.
“We missed you too, Azzy.” The shadowsinger led his mate to the dinner room where everyone was gathering. He scooted his chair closer to hers, never wanting to be apart, resting a hand on her belly.
“How is little Cassian doing?” The male asked, turning his attention to her.
“They are just fine, Cassian, we don’t know if it’s a boy or not.” She started.
“And…” Azriel sipped on his wine. “We’re not naming our child after you.”
“What?” Cassian scoffed. “Why not? And I’m sure it’s a boy.”
“No one knows that for sure Cass.” Y/N pointed, and Elain cleared her throat.
“I know.” She simply stated. “I had a vision last week.”
“You know?” Azriel asked in shock.
“Do you guys want me to tell you? I’m totally fine with keeping it a secret if that’s what you wish.” She smiled sweetly at them, Lucien had an arm around her shoulder in reassurance as Elain was still very shy about her powers.
Az looked at Y/N, the two didn’t need to have Daemati powers to communicate silently, they just knew each other that well.
“We do.” The two said in union. Elain felt her cheeks hot as all the eyes were on her now.
“You are going to be having a boy.” She shyly replied, just to be startled by Cassian's loud cheer, smacking the table.
“I told you little Cassian is on the way.” He pointed to the couple, forcing them to laugh along with him.
“Thanks Elain, that means a lot.” Y/N replied, smiling widely to the female.
That night, the family celebrated the new member, drinking wine and eating bat cookies that tasted absolutely delicious. And when Azriel took his mate home later that night, warming himself in her soft embrace. He ran his fingers through her hair.
“Our little boy will be here soon.” She whispered.
“I can’t wait to meet him.” He kissed her, feeling his chest full with love. “Our precious little boy.”
#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#sarahjmaas#azriel#moonlightazriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#night court#azriel x y/n#velaris#azriel spymaster#azriel x you
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After googling “what to take to a stranger’s birthday party” and reading the top five articles thoroughly, the first two more than once, Castiel has determined that he should either bring candles, wine, or baked goods.
A candle seems like a good, safe option, but the Walmart candle aisle is overwhelming. How is he supposed to know if Anna’s-friend-Dean likes oaky, woodsy smells versus lavender-linen smells? Castiel likes the one that smells like a waxy apple pie, but who’s to say that opinion is shared? What if he prefers pine, or something called Deep Twilight Mist? Castiel removes the lid for Deep Twilight Mist and smells the cream-colored wax curiously. It smells like the perfume Hael used to spray everywhere when she was eleven. He puts it back on the shelf.
There’s a candle that smells like cupcakes. It is a birthday party, so perhaps he would like that. Castiel puts it in the blue plastic basket dangling from his arm, then puts it back on the shelf, tilting it so the label is facing perfectly outward. Maybe Anna’s-friend-Dean doesn’t like candles at all.
Wine. Everyone likes wine. Well, unless Anna’s-friend-Dean is one of those guys who thinks wine is too feminine. Or if he doesn’t drink at all. Or if he drinks too much. Or, perhaps even worse, if he’s some kind of wine connoisseur and will mock Castiel for buying reasonably-priced wine from Walmart and then blacklist Castiel so thoroughly that he will never find a friend in this town.
Wine and candles are too complex. But everyone likes baked goods.
Castiel is stopped in the middle of the road, turn signal blinking to indicate that he would like to turn left into his apartment complex, when he realizes that Anna’s-friend-Dean could be diabetic. But the party is at a restaurant that specializes in hamburgers, so probably not. Hopefully not. All Castiel has to do is successfully implement chocolate chip cookies and then melt into the walls at the party. Be pleasant enough company that next time someone has a large event they allow Anna to invite him again. Go to enough social functions that he can claim to have friends and get Anna off his back. Live quietly, working at the Gas-N-Sip and writing papers about the science of Theology and perhaps even going to the library and reading secular fiction.
Castiel has no expectations of finding actual friendship at Anna’s-friend-Dean’s birthday party. Or ever, really. If he ever gets lonely, he can get a cat.
Anna thinks that Castiel and Dean will get along very well. Castiel thinks that living outside of their mother’s influence has made Anna believe in fairytales. Anna has known Castiel his entire life. She knows full well that he has never gotten along very well with anyone.
Castiel cracks an egg over the batter. Maybe this whole baking thing will impress Anna so much that she’ll stop bothering him about making friends.
Who knows, maybe these cookies will unlock something else to add to Castiel’s quiet life. He quite likes the idea of baking.
--
The firefighter is very beautiful. Maybe even the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, besides models on the sides of buildings who look so perfect they’re fake.
“You the guy who started the fire?” the beautiful firefighter asks. He puts his hands in his pockets. Castiel’s cheeks burn. Not from any fire.
“They were just burnt cookies,” he says. “I didn’t know they would set off the smoke alarm.” In the entire building. The other firefighters are by the doors, writing things down, talking to other residents of Castiel’s building. How come the beautiful firefighter was the one who had to talk to Castiel? He sneaks a peek at the man’s arms, but they’re sadly covered by his coat.
“You burned the cookies on purpose, then?” the firefighter raises an eyebrow.
“Of course I didn’t,” Castiel says. The firefighter has green eyes and freckles splashed across his nose. Castiel wants him to take off his helmet so he can see what his hair looks like.
“Right,” the firefighter says.
“Am I in trouble?” Castiel asks.
“No,” the firefighter says. He winks. Castiel feels his heart literally skip a beat. “Not a crime to burn cookies. Losing out on the cookies is punishment enough.”
“They weren’t for me,” Castiel says. “They were for a birthday party. Tonight.” For some reason, he wants the firefighter to know that he has a social life. Never mind if the social life was enforced upon him by his older sister.
“A birthday party? Today? Who’s hosting? I gotta fight for my honor.”
Castiel is baffled. What honor? What fight?
“What?”
“Everyone will come,” the firefighter says. He makes a pose, as if he’s flexing. “To see me and this other guy fight to see who’s the Supreme Birthday Boy.” He stretches one arm out, pointing it to the sky, then he opens his fist. “Pow! It’ll be me, of course.” He turns to look back at Castiel. His mouth is very pink. Castiel wishes he understood what words were coming out of it.
“It’s my birthday, too,” the firefighter says after a moment, when Castiel doesn’t react.
“Oh,” Castiel says. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
“I dunno. Trying to be funny, I guess.”
“Oh,” Castiel says again. Behind the firefighter, he sees that the other residents of his apartment building are filing back inside. For some reason, despite the January chill, Castiel doesn’t want to go back in. Not yet.
“You know, usually this is the part where people say happy birthday,” the firefighter says.
“Happy birthday,” Castiel repeats.
“Thanks!” the firefighter beams. “So do you think I should crash your friend’s party tonight?”
“No,” Castiel says, alarmed at the thought. A firefighter, and probably a bunch of other firefighters, crashing Castiel’s opportunity to stand beside the wall, holding a cup of sprite? When Castiel shows up with store-bought baked goods? And this beautiful firefighter will point right at him and say that Castiel invited them and then Anna’s-friend-Dean will hate him forever, and probably Anna will too? “Also, he’s not my friend.”
“He’s not? Then why are you going to his party?”
“He’s my sister’s friend,” Castiel explains. “I’ve never met him. She thinks I need to leave the house more.” Too late, Castiel remembers that he was supposed to pretend he had a flourishing social life. Oops.
“Wait,” the firefighter says. His eyes sparkle. “Are you Anna’s brother? Cas-something?”
“Castiel,” he says, with the patience of someone who has had to explain his name a million times. He narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?”
“Dude,” the firefighter says, laughing. “I’m Dean.”
Anna’s-friend-Dean is a beautiful firefighter, with green eyes and freckles? Anna’s-friend-Dean is the Supreme Birthday Boy? Anna’s-friend-Dean probably has very muscular arms, under his uniform?
“Oh,” Castiel says. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” the firefighter says.
“Winchester! Wrap it up!” one of the firemen calls from the truck. Castiel realizes that all the firefighters are about to leave, and everyone from his building is already back inside. When did that happen?
“Be there in a minute!” Dean hollers over his shoulder. When he looks back at Castiel, he grins almost shyly. “You were gonna make me cookies?”
“Yes, I--I thought it would be an appropriate thing to bring.” Castiel wonders again if Dean could be diabetic. Or perhaps allergic to something in chocolate chip cookies. Are chocolate chips made in a peanut-free facility? Maybe Castiel should’ve bought wine, after all.
“Hell yeah,” Dean says. “Whoever said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was dead-fuckin’-on. But, uh.”
“But?” Castiel is sure, suddenly, that Dean is about to reject him and tell him not to come to his birthday party after all. Which would be a shame, because all of a sudden Castiel wanted to go.
“My favorite dessert is pie,” Dean says like a confession.
“Oh,” Castiel says, eyes widening. Maybe he can swing by the bakery--maybe he can look up a bakery, and then swing by it--on the way to the party. Assuming he’s still going.
“And, uh, not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty mean one. I actually made myself a birthday pie, and I was gonna eat it alone, but maybe…I mean…”
“Yes?” Castiel asks. Dean is slightly taller than him, so he tilts his head back to meet his eyes. Dean swallows. Castiel watches his adam’s apple bob.
“Well, I could swing by after my shift is done,” Dean says. “Bring it with me. We could share. Before we go to the Roadhouse, I mean. If you want.”
“I want,” Castiel says before he can think about it. He snaps his mouth shut. Dean brightens.
“Great,” he says. “I’ll be back. After my shift.”
“When does it end?” Castiel asks. Dean looks at his watch. He grins at Castiel, tongue poking between his teeth.
“Twenty minutes,” he says.
“Okay,” Castiel says. “I will you soon, then.”
“Yep,” Dean says. “Gimme about an hour, okay? And then we’ll have pie.”
“Okay,” Castiel says. Dean turns to head back to the firetruck. “What kind of pie?” Cas calls after him. Dean turns.
“Apple!” he calls. Castiel stands outside, in the January chill without his coat, for a long while after the truck leaves. What a strange man, making his own birthday pie. What a lovely man, sharing it with a stranger. Supreme Birthday Boy, indeed.
--
When Dean returns, in a soft flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing his magnificent forearms, his hair a spiky mess that Castiel wants to run his fingers through, he has, as promised, an apple pie. And Castiel has a present for him.
When Dean opens it, he laughs until he almost cries. He lights it right away, and the lingering aroma of burnt chocolate chip cookies is chased away by the apple pie candle from Walmart, a bright, steady little flame flickering between them.
(ao3)
#destiel#dean winchester#castiel#writingtag#deansbirthdaybash#chocolatecakecas#changed my mind posting this now. whatever
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colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)
Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive
➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡
➳ word count: 15.6k
➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍
➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3
➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs
”Are you happy?”
“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”
“Thank you.”
Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—
“Do you want to come over sometime?”
You don’t know.
So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”
“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”
Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.
“…Thank you.”
THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE
When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.
Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.
Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.
You’re sound asleep.
Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.
What if he never moved? If he kept staring?
Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”
That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.
Just, never as much as today.
The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.
He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”
To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”
“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”
He chuckled.
You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”
But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.
The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.
Not that it makes any difference.
You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.
Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.
You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.
God. You tilt his world off its axis.
“Baby,” he whispers.
It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.
He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.
You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”
“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”
“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”
As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”
The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.
“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”
“No. I feel great.”
“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”
“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”
An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?
Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”
He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.
Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.
Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.
You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.
It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.
Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.
But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.
He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”
You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.
You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.
That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.
Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.
All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.
And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.
It’s triggered by even the smallest things.
Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.
Trust in me when I say…
Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.
You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.
Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”
“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”
You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”
“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”
“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”
That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.
Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.
When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.
Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Hm?”
“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”
“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”
Ah. Odd.
Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.
But.
There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.
Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.
Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.
In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.
“Oh…”
You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”
Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.
You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.
“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”
Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.
“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”
Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”
God…
“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”
Shit, how it angers Jungkook.
The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.
He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”
“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”
The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…
Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—
“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”
His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.
The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.
“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”
“…You think?”
“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”
The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.
“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”
But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.
“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”
You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.
Because…
Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…
“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”
He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”
It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.
“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”
“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”
It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.
“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”
“Fix it?”
“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”
Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.
Enough with the papers.
“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”
And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.
His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”
Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.
And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—
Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.
He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.
And sighs in contentment.
A WEEK LATER
You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.
The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.
Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.
”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”
You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.
You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.
And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.
Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.
Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”
“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”
“Ohhh…”
Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.
Calm, but thinking.
“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.
“Uhh. Do you need help?”
“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”
“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”
The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.
“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”
You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—
“Hey— ouch?”
It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”
He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.
You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.
“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.
“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”
“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”
Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.
A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”
“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”
You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”
And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.
Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.
Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.
Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.
It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,
“Look! This is you.”
The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.
Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”
“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”
“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”
Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.
“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”
You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.
Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.
Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.
And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”
Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.
Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.
Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.
And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.
You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.
And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.
“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.
To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”
His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”
“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”
“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”
“You just don’t trust me with th—”
“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”
Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.
To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.
Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.
And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.
Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.
Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.
You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”
Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”
But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.
He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.
“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.
You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”
You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…
Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—
Wrong.
Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”
Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”
Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.
But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?
Only one way to find out — an hour to go.
Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.
And maybe even that was too early.
Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.
It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.
He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.
Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.
But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.
Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.
Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—
“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”
You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”
Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…
“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”
And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”
Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…
“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”
“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”
Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”
“Or…”
You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.
But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”
“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”
“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”
“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”
Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…
You nod.
“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”
Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”
“Of course.”
It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.
But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”
“…Do you like it?”
“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”
“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”
“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”
He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.
You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”
“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”
“Laugh?”
“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”
Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.
“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”
“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”
“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”
You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”
Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?
“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.
Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”
Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.
Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”
You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”
Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.
His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”
“Ah. Oh?”
Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”
You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…
“I do.”
Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.
The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.
“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”
He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”
“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”
“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”
You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”
“…Good. Me too.”
And that’s all.
That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.
Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.
If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.
But. The two of you have a party to host.
And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.
He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”
You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”
“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”
Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.
There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.
Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.
Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.
There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.
At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.
But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”
Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.
Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”
“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”
“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”
That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.
No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.
“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”
“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”
Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”
“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”
Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—
Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.
Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…
A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.
In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.
To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.
So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.
The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.
If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.
And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.
Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.
His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.
So in love with the shower.
It’s almost a bit tragic.
Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”
Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.
“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”
“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”
“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”
You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.
Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.
In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.
You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”
“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”
Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.
He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.
Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”
For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.
From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.
Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”
“Ahh… babe.”
“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”
“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”
“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.
Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.
And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.
Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.
The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.
And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.
An hour later, the apartment is empty.
You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.
“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”
Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”
He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”
“To me listening to you more?”
“Yes. But no. To you being here.”
You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”
“Hm? When?”
“Before dinner. It looked serious.”
You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”
Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.
“Mmmh. Anything else?”
You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”
“…You said the last bit, too?”
“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”
Oh, all too well…
“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”
“…How?”
“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ��It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”
Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.
“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”
Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”
“Hang in there.”
“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”
Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”
You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”
“And I want you so bad.”
The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”
The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”
His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—
“Bedroom. Right now.”
THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION
Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.
He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.
And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.
But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.
Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.
Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.
There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.
There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.
He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.
He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.
And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.
Like today.
“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.
“It’s okay.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”
Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”
Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.
“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.
“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”
One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.
He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.
Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”
“Mhh?”
“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”
“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”
You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”
“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”
“…How so?”
“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”
He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.
“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”
“You always sound so hopelessly…”
You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.
Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.
If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?
Better not find out yet.
So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”
How fitting.
Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”
“Like what?”
“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”
“Hey! That makes me nervous.”
“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”
You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.
Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”
And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.
Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.
But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.
“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”
“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”
“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”
“…I— What do you mean?”
“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”
He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.
Curses its limitations.
But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:
“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”
Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.
Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”
Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.
Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.
The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.
Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.
And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.
“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”
“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”
“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”
“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”
Hmm…
Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.
He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.
Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?
“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”
“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”
“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”
“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”
“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”
You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”
Reflexively, you look up.
Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.
“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.
“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”
Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”
He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.
Because…
You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.
And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”
“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”
“…Too obvious?”
You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.
And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”
“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”
“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”
He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.
A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.
He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.
Fuck.
“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”
His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…
But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”
You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.
Must be a good day approaching.
And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.
And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”
“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”
A COUPLE DAYS LATER
“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”
Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?
Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.
Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.
Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.
“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”
“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”
“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”
Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.
He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.
In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.
But…
Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?
What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?
And you…
You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?
You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…
Ugh.
He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.
“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.
He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.
You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”
Oh…
Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.
But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…
“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”
Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…
He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.
And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…
“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.
“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”
You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.
Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?
The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”
Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”
“Who says something about this city?” you ask.
“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”
He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”
“And… what if it does work?”
Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.
You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.
“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”
“Ah… ah, really…”
”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”
“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.
Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”
He…
He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.
Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.
Because…
The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.
When had his senses last heightened this much?
Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.
If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.
And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.
Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.
To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.
“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.
You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.
You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.
“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”
“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”
Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”
“Yeah.”
And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”
“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”
“What then?”
“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”
“A little.”
“Uhm…”
You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?
So maybe, it means nothing after all.
Then again. It must be something.
Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—
Oh…
Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…
Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—
“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”
He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.
“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”
Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.
His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.
If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.
And those tangled thoughts say—
“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.
He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.
Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…
Lock.
A picture of a lock. And of its key.
The first thing to flash into his mind.
Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.
He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.
You do make the ordinary extraordinary.
Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.
For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.
Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.
Just you.
You, you, you.
Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He loves you. He loves you.
Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.
Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”
“Yeah?”
“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”
He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”
“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”
”Oh.”
“…Yeah.”
“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”
“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”
“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”
“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”
He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.
“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.
“You’d think we’d learn.”
You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”
“Ah, just.”
You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”
“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”
Even before you did?
Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.
“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”
“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
Oh…
Shit, man.
“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”
He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”
Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”
“It’s okay.”
“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”
“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”
“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”
“Mountains and beach, you say.”
“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”
Shit.
His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.
And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?
Just days ago.
How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”
And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”
Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.
The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”
And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?
In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.
Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.
What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.
So fucking easy with you.
“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”
Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.
You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.
He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.
It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Stay stay stay.
The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.
And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.
His tiger lily pressed against your heart.
*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺
feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!
and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah ��
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fic#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook
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no masters or kings
prologue.
note: here she issss!!! finally after putting it off so many times because i’m a shit bag lol. me 🤝 combining my unhinged obsession with price, ghost and zombie media and making it into my dream fic <3
pairing: john price + simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader
tags: zombie apocalypse au, slow burn-ish, smut, poly relationship (price + ghost share you gahhhh). she/her pronouns used, but no physical description of reader.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: 18+ mdni. mentions of blood, gore, death and violence.
Everything hurts, aches and burns.
You’ve been on the move for days, constantly moving forward on a desperate search for salvation, refusing your body of any sort of rest it’s crying out for. Your exhaustion makes the rough, solid, wooden floor seem like a California King. Your rucksack like a memory foam pillow. Just grateful for the relief you feel for not being on your feet anymore.
The rain batters against the old cottage’s roof and windows. Luckily, this time, you managed to seek shelter before the incoming shower got too heavy, only leaving your clothes slightly damp in its wake.
Darkness fills the room you’ve comforted yourself in, too dark to see what occupies inside, only able to make out the silhouettes of randomly placed heavy furniture.
You know it was stupid to just assume it was safe, it was something your father had scolded you for in the past. However, with the knowledge that the area was sparse for dead ones, and with the door being firmly bolted with a dated, rusted lock, accompanied by nothing but the smell of damp and dust in the air, you figured that the possibility of running into other survivors inside, was slim.
So, after a hard knock on the frame of the door, and no movement as a result, you claimed it your sanctuary for the night.
You shiver into your utility coat, pulling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to create any sliver of warmth. However, with the dampened fabric that sits on your skin, it only makes the chill in the air even more prominent.
A fire, even a shitty half melted candle would have been accommodating, but with your lack of resources, the function of your own body is the best option you have.
The more your body shivers, the grip on your knife tightens, as you lie slightly next to the door, just behind where it swings open. Barely something you could call a strategy, but something that gave you somewhat more of chance at a defence.
An advantage of some sorts, just in case someone decides to slaughter you before you have chance to wake up.
After what seems like hours of your mind being unable to forget the bitter cold that nips at your body, and the ache of hunger that rattles in your stomach, you drift towards sleep. Thinking back to the days when you would spend your evenings in front of your parents’ log fire and the hot chocolates that warmed your hands, sounds of laughter and music filling your ears.
You think about that time at the camp, the intense heat that tingled on your face as fires raged through the tents, vehicles, people. Screaming and wailing erupting into the air as you raced towards the woods—
It grips at your throat, forcing you to be unable to breath. It feels like you’re choking on your own air. Chest becoming tighter and tighter with each gasp, anxiety consuming you even in your unconsciousness.
Images flash around your mind, those of bodies, some burned, some deceased, some both but still walking. Snapping teeth and hands make their way towards you, belonging to those who you once considered friends, family.
Your father. A face so familiar yet so unrecognisable, it’s him, but not really. Eyes glazed over with milky white, blood pooling from his mouth and nose, snarling as his frame lunges for you. You want to run, need to run, but you’re frozen with fear. Just as your feet are about to step back, his large body falls on you pinning you to the ground. You fight, and fight and fight, pushing against anywhere you can, but it’s no use.
And only thing you have the strength to do is scream—
Click.
Your body jerks awake with a gasp, eyes snapping open.
It’s a sound you’ve heard before, one that you never forget.
“She’s awake.”
The air is knocked from your lungs as a man’s voice hits your ears before you can fully grasp your surroundings, groggy from the sleep you’ve been ripped from. You don’t see him, only the barrel of the gun that’s being held in the direction of your head.
“Don’t speak.” He spits, before you could even master up the courage to talk. His accent is heavy, Scottish. You watch as he nudges the gun slightly to the side. “Sit up.”
His orders are snappy, full of seriousness that makes a lump form in your throat. For a moment, you feel so numb you can’t move, but when he growls at you to move, it kicks your arse into gear. Obeying his orders, you gulp as you quickly rise from your place on the ground, leaning your back against the wall, pulling your knees to your chest.
Moving helps you get a better look at the man behind the gun. He seems a similar age to you, even though he’s wearing thick garments covered with a heavy packed tac-vest, his muscular build is obvious.
His blue eyes are piercing into yours, before they flicker down to the knife that still resides in your hand, nodding his head, signalling you to discard it. You hesitate, feeling uneasy about giving up the only thing you have to defend yourself, but his eyes narrow, brows pulling downwards in frustration.
Usually, you’d try to put up more of a fight, but something irks at you. The gun he easily holds in hands isn’t like one you’ve seen in person before, its bulky, long, like something from an action movie. The vest that wraps around his body is heavily layered and stocked with what you can only assume is ammunition.
He wasn’t just someone who managed to get their hands on big gun, he was someone who knew exactly what to do with it.
And with the understanding of that, you slide your knife towards his boots.
“Look, I—"
“Check her bag.” He cuts you off, seemingly speaking to someone else. Someone you were unaware of.
Another man appears from the side of you, surprising you as he stomps his way over and grabbing your rucksack off the floor.
Like the other, he’s similar in age, and dressed in the same intimidating attire, except he's slightly taller and sporting a very worn cap on his head.
“How'd you get in here?” He asks firmly, unzipping your bag. He sounds southern English.
“I—um, picked the lock.”
He only hums at your response, raising his brows momentarily before beginning to dig through the contents of your sack. There’s harsh silence as he does, an overwhelming feeling of being a deer in some headlights as your eyes flicker between the two men.
“I didn’t know it belonged to anyone.” You’re finally able to look around the room, now that daylight is allowing its contents to become visible. It’s barely filled, derelict and tired, only a few pieces of tatty furniture scattered around. “I was just looking for somewhere to hold up for the night.”
They don’t reply, only a look from the man who’s searching through your belongings, as other remains still, gun still pointed towards your face.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Only if you give us a reason to.” The man in-front of you snaps.
“There’s nothin' in here…nothin' useful anyway.”
The rucksack ends up beside you again, landing on the floor with a thud.
"Am curious.” The Scot sounds prying. “How've you manage to survive this long with a shitty knife and an empty rucksack?”
“I—”
You stop yourself. Gulping down the lump that has seemingly formed back in your throat. You don't know these people from Adam, they're strangers, and strangers, especially in this day and age, meant fucking danger. Those who are left aren't people that you can be open and honest with, letting all of your vulnerabilities lie bare, it only gives them opportunities to use it against you, and then they take, and take, and take.
But, what do you really have to lose? The worst thing that could happen is they think you're lying and it ends with a bullet hole in through skull. And when you think about that, it's not even really the worst thing.
“I’ve only been on my own for a couple of days. I was in a camp but we—” You look down at the floor. “—it’s gone now.”
“Gone?”
You nod gently, eyes still burning into wood in-front of you.
“Another group, they came, and they just destroyed everything…murdered everyone. There's nothing left.”
“Where?” The man to your left quizzes, your eyes meeting his. His intense glare has been replaced by something that resembles sympathy and concern.
“Near Burnsall, about a mile down the river, on the golf course near it.”
The two become silent, you watch as they both turn to each other. Eyes saying more than words, a mute conversation unravelling between them. You become on edge, your mind starting to work overtime, thoughts tripping over thoughts, wondering if they were about to end your life, change it, or make you wish that they chosen the first one. And once you see the Scot shake his head at whatever the other was getting at, you become even more alert.
Suddenly, you jerk as he lunges towards you, his gloved hand wrapping harshly around your bicep and hauling you to your feet.
“Well, looks like it’s your lucky day…ya comin' with us.”
#captain john price#simon ghost riley#price x reader#ghost x reader#price x female reader#ghost x female reader#apocalypse au#price x reader x ghost
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Puppy Eyes
animagus!Mattheo Riddle x gn!reader; fluff
summary: your boyfriend suckered you into becoming an animagus with him, and knowing him it was probably to cause mischief. but surrounded by the night breeze and the stars in his eyes, you know you’d follow him on any adventure.
a/n: 2 published in 2 days? maybe i am magic. i’m kinda obsessed with the idea of animagi and i cannot for the life of me find one where mattheo is one too. so i wrote one. i’m definitely down to write a part 2 or one for theo, just let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in ♡
You were ready to get this damn leaf out of your mouth. A mandrake leaf specifically, which you were planning to use in your pursuit of becoming an animagus. It had been sitting in your mouth for almost an entire month and it wasn’t getting any better. You looked up at your boyfriend, who was in the same predicament, with a scowl.
It had been his idea to start the process of becoming animagi and with those big brown eyes, who were you to say no? So here you were at breakfast trying not to swallow it and heaven forbid having to start over.
“I can’t believe you guys are really going through with it,” Pansy looks between the two of you.
“Riddle just wants to commit crimes and get away with it,” Draco smirks, “impressive he roped (y/n) into it with him though.”
Mattheo rolls his eyes before focusing his attention back on you. The smile he gives you makes your irritability fade away.
♡ ♡ ♡
Before you knew it the month was up and all there was left to do was wait for a lightening storm. Which just so happened to be tonight. Mattheo had kept the phials of potion in the shrieking shack after you had finished putting them together. That’s where you were heading now.
He was sitting cross legged on the floor when you made it inside. His eyes lit up once he saw you, a small smile finding its way onto his lips. “I was a little worried you were going to back out.”
“I thought about it,” you tease and you settle down next to him. “You sure about this?”
“Completely.” He gives a squeeze to your hand before placing the crystal phial in your grasp, the liquid inside now a blood red.
You get out your wand and say the incantation one last time and pause to watch Mattheo take the potion like he was taking a shot of fire whiskey.
With a deep inhale, you follow Mattheo’s lead and tip the potion into your mouth.
The sensation is… odd. Like your bones were all shifting at once. There’s a searing pain everywhere and that double heartbeat you had experienced while performing the incantation over the past week. Moments pass before you open your eyes.
Your perspective of the room has changed drastically, everything towering above you. Right in front of you stands a striking dark wolf, at least double your height. And those chocolate brown eyes are unmistakable.
You aren’t surprised that Mattheo turned out to be a canine. You also aren’t surprised how ethereal he looks. If anything, you were surprised he wasn’t a golden retriever, with his eager to please personality (at least for you) and puppy dog eyes.
You notice his tail wagging wildly behind him which leads you to look behind you and see a fluffy, mocha-colored tail doing similar. While you were mesmerized by your new appendage, Mattheo padded his way over to you and dropped into a laying position to not intimidate you.
Pulling your attention to your boyfriend you see he still has the scar on the bridge of his nose, only now it rests in the middle of his snout. Instinctively, you push your head into his fluffy neck, letting out a sigh when he rests his chin on you. He still smells the same as he normally does, cigarettes and his cologne filling your lungs.
You find yourself migrating between his paws, curling into the soft fur of his chest.
You lay together for a while, the storm still raging on outside the shack. As it sounds like it’s letting up, Mattheo rises on all fours and nods for you to follow him.
The grass is damp beneath your paws and the night sky is now clear above you. It takes a few moments to get used to moving on four legs instead of two, but Mattheo looks to be a natural. Your heart warms watching him run through the grass, apparently having the time of his life.
Finally feeling confident on your legs, you take off in his direction. Seeing you sprinting towards him has his tail moving a million kilos an hour. With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, he turns and leads you toward the forest. In any other circumstance you’d be a little nervous running off into the forbidden forest, but something about your new form takes the anxiety off your chest.
The forest at night was something otherworldly. Moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating Mattheo’s fur. You pushed your legs faster to catch up to his longer stride. Finally getting side by side, you take a look at him and the look on his face simultaneously fills your heart with glee and sorrow.
He looks free. More free than you had seen him in your half a decade of knowing him. You desperately want to see him like this all the time.
You don’t immediately realize you’ve stopped running, lost in the happiness radiating off him. Blinking a couple times, you look around at your surroundings. You’re standing at the edge of a small lake, the moonlight sitting peacefully on the surface. To your left is, to your surprise, a unicorn resting in what appears to be its den of sorts.
Wonder in your eyes, you look up to find Mattheo already looking down at you. As you gaze into those brown eyes you adore, you can see the entire universe looking back at you.
♡ ♡ ♡
The next morning finds you in Mattheo’s bed, his limbs tangled in yours. He’s still sleeping and you can’t help but think how gentle he looks like this. You press a kiss to his nose. As his grip tightens around you, you hear him mumble in his sleep laced voice, “I love you, my little fox.”
#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#slytherin boys#harry potter#x reader#mattheo riddle x male reader#mattheo x you#animagi#if u know where i can find more pls let me know i’m desperate#gender neutral reader
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fantasising about werewolf! bakugo, who—unbeknownst to you—has spent majority of your friendship secretly grooming you into accepting your fated role as his bondmate.
fem! reader, 18+, werewolf! bakugo, human! reader, friends to lovers, bondmates, hidden feelings, pining, mutual pining, possessiveness, making out, masturbation, dry humping, dubcon
1.8k
reblogs are appreciated ~
it starts with a touch.
it’s a gentle brush of his fingers to your elbow, one day, grip tightening around the bend of your joint as he steadies your balance. clumsily, you’d somehow managed to trip over your own feet, stumbling into the open threshold of his apartment, your forehead dangerously close to colliding with the warmth of his chest. admittedly, you are a tad dismayed when he’s able to save you the shame of face-planting the very comfortable-looking space between his pecs, the broad muscles hidden beneath the stretch of fabric that you recognise to be his favourite band t-shirt. you choose to pointedly ignore the bout of disappointment that settles at the back of your throat when he straightens you upright, grunting something indecipherable under the heat of his breath as he kicks the door shut behind you. you follow him into the comfort of his apartment, but whilst you’re free to ogle at the shape of his back as he leads you into the living room, you’re blind to the way that he forcibly hides the smug curl of the corners of his mouth with a twitch of his lips.
over time, his touches become more frequent.
again, you’re oblivious to the way that there’s a deliberate brush of his fingers whenever he’s passing you the remote, eyes already gluing themselves to the television, missing the brief flash of irritation that gleams the colour of his own crimson. there’s a press of his shoulder when the two of you are invited over to a movie night at kirishima’s, a group of five crammed onto a second-hand settee that was made for two. he’s purposeful in the way that the warmth of him is almost fire-like when his skin touches yours, but again, he’s humbled, for you bare no visible signs of reacting, too busy giggling along to something stupidly un-funny that shitty hair has spouted. the redhead can’t fathom as to why bakugo spends majority of the evening glaring scornfully at the side of his face when he should be focusing on the movie instead.
but, eventually, there comes a time when you start to lean into the palm of his hand when he’s grabbing at your bicep to tug you inside whenever you appear at his doorstep, and it leaves him feeling smug when you coo about how warm he is. he’s surprised, yet satisfied when you even go as far as to slug your feet onto his lap when the two of you collapse onto the settee after sharing a meal one evening, expelling a happy hum from the back of your throat when the pad of his thumb kneads at your heel.
after this, tactfully, he switches to scent.
it isn’t obvious, he doesn’t think, the way that he greedily inhales when you greet him at the door when he stops by after a late-night patrol. except, maybe it is, because he swears that it’s taking you a tad longer than usual to lock the door shut behind him. your scent sits on the tip of his tongue as he stands in the middle of your living room, watching as you disappear into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. momentarily alone, that wild part of him is frantic, forcing his nostrils to flare, a low groan bubbling in the pit of his stomach as his ribs expand to accommodate the stretch of his lungs as he eagerly breathes you in. it’s overwhelming, the sweetness of your scent that clings to all four corners of the room, and bakugo can do nothing as it entices a longing that coils deep in his stomach when you return from the kitchen—two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand—his eyes snapping towards the column of your throat.
there, bakugo just knows that you smell the sweetest, the gleam of his stare narrowing in on the very space where he, primeval beast that he is, aches to embed his canines into. his gums itch, threatening to do just that, and he forces himself to swallow down the urge around a scalding mouthful of hot chocolate.
it’s just after this when he starts to realise that although your scent is very much you, it is his own that he often catches latching into the strands of your hair, or seeping into the threads of your clothes. you don’t notice, of course, the way it drives him feral when you steal a well-worn hoodie of his, the fabric draping over your shoulders as it’s too large for your frame. he insists that you keep the hoodie for yourself, mumbling an excuse about how he no longer wears it (he’s lying—the fabric is saturated in his scent), a gluttonous instinct of his now placated when you agree easily—happily, he thinks— slipping the fabric over your head. you’re enshrouded by a bubble that tastes of his musk, and the fire that singes the blood in his veins is one that he can’t get rid of, even when he desperately fucks his cock into the palm of his fist later that night.
eventually, torment has him resorting to sound.
the beat of your pulse is one that bakugo has long memorised, ingrained into the very makings of his own dna. it’s usually a throb that dulls in the background, his instincts latching onto the sound even if he’s busy acting as if he can’t hear each steady inhale that is drawn between the very lips that he struggles to refrain from gawking at each day. it’s a task, one that takes months to perfect, especially when he has to learn that not every spike of your pulse is a cause for alarm.
but, somehow, the gentle thud, thud, thud that he becomes accustomed to has morphed. he’s not entirely sure when it happens, but almost a year has passed since the two of you became friends, and one day, he notices. you’ve invaded the private space of his home once again, only, this time, you’re lazily sprawled across his bed, tittering away to yourself when you make a joke about how his hero name should’ve been ‘boomshakala’. he’s swearing at you, shoving the flat of his foot against your hip, and although there’s no malice in his actions—his grin is far too wide for someone who does a very good job at being angry all of the time—there’s a tiny noise choked out from the back of your throat.
t-thump-thump-th-thump.
there, he thinks, is the spike of your pulse, again. it’s fluttering, uneven as you peer at him, mouth frozen on the shape of an exclaim that isn’t voiced. you’re staring at him, wide eyed—mortified—because did you just moan?
he’s still, watching you, the glower of crimson tainted by a molten heat that bleeds into his irises, and you find that you can’t look away. he looks hungry—starved—and you dare to think that maybe there’s a small chance that he—
he’s on to you.
literally.
you aren’t able to finish that final thought, because now he’s shoving, pressing you to the mattress, looming over you as he pins you still with the weight of his hips, grinning a smile that is all teeth and little else. you’re gawking up at him, a little wide eyed, dazed as your lips part, wetted by a flick of your tongue. unabashed, bakugo has decided that he cares very little for being inconspicuous, and now, he blatantly stares at the way you lick your lips, his own tongue wiggling from out of his mouth to mirror your actions.
and holy fuck, does he have fangs?!
you suppose that you ought to be terrified—because you’re definitely confused—and yet, suddenly, bakugo’s senses are overwhelmed by the existence of your very present arousal. the musky scent is dulled by your hesitation, your fingers, soft and pliant, wedged between the crooks of his own. but where your legs are hooked around the width of his waist, he can feel the way that your clit has begun to throb wantonly as you murmur his name so breathily that he’d’ve failed to hear the syllables—broken on the shape of another moan—if not for the fact that his sense of hearing far surpasses that of a human being. there’s a perspiration that has built on the nape of his neck, and he’s sure that you can feel the way that his cock has engorged, flooded with blood that surges south when you allow him to curl a possessive hand around the width of your pretty little neck.
‘you’re mine,’ he snaps, leaning close enough to catch the stutter of your breath on the curve of his cheek, leaning to tongue over the seam of your lips before you can reply.
bakugo was right. you do taste sweet. sweeter than he’d imagined, too. you’re gasping, the fragile skin of your throat jumping as your pulse quickens, and to his surprise, you’re keeping up with the repeated press of his lips, returning his affections with as much fervour as he’s giving. your fingers are twisting into the shock of blonde that rests atop his skull, and a stroke of his groin to yours has you choking, pulling on the strands with a sharp tug. in turn, bakugo snarls, lips tearing from the shape of yours, teeth dragging along the length of your neck. again, he was right, because here, your scent is as sweet as your taste.
‘tell me you’re mine,’ he demands, desperate as he ruts against you. he groans, the pitch low before it catches on a keen that has your toes curling within the confides of your socks. dizzied by how quickly he’s rendered you into nothing but putty, you’re unable to voice your surprise when the tips of his fangs catch on the dip of your collarbone.
things are moving quickly—too quickly, you should think—and yet you’re just as desperate as he, seeking friction as your hips roll to meet his.
‘say it,’ he’s all but begging, breath hot on your skin as it tickles its way down the shell of your ear. pinned beneath him, you shiver, and he huffs, seemingly upset by your silence. ‘say it—say you’re mine.’
his teeth actually nip at the jut of your jaw, and you cry out, mildly incredulous and incredibly turned on.
‘y-yours,’ you relent, gasping, moaning sweetly into the meat of his shoulder. ‘all yours.’ sated by your promise, he listens to the rapid thump of your pulse, the sound almost deafening at it strums at your clit, increasing in tempo when the hard lines of his cock nudges once, twice, thrice, accompanied by the scratch of his canines at the crook of which your neck meets your shoulder.
there, he decides, is where you’ll wear his mark.
pride has his blood stirring, his nostrils flaring as he devours the scent of you—whom he can now finally claim as his own. his lips curl around the shape of a smirk, and he sneers one word against the beat of your jugular.
mine.
you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to.
© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.
#♡ jordy is writing ♡#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha smut#mha smut#werewolf! bakugo#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugo smut#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou smut#bakugo fluff
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poly!marauders x drunk!reader at a party and reader needy but they don’t want to help reader because they don’t want to do anything when reader basically unconscious of what’s happening because reader is drunk. So they try to explain to reader that they will gladly take care of them after they get better and go to bed. Thank you!
<3
⋆ ˚⁀➷ ₊˚⊹⋆ Our darling poly!marauders.
pairing. poly!marauders x fem!reader.
warnings. mentions of alcohol, alussions to sex, pet names.
a/n. SRRYYYY this is a little blurb, i've been busy doing yet another sport. also didnt mean to leave sirius out in the end oops. not proofread.
masterlist.
Your boyfriends leaving you alone for a moment seemed like a good idea. maybe a new way for you to socalize, or to spend more time with girls from your house- until it was the opposite.
Sirius came back to finding you on the couch, completely out of it with not a single thought in your eyes. It was nearly the same for him, but he was slightly more conscious of everything around him, surprisingly.
"Where have you two been?" James was ecstatic to see you, as always.
He'd been more than pleased when you showed up to the party they'd planned after they won the quidditch cup, even wearing James' uniform.
"Sorry prongs, jus' wondered off for a while", sirius grinned, wrapping an arm around you before placing sloppy kisses across your face.
"Alright yea that's jus' great pads, c'mon let's just take her up", james gently lifts you off the couch, draping your hands across his shoulders as he cradles you.
You giggle at this feeling, loving the feel of Jame's rough biceps after all those years of qudditch, and the way Sirius' hair sits as he follows along, gently cupping your face rambling out undescribable words.
James signals for Remus, noticing he's busy by the chocolate fountain, discovering anything that was possible to dip in there.
"Moooonnyyy", you call out, a giggling mess.
His ears perk instantly as his eyes widen, the sight of you drunk was funny to James and Sirius, but to him he always seemed more concerned.
"You smell like firewhiskey, what'd we say about firewhiskey?" he pouts, slowly rubbing your head.
You're in James' arms, still being cradled as the other two boys follow along, Sirius being a stumbling mess and Remus being prepared to catch him if he tumbled down the stairs. The door opens, the smell of a warm fire going and soft cologne fills your head, James carefully places you on his bed.
"I'll have one night of passion with her first, if you don't mind," Sirius announces, stumbling over to the bed.
"C'mere Siri", you call, desperately needing his touch, unaware of James and Remus hurriedly stopping him.
"Not tonight Pads, tommorrow we'll take care of her", Remus smirks, "Tonight you're both sloppy drunks, later".
Sirius can't help but get defensive in a dramatic manor, now arguing with Remus as James approaches you with an old t shirt of his.
"Oh, Jamie" you smile widely, still slightly dazy about everything going on in the room. "You're here to finally kiss me? Want you so bad Jami-" you cut off by James shoving his t-shirt over your head.
"No dove, not tonight tomorrow when you feel better, promise", he places a soft kiss against your forehead, now going to the other side of the bed and spooning you.
Remus approaches, now laying your head on his chest as he settles comfortably.
"Rem, t-tell him 's not fair" you groan, nuzzling into his neck.
Remus shakes his head, whispering "tomorrow, tomorrow," as he gently kisses your cheek.
Sirius stumbles towards the bed, nearly yelling goodnight to everyone as he tumbles down on the couch, falling asleep in almost a weirdest, yet comfortable enough for him position.
#harry potter#young marauders#marauders fic#harry potter marauders#marauders smut#james potter smut#james potter x reader#sirius black smut#sirius black fic#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin smut#sirius black x reader#poly!marauders#poly marauders#marauders x reader#poly!marauders smut#poly marauders smut
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Travel Day II
Wonze x Child!Reader
England Lionesses x Wonze!Reader
Summary: A normal day with you is fairly stressful
You run around a lot with Ella and Lessi as soon as Mummy lets you go but you get bored of them quite easily. You wander over to Beth, whom you haven't seen in a while.
Usually, there's another little girl with her and your brow furrows when you don't find your friend.
"Erm...Beth...where's-where's..." You can't really remember her name but you know that she's got a nickname like you. "Where's liefje?"
Beth laughs slightly. "Sorry, peanut. She's gone with Viv to the Netherlands camp this time."
You huff. "Why?"
"Well, Viv wanted to show her what it's like in the Netherlands."
"But why?"
"Well, Viv's her mother too. Sometimes they like to do stuff like that together."
"Does it make you sad? My Mum might be sad if I spent all my time with Mummy."
"No." Beth shakes her head. "She's only had Viv for a little while. You've had your Mum and Mummy all your life."
You kind of get it so you nod. "Can I play with liefje next time then?"
"Next time," Beth agrees and you hurry off.
Your next targets are huddled in the corner and you barrel over, climbing up onto Hempo's lap before she realises what you're doing.
Chloe laughs at Hempo's shocked face as you wiggle your way onto her lap. Hempo's doing Lego again but it's just the beginning of it right now so you're not too sure what it is just yet.
"Hi, peanut," Chloe says in greeting," I haven't seen you in a while."
"I'm in Spain," You reply, reaching out for the little instruction booklet that you can't read but can inspect the pictures," With Mum and Mummy there."
"Yeah," Chloe says, glancing around before sliding her plate of snacks closer to you," Are you enjoying it there?"
"It's hot," You reply, biting down on a chocolate biscuit," And makes Mum sweaty so I don't like her hugging me."
Chloe laughs just as Hempo moves to help you click a piece into place and fish out a new one.
"Mummy can hug me though," You continue," She's friends with Aitana. Aitana's nice. Mum's friends with Mapi'. Mummy says it's because they're both children."
Both Chloe and Hempo laugh now and you beam at them, not really getting the joke but not wanting to be left out.
Mummy approaches you a few moments later, taking your hand gently and guiding you to the toilet before practice.
"I don' need the potty," You try to tell her.
"Well, let's just try," Mummy says," Just have a try for me."
You don't like the way she seems to know your body better than you do because you do end up going to the toilet and, when you leave your stall, she's still in her own.
You don't really like the toilets (they always smell a little strange) so you scamper outside to wait for Mummy there.
You know that after the toilet break, Mummy will take you upstairs to get changed and then maybe try to send you to sleep so you'll be out cold when she and Mum bring you to practice.
You don't want to do either and take your brief respite from being supervised to bolt.
You know your way around St George's Park like you know your way around Camp Nou and you pick through the hallways with ease. Sometimes, you and Beth's liefje run around together through these same corridors so you take a sharp left through a heavy fire door and creep into a meeting room, poking your head around the doorframe.
Sarina's there. She's Mum and Mummy's boss sometimes, like how Jonatan is their boss in Spain too.
She's looking through paperwork at her desk, looking incredibly bored so it's no wonder that she spots you easily.
"Hello." She gets up from her seat, ushering you inside and glancing around. "Where is Keira and Lucy?"
"Mummy's in the toilet. Dunno where Mum is. What are you doing?"
Sarina lets out a little huff of amusement and guides you further inside. "Just some paperwork," She says," Do you want a snack?"
She pulls open a drawer and lets you peer inside. You take a packet of chocolate, sitting down at Sarina's feet to start eating.
You sit at Mum's feet sometimes and crawl under tables at Barcelona when it gets a bit too loud so this is somewhat second nature.
You don't know how long you sit there but soon Sarina's getting you to your feet and holding your hand so you don't run off again.
There's a certain energy in the air as you head out onto the pitch. Some of the girls are milling around anxiously, calling out things as they look around the barriers.
"What has gotten into them?" Sarina mutters under her breath.
"I think they're looking for the little one," The silly social media man says as he films your and Sarina's arrival," Keira lost her."
"Did not lose!" You say, stamping your foot," Mummy was in the toilet!"
"Regardless," Mum's familiar voice says behind you," You had us all worried, peanut."
She takes you from Sarina, holding you securely on her hip as she hurriedly sprints towards the rest of the girls. As soon as she gets close, she lifts you up like you're Simba (something that she always does at home when you're watching Lion King).
"I've got her! I've got her!"
Mummy come rushing over, checking you over for injuries.
"God," Auntie Georgia says as she jogs closer," You had us all worried there, peanut. You've got to stop wandering off."
You roll your eyes. "Just having fun."
"You can have fun with Mum and Mummy, peanut," Mum says sternly," No wandering when we're here."
"What about with Auntie Georgia?"
"Yes, with Auntie Georgia," Mummy replies.
"And Lessi and Tooney?" You continue.
"Yes with them too."
You give her a suspicious look. "And Hempo? And Alex?"
"Yes, them as well."
"Then not just have fun with Mum and Mummy," You say and Mummy sighs deeply.
Mum stifles her laugh, ruffling your hair. "Alright, peanut," She says," Now's not the time to make a point. You're lucky no one took you."
You give her a patronising look. "You say to bite people if they try to take me somewhere I don't want to go."
"Lucy! Is that why she bit Paños last week?!"
#woso x reader#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze#keira walsh x reader#keira walsh#woso community#engwnt x reader#engwnt#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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✰ ALL MY LOVE ✰
—✰
Summary: after the amortentia lesson, you avoid Sebastian, afraid of what you smelt in your potion.
Warnings: Cursing, nothing it’s so cute and fluffy
Authors Note: I love Sebastian so much. Be ready for Seb content guys!
—✰
SINCE DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ART CLASS, almost three classes ago now, Sebastian had been following you around like a lost puppy. To every class you had together, he’d watch as you squeezed yourself into a seat next to someone, so he wouldn’t be able to sit beside you. After DADA class, usually you and Sebastian would be inseparable, seeing as you shared the rest of your schedule, but not today. Or yesterday, or all of this week now that Sebastian thought of it. Every since last Wednesday actually, it seemed you just didn’t speak to him the same as you usually did. So now that you were taking your usual midday stroll into the room of requirements to feed your beasts, Sebastian had decided to catch you off guard.
You weren’t even entirely sure how he had managed to sneak into the room of requirements, seeing as it was an exclusive room Professor Weasley had sectioned it off just for your spell practice and vivariums. And now Sebastian had you cornered in the room, causing you to grow angrily.
“Sebastian please…” you whispered, pushing him away to no avail. He was set in place like a statue, unmoveable.
“Then why have you been ignoring me!” He shouted angrily, making you sigh, shaking your head as you looked to the ground.
“I haven’t been ignoring you!” You replied shortly, finally meeting Sebastian’s eyes to see the hint of fear on his expression.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is there a new word for not speaking to someone and avoiding them for weeks!?” He replied sarcastically, making you roll your eyes.
“You know you’re starting to get really annoying.” You said, pushing him back as you begin walking out the room.
“I’m getting annoying?” He took a step back, shaking his head with shock. “I’m getting annoying?! Why the bloody hell have you been avoiding me y/n!?” He shouted, making you clench your fists as you whip you’re hair around to look at him.
“You wanna know why I’m avoiding you Sebastian, fine.” You shook you head, holding your hands out before letting them fall angrily at your sides. “I smelt you in my amortentia potion. Yeah. I smelt, honey dukes chocolate, peaches, and wet pavement.” You explained, sighing as you continued, now avoiding Sebastians eyes. “And you know what else I smelt? I smelt, old books, and the dust from old rocks, and slight smoke, the kind that wafts off clothes.” You explained.
Now that one took you a second to realize it was Sebastian. Until you realized, the dust was the undercroft, and the books and fire was Sebastian. He was always finding new books in the library, books that usually smelt of old parchment. And the fire, from confringo, the spell Sebastian had taught you last year. The one spell that you see him use on every mission you’ve ever gone on together.
“And I smelt teakwood, and Bergamot.” You said, now meeting his eyes, you heart breaking at the thought that now your friendship was fractured. “Smells I know you smell like, because i only know what those are because Anne had explained to me when she forced you to start wearing cologne.” You said, pointing a finger hard on Sebastian’s chest. It was quiet for a moment, as the two of you looked at each other. Sharing empty soft glances of worry, until you finally had enough
“Well, say something!” You shouted, making Sebastian stutter in response.
“I-I um.”
“You forced me to say it, didn’t you? Isn’t it what you wanted me to say?” You yelled, shaking your head with an eye roll. You met his expression again to see him smirking evilly, making you scoff. “Why are you smirking? Stop that.” You said, pointing at him.
“Stop what?” He asked, his smirk growing wider.
“Stop smirking.”
“So you smelt me huh?”
“You’re such a dog Sebastian.” You said with an eye roll, pushing him.
“Last I checked I was a man. A rather handsome one at that.” He teased, looking down his body as you rolled your eyes again.
“Oh please, I’ve fought prettier trolls.” You teased, as Sebastian stepped closer to you.
“They must have been very good looking trolls then.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“Look, Sebastian, I don’t want this to be awkward between us now. You’re my best friend, there’s no reason why things should be weird…” you explained, pinching your forehead with worry.
“Do you know what I smelt in my amortentia?” He whispered, making you shake your head.
“I don’t know, gasoline probably.”
His nose scrunched up with disgust.
“Ew, gasoline?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I don’t know Sebastian, every man in that class smelt gasoline.”
“Well I didn’t. I smelt quill ink, and butter beer. And the smell of old dusty rocks.” He explained, making you sigh as you stared at the ground.
“Cause of the undercroft I’m sure.”
“And you know what else?” He asked, interrupting you before you could continue.
“You don’t have to do this Sebastian..” you whispered. You felt Sebastian lift your chin gently, causing you to look up at him.
“Fire. I smelt fire. The kind of fire that you smell the second you light a candle opera.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” You asked, your heart beating faster every moment his hand held your chin.
“You really don’t understand?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he smiled softly.
“You smelt fire, what’s there to understand?”
“Do you not remember, when I had taught you spells in the undercroft? Freshly lit candle operas, and old rocks.” He explained, smiling happily as he remembered.
“That doesn’t mean anything..” you said, but Sebastian shook his head, holding your hands.
“Right, it doesn’t. Until I realized that I also smelt vanilla, and lilacs. And a hint of strawberry mango.”
He smiled wider, chuckling to himself.
“Now, I know that smell couldn’t be anyone else. Because I also know that you are the only girl in all of Hogwarts who buys strawberry mango chapstick.”
“How do you…”
“I know that, because everytime I’m looking at your lips thinking about kissing you, you put that exact chapstick on.”
The room felt heavy, you smiled at him in response. Your cheeks were now a dark red hue, and you couldn’t help but let out a small huff of air as you felt your chest start closing in.
“And the smell drives me mad, y/n.” He said, getting closer. He grabbed your cheeks.
“Sebastian…” you mumbled, holding his wrists with your hands as he looked at you adoringly.
“I’ve loved you, since you walked into defense against the dark arts two years ago, and wiped the floor with my arse in front of everyone. The only reason I even realized you had been avoiding me, is because I spent every second of every day anticipating your presence. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this strongly about anyone before, at all. Never in a million years would I have dreamt that you would smell even a hint of me in your potion.” He explained, causing you to smile as your heart melted.
“Who said I smelt you?” You asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow at him as he laughed.
“Only the most beautiful girl in the world.”
You blushed even deeper, before he pulled you into a kiss, his hands holding both your cheeks to pull you in.
“Hand them over Gaunt.” You heard Anne mumble from behind you both, as Ominis grunted.
“Blasted.” He said, though it came out muffled since you could barely hear them from where they stood. You also had been too enamored in Sebastian’s kiss.
“You may know your friends, but I know my brother. He wouldn’t let love get away from him.”
“He let it get away for two years.” Ominous teased, the sound of clanging money being heard as Sebastian pulled away.
“Would you two please be quiet? I’m trying to make out here.” He teased, pulling you back in with a smirk.
“We have to deal with that now?” Ominis said, scoffing loudly as Anne chuckled.
“It’s better than the two of them mindlessly pining for each other.”
“Is it?” Ominis asked, causing you to pull away, leaning your forehead against Sebastian’s as you both erupted into giggles. All your love, he owned all your love, and your life. You owed this boy your whole years at Hogwarts. You couldn’t be happier that finally you could call him yours.
#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow imagine#sebastian sallow smut#sebastian sallow fluff#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow
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Play with fire- LN4 X Fem reader
Pairing: Lando x Y/n Fewtrell
Warnings: None, pretty much just fluff.
Notes: Quick blurb that just came to mind. As always, feedback is really appreciated and receiving requests,
"Ugh, you actually have to be here?" Max was 24 but when he talked to you it was as if you were 8 and 12 again.
"You didn't have to put your streaming shit on the tv room"
"You're not even watching the tv"
"You make me miss my siblings." Lando said as he leaned against the door with his hand full of chocolate chip cookies.
"Why did you have to move to Monaco, mate?" Max rolled his eyes and walked to his streaming set. He had moved back to the family home, claiming it was easier since he didn't have to clean, wash, or make his own meals, but you all knew it was because he didn't like to be alone, and when Lando decided to move, it took him a couple of weeks to realize the bachelor's life wasn't for him.
Max was busy getting everything ready for the stream, unaware of how Lando was making eyes with you as he walked towards his friend.
They started their stream, and you kept your attention on your phone.
"Hey, chat, you missed me?" Lando proudly smiled as tons of messages welcomed him back.
BobCat: I've missed you so much, Lan.
"Miss you too, BobCat"
BobCat: Those cookies look yummy.
"They're, want some?" a cheeky smile on his face.
BobCat: Sure, bring some 😏.
"Lando, you need to stop flirting with chat. How about we do some video reactions? Chat start sending videos so we can react to them, remember, keep it pg13!"
A couple minutes later, Lando stood up.
"Pause it"
"Where are you going?"
"I'm out of cookies." Lando said showing his empty hands innocently, and rushed to the kitchen.
When Lando came back, Max was too invested in laughing at a video where a poor puppy was rolling down some stairs, he didn't notice his friend approaching the gray sofa, his olive eyes focused on your figure warmly covered with a matching gray throw blanket.
"As promised" he lowly said as he stretched his arm to offer you cookies.
"Thanks" You took one, your hand softly brushing against his.
"Any time" he winked at you, and then walked to take his place next to your brother who started searching for another funny video to watch.
BobCat: Cookies are good.
A cheeky smile on Lando's face.
"Playing with fire, chat" Was all Lando said. Max was too used to chat making weird comments when Lando was around, so he just ignored it and clicked on a video from the list.
They continued with their stream, it had been almost two hours now.
"Lando, are you staying tonight" Your dad's voice made you all turn towards the door.
"Oh, no, I'm going home, thanks"
You felt a little pain in your chest at his answer.
You stayed for 20 more minutes and then decided it was time to go to bed.
"Keep it low, fart face" you said loud enough for it to be heard on stream, making everyone burst out laughing, including Lando.
"See you, Lan" You winked his way and walked to your room.
You were almost asleep when your window suddenly opened, a big black figure entered through it and a second later it fell on your floor.
"What the fuck?" You ran to the bedroom door when his voice stopped you.
"It's me, y/n, it's me" his voice was a low whisper but you recognized it immediately.
"Lando, what the fuck? You almost gave me a heart attack!" you rushed towards him to help him up.
"Sorry, climbing through windows, is definitely not my thing" he said rubbing his knee.
"Amongst other things"
"Hey!" The offended look on his face melted your heart.
"I'm kidding" You wrapped your arms around his waist as he wrapped his around your shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your hair.
"Ugh, I've waited all night for this." He inhaled deeply, the sweet smell of your shampoo was like a drug to him.
"I thought you were going home" you whispered against his chest.
"If I had said I was staying, I wouldn't be able to be here with you in my arms, instead I would've stayed next door... and your brother is not as soft as you, and he snores a lot."
"Lan, stop!" You slapped his chest softly "I'm already having a hard time believing you two are not secretly dating, and that you're just using me as a beard"
His breathy laugh made your head bounce over his chest.
"As much as I like your brother." he said kissing your forehead "You" then moved to kiss your temple "Are" a kiss to the corner of your eye " The" a kiss on your nose "Only" a kiss on your cheek "One" a kiss on your jaw "I" a kiss on your neck "Love" he finished his sentence against your lips, his words and his soft lips melting you in his arms.
The kiss quickly changed from soft and sweet to intense and needy.
He placed his hands strongly on your waist and you got the message, you jumped circling his waist with your legs.
Never stopping the tongue fight inside your mouths, Lando walked towards your bed, when he felt the mattress hit his knees he placed you softly over it.
You watched him get rid of his sweatshirt and his shirt as you did the same with your pajamas.
"Fucking gorgeous" his voice a bit too loud, as he admired your half-naked body.
"Shhh, they'll catch us!"
"Oh you're the one to talk, BobCat" he finished the sentence with a deep kiss.
"Please, Max it's completely oblivious, and I do like playing with fire"
"You know that we have to tell him, right?"
"Lan, my brother is the last thing I want to talk about when I'm about to have sex with my boyfriend"
"Right, my mistake" He said, climbing over your bed and settling between your legs, his favorite place in the world.
#f1 fiction#f1 imagine#lando norris imagine#max fewtrell imagine#lando norris x reader#f1 x reader#lando x y/n#f1 x y/n#lando norris fluff
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hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...
maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?
ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)
fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.
Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.
She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.
Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.
“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”
You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.
Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.
“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.
You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.
Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”
He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.
“Do you wanna come with?”
He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap.
“Is that okay?” you ask in response.
Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”
You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm.
Your stomach is in knots about it either way.
You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.
Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”
“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.
“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”
“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”
“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”
“But then you would’ve been cold!”
The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases.
Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.
Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”
You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”
“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”
You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.
“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”
The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.
One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.
“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.
Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.
“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.
The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”
“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.
Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held.
“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases.
You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.”
“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”
Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now.
“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”
You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”
“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”
“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”
“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other.
You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.
“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.
“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.
“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.
Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.
“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.
You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”
“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”
The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”
His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: fictober!
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Merry (early) Christmas! May I request Kaeya, Childe, Ayato, Neuvillette, and Wriothesley finding their s/o, who gets cold easily, wearing their jacket/coat?
Warm me up
# genshin impact !
⌗:, a/n: sorry for being away for a MONTH i was so stressed out from school... T-T and I AGAIN did add a lil bit spice for wrio. I can't stop myself.
⌗:, pairings: kaeya, childe, ayato, neuvillette & wriothesley w/ gn!reader
⌗:, extra: happy late Christmas I couldn't finish it because I was worn out </3
˗ˏˋ ꒰ KAEYA ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Its a little secret that none knows about. The coat he wears and what you wear on cold wintry days are his as well. It's quite noticeable but according to him, "Nobody's gonna know!". He goes crazy whenever he sees you wear his big coat. It makes you look so cozy...and soft...like a warm fireplace in winter morning which always have a welcoming feel to them.
The trip to Dragonspine was, as usual, extremely cold. The fire that Kaeya made from the dry firewood wasn't enough to keep you warm. "You want me to make the fire more big? I can find some more dry wood for you" He asked voice laced with concern. You knew that no matter how big the fire or enormous layers of cloth, you won't be able to keep yourself warm...unless Kaeya offers you his comfortably warm chest...and hands too.
As if able to understand your gaze since your shivering form really gave it away, he walked up and sat behind you. He wrapped his arm around your body gently and said, "Lay on me. It'll help you keep warm" you relaxed your body and brought your knees closer to yourself and making yourself feel at home. You heaved a sigh of relief as if you've finally been able to stop the piercing cold wind from affecting you any further. "Thank you Kaeya" he smiled at you, "As long as you're comfortable". He sealed the conversation with a kiss upon your forehead.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ CHILDE ꒱ ˎˊ˗
He has been born and brought up in Snezhnaya. A nation with only snowy landscape all around. Naturally he was quite well adjusted himself to the cold atmosphere of any place that you visit. While he should be having big long coats in such a dry and chilly climate, he refuses to wear it because, "You can't get this cold anywhere else! it's a test of courage!".
You had a cup of hot chocolate on your hand as you flipped through the pages of the book. The big bear blanket and the brightly lit fireplace did make you warm but not enough. You shivered "Brr...its really cold if only he was at home..." during the coldest of days you ache for his comforting presence and his big warm arms enveloping your body as you two cuddle in the plush couch often times drifting off to sleep unknowingly. You missed him so much that you quickly sprinted towards his closet and grabbed the biggest jacket of his. You scurried inside the multiple blankets and drew his big fluffy jacket around you. His familiar scent filled your senses. He smelled like the ocean, no matter how faint the scent was, it was refreshing.
....the door of the room opened, and the wooden floor dreaked beneath his boot-like-shoes. "Babe?" he quietly asked, hoping to receive an answer, but as soon as he was about to go find you, he saw you laying comfortably on your stomach with his big jacket enveloping you as you softly snored. He felt himself falling for you adorable antics all over again. He slowly picked you up in his arms and carried you to bed. He murmered, "Sweet dreams, sweetheart..." with a kiss.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ AYATO ꒱ ˎˊ˗
The ocean breeze can get quite chilly right? With the layers of clothes you had on you, the coat was barely enough to even keep the piercing cold win from making you whole body numb. Sure, you acted impulsively and decided to sit down near the railing. You started off into the vast ocean. Ayato wasn't here most of the time and your time of respite to soothe your heart from missing him. "He's taking care of matters....he will come back soon..." you mumbled and hugged your knees close.
You felt an already warm blanket being draped around your figure from the back. Looking at the delicate fabric and the seam's design you turned your head back a little too quickly. There he was...the one who you waited so long for...He chuckled softly seeing your bewildered face. "You'll catch a cold if you sit here in the cold like this with barely enough layers dearest" He kept his hand on your shoulder blades gently. "Ayato...I thought you'll come..." "Let's say I did a few little things here and there which allowed me to spend some more time."
You smiled at him sweetly and got down from thr railing. You intertwined your hands with his and with a peck on his cheek, " I missed you so much..."
˗ˏˋ ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱ ˎˊ˗
"Not done yeeetttt?...." you slumped on the couch as you waited even longer for him.
With a chuckle, he said, "It's almost done... just a little bit longer, dear." Then soon he went to work and correct the piles of paperwork. He has been avoiding them for quite a while now, and it had to be done one day. He may be the cold and formal Iudex of Fontaine, but even he loses the grip on his stoic personality whenever he's with you.
The evenings are quite cold in Fontaine, and he saw how you tried to warm up your arms. You didn't want to disturb him since his pending work's deadline was tomorrow in the afternoon.
While you were busy staring into space, he wrapped his coat around you. "Hm? Suddenly?"
"I saw how you were trying to warm yourself up and I apologise. I can't be the one to warm you up but I hope my coat suffices?" He said chuckling, a hint of blush on his fair cheeks. You grinned from ear to ear, "It's quite enough Neuvi, thanks for caring about me so much" you cupped his cheeks gently with your hands.
"I love you" you said as you touched his forehead with yours. A sign of the utmost affection for one who is the Hydro Dragon Sovereign.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱ ˎˊ˗
"Sigh... I know it's cold, but that's no reason for you to stay under the covers... it's 9 pm, now how long do you plan to do it?"
Concern lacing his voice as he saw how you tried your best to warm up your feet with whatever you could find. "It's too cold and I can't keep bothering you for so long, you've got work to do" you tried to sound as if you were alright but in reality, fighting the cold was really taking out all your strength from you.
"Wait—" you felt the covers being lifted from your head. He swiftly carried you on his arms and ploped you on the plush couch. Upon inspecting your surroundings, you saw how he had prepared everything from A to Z... there was a warm tea, leg warmers and special fur on the couch, which was especially sold during winter and the fireplace. "Wriothesley? You prepared all this for me?" You spoke bewildered.
"Yes. All the things that will keep my beloved warm and happy while I'm unfortunately working, " he spoke gently, holding your hands. "Wow...looks like I won the lottery when I received a boyfriend," you said while ruffling his soft hair.
"It's good thank you... but" you smirked maybe something other than this can keep me more warm?" "What are you imply?— Oh...I see" he chuckled on realising your intention.
He slithered his hands on your thighs and seductively said, "I don't mind that warm treat on such a cold day"
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin imagines#kaeya headcanons#kaeya alberich#genshin kaeya#genshin impact kaeya#kaeya x reader#kaeya fluff#childe fluff#childe imagines#genshin childe#childe x reader#genshin impact childe#ayato fluff#ayato imagines#ayato x reader#ayato x y/n#childe x y/n#kaeya x y/n#neuvillette fluff#neuvillette x reader#neuvilette genshin#neuvillette x y/n#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley fluff#genshin wriothesley#wriothesley
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