#The each Morn poem goes:
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I am filled with rage.
#sabi's words#I'd write this in farsi but then no one would understand#and anyways it's in the tags so. idek why I'm writing this I just need to get it out.#so genshin3.0 launched right. And it's called the morn a thousand roses brings right. and it's from a poem right. A poem by Persian poet#omar khayyam. Which non-Persian speakers might know through the Edward Fitzgerald translations.#BUT. this Mr. Fitzgerald. He better be glad he's dead. Because his entire academic resume is an insult to Persian poetry. He has literally#Mistranslated poems because he liked to and he's mentioned later on that it's his translation and he's do whatever he wanted with it#Anyways#The each Morn poem goes:#Each Morn a thousand Roses brings#you say. Yes#but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday. And this first Summer month that brings the Rose#Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.#Now.#That is NOTHING. like the fucking original Persian poem#The original poem which is khayyam rubbayiat quatrain IX goes:#The only thing Fitzgerald translated properly is the first two words. Each Morn. That's it. That's ALL he translated properly. ALL.the rest#Idek what to say to express how angry I am#The rest of the poem Says NOTHIGN about a Jamshid or a Kaikobad. Khayyam speaks of them in OTHER quatrains. NOT here.#هنگام صبوح ای صنم فرخ پیبرساز ترانهای و پیشآور میکافکند بخاک صد هزاران جم و کیاین آمدن تیرمه و رفتن دی#MOST IMPORTANTLY. IT DOES NOT SPEAK OF ROSES. NOT AT ALL. DOESN'T EVEN MENTION FLOWERS. THE OBJECTS OF THE POEM ARE MUSIC AND WINE.#AND IT MENTIONS A WINTER MONTH BESIDE A SUMMER MONTH. WHICH THE TRANSLATION ENTIRELY SKIPS.#Basically. The Persian poem speaks of how we should make use of the time we have and enjoy it. What does the translation say?#It speaks of how time takes things away.#Close enough ig? But NOT CLOSE ENOUGH.#This isn't the only instance a white elitist classist translator has fucked our langauge over and it won't be the last and I'm tired of it#I'm just so fucking mad. Even Google translator results are closer to the original concept than this entitled guy's.
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Between the Titles
Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)
warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot)
smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink
Length: ~9.5k
Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this
Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.
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The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.
As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.
Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.
It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.
You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.
Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.
Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.
Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.
But this morning you have notes to write.
Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.
The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.
A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.
Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—
I’m in Love with Mothman…
Well there it is.
You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.
Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.
When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.
His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.
A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.
Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.
Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”
“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”
His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.
“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”
“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”
He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.
“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”
It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.
“What is it?”
Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.
If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.
“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”
“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”
“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”
Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.
As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.
I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.
Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.
You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.
The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.
“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.
With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”
“Get in line.”
Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.
Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.
“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”
“Bummer.”
“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”
“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”
“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”
Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.
“Yoongi,” you sing.
Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”
You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.
“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”
He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.
“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”
He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.
“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”
With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.
If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.
On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.
You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.
Of course he smokes.
The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.
“You know those things will kill you, right?”
“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”
“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”
Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”
The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.
“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”
With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.
The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.
Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.
Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”
“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”
But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.
Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.
“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.
“Are they the right copies this time?”
“Double checked them myself.”
You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.
Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.
Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”
The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”
Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.
Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.
You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.
Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.
Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.
Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.
“What's this?”
“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.
His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”
Of course he has.
Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.
Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.
You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.
It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.
You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.
He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.
The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.
Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.
Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.
“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”
“Oh.”
Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”
“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”
You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.
A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.
Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.
The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.
You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.
Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.
A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.
“Looking for something?”
Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.
“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.
Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”
“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”
Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.
“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.
Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.
“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.
Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.
“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.
“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”
“Oh.”
“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”
The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.
Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.
Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.
The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.
A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.
The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.
“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”
Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.
Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.
To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.
A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.
Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.
Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.
The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.
At least that’s what you tell yourself.
A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.
Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.
“Yoongi,” you say.
“Y/N.”
You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”
“What kiss?” you croak.
Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”
“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.
Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.
“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.
Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”
Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”
Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.
“Yes.”
“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”
“And he can hear you, so shut up.”
“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.
He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.
Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.
“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.
“Taehyung.”
“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.
Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.
“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.
“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”
“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”
“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”
Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.
After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.
“I’m getting coffee.”
“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.
The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.
You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.
Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.
Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.
‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’
A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’
‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.
‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’
At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.
“Snooping for secrets?”
“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”
“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”
“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”
Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”
“Nope.”
You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.
This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.
His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.
“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.
He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.
A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.
Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.
Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.
His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.
“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”
Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.
“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.
Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.
“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.
Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.
Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?
“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.
You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.
“They were out.”
With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.
“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.
You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.
“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.
Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”
“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”
“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.
“Why not?”
“Because…”
Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.
“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”
You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.
When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”
“Why?”
“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”
“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.
Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”
“If you’re leaving, so am I.”
“Why?” your roommate whines.
“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”
“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”
You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”
“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.
You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.
“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.
It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.
“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”
“Go ahead.”
The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.
The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.
Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.
Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.
Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.
You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.
Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.
He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.
You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.
Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.
An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.
But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.
Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.
Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.
There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.
A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.
You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.
“Yoongi?”
A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”
“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”
“This is my job.”
“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”
“Who says it’s stopping me now?”
He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”
You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.
A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.
“Could have fooled me.”
“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.
“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”
“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”
The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.
“How long? How long have you wanted this?”
Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”
You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.
The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.
“That was months ago.”
“I’m a patient guy.”
You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.
Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”
“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.
“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”
“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”
Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.
He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.
You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.
He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.
His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”
“You thought about this?”
“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”
A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”
“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”
Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”
Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.
The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.
“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”
Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.
He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.
Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.
“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”
The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.
He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.
But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”
Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.
Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.
Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.
“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”
You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.
It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.
“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.
“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”
He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.
You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.
“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.
Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.
Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.
There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.
You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.
Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.
He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.
With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”
“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.
A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”
Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.
Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.
You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.
After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.
He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.
You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.
You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.
“One of my books is missing,” you say.
“Oh, right.”
Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.
Maybe He Just Likes You
And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt
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#kvanity#ksmutsociety#yoongi x reader#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#yoongi fanfic#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi angst#min yoongi#yoongi smut#yoongi fic#yoongi fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#🫡 highvern
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I can't stop thinking of Eddie as Cyrano de Bergerac.
He's in the drama club, he's known for his way with words, his ability to bring whole worlds to life with them. Few people know that he also writes poetry, poems about love and loss, society and justice, whatever comes to his mind. Many of them are about a mysterious person with gold-flecked eyes and autumn hair, constellations on his skin, and the sun in his heart.
Eddie guards his notebook full of poems like a dragon guards his hoard of gold. And yet.
And yet Susie Bowers finds it where it fell out of his pocket when that asshole Tommy Hagan pushed him against the lockers. She reads it and realizes how devastatingly beautiful Eddie's words are.
It makes her think… think about her crush on Steve Harrington, the fallen king who is still the most eligible bachelor at Hawkins High. Especially since he refuses to just take girls home to fuck them. No, he wants to date. He wants to fall in love. It's catnip for everyone, but at the same time so frustrating because no girl has managed to catch his eye yet.
Maybe this little notebook is her ticket to a relationship with Steve Harrington.
She approaches Eddie and shows him the notebook, pulling it out of his reach as he attempts to grab it. She offers him a deal: she won't spread copies of all his cute little writings all over the school, exposing his deepest secrets for everyone to see and ridicule. In exchange, Eddie will help her sweet-talk Steve Harrington.
Eddie agrees and writes love letters to the boy he's been in love with ever since he found him drunk and depressed on the side of the road after his girlfriend dumped him. He had taken him home, listened to him ramble on about what he had done wrong, why no one would want to love him, and then put Steve to bed and watched him sleep until morning to make sure he was okay.
He left before Steve woke up, and the next time they saw each other at school, Steve didn't even look at him. It had broken his heart and inspired most of his poems, because nothing inspires like heartbreak.
And now Eddie can tell Steve all the things he thinks and feels about him - just to make it seem like it's written by Susie.
It seems to work, because Steve replies to her letters. His replies are simpler, less lyrical, but just as earnest. His words are sweet, and he's funny and thoughtful.
He's everything Eddie knew he was going to be. And Susie couldn't care less, she just wants to go out with him, have him take her home, have everyone know that she's Steve Harrington's girlfriend.
They go out. After a dozen letters, he gives in and asks her out.
Eddie cries himself to sleep that night.
Someone knocks on his bedroom window. Confused and a bit nervous, because he doesn't have only friends in this town, far from it, he goes to open it.
And finds Steve Harrington standing right outside his window.
"What -"
"Did you mean them?" Steve asks and he can't tell from his tone what he's thinking.
"What?"
"Your letters, did you mean what you wrote or did you just write down what you thought I wanted to hear so I'd go out with Susie?"
His tone doesn't really change, but Eddie can see his eyes shining in the dim light coming from his bedroom. He looks upset, and Eddie wants to fix it, but he doesn't know what answer would do that.
So he chooses the truth. "Yes. I meant every single word I wrote in those letters."
"Then why didn't you send them under your own name?" When did Steve get so close? And why is the window sill digging into his stomach?
At Steve's question, Eddie can't help but laugh bitterly. "Did you look at me, Steve? I'm the town freak! A fuckup. Trailer trash. A small-time drug dealer who failed his senior year. Why would anybody - why would you want to get love letters from me?"
Steve nods, not saying a word as he turns and walks away. And okay, he deserves it, he guesses. Hanging his head in defeat, he shuffles away from the window and face plants on his bed, letting fresh tears fall from his eyes.
Until there's another knock, this time at his front door.
He's out of bed in record time, almost breaking his neck in his haste to get to the door. It can't be - it's impossible that this is -
Steve is standing on his front porch, looking devastatingly handsome in his light-washed Levi's and red sweater. His date outfit.
He walks up to him before Eddie can say anything and cups his cheek.
"I've been looking at you, Eddie. All I've done since the night you brought me home and listened to me and took care of me, I've been looking at you. Looking and waiting. Hoping. Wanting you to give me a sign, any sign, that it wasn't just chivalry that made you do this, but the fact that you cared. About me. But you never did."
"Steve," Eddie whispers, but Steve isn't finished.
"And then I get these letters, and all the words, they sound like you. I couldn't be sure, not until I read the line, 'You deserve someone who wants to love you, all of you, the good and the bad and everything in between. I want to be that person. I want to love you.' You're the only one I've ever said that to. I knew it had to be you."
"But why? Why go out with Susie?"
"Because I had to be absolutely sure that it wasn't Susie. And after ten minutes with her, I was. I drove around until I couldn't… I had to talk to you. To see if you mean it. If you want to love me."
Eddie kisses him.
There's nothing else on his mind but the need to finally kiss the boy he's been in love with for almost a year.
Steve kisses him back, soft, tender, then deeper, dirtier.
When they pull apart, both gasping, Eddie leans in closer because his next words are meant for him and Steve and no one else.
"I want to love you long after my body crumbles to dust and my soul finds yours in the afterlife. I want to love you as the ocean does the moon, forever bound, forever following its call, until the end of time."
#steddie#steddie au#steddie ficlet#eddie x steve#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things ficlet#my writing#don't ask me where this is coming from but it refused to go away until I wrote this down
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Hello gorgeous!
Sooo I had this idea of Klaus and reader being married (she wants a divorce) but currently separated. She starts seeing Damon. Klaus lets her have her way for a bit as nothing has crossed the line, but then he finds out reader slept with Damon and Klaus goes absolutely feral over it and tells his wife that’s enough of this and drags back reader home and slides her wedding ring back on her finger.
Not His, Not Yours.
Klaus and I had slowly but surely grown apart.
We had married for decades for now, just over a century actually and to begin with it was all but a dream.
He had hundreds of thousands of gifts and words to express his love. Paintings and poems to show how pure his feelings were.
He was gentle when I needed and only ever rough when I wanted when him to be.
There wasn’t a question of doubt between us both. I loved him with all of my heart and he loved me with all of his soul. So much so that he actually proposed to me. Elijah and Rebekah couldn’t believe it but were unbelievably supportive. I even turned into a vampire so that I could be with him forever.
And for a nearly eighty years, everything was okay.
Of course the gifts were less frequent but I didn’t care about that so much. Not if I still had him. Even if he forgot to tell me he loved me, I didn’t need him to, deep down I knew that he did.
One thing I didn’t like, was when he would get flirty with other women. Especially because of how he behaved when I, heaven forbid, smiled at a man.
But still, with reassurance from his siblings and Elijah’s promise to talk to Klaus about it, I dropped it and didn’t speak of it. So he flirted, it didn’t mean anything. What’s a kiss when I have his heart?
Surprisingly Klaus never slept with anyone else. I suppose it’s unfair to say surprisingly but to be honest I had feared and expected him to have from time to time.
Especially when he became more distant. When he would disappear or return in the early hours of the morning. I would beg to know where he was and after a series of repeated yelling, he would grab me and show me his memories of the night before. Often he just got drunk and would pass out somewhere random or wonder around for inspiration, sometimes he’d attack a village and slaughter hundreds in mere hours. When finished showing me, he would give me that same look and tell me that I shouldn’t look so surprised. He may love me, but he wouldn’t ever be better for me.
And I would just nod and told him I already knew that.
And I’d wait for the next time that would happen.
We went days between sex, then weeks, gradually months and eventually we just didn’t. We slept beside each other mostly out of habit but we wouldn’t touch.
I never stopped loving him, I don’t think I ever could but I wasn’t sure if I loved him the same way anymore. And I certainly didn’t think he loved me that way. But we weren’t exactly friends either. It were as though we were just strangers at this point, strangers who held each others hearts.
And I had accepted that perhaps that’s all we would be. We lived that way for a couple of years, I’d stay with him like a shadow but that’s all I would be.
Until Mystic Falls.
So much happened in not enough time. Klaus became his true self and for some reason part of me thought perhaps that would rekindle something but he showed no more nor less interest so I just went on.
Until one day, his eyes held a spark. But it wasn’t for me. It was for Caroline Forbes.
She was blonde, young and new to vampirism but still bold and confident in herself. I was like that once, before I grew quiet and obedient to Klaus’s will.
So I took another step back and let him chase her a little. I sort of wanted him to sleep with her so that maybe he would just divorce me and I would know that what we had was really over.
But he didn’t. He gave her a present, drawings and spoke poetry to her without her realising but he didn’t kiss her or even lean in.
He still would come back to bed and lay beside me like usual.
I didn’t want him to think I would hate him if he fell for someone else. I’d rather he be happy with another than miserable with me. I knew he craved more, so did I.
And so with a lot of courage, I asked for a divorce but he refused me. That I didn’t understand.
“Why?” I asked, my brows pulling together as he scowled
“Because you’re my wife” he answered as though that meant anything anymore “I have loved you for a century. I will not just be done with you”
“Loved, Klaus. Loved. It’s in the past.” I argued
“I love you now as much as I did then” he told me, his voice raising
“No Klaus…you don’t” I whispered, my eyes glancing to the floor as I let out a small sigh. This was probably one of the reasons he liked Caroline more. I showed weakness and submission too easily to him. The difference was that I knew he wouldn’t kill me if I fought back but I feared it would be worse.
“We’re not getting a divorce. Ever.” He stated calmly, though I could feel his anger.
“I can’t do this Klaus” I mumbled. “I can’t just be known and your wife and hide in the house all the time”
“Then go out” he grumbled
“You don’t let me” I answered, remembering the last time I went out without telling him and he yelled at me for being inconsiderate and stupid. Apparently it wasn’t safe for me without his protection due to being so intimately associated with him.
“Well…now you can” he replied matter of factly.
“You should ask Caroline out” I whispered “She likes you too, Rebekah heard her talking to Bonnie about you”
“I wouldn’t-“
“But maybe you should” I sighed, hesitantly looking him in the eye once again. “You should at least try…you might like to be with someone…” I paused and swallowed dryly “someone else”
“Are you seeing…someone else?” He asked quietly, his eyes flicking between mine.
“No…not yet” I whispered and he nodded
“But?”
“But I think I should” I murmured before falling back into silence.
We stood there for a while, uncomfortable and guilt ridden before his phone went and he reluctantly left.
He didn’t come to bed that night.
To me that seemed like his way of confirming that we wouldn’t be together anymore, or for a while at least.
When I saw he had made up a bed in one of the guest rooms, it was clear that was the case.
So I started to go out a little.
When I saw Klaus with Caroline at the grill, I realised I needed to leave. Leave town, his life so that I didn’t ruin his chances.
But as fate would have it, when I rushed out of the building, I walked straight into Damon Salvatore. He recognised me in an instant and was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“What’s Klaus’s wife doing out and about?” He snickered and I sighed
“I’m not” I mumbled and he raised a brow
“Not what? Not his wife or not out?”
“I’m going home” I whispered, walking outside but he followed.
“Oh come on, I didn’t mean to scare you off so quick” he chuckled and I rolled my eyes
“Please. You couldn’t scare me” I muttered “have you seen who I’m supposed to be married to?”
“Supposed to be eh? Things not turning out?” He pressed, walking backwards beside me as I made my way back to the mansion.
“My marriage falling apart won’t benefit your precious Elena. It’s been broken for years.” I grumbled, and he rolled his eyes
“Forgive me for being curious” he muttered, his annoyance shining making my heart sink. I didn’t like it when people were rude and now I was the one doing it.
“Sorry” I whispered “I didn’t mean to sound so snappy”
I could feel his eyes on me as we neared the manner and before I could get it the door, his hand reached for mine which however pathetic it may seem, made my smile. Nobody had touched my skin for months.
“You should come out more, I’d like to talk with you some more” he told me and I faltered
“I wouldn’t tell you anything- not about him”
“I didn’t think you would” he answered, before leaving.
After that I went out a little more.
Damon would tease me and make me laugh. He would draw out the little confidence I had left and have me use it. I’d taunt back at him and go so far as to flirt once I’d had a few drinks.
After a while he asked to take me out. I thought he was joking.
“Oh will Elena be joining us? Perhaps Stefan to?” I laughed but he didn’t even smile
“I’m serious” he stated, his hand squeezing mine “just us…anywhere you want”
I stared at him “I um…I don’t know” I whispered, nervous and confused.
“I can wait” he answered as he caressed my arm softly.
When I got home Klaus was already there, his eyes on me in an instant. Without a word he placed his wedding band on the table before him and walked out the room. I felt a lump form in my throat as I shakily slid both my wedding and engagement rings off and put them beside his.
I went upstairs and cried. And I felt stupid for it because I was the one who asked for this.
So after a moment I pulled myself together and grabbed my phone. I took a breath before sending Damon a message
I like the Italian the next town over?
He replied quickly
Friday, 7?
I’ll meet you there
I’ll see you soon
I swallowed thickly and closed my messages before searching for apartments near me to rent.
If Klaus and I were actually ending this then I wanted to do it right. That meant I needed to live without him fully, so I sent in some applications to a couple of places.
Before any of them could come back, my date with Damon came around.
It went surprisingly well. We ate, spoke, joked and laughed. He paid, insistent that I shouldn’t. He then drove me back to the mansion and kissed me goodbye.
I refused to look anywhere near Klaus when I went up the stairs. He never said anything either, we spoke only if we absolutely had to and on the occasion that Damon and I would see Klaus out, we would instead go to his house for a while.
I spent a lot of time with Damon, he made me feel more alive. He brought back the spark in me that I thought I had lost and built my confidence back up. He made me feel more things in a couple months than Klaus had in the past fifteen years.
I knew it was wrong to compare them, but when all I had ever known was Klaus…he was all I had to know how a relationship worked to be able to tell if what I had with Damon was really something.
It progressed quickly, it scared me somewhat. I worried that it was a trap to make me help him with everyone else. However when I heard him defending me to both Elena and Stefan, I double guessed myself.
Slowly I felt myself begin to trust Damon, I felt as though I was learning to love and desire once more.
It was because of that feeling that I didn’t stop him when he began to take my clothes off. Or when he trailed his lips down my skin and pressed his mouth between my legs. I cried out for him when his fingers curled inside me and I clung to him when he finally took me as his own.
I stayed beside him for the rest of the night, pressed to his chest with his arms around me. It was a warmth that I wasn’t used to anymore but that I needed and yearned for. I stayed at his house for days after, wearing his clothes and living in his arms. But unfortunately I knew that I couldn’t just move in there so soon, so I had to go back to the mansion.
————————————————————————
(3rd person)
Klaus found out that Y/n had slept with Damon the day after it happened. Stefan had told him so when in the heat of an argument.
To begin with he thought the Salvatore was just trying to piss him off but when Stefan’s face dropped and his heart sped up, Klaus realised it was true.
Immediately he went home and smashed every item in her room. Shredded her clothes and tore up every flower Damon had gifted her and the little photos she had printed of them. It was after he broke apart her bed and found the box of forgotten memories did he calm down. He found all the poems and pieces of artwork he had ever given her, love letters and other tokens of their love kept safe and close to her. It broke him.
Klaus never meant for their marriage to deteriorate so badly. He loved Y/n, truly. But throughout the years he got distracted. Whenever his family got to town, his focus was off her and whenever a threat showed up he made a point of being distanced from her to ensure they wouldn’t attack her. After the first few times he’d done that, she got upset and wouldn’t want to kiss him, not when he would go weeks of ignoring her and then expecting her affection.
So he began to drink some more, to forget her touch and her voice for just a moment. But it made everything worse. She began to worry he was cheating on her and to be honest he couldn’t blame her for thinking that but in the moment when she would accuse him, he would be outraged.
He couldn’t stop himself from yelling, being offended and snapping. But after, when he would hear her cries and see her curled up in their bed, he would push himself further away in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to hurt her as much from a distance.
It only got worse.
And now he was on the floor of a room that was once his aswell, crying for his marriage that would no longer last.
Eventually he dragged himself up from the floor and went back to his own room, or rather the spare room that he had been sleeping in. He dug through his drawers to find their rings that he took after they both removed them and put his wedding band back on, smiling sadly at the fond memories of the first time she had put it on him.
He held her rings in his hand tightly as he heard the front door open and closed quietly before soft footsteps sounded up the stairs.
————————————————————————
(1st person)
I moved as quickly but as quietly as I could up to my room. I was in jeans and one of Damons shirts so I really couldn’t let Klaus see me.
Hurriedly I opened my bedroom door only to come to a standstill. Quite literally everything was on the floor. If I didn’t know what Klaus was like, I’d have thought a hurricane had passed through the room. I stared blankly for a moment before I both heard and sensed his presence from beside me.
“What did you do?” I whisper, staring at all the little things that meant so much to me scattered and broken into pieces.
“I don’t want you seeing him” he told me, his voice firm. My head snapped to his and I felt both anger and sadness swirl inside me.
“You ruined everything I have” I uttered, my voice still barely above a whisper
“You slept with him” he stated his tone cold but his eyes showed hurt and I part of em felt guilt but the other side just wanted to smack him.
“And?” I asked, my volume increasing slightly
“And? And you’re mine. You do not get to sleep around-“
“For crying out loud Klaus! I am not yours!” I yell, pointing my finger at him “And I do not sleep around! I slept with one person”
“I should have stopped you seeing him ages ago, this shouldn’t have happened” he muttered
“You can’t control every aspect of my life Klaus. We are not together anymore. We agreed on this” i whispered, my tone tired.
“We have not agreed on anything! I never wanted this-“
“Klaus we haven’t agreed on something for a good twenty years! It’s why we’re here” I exasperated
“That does not give you the excuse to fuck someone else” he growled and I glared
“Why? Did you plan on fucking me? Because I highly doubt it Klaus. And even if you wanted to, I wouldn’t have your hands anywhere near me now” I retorted.
I knew immediately that he would speed at me and so moved out of the way, he continued to chase me round the house until eventually he had me against the wall. Both of us were panting heavily, my hands pushing at his chest but he kept me caged.
“Get off me!” I cried, kicking my feet at his legs but he only grunted and held me as still as he could. I shoved at his chest with as much strength as I could but it was obvious that I couldn’t overpower a hybrid. He faltered only slightly at the impact before his hands were grabbing my waist to lift me. Without thinking I brought my hand to his face, smacking him as hard as I could manage.
His head cracked to the side and my eyes went wide. Slowly, he turned back to me. His expression was one of surprise as he stared at me. I felt myself grow meek under his gaze and my bottom lip wobbled.
“I’m sorry” I whispered “I didn’t mean to do that- I didn’t…” I felt his hold on me weaken but I didn’t move this time. My hand tingled from where I’d hit him and so did the guilt that pooled in the pit of my stomach.
His arms slipped around me, hugging me to him and I just didn’t know how to react.
I love Klaus. I do, I always will. But I couldn’t just pretend that every bad thing hadn’t happened and fall back into his arms. I wondered if in Klaus’s mind, if he thought that just sleeping with me and telling me that he found me pretty would be enough to fix this marriage. I knew it wasn’t but I worried for what he thought.
Still, I hugged him back gently. By touch reluctant but there. His warmth enveloped me and I felt my eyes water at the once familiar sensation.
“I missed you so dearly” he mumbled, his face lowering to nuzzle the crook of my neck. He pulled away slowly and grabbed my left hand, I looked to him blankly as he slid both rings back onto my finger. “I’m gonna fix everything” he whispered
“Klaus-“ I sighed
“Just let me try” he murmured
“I-“
“Please” he whispered and I sighed softly. Only the lords know whether I was going to make the right decision or not.
#emotional abuse#may be triggering#hurt/comfort#hurt no comfort#klaus mikaelson#the originals#the vampire diaries#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikealson fanfiction#klaus mikaelson one shot#klaus mikaleson imagine#rebekah mikaelson#the vampire diares imagine#niklaus imagines#elijah mikaelson#tvd klaus#kol mikaelson#niklaus mikaelson#klaus m#klaus mikaelson x y/n#klaus michaelson#tvd universe#hope mikaelson#klaus mikaelson headcanon#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson yandere#klaus mikealson smut#klaus mikaelson x yn#klaus mikealson x reader#soft!klaus mikaelson
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— lewis hamilton as your boyfriend.
he is the type of boyfriend who loves taking you everywhere he goes; if you can (and want to) he will be taking you to all the races. also to his favorite restaurant, his favorite park, favorite cafe, favorite record store, the house of his family and friends. he loves your company and always wants you around.
he remembers almost everything you like and dislike: which additionally makes him amazing at buying gifts, among other things like; surprising you with your favorite coffee or food, making playlists with songs he knows you’ll enjoy, giving your flowers in your favorite color with a little note with a sweet and thoughtful poem or a sweet lyric from your favorite song.
he always remembers your schedule or when you’re free: and calls you at those times because he wants to hear your voice. if not calls, then he likes to leave little voice messages; he loves to talk to you everyday, specially to hear about your day or what you did or gonna do. he also likes to talk about his day or what day he’s going gome (and almost ruining the surprise when talking about the gift he bought you)
he’s a smooth talker: he always knows the right things to say and mean them; he’s very open minded and hope you are too. he likes to grow and learn with (and from) you. he’s very sincere, but he knows how to say things; so if you say or do something he doesn’t like or appreciate, he will talk about it with you in a kind way with the intention of helping you and recognizing your mistake. and he honestly appreciate so much when you do the same to him. like i said, he loves learning from you, so when you talk to him about your boundaries or something he did wrong, he always say “thank you for telling me how you feel”. he really wants to improve as a person, both for himself and for you.
he always seems to know what you’re feeling - he’s good at noticing small changes in your voice, expressions, habits, or mannerisms, so “i’m fine” lies don’t really work on him. but, if you don’t want to talk about it, he will respect you 100% and will make it clear that if you need him for anything or if you want to vent or ask for advice, you can call him at any time because he will always be there for you.
he respects you a lot; your ideas, opinions, tastes and styles. he never judges you or laughs at you for something you like and appreciate, quite the opposite, he encourages you to do the things you like and even tries to take part in your interests.
he thinks a lot about your future together; about what your house would be like when you live together and the things you will do together. about trips he wants to take with you, about holidays and festivals he wants to go to with you, about your family and friends, about children... literally everything; he can’t imagine his future without you, in everything he thinks, you are there by his side and that couldn’t make him more excited.
he is very cuddly and just soothing and comfortable to be around; he’s so sweet and lovely with you that always makes your heart race. he loves to wake you up with hugs and little kisses spreads all over your face; you always open your eyes with a soft smile, he smiles back and says “good morning, love.” he likes to sends you sweet, little texts throughout the day to check on you: always making sure you’re healthy and eating well.
he loves showing you off to people; he introduces you to friends and family with a big smile on his face, his eyes shining as he says “this is y/n, my partner”. he is so proud to be your boyfriend and you can feel how much he loves you.
he’s just so in love with you: he loves looking at you and doesn’t stop when you look back or get shy. he loves taking candid photos of you and loves being your personal photographer when you need. his wallpaper is one of your pics that he loves so much or one of the two of you that represents how much you two love each other. he loves talking about you or mentioning you in conversations with friends and family, like “oh, y/n likes that!” or “do you know y/n? my part er?”
#formula 1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x you#lh44
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In a desperate bid to put Arwen off Aragorn, Elrond talks Thranduil into setting her up with Legolas, hoping to strengthen the alliance between their realms while they’re at it. Thranduil takes Legolas to Rivendell during the summer to spend time with her in the hope that romance might blossom.
At first it all seems to be going to plan. Legolas and Arwen quickly become inseparable, frolicking in the forest together, braiding each other’s hair, whispering and giggling during mealtimes, exchanging flowers, etc. Elrond finds a little poem hidden in the guest chambers about a beautiful being with dark hair and blue eyes. Elladan seems unusually disgruntled, glaring at the two of them from across the room and hovering around Arwen protectively whenever Legolas is around.
When Legolas comes bursting into his chambers one morning, asking for his blessing to wed one of his children, Elrond is over the moon, ‘oh Valar, yes! You have my blessing, you have all my blessings! Of course you can marry Arwen!’
And Legolas just stares at him completely baffled and goes, ‘Arwen? No, no, I’m asking your permission to marry Elrohir! Your daughter and I have been talking about it all summer, she thinks it’s a great idea!’
Bonus:
Thranduil: Didn’t I mention that Legolas has no interest in elleths? Whoops. Probably should have.
Bonus bonus:
Elladan, bursting through the doors: IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!
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„𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆”
: ̗̀➛ 18+ CONTENT!!!
: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, lil bit of sex, nun too heavy. teasing, some whimpering, dom!reader. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.
: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; separuhpuding. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.
: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 3.1K
: ̗̀➛ plot aspects inspired by;; @selfishdoll (good ass writer,, i recommend)
* dark mode recommended
* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.
𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; ngllll i was writing the smut in gym class. i was INTO it. but its nothing heavy…just a lil nasty nasty 🌚 this was my first time writing for choso BUT THIS MAN SO FINE. i hope ya enjoy ittttt
you and choso were roommates. it wasn’t surprising. you both went to the same college, you were good friends. nothing was wrong with that. but you were wondering what went wrong…why the two of you drifted apart.
“morning, choso!” you beamed at the 5’11 male sitting on the couch, his violet irises looking intently at his paper, loosely holding the pencil between his fingers. “Smoke Break-Dance” by JID played quietly on the speaker beside the tv, you noticed. you smiled a bit. choso must’ve been picking up on your music taste…or it was conveniently playing and he didn’t realize.
the male finally glanced up at you, registering your presence and lifted his hand, replacing actual words.
you plopped down beside him, making the side you sat on sink downward underneath him. his violet irises dragged to their left to look at you.
“whatcha doing?” you smile.
choso could never get over your soft voice and playful attitude. it always made him feel like he was doing something wrong. was he too boring? was it the fact that he hardly had any energy to do anything at all and he just laid around majority of the day? he didn’t know himself.
“writing…” he said quietly. “writing a poem…”
a couple months into your junior year of college was when he told you he loved you. he couldn’t explain himself but that’s what he was feeling all that time you stayed with him.
when you came around, he had a weird feeling in his chest when he saw you.
‘this body is betraying me’ he thought. he thought it was odd to be feeling this way about a human. a woman at that.
choso was a bit possessive of you. he enjoyed your company but grimaced at the men that came into your vicinity. the male watched from a distance, swallowing his urge to burst into a fit of rage but it would completely ruin his calm image.
“it’s fine,” yuji shrugged, waving his hand at his big brother, “that’s your girl, of course you’d be upset at another dude talking to her. it’s completely fine. don’t get so aggy.”
choso was happy to have his little brother, yuji there to comfort him when we was too nervous to confront you about the situation. from simple situations like this all the way to why he had an odd feeling between his legs when he kissed you. he didn’t think the rod that hung down in his lower area would be used for more than just using the bathroom….until yuji said so.
your “first time” was pretty interesting. it consisted of choso asking you if you were okay or if he was doing it right, to which you replied “yes” each time followed by a moan. you were wondering if he had done this before but you chose not to get into it.
more time goes by and then that’s when you realized that you were drifting apart.
choso was pursuing a career in art. drawing realistic portraits, using his heaven sent abilities to make drawings that looked like davinci had created them.
you were attempting to be a nurse, so you were off campus a lot, spending time at other hospitals to do “hands on” learning. neither of you had much time to talk to each other, though you sent texts back and forth assuring each other that everything was okay.
choso’s pupils retracted, hearing the sudden news of you wanting to break up with him. it was like he was going into shock.
“don’t you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?” he said, his deep voice breaking. you never heard him sound so broken before. the moment almost made you cry yourself. the male gently took your hands, his sad eyes looking into yours, searching for an answer. but there was nothing.
“Y/N please…” you felt his grip on your hands get a bit tighter. you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with him to refrain from making yourself cry in front of him.
you were gone and that was the end of it. you left your favorite person with his heart hurting, making him feel like he had to throw up. it was like his whole world had went cold, now that you weren’t in it.
two years passed and you haven’t seen choso. you were starting to forget about him. there were some physical features about him that you forgot too…like the way he looked bored all the time or the fact that he always had his hair in two buns and occasionally letting it all the way down.
you went on about your day while choso was probably in his room crying his eyes out, falling into a depression.
you heard a knock at your apartment door. you were confused at first because you weren’t expecting anyone to come over and a select few people knew where you lived. you put on a pair of joggers after walking around in nothing but an oversized hoodie and a pair of ankle socks.
the moment you opened the door, a set of hands clasped onto your waist like a corset and pulled you closer to the owner of those said hands. you were pulled into a really tight hug.
you melted in this person’s arms. their touch, the way they smelled, their warmth…you missed it. your arms wrapped around them, returning that hug. you could feel your scleras burning as tears began to form in your eyes.
memories of choso flooded back into your mind like a tsunami consuming an entire city. salty lines of tears slid down your cheeks and you held the male a bit tighter than he was holding you.
“i’m so sorry, cho.” you cried. “i didn’t mean to hurt you the way i did. i didn’t know what i was doing and—”
you were immediately cut off by a kiss. you had a storm of emotions swirling through your body, your eyes traveled up to the male after he pulled away from you.
a tired smile was flashed at you before you heard him say something just above a whisper, his deep voice startling you a bit.
you forgot about that.
“don’t apologize.”
“but i left you alone for so long. you aren’t upset? you not feeling some type of way about me?” your voice shaking from your recent crying.
“no, i’m not angry.” choso said, his hand sliding down your arm to hold yours. “it’s been two years…and i waited until you were ready.”
“i was told that i should be patient and i shouldn’t try to hold you back.” he added but his words only made you cry even more. he waited for you? he could’ve found so many other women and he waited two years for you?
“why did you wait? you could’ve found someone else to replace me, you know that?”
the violet eyed male just shrugged. “loyalty. if you needed a century, i’ll wait for you.” choso’s loyalty was that of a dog waiting for its owner to return after being gone for hours on end.
having nine other brothers, choso knew what loyalty was and it was something he valued heavily. but most importantly, he valued you. your safety. everything.
“good job, cho!” yuji grinned as he threw his arm around the taller male’s waist. choso’s head swung around, his hair flowing with him and looked at the other, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“i knew you could do it.” he continued.
“why are you even here…?” choso queried, putting on his awkward smile. you just watched with a smile on your face as the pair of brothers chattered until it faded into playful bickering.
later that day, you and choso were at your apartment, in your bedroom relaxing after yuji convinced the two of you to hang out with him for the day. choso was reading a book called “The Art of War”. you enjoyed when he read aloud to you. even though you were getting a bit bored, you didn’t wanna tell him that.
you were getting impatient. needy even. you missed being so close to him and being touched by his hands that looked two times the size of yours. abruptly, the book closes before choso would kiss you passionately as if something had possessed him. his lips were pressing against yours. he didn't say anything, his breath was heavy. everything was blurry to him.
choso held you tight against him, his hands moving to caress your waist. he was no longer thinking straight. he kept kissing you. he was drunk off of the feeling. but he cared about your lips. they were soft and plushy. he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt something as good as this.
soon, his hands moved to your neck. he caressed your throat, tenderly. his head was swimming, filled only by the feelings he had for you. kissing turned into biting, and biting turned into licking, and licking turned into kissing again. his lips were everywhere on your body. all he wanted was you.
there was no talking anymore. only the sound of the two of you breathing. you were breathing fast, filled with excitement. the way choso was looking at you was driving you crazy. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.
he was caressing you from top to bottom, his lips kissing every part of you. it was...perfect. he was yours, you were his. it made sense. what else did you need?
“you're so beautiful..." he whispered. “...so perfect.”
you felt his bare chest against yours. his body was hot. it felt incredible. you were lost in the pleasure, and there was no returning. it was too late to stop. choso wanted you and you wanted him. It was too good to be true. his hands were touching you everywhere, teasing you, making your blood pump faster, making you moan.
he made you moan loudly. his lips and tongue were everywhere. your whole body was shaking. everything felt amazing. every sensation was magnified by a hundred. the smell of his skin, his voice, his moans in your ear...it made you feel like you were going to go insane.
the male was holding both of your wrists. he was looking at you with lust. he didn't care about anything else. you were feeling so good you were unable to think anymore. your heart was pumping like crazy, your legs were shaking.
he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. his hands were everywhere on your body. he wanted you badly. he couldn't control himself. he was all over you. he didn't care if it was a little dirty. his hands were exploring every inch of your body, making you moan and scream loudly.
he took off your clothes while his eyes kept scanning your body. soon, you were both naked. you looked at each other's body with lust and excitement. you knew how right this was. nothing else mattered. all of your senses were focused on this moment.
the room was flooded with the sound of both your moans and your breathing. your body was hot, your mind was fuzzy. you were not yourself anymore. you were a different being, full of sensuality.
choso was looming over you now, looking down at you with burning passion in his eyes. he was holding your wrists tightly and staring at you, his muscles twitching, as if he was imagining what he'd do to you. you could feel his breath on your neck, your collarbone... you could smell him.
his fingers were kneading your skin, his hands were sliding all over your body. he wanted to possess you. he was devouring you, slowly, passionately, thoroughly. his hands were feeling you, exploring you, learning you. he was learning how your body was shaped all over again, to better pleasure you.
he was slowly moving his tongue against your thighs now, kissing his way up your body. your heart was beating faster and faster. you could hardly breathe. he was taking his time, but he wasn't playing games with you. he wanted you to enjoy this.
he was caressing your inner thighs, kissing them, licking them, making your legs shake. you couldn't remain silent anymore. you were overwhelmed by desire. he was in control, controlling you in the most delicate way possible, making you surrender to his will.
you began reaching down to choso’s lower area, gently caressing the length that he had been hiding from her. you bit your lip as you stared in awe and pure excitement.
he had no words. his lips were quivering as he stared at you. he was feeling you, feeling your desire. he wasn't thinking about anything else in this moment. he was in awe, in total disbelief. he was breathing furiously as he looked at your hand, moving slowly down.
he closed his eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation. a moment later, he opened his eyes, staring at you. his expression was intense. his face was flushed. he wasn't saying anything. all he could do was stare at your hand, moving so slowly up and down...
you moved your hand away for a moment, teasing your partner. choso couldn't help but moan loudly, feeling his heart pound so aggressively. he was addicted to your touch.
he looked at your face, still flushed, wanting to see you enjoying this moment as much as he was. your hand was moving up and down again, so slowly and... so seductively. it was too much for him, but you weren't stopping. you wanted to see him beg.
he could feel it. he was so close to the edge. his whole body was shaking, his breath was rapid. he was holding his breath, unable to control himself. It was taking so long, it was too much for him. he wanted you so badly, and you were making him wait. and you were enjoying it all.
he was so desperate, so hot, so ready to explode any second now. he was looking at you with pleading eyes.
"Y/N... i can't... anymore..." you heard choso mumble.
your eyes narrowed. he was yours, and you were in control. you were loving every second of it. you put your hand back on him and looked at him with a mischievous smile.
“wait a little bit more,” you said, still keeping your hand moving up and down. your free hand went to his mouth to stop him from talking. “be a good boy for me.” you added, with a sultry voice.
he was almost begging you to stop at this point. you were torturing him, playing with him. you had absolute power over him, and you loved it. you didn't want to give in just yet. you were playing with him, enjoying every second of it. it was such a thrilling feeling. you wanted him to suffer a little longer.
he was holding himself, trying to remain calm. the sensation was getting to his head. it was too much. he was starting to feel weak, his legs were trembling, and his hand was shaking.
he was shaking. he tried to move, to get away from your hand, but you were stronger. you held him tight. you were making him wait for your final touch, making him beg for it. he was so vulnerable, so at your mercy.
he was losing control, not able to think, not able to say anything. his breath was racing, his body was shaking, his mind was empty. all he could feel was you. your hand touching him, teasing him, driving him crazy.
choso was breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. he couldn't take it anymore. he turned his head away, hiding his trembling body. his body felt overwhelmed, so close to the edge.
“i can't... please,” he mumbled, his voice barely understandable through the moan. his eyes were closed tight, his face buried in the pillow.
you felt like the goddess of lust, controlling choso’s mind and body, as if he was a puppet in your hands. his voice, his breath, his body were all yours to control. you had broken him, and you were loving it. your whole body was shaking, just a lot less than his, but you still felt incredibly empowered.
you put your hand down again, but you didn't move it anymore. you kept it on him, looking at his face. “not yet,” you whispered.
choso was breathing fast, staring at you. his eyes were so full of lust, desire and love. he could barely move, his body was so tense, so close to the edge, shaking as if he was about to explode.
you were in complete control of his body and of his mind. you were enjoying this. watching him like this, looking at you, wanting you... it was delicious.
you could do anything you wanted with this weak and sensitive boy. literally anything. you could make him beg, you could make him shout. you could do whatever you wanted with him.
your hand was still touching his body. you kept looking at his face, drinking his expressions of love, lust and desire. you were loving watching him like this, enjoying your power over him.
you moved your free hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. you could feel his breath on your skin. he was trying so hard to remain still, but you could see he was shaking, his body so tense.
“don't move,” you whispered to him, with a provocative smile on your face. “stay still for me, boy.”
his heart was beating so fast. he was saying your name like it was the only thing he knew. he was looking at you, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. tears welled up in his eyes from pleasure. he physically couldn’t handle it but he wanted more of it. how could he resist you? you made him feel so weak in this situation. he felt dizzy. his entire body feeling numb.
soon enough, ropes of white substance spewed from his manhood and he was completely out of breath. choso laid down on top of you and you moved your hand away from him, putting your arms around him.
he’d kiss your lips gently before tucking his head into your neck and closing his eyes.
“i missed you so much.” he said quietly.
“i missed you too.” you replied before your eyes closed, falling asleep after your high died down.
𝐄𝐍𝐃.
⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚
#choso kamo#𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く#choso x black!reader#jjk choso#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu itadori#jjk x reader#choso x female reader#choso x reader smut#choso smut#anime
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dating you I - elisa de almeida
(a/n : i wrote this on a whim during my study break lol. this is how i think dating her would be like, of course take everything with a pinch of salt.)
whispers in the dark, trailing hands touching skin, giggles and laughter spilling from your lips. you stare at her, and she stares at you, eyes curved into crescent moons, crinkled skin with a crooked grin.
i. she looks at you like you hung the stars while you cook her childhood meal. she stares at your back from the kitchen island with a hand on her cheek as you pace around, taking different things from cupboards. you turn around, about to ask her to taste it to see if it needs more salt before pausing, seeing an intense lovesick expression on her face. in her eyes, you looked gorgeous, stray pieces of hair falling over that you tucked behind your ears, hair up in a messy bun, a light sheen of sweat on your forehead and arms. you only laugh, a massive flush creeping up onto your face. she only stares more whilst you shake your head, turning around so that she can’t see your flustered appearance.
ii. you think shes the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen as she helps you remove your makeup after a long day, eyes narrowed with concentration, lip pulled between her teeth to try not to get your makeup remover in your mouth. you laugh as she rubs your lips harshly with the cotton pad to get rid of your lipstick, a mischievous smile on her face.
iii. she thinks nothing could be more perfect than this, her lying face down with your body straddling her back. your warm hands slide up and down her tense back. you plant kisses along her spine as you make your way further down her body, each lingering touch sends an electric shock coursing through her body.
iv. after bad days, you know she would be waiting at home, despite her tiredness from trainings, with open arms and forehead kisses. her touch is comforting when you complain to her about how much of a bitch your boss is, her words like a soothing cup of tea on a cold winter morning.
v. she only realises how much you mean to her when after a fight, you still make an effort to plant sticky notes on the fridge for her to read before she goes to training.
“let’s make up? i promise good food when i’m back from work, love.”
she reads your hand writing completely smitten, looking at it as if you wrote her a poem. she takes the paper with a small smile on her lips, kissing it lightly before putting it in her wallet with the rest of the sticky notes that she has been collecting all year.
vi. you realise she is the one when hanging out with your friends, one of them asks you what is your vision of love and all you can think of is her laughter with that beautiful smile. you find her in all the small tasks you do, like finding a good song to listen to when doing chores, you get reminded of her telling you that this is her favourite song of all time, and it reminds her of you.
vii. when you’re laying in bed with her, face to face, your hearts beat in sync, and you unknowingly move closer to her. you recently read about when people hug, thats when two hearts are at their closest, literally inches apart. a small part of you thinks of that with a smile on your face and she doesn’t miss it. she wonders what you could be thinking of, but thoughts dissipate when when you tug her to your chest, so that the part of her that you love the most can be the closest to where your heart is. so that she can hear how your heart speeds up only for her.
©️northsoulss 2023, all rights reserved.
#elisa de almeida#elisa de almeida x reader#elisa de almeida psg#elisa de almeida fluff#lgbtqia#woso x reader#woso fluff#woso fanfics#wlw love#wlw#wlw post
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What kinks do you think Dammon would have?
I received this ask JUST after reading a Dammon fic. Get out of my head, Jesus christ.
I adore Dammon, truly. Sadly, he doesn’t strike me as a hardcore guy. He definitely has a fair share of kinks, though.
Worship
He adores your body. Honestly, anything about you. He whispers it to you as he trails his lips down your chest. Along your sternum as you begin to writhe. Each kiss is followed by some sort of compliment. “Your skin is so lush.”, “I love to hear you.”, “I would do this all day, god.” Really anything to get you off. His hands will work your flesh until you begin to whimper. Dammon works with enthusiasm til you’re practically begging. No need, though. Once you’re ready he’ll happy turn to one of his other kinks. On the other hand… He flusters so much if you do it in return. His brain shuts off but the raging tent in his trousers is proof enough. His skin a deep bronze as he draws ragged breaths. He enjoys it both ways. He could never ask for it, though. It’d have to be something you initiate.
Oral Fixation
Between your thighs is his heaven. He’ll spend all of eternity worshipping your sensitive flesh, if you’d permit. God, if you gave him permission to do it whenever he pleased? Practically every morning and night you’d go to sleep and wake to him. Tongue working like a feral animal as he uses skilled technique. Hands flying to his hair as it drapes over his shoulders. He forgone his hair-clip in his laze. Truthfully, all he thought and sought was the wondrous cries and ambrosia that you leaked. If he could write a song or poem- he would. You grow used to climaxing by his tongue alone at least once every time you visit. God forbid you two live together.
Mating Press
Not sure if this is a kink but… it’s the way he can reach so deeply within you. He tells you he doesn’t particularly have a breeding kink (he’s a liar). No, he just settled down in his life and can’t spare the thought of raising a child. He’d love to grow a family when his blacksmithing is solid and there’s no threat of danger. Despite that, he does welcome a little thrill. Your legs thrown over his shoulders as he drills into you. Even if you can’t biologically have kids- he’ll relish in the position. Yes, when you two are ready… he’s going to put you in this every time. Until you two have the kid you wish. Til there’s a bundle of joy to take care of and run around the house. Better get used to the burn in your thighs, baby. It’s going to be so hard to say no when he gives you those puppy-eyes of his.
Prolonged Foreplay
He is torturous. Dammon will sit and whisper his wants into your ear for days. Fleeting moments of you visiting his smithery for new tools and armor. Grabbing your arm as your companions depart to tell you his depraved thoughts. How he misses you so dearly. When you two finally grab a drink at a tavern as everyone chats. His eyes take you in hungrily and he plays so innocently when you pointedly stare at him. Finally alone, his nails tickle your skin as does his lips. Locked in the passion of your make-out and groping. Groaning into your skin as you touch a particularly sensual spot on his body. You can feel him pressing into the inside of your knee. When you suggest taking things further he simply shakes his head. He’s adamant on making sure you’re ready. Even if you whine and say you are. He gets off on the desperation between you two.
Tail Restraint
This goes both ways. If you have a tail of any sort he’ll gladly let you use it on him. Takes a little reassurance but he trusts you so much. How could you ever hurt him? You wrap your tail around his ankles or wrists as your hand wraps around his cock. His jaw lowers in a choked moan as you begin to slowly guide your hand. His erection, leaking and aching, being slowly jerked off as his body twists in your hold. It’s a delicious sight. If you want him to use his tail on you… again he’s very willing with some reassurance. (Also with the solid establishment of a safe-word. He’s so paranoid he’ll push your boundaries.) The leathery texture of the skin coils around your wrists. Laying on your arms as he pins and restrains them underneath your back. He slips to his knees and begins to work his hands on your sex. He’s slow, painfully so, in working the seed of desire in you. Finally, when your sex begins to weep for him does he use his tongue. The feeling is gratifying and leaves you nearly forgetting the lack of movement in your arms and hands.
#my asks#anon ask#my writing#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate iii#baldur’s gate 3#baldur’s gate iii#baldurs gate 3 x reader#baldur’s gate 3 x reader#bg3 x reader#baldur’s gate 3 x reader smut#baldurs gate 3 x reader smut#dammon#bg3 dammon#dammon x reader#dammon x reader smut#baldur’s gate 3 dammon#not sfw#side characters need attention#I love him
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Geralt Headcanons
Painrings : Geralt of rivia x daughter/ Geralt x platonic! Reader
Warnings : none
A/N : hello peeps, i tried my best to make them broader and not just limit them to father daughter stuff, we can turn one of them into a little ficcie if desired. Alsoo Comments are much much appreciated. Enjoyyy 🥀
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You and Geralt had found each other on destiny's commands. It wasn't easy, suddenly being under somebody's wing, having to trust them and listen to them.
Whenever danger was felt, Geralt would place a hand on your shoulder, his own little protective move, prepared for whatever's about to come.
When you're out in a market or somewhere he deems to be dangerous, he makes sure to always be somewhere behind you. No matter how far you get away, he's always somewhere close watching over you.
After a few of your nightly freakouts, Geralt offered up a little spot beside him every night. He doesn't order you to come over. He doesn't ask if you want to come over. He just settles down on whatever bed he's sleeping on and puffs up a little pillow he keeps beside him. If it's a whole seperate room. Then the same line is growled :"I'll keep my door open in case i am needed."
A boy smiles at you and the witcher is there to smile back. Not in a possessive way. Not in a she is untouchable kind of way. Just a simple smile, to assert his threatening presence. A smile that says if she is hurt, you're fucked.
Mornings are your least favorite time of the day. Geralt is always at the foot of your bed, gently swinging your foot left and right, in an attempt to wake you up. It surely annoys you but it's not until he grabs your wrist and pulls it upwards that you start getting annoyed. And then comes the full pull, when he grabs you from under the armpits and drags you out. You groan in unpleasentness but let go anyways.
Late nights are for sure your favorites, though. Just a grumpy old guy running after you and pleading for you to go to sleep. You dodge his reaching arm, giggling at his frowning features. He growls your name and sighs, giving up. And you just stand awkwardly, triumph radiating out of you.
What you reeeally dislike, though, is those little fights you and Geralt have about your future and your training. Him not wanting you to get in harm's way. You doing everything possible to get in harm's way. He yells at you. You never ended up crying or anything like that. You just bottled it up and sat in your little corner, getting slowly eaten up by the deafening silence that reigns the space. But then one of you breaks it. And everything slowly goes back to normal.
All in all, life with the witcher is not easy. But how could you deny the warmth that coated your broken heart, the warmth that filled it with love. The warmth that filled it with the father, brother, protector that you never had.
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End of poem. I could never use such methodology for my own school work, goddammit. Anyway, i hope yall like this ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀
#sister x brothers#sister!reader#daughter!reader#sibling fic#father figure fic#daughter x father#protective brother#adoptive father troop#geralt of rivia#geralt x reader#witcher fanfiction#geralt x daughter!reader#witcher x reader#platonic!reader#henry cavil x daughter#henry cavil x reader#henry cavill fic
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kazuuuuuuuu for anythin pls
inazuma men dating head canons
sen: okay so first request im nervous af shitttt but anon thanks for the request! i'm gonna do inazuma men dating head canons because head canons are literally the easiest to do but i enjoy doing them! (since it's "for anythin" i'm gonna do gn!reader) surprisingly little inazuman men btw (wanderer is in sumeru but kuni and scara sob not including them)
warnings: names called, ooc?, i can't do poetry (kazuha esp)
gn!reader
kazuha
♡he's a soft bb
♡when he first confessed, he read a poem instead of normally confessing and this is normal for kazuha to speak in riddles
♡you had to think for a minute until you figured it out
♡ofc you accepted his confession
♡you guys went on small dates at first, like at uyuu-tei and such
♡soon, you started going to each other's houses instead
♡like home dates and you would drink tea and cuddle on the couch together <3
♡sometimes he would stay for the night
♡like one time he came over and a thunderstorm happened
♡so he was like "the rain doesn't stop me from returning home."
|♡"but, i wouldn't want you to catch a cold! ah, i know! you can stay for the night, i bet i have some larger clothing that suits you." you tried stopping him from leaving.
|♡kazuha smiles, "as you wish, my love."
♡so you let him shower first and then you
♡he wore a large shirt of your that your aunt gifted (she mistakenly had your size wrong)
♡you guys cuddle in bed and he gives you a small forehead kiss that makes you go to sleep
♡you just smile and lean closer into his chest
|♡"may the stars of teyvat representing me be with you even when i'm not here, my darling."
thoma
♡loves you lots
♡he goes on dates with you at the komore teahouse, you both were ayato's friends so he allows it
♡you guys love taroumaru to death
♡even if you had an allergy, you would just wear a mask and look at taroumaru lovingly from a distance
♡i feel like thoma's a simple is best kinda guy
♡so the simplest dates ever, like just cafe dates or home dates thats all no further planning needed
♡if you have a garden or something like that, you guys just hang out in the grass and like make flower crowns (if you or thoma know how to make one)
|♡lying in the grass be like "dear me, these flowers are so pretty. but do you know what's prettier?" he asks you, turning his head to look at you.
|♡"...no, what is it, thoma?" you reply while you fiddle with the petals.
|♡"you." he says, as he watches your cheeks turn bright red and put tomatoes to shame.
|♡"...thoma! that's so cheesy!" you would tell him, but your reaction says otherwise.
♡regularly stays at your home, or stays with you at the kamisato residence if ayato and ayaka allows.
♡often big spoon if you're gonna like do cuddling and stuff in bed
|♡"goodnight, darling! have a sweet dream, i'll still be here when you wake up. if waka doesn't wake me up, i guess."
arataki itto
♡would often play that game (i forgot) with you
♡challenges children with you too
♡i'm gonna expect that the two of you are playful so you're gonna be like YESS when the child says okay to yours and itto's antics
♡you guys gonna keep losing and then like get one or two victories and stuff
|♡"YES YES YES WE WON!!!" itto screamed in happiness.
|♡"I KNOW, ITTO, I KNOW!" you screamed back at him, frightening the kids, both of you.
♡their parents gonna ask them to stay away from you but they're like "NO IT'S FUN"
♡they end up getting grounded for a week 💀
♡he stays at your house for at least one night if you have home dates because kuki is coming after him
|♡when you're like "NO SNACKS FOR YOU THEY'RE MINE"
|♡he would shout back "NO FAIR I WANT THEM TOO"
♡and you two end up on the couch sharing the pack of chips with him
♡you fall asleep on him and as the "caring boyfriend" he just sleeps too
♡in the morning you wake up first because itto is such a sleeper
♡you have to make breakfast for him but he wakes up in the middle of you making breakfast and gives you back hugs <33
|♡"morning...did you have a nice sleep?"
gorou
♡feel like he's the type to confess first
♡he gave you apples when he confessed (there are a lot in watatsumi i suppose (and fruits))
♡supports pda and doesn't support pda at the same time
♡maybe holding hands and smol kisses
♡likes inviting you to watatsumi and pick fruits together <3
♡his nickname for you is just the shortened form of your name (if ur name is already short well.... just your name i'm sorry)
|♡"n/n, look! this one's perfect! come on, i'll pick it with you." gorou gestures for you to go over to him.
|♡you go over to the boy. "oh, really? wow...it really is perfect!"
|♡"i know, right? come on, pick it."
♡after some convincing, gorou picks it for you 💀
♡you guys just hang in his house (if he has one) bc you're still in watatsumi and no you dont live there
♡he's skilled with his hands (both in cooking and...the other way)
♡loves being the big spoon when sleeping with you
♡actually wraps his tail around your stomach to keep your warm
♡cooks your breakfast when you wake up
|♡"n/n, it's time to wake up! i have breakfast on the table for you, come on, it's apple pie!"
kamisato ayato
♡i used to say kamistos shit ignore it
♡your confession caught him off guard (you confessed first)
♡he also has feelings for you
♡so ayato asked if you would like to go to komore teahouse when his schedules are a bit more manageable
♡ofc you said yes
♡yall were just chilling and getting to know each other at the teahouse
♡doesn't exactly favor pda you realized
♡as the head of the kamisato clan, assassins are often planted in his house
♡doesn't want you to get hurt bc of him
♡you end up getting hurt? YOU'RE STAYING WITH ME FOR 2 MONTHS
♡showers you with affection when you're alone though
♡quadraple triple double checks if yall are alone
|♡"okay, seems like we're alone now," your boyfriend states, giving in to his uncertainty and letting out a tired sigh before coming to your loving arms on the couch.
|♡"'yato, are you sure you don't need a break? ayaka seems bored lately." you slightly massage his shoulders, feeling his tense muscles relax at your touch.
|♡"maybe some time. most of the events need me to be participating. i'm sorry i can't spend more time with you, love."
♡you hum in silence
♡ayato loves that you're getting along well with ayaka
♡he has her teaching you swordsmanship
♡sometimes thoma joins ("but, waka, i wanna join! i wanna help y/n-san!" -thoma)
♡ok so sleep positions
♡sleeps face up
♡but when you're there (usually after the attacks or smth) he's wrapping his arms around you while sleeping on his side
|♡"good night, darling. let's hope none of the little bugs bother us tonight. have plenty of sweet dreams, good night."
shikanoin heizou
♡his ego went *BOOM* when you confessed to him
♡heizou loves solving mysteries with you <3
♡one time he asked you to attend his case so you can see how cool he is
♡loves sharing food with you (?)
♡goes to onsens with you all the time
♡loves listening to music with you too
|♡"isn't this piece soothing?" he would ask you, putting an arm around your waist.
|♡"of course, 'zou. this is just right for me," you would answer, leaning into him.
♡loves staying at your house for some reason??
♡also stays for like a month once at a time probably half his year is in your house
♡but he doesn't mind
♡your presence is enough to soothe him and his tired mind
♡just sleeps face up
♡you do too
♡he always wakes up earlier than you, case or no case
♡BREAKFAST!!!
|♡"morning, my love. had a good sleep? i hope you did, because breakfast is coming."
(would do this at 7am idk why)
a/n: i learned the art of putting the "keep reading" sign (thumbs up!)
©all banners, dividers, and stories are made by marikosenwrites and the pictures in it are from pinterest. i own none of the GENSHIN IMPACT characters mentioned here.
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#shikanoin heizou#heizou x reader#kamisato ayato#ayato x reader#kaedehara kazuha#kazuha x reader#fluff#headcanons#arataki itto#itto x reader#kuki metioned#gorou#gorou x reader#thoma#thoma x reader#marikosenwrites#og post
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Too Sweet
Regulus Black is not an early bird.
That much is evident from the dark eyebags, the exhaustion that slumps his frame and the cup of coffee always glued to his hand.
He remembers being a child, developing the habit of staying up late. The hours of the night, when everyone else was asleep, their soft snores the only noise in the house was the the only time he truly felt alive. Something more than a moving corpse.
There was no one to nag at him after midnight, no one tiring him with small talk, no one he had to put up a facade for. It was just him. No Sirius, no mother, no father.
He used the time to breathe, as idiotic as it sounds. He just breathed and breathed and tried not to think about everything happening in his life. He wrote in his journal as well, stupid poems he swore would never be seen by anyone but him. He did everything he wished he could do that day but didn't because he had too many eyes on him.
Those days are well behind him now, he doesn't live in constant fear of his parents, no longer in the grips of that awful house. And still, some habits stay with him.
It's later than 10 in the morning when he says a word. James doesn't mind. Sometimes Regulus doesn't say anything the whole day, but James is happy enough to carry the weight of socializing for both of them.
He is blissfully free of the hold of trauma unlike Regulus and his brother. Regulus hopes he always stays that way, far from anything that could ever change him or cause him harm.
Because god forbid something something or someone so much as touched James Potter. Regulus would have to go to war.
In any case, James doesn't mind Regulus sleeping late. He's more of an early bird. A quidditch habit he never quite let go of. In the mornings they often wave silently to each other, James having just woken up and Regulus heading to bed.
"Baby" Regulus muses to himself as he plays with James' hair. He could never fathom how James slept so well. Honestly, an earthquake wouldn't be able to wake the man up.
"Try to sleep early, darling" James always says. "Go to bed before the sun's already rising"
But the sunrise is Regulus' favorite part of the night. He wants to show James the peacefulness of the night once. He wants to give James the experience, lost in a haze, smelling like a bonfire when he wakes up.
But until then, he just kisses James' hair, "You're too sweet for me"
They're different. Very different. Regulus knows. He has known since Hogwarts.
Regulus takes his whiskey neat, enjoying the way it burns. James usually orders a fruity drink with half the alcohol amount and teases Regulus for being a lightweight when they've had the same number of drinks.
Regulus takes his coffee black, no sugar, no milk. It helps him, even if it makes the beating of his heart a little too fast and loud, and makes his fingers shake because of overconsumption.
James takes his coffee with an ungodly amount of sweetener that makes Regulus gag everytime he sees his boyfriend preparing the drink. James always complains more coffee makes him sleepy, which never made much sense to Regulus. Neither did the fact that more sugar usually helped James balance out his frantic energy.
Regulus goes to bed well after three, mostly when the sun is already painting the sky lighter. He enjoys the burn of his eyes, the hurt in his temples from reading too much, he enjoys the hurt, something to remind him of home.
James goes to bed earlier than a child with a strict mother and a bed time. He wakes just as early, before the sky lightens up. He likes the cool wind on his cheeks as he goes for a run, always trying to convince Regulus to join him. He's convinced Regulus will give in one day. (He won't)
James is too sweet for Regulus, too sweet for him to believe he deserves it.
James is as bright as the morning. He burns so bright he consumes every part of Regulus' mind. There's no hope trying to outrun his magnetic field. Regulus would know, he's tried it.
Even on his bad days, he could outshine Apollo.
He's soft as the rain, soothing after a hot day, a constant weather in their country.
And he's pretty. Regulus would be a fool to forget that.
It all makes Regulus feel inferior sometimes. He just wishes he could wait until the day he no longer felt that way. Like James deserves better than him. Like one day James will get up and decide he doesn't love Regulus any more.
They're all ugly thoughts, Regulus knows that. And James has his fair share of ugly habit and thoughts. He's not perfect by any means.
Still, sometimes Regulus thinks James is too sweet for him.
"You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate" Regulus scrawls in his journal one night, watching the steady rise and fall of James' chest.
#marauders#regulus black#marauders era#james potter#hogwarts#sirius black#dead gay wizards#jegulus#the marauders#starchaser#hozier#unheard#too sweet
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the physics of love
➳ lee seokmin x gn! reader
➳ summary: three times someone called you and seokmin a couple and one time he did something about it.
➳ wc is approx 5.5k words
➳ tags: childhood friends to lovers, friends to lovers. lovesick seokmin, seemingly unrequited feelings. idiots to lovers. everyone sees it but them. avatar by james cameron slander. pet names used "platonically", knight in armor seokmin. stuck in his feels seokmin, pining and yearning seokmin, salty n jealous seokmin. "platonic" cuddling and pda. minghao is judging every single person ever.
➳ warnings: reader goes on a date with an asshole, panics and calls seokmin while upset. mentions of mummies. cursing!! reader has hair that can be tucked behind ears. reader calls their mom.
➳ notes: inspired by the poem the physics of love by kim inyook, which i suggest reading (linked) before reading this fic to get an idea of the metaphors and symbolism used throughout. for information on otzi, the naturally made mummy, go here. you don't have to know abt otzi to read this fic, but i still think he's super fucking interesting.
o n e
there was a poem you had read to seokmin once.
he didn’t remember a great deal of it, too distracted from watching the way your lips formed each and every syllable, the way you spoke like a secret melody, the song one his heart had long known. the two of you had been in his room, the line of your bodies pressed together. it was dark, with only the artificial light of his bedroom lamp lighting the room, but still it casted such a benevolent glow upon you that seokmin swore you were ethereal.
he might not have remembered the poem or its words, but he remembered what it was about. someone seemingly small and elegant, of no consequence to the world, and how such a person could pull the narrator towards them with a pull stronger than that of the earth and its gravity.
it was you, he had realized, and him. you were seemingly ordinary, and yet he found you more beautiful than any flower or any sunset, found you more interesting than any foreign language or animal, your voice lovelier than any instrument or song, your mass and gravity heavier than any planet’s, constantly pulling him in, closer and closer and closer.
it was why, seokmin knew, he couldn’t help but press himself next to you even though there was tons of space. the outside table was large enough to fit eight and only five sat at it, but still seokmin pressed his shoulder to yours and wedged himself in between you and hansol, his thigh against yours, your warmth seeping into his skin.
“hi,” you had laughed, eyes bright and sparkling. you leaned into seokmin, putting your weight against his in response. you pressed your forehead to his cheek, a fleeting moment of contact that had his heart racing and mouth drying.
minghao, who was new to the group, peered over his glasses at the two of you. his eyes flickered, watching as you slid your snacks towards seokmin and offered him one, as seokmin gasped happily and snatched the pretzel from your fingers.
minghao cleared his throat, setting his book on the wooden table. “are you two,” he began, his voice soft, hesitant, “you know. dating?”
seokmin’s heart leapt. he tried not to think of how the two of you often looked to outsiders, pressed together, giggling and laughing and smiling and caught in the other’s orbit. he couldn’t. if he did he would start imagining other things, like your lips against his cheek and how sweetly you would feel pressed against him, his hand sinking into your hair and angling your face towards him; how early mornings wouldn’t mean waking alone but waking in your arms, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, your hands soft against his skin.
so no. seokmin couldn’t think about such things.
you pulled away from him at minghao’s words, retracting. seokmin missed you as soon as you moved, wanting to bridge the distance you had put between the two of you. “we’re not,” you explained, pulling another pretzel from the bag. you hooked your fingers through the hoop, spinning it slightly. “we’ve just been friends for forever.”
“you’ll get used to it,” soonyoung explained, patting minghao’s shoulder. the younger man’s face was completely red, heavily embarrassed from not only asking such a personal question but being wrong. “they’re always like this. they’ve been friends since they were like, thirteen.”
“y/n was my knight in shining armor,” seokmin explained, stealing the pretzel bag from you. he dug through it, busying himself in an attempt to shove the heartbreak at your answer deep down. you weren’t lying. you and seokmin weren’t dating and you had been friends forever, and during that forever the two of you had stopped worrying about what others thought of your closeness; during that forever the lines between platonic soulmate and romantic soulmate blurred for seokmin, the two becoming one.
you laughed at his comment, elbowing him. “someone was making fun of him for a bad grade he got on a quiz.”
“so y/n punched him.”
minghao’s embarrassment evaporated, something akin to awe and horror taking over. you and seokmin began cracking up, your laughter blending together and creating the most precious and beautiful melody.
“i did not,” you protested, swatting seokmin’s arm. “i’ve never punched anyone in my life,” you told minghao, rolling your eyes. “all i did was push him a little.”
“and then he fell down a flight of stairs.”
“stop,” your laughter was loud now, gathering the attention of passing strangers. “he did not! we were -- minghao, we were on the playground outside of the middle school.”
“you’re right,” seokmin agreed. “and it was the playground y/n pushed him off of.”
you turned to seokmin ripping the pretzel bag from his hands. “i did not! minghao is going to think i’m some sort of bully.”
“well you did just smack be a couple of seconds ago --”
you huffed, turning your shoulder to seokmin. you were so irritated with him, but he could see the little grin that was curving the corner of your mouth, the way your eyes crinkled slightly in merriment. “okay. so someone was being mean to seokmin and i pushed him back and away, and he stumbled a little bit. but he didn’t fall. didn’t fall down, didn’t fall down stairs, didn’t fall off the playground equipment.
“after that i guess i sort of just took seokmin under my wing. i got decent grades -- better than him, at least. so i began sitting with him and helping him with assignments, and thus our friendship began.”
“it’s like rhinos and those little white birds,” soonyoung explained further. “except seokmin got all the benefits in the friendship and all y/n gained was some annoying fly buzzing in their ear.”
seokmin gasped, eyes wide. he threw his pretzel across the table at soonyoung, the snack instead hitting a studying mingyu. “i’m not a fly!”
“you’re not a fly, don’t worry.”
mingyu quickly interrupted you, throwing the pretzel back across the table and hitting seokmin on the cheek. “y/n’s right. you’re some stray dog that y/n fed once and now won’t stop following them home.”
seokmin grabbed the pretzel bag from you, dug his hand in and grabbed a handful of pretzels. he then threw them across the table, the snack raining down on the boys sitting opposite. “i’m not a stray dog!”
“seokmin!” you admonished him, pulling seokmin back to your side. you looked around before gathering some of the fallen pretzels and sweeping them underneath the bench for birds. “it’s okay, seokmin. no need to get upset. you might be a stray dog but don’t worry, you’re a cute stray dog.”
t w o
“i can’t fucking believe seungcheol rented an entire theater for jeonghan’s birthday,” mingyu muttered, sticking his extra large popcorn underneath the butter dispenser. “it’s so ridiculous.”
you shrugged, shoving your drink underneath the soda dispenser. seokmin grabbed two straws and took them out from the wrapper, waiting for you to press your lid on top of your cup before sticking it inside of your drink. “i mean. you know how seungcheol likes it when people boast about his generosity.”
hansol sucked in a breath, tilting his head. “is it really generosity if you want someone to talk about it?”
“i don’t care if he wants me to talk about it or not,” seokmin argued. he shoved mingyu out of the way with his hip, thrusting your shared popcorn underneath the butter dispenser and soaking it. “if seungcheol wants to buy me a macbook and tells me to run up and down the interstate screaming about it, i will. don’t think i won’t.”
you laughed, grabbing his drink off the counter and holding it in your other hand. you leaned against it next to seokmin, so close that your elbow brushed against his. he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled a little with pride. all this space, and yet you still sought him out and stood close enough to where you were touching.
it was as if -- if he dared to think this -- he had his own mass and gravity that dragged you into his orbit, that had you leaning into him and crossing rooms to join his side. it was as if just like seokmin you, too, were drawn to him.
“give seungcheol a break you guys,” you chuckled, tossing your head back and flipping your hair over your shoulder. you had worn it down, the locks framing your face beautifully. well, in seokmin’s opinion you always were beautiful with no exception -- even that one time where he had to barge into your apartment when you were puking into the bathtub, sickness running its course through your body.
“you act like seungcheol isn’t the one that forks out money the easiest when we need help,” you added. seokmin pulled the popcorn towards himself, wiggling the box and letting the butter travel. “he literally just bought supper for us the other night, mingyu.”
seokmin looked up from the popcorn, meeting mingyu’s eyes. mingyu looked like a puppy getting caught pulling the stuffing from a favorite toy. his dark eyes were round, his face in a wince. “you ate out with mingyu and seungcheol without me?”
you shrugged, stepping away from the counter. seokmin, pulled by you, followed. “it wasn’t anything big, seokie. they just picked me up after work and seungcheol asked if i was hungry.”
seokmin pouted, ignoring how hansol’s face contorted in disgust at your pet name for seokmin, waddling after you as you walked towards the ticket attendant. you stopped once you noticed mingyu and hansol weren’t following, still busying themselves at the counter, rifling through the different popcorn seasonings.
“what degenerates,” seokmin muttered, shaking his head distastefully. his heart leapt when you giggled, bringing your drink to your lips. “can’t take them anywhere.”
“funny,” you said, “that’s what i usually say about you.”
seokmin fake laughed at you, high and pitchy. you let out a little cackle, trying to mimic his fake laughter before you were interrupted by your own little snort.
seokmin bursted into laughter, throwing his head back. you were mortified, eyes wide and darting around the theater space. you looked liked a deer in the headlights, embarrassed at your snort. “do you think anyone heard that?”
“just me, sweetheart,” seokmin returned, unable to help the pure adoration and love that dripped from his voice. he reached out, shifting the popcorn to one hand. he skimmed his fingers over your brow, drawing your bangs aside. he then tugged on them before tucking them behind your ear, letting him see all of your face unobscured. “you’re so cute.”
you gave him a look, cheeks high on your face as you tried to suppress your grin. you rolled your eyes a little, letting seokmin’s fingers linger on your ear for a few moments before you pulled away.
mingyu joined the two of you in long strides, hansol slowly walking behind him, digging through the popcorn and popping a few in his mouth. mingyu stopped once he reached you two, turning around. “hansol! you’re allowed to walk a little faster, you know?”
hansol looked up at mingyu, unperturbed. “we should’ve got seungcheol to rent the theater for the new avatar movie.”
“i could not care less about that movie,” you said, deadpan. you then turned and walked towards the attendant. “we’re part of the party for theater thirteen?”
the attendant blinked. they glanced between you and seokmin. “oh, yeah, no problem. y’all can go ahead and go through. do you need help getting to the theater?”
you shook your head, sidestepping around the attendant. “nope! we’re all good, but thank you.”
the attendant nodded. then they leaned forward across their box, voice low but still loud enough for seokmin to pick up on it. “may i just say that you and your boyfriend are absolutely adorable.”
“oh,” you said, balking. “we’re -- we’re just friends.”
if seokmin heard that phrase one more time, he’d quit. he’d quit his life, quit his job and quit the lease on his shared apartment with jeonghan. he would kiss his parents good-bye and then retreat to the nearest mountain. he would befriend the neighborhood friendly sasquatch, learn his ways before making his own home in a mountain cave. he would live the rest of his life in that cave, never to hear another human voice, never to hear those dreaded words again.
the attendant looked over your head. seokmin fought to control his wince.
you waited for mingyu and hansol to walk ahead of the two of you, mingyu complaining as hansol continued to maintain his slow, lazy pace.
“seokmin,” you began, voice low and hesitant. “do you -- do you ever think --”
“try not to,” he interrupted. his heart was going to leap out of his throat, his brain packed up and left his body and was taking the first taxi out of the city. he was going to drop his fucking drink, his palms were so sweaty.
you blinked. “right. but seokmin, do you wonder about what it --”
seokmin laughed, pointing ahead at mingyu. “haha, kim mingyu nearly fell! come on, y/n, we got to hurry before they get fed up with waiting and start the movie.”
he shouldered ahead, leaving you behind.
a huge part of seokmin felt guilty. he couldn’t help but mentally fill in the rest of what you were going to say. do you wonder about what it would be like to date? do you ever think about what it would be like to be together? do you know why people constantly think we’re dating? do you know why people always say that you look at me like i put the stars in the sky, do you know why you come home from every single date alone, do you know why you can’t help but compare every single person to me? do you know why your heart stutters and leaps and yearns for me, do you know, do you, do you love me?
he didn’t know what to say to any of those questions. seokmin didn’t know how to navigate such a thing. how could he? how could he attempt to navigate the seas of your relationship when he didn’t know its limits, when he didn’t know where the sea stopped with its smooth currents and began ravaging your ship.
he knew he loved you. he loved you platonically and romantically. he loved you like a dear friend, loved you like the love of his life.
but where did you stand with him?
could he even dare to hope that you shared a fraction of his feelings? that you -- that you thought he was the sun amongst the dark clouds, that he was as precious as a rare flower, that he was someone precious and someone to be treasured?
he could barely manage to greet his friends when the four of you entered the theater, could barely manage to let his smile grow. the seats were dual sitters, large and practically meant for couples to cuddle.
seokmin felt horrible when you dropped into a seat, looking at him, expecting him to join you in the loveseat. for a moment he was going to sit beside you, press against your side and wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you close, breathe in the shampoo of your hair.
but then he remembered. do you love me?
and so seokmin sat on the other side of the cup holder, keeping it between your bodies, keeping him from your side and from our warmth.
and it plagued him for the rest of the movie.
t h r e e
jeonghan and joshua were being loud and having fun, and seokmin was not about it.
he had a cloud hanging over him ever since you texted that no, you couldn’t hang out on friday night because you!!! had!!!! a!!!! date!!! you couldn’t go with him to see that new museum exhibit you had been so excited for because you were going!!! with!!! someone!! else!!
you were going to see something you had been looking forward to for forever with someone that wasn’t him, and even worse, you were going with someone who was a possible romantic interest.
it was so out of the blue. you and seokmin rarely went on dates, you even moreso. they were so sparse that seokmin could count the amount of times you went on dates on both hands, with the amount of times you met that same person on a second date being counted on two fingers.
it wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to go out on dates and be your own person. of course you could! you were allowed to hang out with other people without him, were allowed to see movies and go to the market without him. you were allowed to go see that new museum exhibit that you had been waiting all year for with someone else.
but that didn’t mean seokmin had to like it.
it felt so wrong. it felt like it was against the laws of the universe for seokmin to not be with you when you were doing something so precious to you. it was like he was fighting against gravity, constantly trying to force himself from giving up and returning to your orbit.
at first he fought with himself. who cared about that exhibit anyways? who cared about some ice man who had the oldest tattoos in the world? who cared that he was a mummy that was naturally made?
but then seokmin had felt his heart crumple, as if it were a piece of paper that he, himself, was crumpling up into a wad. you cared. you cared about this exhibit.
and that meant the world. it didn’t matter if seokmin didn’t particular care for mummies or ice men, didn’t matter if he found them sort of creepy and even scary. it didn’t matter that he found the 90s movie the mummy creepy and always squeezed your arm whenever certain parts came on. none of that mattered because it, mummies and ice men and extremely old tattoos, mattered to you.
so of course it mattered to seokmin.
and you were sharing it with someone else. you were sharing something so precious, so beloved, with someone that wasn’t him.
it was just a downhill from there, seokmin realized. it was just one exhibit, just one prehistoric iceman. but eventually it would be more than that. it would be more than one iceman, it would be more than one date. it would be one, two, five, a hundred dates and a wedding and he would lose you for the rest of your lives to some worthless, horrible, no good, terrible, lazy, third-rate vermin.
that was his lot in life. seokmin wrapped his hand around the beer glass in front of it, pressing his fingers against the cold drink. he could only be lucky enough to be your dearest friend, lucky enough to occupy your orbit for a moment in time. he would be lucky enough to be your best friend, never your lover.
that would have to be enough, seokmin vowed. he lifted the drink to his lips, settling them on the rim. it would have to be. and it would be.
his phone buzzed on the table. seokmin ignored it, tuning in to jeonghan pestering joshua about some bullshit made-up story behind the origin of beer.
his phone quieted.
then it began buzzing again.
seokmin set the mug on the table, grabbing his phone. as soon as he turned it over and watched your name flash on his screen, he felt his stomach drop and his heart freeze.
you never called. if you were going to call him you always warned him with a text. you hated calls. you hated calls so much. you called suddenly like this only when you needed him, like that horrible day where he had to force your apartment door open, when you were so sick you could barely move.
seokmin picked up the phone before he fully registered what he was doing. “y/n? baby, are you okay?”
you hiccuped into the phone. seokmin’s body tensed, sliding to the edge of the seat, prepared to jump from it and run out of the restaurant. “seokmin,” you sniffled, voice close to the phone receiver. “he -- he brought us to a bar for supper and he just -- he left me here.”
immediately seokmin was standing, grabbing his coat. jeonghan and joshua began badgering him, following suit and standing. he abandoned the table without second thought, going to the register. “it’s okay, baby. just tell me where you are and i’ll be right there, okay? it will all be all right. your seokminie will be there. stay inside and i’ll call you when i get there. or do you want to stay on the line?”
“stay,” you begged, and seokmin knew he would do anything for you. “i don’t know where he brought me. it’s -- seokmin, i’m so stupid.”
tears stung at the corners of his eyes listening to you fight your tears. seokmin shook his head even though you couldn’t see it. “no. listen, sweetheart. you’re not stupid. just stay on the line with me and i’ll be there quicker than -- quicker than superman. all right? it’s my turn to be your knight in shining armor.”
you laughed into the phone, though there was no joy or happiness in it. you laughed like it was the only thing you could do in that moment, like it was the only thing stopping you from sobbing.
“i’m gonna hand you to jeonghan while i pay,” seokmin said, glancing at his older friend. jeonghan had an extremely worried expression on his face, brows furrowed and large eyes wide. “that okay, baby?”
once you gave your affirmation, seokmin was handing off the phone. he pulled out his card, shoving it into the reader before the woman behind the counter could say anything.
she glanced up at him, drumming her fingers on the counter. “i hope you get to your partner quickly. it seems like they really need you.”
“they’re --” he cut himself off. but joshua and jeonghan were right there, probably listening. “they’re my friend. they had a bad date.”
the woman nodded, glancing at the other men. then she leaned over the counter. “you know,” she said, voice quiet, “you’re acting like this someone might just be more precious to you than just a friend.”
seokmin looked down at the card reader. it chimed; he stuffed his card into his wallet.
as soon as his phone was back in his hand, he was bringing it up. “okay. i’m back, sweetheart. did you tell jeonghan the address? did you look it up on maps?”
a n d o n e
there was nothing seokmin liked more than being pressed against you.
the winter weather brought cold rain, the sound of it slamming against pavement loud. you had pushed open your windows just a smidge,k letting the sound of rain fill the bedroom before you squealed, running across the carpet and jumping to join seokmin.
the two of you were so wrapped around one another that, looking down on the blanket, he couldn’t tell where you began and he ended. your legs were tangled with his, arm hooked through his and holding your phone over his shoulder as you peered at it. seokmin had long abandoned his phone, dropping it behind your head.
instead he let his eyes fall shut. he basked in the smell of you, how surrounded him. your lovely fabric softener that reminded him of spring, the vanilla scent that constantly clung to your skin. he had rifled through your candle collection and lit one called sea island cotton, which further seemed to sink into his soul and coax it into a rest.
it wasn’t often the two of you were able to do this anymore, seokmin lamented. he wiggled one of his hands free, reaching up and sinking it into your hair. it was a little greasy, but he slid his fingers through it all the same, thumb stroking the strands as they went to his fingers.
you weren’t kids anymore, seokmin knew. it wasn’t like high school, where the two of you could sleep over at the other’s house for the entire weekend, doing homework together, pressed shoulder to shoulder on the carpet of your living room. it wasn’t like college where you could spend every passing moment with him, save for the rare ones where you attended separate classes.
you were adults, seokmin thought. and that meant being busy, constantly searching for ways to preserve old friendships.
really it was a miracle the two of you had maintained yours. especially when it felt like every passing day with you had his heart growing another size, when seokmin felt part of his soul being torn between wanting what’s best for you and wanting you.
sometimes he wondered what it would be like if those two things were the same. if he was what was best, if you genuinely wanted him like he wanted you. if you imagined walking through the supermarket hand in hand with seokmin, if you thought about the puppy the two of you would adopt. if you thought about the sort of house would suit you best, if you thought about the cruise you two would take after retiring, hand in hand and sipping margaritas.
he wondered what it would be like to be the person you always sought out first to drag to iceman exhibits, to be the person you would always call first when in trouble. seokmin was your number one now, was the person you constantly orbited around, but who was to say it would be like that in a year? six months?
when your phone vibrated it scared seokmin, making him leap in your arms. you laughed, loud in his ears due to your close proximity. you tapped the phone, answering it and putting it on speaker. “hi, mom.”
there was a rustling noise. “hi! i was just calling about the weather. i saw you were going to be having some bad stuff heading your way.”
you hummed. your feet wiggled against his, tapping on his in a rhythm to a melody only you could hear. “yeah, it’s just raining right now. i saw there was a thirty percent chance for a bad storm in my area, so it might miss me altogether.”
“well if it gets bad i want you to go down to the laundry room,” your mom announced, voice firm. you rolled your eyes, bringing a laugh out of seokmin. he tried to muffle it, pressing forward and burying his face into your hair. “is that -- do you have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”
you sighed, shimmying. you turned your face from seokmin’s chest so you could speak clearly into the phone, but not dislodging him completely. “it’s seokmin, mom.”
he hated the way you said that.
“do you have a boyfriend?”
“it’s seokmin.”
as if he couldn’t possibly be your boyfriend, as if the word wasn’t something that could be added to his definition. he could see it as clear as day: lee seokmin, son, friend, boyfriend to y/n.
“how was the date with that guy?” your mom asked. seokmin fought the urge to butt in, to berate the man and call him every single bad name he could think of. “what was his name? you two went to that exhibit, didn’t you? how did you like it?”
you paused. your hand had been playing with the fabric of seokmin’s shirt but at her question you stopped, smoothing your hand down. you tapped your fingers against him once, twice, thrice. “uh. his name wasn’t important. we didn’t even get to go to the exhibit.”
“oh,” your mom sighed. seokmin could practically picture her closing her eyes, pressing her lips together. “oh, y/n. well. you can always go to the exhibit with seokmin, you know.”
“i know,” you said, fingers beginning to pick at seokmin’s shirt again. “i can always count on seokmin to let me drag him to see some dead dude.”
seokmin frowned against your hair. he hated this conversation. he hated the dejected tone of your voice.
he pulled away slightly, nose pressing into your hairline. seokmin kept his voice low so your phone wouldn’t pick up on it. “can you hang up? i need to talk to you real quick.”
you threw him a troubled look, but you did as he asked. once you were off the phone with your mom, which had taken another few minutes, you were pulling away from him with a little frown. “seok? what’s up? did you not want to go to the exhibit with me anymore?”
seokmin sat up, crossing his legs. you scooted towards him, pressing your feet against his calves. seokmin reached out, laying his hands on your knees, palms up. you quickly settled your hands in his, shifting so each of your hands was wrapped around two of his long, elegant fingers.
“i want to go to the exhibit with you,” he said, leaning forward. you were so beautiful. “but i want you to know you wouldn’t be dragging me to it.”
you winced, hands squeezing his. “poor choice of words, i know.”
seokmin shook his head. “no. it’s more than that, y/n. it’s. i want to go to the exhibit with you.”
you tilted your head. seokmin watched, endeared, as your bangs escaped from behind your ears. “but i didn’t think you liked otzi or were even interest in him. i don’t think you even know his name, seokmin.”
“i thought his name was otis,” he admitted. you snorted, lips turning into a smile. “but listen to me. are you listening? i want you to listen, sweetheart.”
your smile wavered, your eyes turning serious. you nodded, licking your lips and squaring your shoulders. “i’m listening, seokmin.”
“i don’t care about otzi,” he reiterated. when you frowned at him, lips parting to protest, he shoveled forward. seokmin couldn't let you interrupt, not when he was standing on the edge of the cliff and preparing for the plunge. “but he matters to me. he matters to me because he matters to you.”
you wiggled your hands in his, releasing your hold on his fingers to instead lace your digits together, weaving them like a tapestry. it was like you were no longer just pulling him into your orbit but weaving your celestial bodies together. “seokmin, i need you to be more clear. what do you mean?”
“i mean,” he sighed, fighting to try and gather his thoughts. how could he put nearly a decade of love into words? “i don’t want you to go see otzi with some other man. i don’t want you to go to the movies with anyone else. i don’t want anyone else picking you up after work and taking you to eat. i don’t want you to cuddle with anyone else on winter nights where it’s raining.”
there was a pause in the air. you looked torn, as if you were at war with yourself. your eyes were serious, your lips pressed thinly. “seokmin. lee seokmin. i need you to be really clear about what you’re about to say. because if you’re saying what i think you’re saying, if you mean what i think you mean --”
you broke off suddenly, tearing your eyes from your face. you squeezed them shut, taking a deep breath.
“if you love me,” as soon as you said those words seokmin was sucking in a large, horrible breath that seemed to fill his lungs and then some, stretching them out. “if you love me like i love you, i need you to be crystal clear. please, seokmin, please.”
“i love you,” he returned, as clear as sunshine and just as beautiful. “i love you. i want to hold and kiss you, i want to be your boyfriend. i don’t want you to ever take anyone else to museums or say that we’re just friends. i want you to have to call and tell your mom that lee seokmin is your boyfriend.”
you wrenched your hands from his and seokmin had a fraction of a second to miss the feel of them before you were throwing yourself forward and into him. your arms went around his shoulders, pulling him fully in your orbit, joining your masses and making you one.
“i love you,” you chanted, the words sweet and like honey to seokmin’s ears. “lee seokmin, my knight in shining armor, my superman, my bestest friend. i love you.”
but no matter how sweetly you spoke, the kiss that followed was even more so.
#svthub#my writing#svt#dk#dokyeom#lee seokmin#dk x reader#dk fic#dk oneshot#dokyeom x reader#dokyeom fic#dokyeom oneshot#lee seokmin x reader#lee seokmin fic#lee seokmin oneshot#svt x reader#svt oneshot#svt fic#seventeen#seventeen oneshot#seventeen x reader#seventeen fic
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what genshin ships i ship because i want to rant about them
disclaimer
if you don't ship these that's totally cool please don't attack me ok
kaebedo - agh like so first of all: the pining. like i bet these bitches were staring at each other in the halls of the favonius building and every time kaeya would drop off klee with albedo they would just stare at each other a little too long and klee would be like "uh guys?"
established relationship i feel like kaeya's love language is gift giving and albedo's love language is acts of service. they leave each other little flowers or notes by their doors/on their desks during their days <3
kaeya's really touchy but respects albedo's space and knows he doesn't like a lot of that. but when albedo initiates the touch kaeya goes fucking bonkers
chili/tartali/zhongchi - ok so childe fell first and MUCH harder than zhongli did. but zhongli did catch feelings after a bit and was like "of course it had to be the rascal from snezhnaya. of course."
established relationship: zhongli gives childe massages a lot because he's always sore from fighting :> and at first childe was self conscious bc he has a lot of scars (i also headcanon childe has moles/freckles all over his body) which he was nervous about zhongli seeing but zhongli just like completely affirmed him that he was beautiful <333
childe's love language is physical touch and zhongli's love language is gift giving :)))
heikazu/kazuhei - so like. hc heizou intentionally pretended to not figure out kazuha's case when he was a fugitive because he was too pretty to be arrested :pleading eyes: and like after the vision hunt decree is over they start to talk and theY PINE SO FUCKING HARD. VERY HIGH LEVELS OF PINING ALERT ALERT
i think kazuha would confess first through a poem and despite heizou being smart he can't get this poem through his dummy thicc skull and didn't even realize he was confessed to until months later lol. yada yada yada they confess they kiss and they date. and despite their relationship being long-distance because kazuha's still a traveler, they always cherish the moments they do have together :> (both of their love languages are quality time)
thomato - these gays. THESE GAY PEOPLE. so like. they both fell hard but i think ayato fell first tbh. but he was like in denial about it cuz yk "oh he's my housekeeper" but he just couldn't stop thinking about thoma and gave in to his feelings heheh
established relationship: thoma calls ayato by his name in private and "my lord" in public, but has slipped up once or twice and the other maids at the estate were like wtf lmao. hc thoma is even more caring and devoted as before and ayato makes sure he takes care of himself and rests properly :) and when thoma gets sick, ayato forces him to stay in bed and just spoils him with love and care eheheheeh
ayato's love language is physical touch and thoma's love language is acts of service. ayato's may come as a surprise but i feel like this man is so unbelievably touch starved that as soon as the two of them are in private ayato immediately goes to hug/cuddle with thoma lol
kavetham/haikaveh - and they were roommates.
so. alhaitham originally hated having kaveh around but eventually got used to and even enjoyed his company (he'd never admit it, of course) but they both have their routines - kaveh makes coffee in the morning for the both of them, and despite alhaitham never allowing anyone else to make coffee for him, he lets kaveh because kaveh knows exactly how he likes it. one morning when kaveh had to leave early, he left alhaitham's coffee on his nightstand for him :> hc they confessed in the middle of an argument, like "IT'S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, OKAY?" and hilarity ensues.
alhaitham's love language is acts of service and kaveh's love language is words of affirmation. haitham will write "i love you" super small on the bottoms of kaveh's sketches just to see if he notices ehheh
cynonari/cynari - these two. cyno definitely fell first and has been pining since like their akademiya days lol. cyno kept visiting tighnari constantly in avidya and it got to the point where tighnari asked him why he visited so much and cyno simply said "because i love you" and that was that
lots of sleepy cuddles together, late night chats, long tcg games ~
cyno's love language is words of affirmation and tighnari's love language is physical touch. tighnari just always wants to hold cyno's hand or let him touch his ears/tail. tighnari will randomly say "i love you" whenever they're doing literally anything together, and it always catches cyno offguard lol
thanks for reading my massive long fucking rant lol
#kaebedo#chili#tartali#zhongchi#heikazu#kazuhei#thomato#ayathoma#kavehtham#kavetham#haikaveh#cynonari#cynari#genshin ships
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To Find a Kiss of Yours
[Read on AO3]
Steve remembers his first Valentine's Day. He was in first grade and spent the day prior decorating a shoebox to act as a makeshift mailbox. The next day the class had a party where all the cards were passed out, but throughout the gathering, girls came up to give him extra candy. One girl even kissed him on the cheek and ran off.
Steve felt butterflies in his stomach for the first time that day and decided Valentine’s wasn’t all that bad.
As the years went on, Steve looked forward to the holiday for reasons beyond extra candy. February 14 was used to fill the void of affection his parents were slowly taking from him.
And once Steve started middle school, and class-wide valentines were no longer mandatory, he realized the holiday was different for him than other boys. He’d get more cards and candy than some of his friends, and in seventh grade, a girl pulled Steve aside to let him know how much she liked him. Steve only knew the girl because they shared a couple of classes, but figured he should be polite and ask her out. After all, that is what all the boys around him would do.
Years later Robin would unpack just how wrong this was to do.
In short, Steve always looked forward to Valentine's Day and even kept a box under his bed where he kept his favorites - the standouts among the mass-printed, store-bought postcards that were delivered to Steve with a personal touch.
When he started Hawkins High a part of him was nervous that one of his steady sources of affection would dry up, but Steve found the exact opposite. The school encouraged the holiday by allowing students to send each other candy-grams and flowers throughout the day. Even among the students, there was a buzz. In the days leading up to V-day, photocopied maps of lockers would be passed around where people could write their friend’s name on it, in the hopes that it would encourage more personal gifts and confessions.
In his four years at Hawkins High Steve’s name always made it on the map before he could write it.
During his freshman year, Steve gets more than a few candy-grams in homeroom, prompting Tommy and Carol to tease him as they steal his candy.
In between classes, he takes more trips than usual to his locker to collect the cards and notes left for him. Some are signed, some are just a phone number with a name and a lipstick print. Steve can’t help but get high off the constant reminders of want as the day goes on.
Needing to kill time before the bus towards Loch Nora arrives, Steve heads to his locker after basketball practice. Sure it could have waited until morning, but Steve’s never been a patient man.
Inside his locker are a few more notes, but among the pink and pastels that have filled his vision all day, the crimson card stands out. He opens the front flap to find the card is actually an origami note, and not wanting to rip it, carefully unfolds the missive.
His eyes are immediately pulled to the drawing at the bottom: a half-sun and half-moon face on a backdrop of stars. His eyes then wander up to the note to find not a letter, but a short poem -
Some people say my love cannot be true
Please believe me, my love, and I'll show you
I will give you those things you thought unreal
The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal
It takes Steve a few times to read it to get the gist of the meaning, and he can’t help but blush. Either the writer is talented or she copied someone. Either way, Steve knows this is making it into his special box. Before folding it back Steve’s eyes searched the page for a name or phone number, only to find a small “E” at the corner of the note.
Steve spends the rest of the week wracking his brain for all the girls in his class and even the year above whose name starts with an E, even going so far as to approach a few of them.
When he gets no answer other than a few dates he puts it out of his mind.
*
Sophomore year is almost an identical repeat of the year before. Candygrams were delivered and stolen by Tommy and Carol. Notes stuffed in his locker, getting more lascivious as the day goes on. It seems his reputation preceded him, and there are more than a few propositions in letter form.
And just like the year before there is a crimson note waiting for him after practice. Steve wasn’t even anticipating the note, figuring it was a one-off from the year prior. But seeing it sitting on top of his books, Steve can’t help but ignore all the other letters and notes in favor of opening another message from E.
Like last time there’s a drawing, this time of a detailed headstone citing a kiss as the cause of death, the skull atop bearing a lip print. And just like the year before is a poem -
To find a kiss of yours
what would I give
A kiss that strayed from your lips
dead to love
Steve restarts his attempts to find E, only this time he goes for a more subtle approach, flirting with instead of confronting any girl whose name starts with the offending letter.
It doesn’t end with Steve solving the mystery but does end with Steve going on dates with Elizabeth, Evelyn, Emily, and Erin.
*
The Valentines of his junior year is an interesting one. Sure he’s been dating Nancy for almost three months now, but that doesn’t stop some very ambitious girls from sending candy and cards his way. He details each gift to Nancy as the day goes on because that's what a good boyfriend would do, right? And sure, he wishes Nancy would look more perturbed, but all he gets is small kisses on his cheek with her saying they can use the candy as dessert when she makes him dinner this weekend.
The only thing Steve keeps to himself though is his hope for a third crimson note.
Sure Steve hasn’t gotten any luck with finding out who the sender is. And even if he did find out this year he couldn’t act on it. But there's something about the effort that Steve craves. That someone cares enough about Steve to write, draw, and fold the letter each year.
And just like the years prior the note is there, drawing and all.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
Not only is this year's poem longer, but the drawing also intrigues Steve. The picture is of a winged man, gazing up at the words written above him with an almost longing expression, while flames dance at his feet. Steve can’t help but examine the detail that went into the drawing, and even blushes at how handsome he is.
So the next day when Nancy drags him to the library to study, he sneaks away to ask the librarian if she recognizes the poem (without showing her the note). She walks him over to the poetry section and hands him a collection of British poetry, turning to the section on W.H. Auden.
Steve reads a brief description of the poem, about the unrequited love between the poet and the stars. He bitterly thinks that this love might not be unrequited if he could figure out who his secret admirer was.
Years later Steve would realize two things - Indiana public school books didn't care to mention that W.H. Auden was gay and that he really should have looked at the checkout card inside the book cover.
*
Steve contemplates staying home for the last Valentine's Day of his high school career. He's certain he won't get any grams now that he’s fallen from grace and taken no steps to climb back up.
But despite how obnoxious sharing court with Hargrove is, basketball practice is the only thing keeping him sane as he counts down the days till graduation.
Steve didn't even mean to go back to his locker that day not wanting to be disappointed by the lack of a crimson note. But he needs his notes to study for chemistry, and as he pulls out the binder the crimson letter falls to the floor.
Steve can't help the way his heart clenches at the sight. How such a simple thing can remind him why he loves his holiday so much?
He then figures that the sender. Must be someone in his grade if they've kept these notes coming all four years.
Passing stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me ,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
Steve sinks onto the floor as he reads the poem over and over again. He can't help but smirk at how the bits about girls are stricken through, but also that it's a farewell of sorts. It leaves Steve with a bittersweet feeling to know he'll never find out the sender's identity.
*
Over piles of discount candy in 1986, Steve shares with Robin the details of the crimson notes tucked under his bed. Robin can't help but laugh as she looks through them pointing out to Steve how fucking homo erotic all the poems are.
After a bit of denial, Steve finally admits that Robin may be right and kicks himself for only searching for girls back when he was in high school. Realizing he didn't bother to get a copy of the yearbook he asks Robin if he can come one day to search the pages at her house for clues. But a few weeks later literal hell breaks loose and he forgets all about it
Part of Steve wishes he actually bothered to get a copy of the yearbook so he could search the pages, but a few weeks later literal hell breaks loose and he forgets all about it
*
It's February 1987 and Steve is wondering how he's spending Valentine's Day Eve cleaning up his kitchen after the party wraps their D&D session for the night.
Eddie is helping him tidy as he recounts how on the ride over to Steve's, Dustin was explaining how nervous he was about his radio date with Suzie the next day wanting to do something special but not cheesy.
“I told him he should recite some poetry and he told me that's lame,” Eddie says in a way that expresses their mutual frustration with Henderson.
“It's not lame. If it's done right,” Steve agrees.
“The little shit then told me that metal lyrics don't count as poetry and I told him that I know more than just metal lyrics.”
Steve can't help but look amused and gestures for Eddie to regale him with a poem.
Eddie clears his throat and begins, “To find a kiss of yours what I would give…”
“A kiss that strayed from your lips...dead to love,” Steve finishes unthinking. After all, he read those words hundreds of times.
That's when it clicks for Steve. The E written in the corner of all those notes stood for Eddie.
Eddie's eyes catch Steve's and he visibly swallows. His complexion pails and he looks like he's about to run for it, but Steve sputters out his confession.
“I kept them all.”
Eddie's eyes widened even further at that as if he couldn't believe what Steve was saying.
“You did?”
“Yeah. Want to see them? They're in my room.”
“That's quite a line, Harrington”
“Well not all of us can be poets.”
#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#robin buckley#myfics#valentines day#secret admirer#stranger things fic#steddie fic
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Prompt 9 - Write
@jegulus-microfic January 9 Word count 473
Regulus had a routine now. Every morning he would get his laptop or tablet and go down to the little coffee shop under his flat. He could have sat in his flat to write, but he enjoyed being around the barista. So he would go down, buy a hot drink and write.
James never asked what he was writing. He probably assumed it was just emails or something like that. There were a few like that who frequented the cafe. But he did ask about random things, like if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Regulus had answered France and when pushed, had explained he was fluent in French, so it made sense. James had demanded he say something to him in French after he revealed that little fact. Regulus got a free coffee that day.
He liked to listen to James talk. He found it helped him relax. When he had especially bad writer’s block, he’d go down to see James and just chat. By the time he went back upstairs, he found he could write again.
He’d started writing a column for the local paper. It was only a small piece. Either a very short story or a poem. He was very excited that he got the chance to do something fun like this.
James held up the paper one afternoon while Regulus was tapping away at his latest novel.
“There’s this new writer I quite like in the local rag,” James said, folding the paper so it was easier for him to hold. “Listen to this.
The prince emerges from the steam. Gallantly fighting off the thirsty beasts who crave the elixir of life. From dawn til dusk, his job is never-ending, yet his smile never wavers.
I’m totally invested in this prince. Sounds like he has a very hard job protecting his kingdom.” James was grinning as he continued his review. “This one is part of a series, you have to wait each week for the next part, but I really want to know what happens to him. There’s this secret admirer that the prince doesn’t realise is there, but I bet they end up together. You know, happily ever after. It’s by the guy who just goes by R.A.B. I wonder if he’d written anything else. I’ve tried looking him up but can’t find anything.”
Regulus listens to everything James says. He has to bite the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from blurting out that R.A.B. are his initials. He can’t believe that James is reading his silly little stories.
He sits and wonders every day if today will be the day he is brave enough to ask out the prince. Instead, he remains the secret admirer. He hopes one day he’ll have his happily ever after.
#January 9#jegulus#jegulus microfic#regulus black#james potter#regulus arcturus black#james fleamont potter#regulus x james#james x regulus#regulus and james#write#coffee shop
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