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kasagia · 1 day

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Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes.

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART 1 ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

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mythicalcoolkid · 2 years

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I hate how much of communication is like ":)) hey I know I joke about it and it's really funny but this symptom is actively distressing to me! :)) I don't want to be doing this and I don't like it!! :))) I am aware that I still have this weird memey grin on my face but I really am being serious I don't enjoy being like this! :)) having this conversation while still Like This is killing me and I wish to anything that there wasn't something so wildly wrong with me! :) I hate this!! :))))))"

#m/cc #negative #it's like that Howl's Moving Castle curse where I need to talk about how I am physically incapable of talking seriously about #stressful things but uh #talking about that serious and debilitating issue for me is. y'know. stressful #whole time I have this dumb memey grin and keep throwing out finger guns and peace signs while trying #to explain that I *do not want to be like this*#like trying to explain that you don't always want to be dancing and it's kind of ruining your life but you're dancing while you say it #I have to be funny to make up for my inconvenience + my trauma was useless if I can't make it entertaining + I never learned to #feel understand and process or even identify my emotions + I don't know how to handle the feelings that come with processing the #things that have happened to me and them being a Big Deal That Hurt Me + desperately wanting approval by being entertaining #+ not wanting to be a Downer #so uh. yeah! this has been a really serious and upsetting thing for me since I was maybe 8? and it's REALLY hard to express that I'm being #serious about it... because I also can't take it seriously... :|#it's a horrible curse loop that's so painful to ever try to break through #okay. for the record I've gotten much better at this #it's just worse the past couple days because Slightly Serious Life Event I Can't Process and (currently) late night with ADHD meds worn off #unable to stop making jokes for five seconds meant couldn't do some stuff I really wanted to do even when I tried to stop #I hate it! :)))) it's gonna be fine it just. I hate it!! :))

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d1anna · 1 year

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@ PRETTY BALLET GIRL! DO YOU LIKE GIRLS???? LIKE ME?????

#i saw her backstage after we performed and i could have stood next to her but i was like.......#i am not worthy............ i'll stand in the corner even though there's space </3 #like literally i looked up her name to find her instagram #i found her linkedin instead and she's a biomedical engineering major and working at this major tech company (like WORKING not INTERNING)#she's so accomplished 😭😭 simultaneously envious and in awe and in love ok...…#on a slightly different note i haven't had a crush like this on a girl in a while #i always try to suppress my crushes on girls because i always feel like i'm being (internalized) creepy (homophobia)#like even backstage today it was all girls and some of them were changing and i was like looking everywhere but where #people were standing #i felt so self-conscious … like i always get scared that someone will notice my...…..gayness lol #also like her staring at me while she was dancing and like stealing glances at me every now and then made me feel even more self-conscious #i swear i have a gaydar until it comes to girls i'm attracted to #I JUST DON'T WANT TO ASSUME AND LIKE........MAKE TROUBLE YOU KNOW (INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA ALERT!!!!!!!!!)#having crushes on boys is so much easier because i typically don't care for them as much lol #it's hard to explain but i find guys physically attractive but i rarely find them actually romantically attractive #most of the time the prospect of being in an actual REAL relationship with men repulses me or at the very least gives me indigestion #i don't know............ anyway i'm kind of on a sugar high from one (ONE) cookie that i ate after dinner #it was really good but i had two yesterday as well and it gave me a bad sugar crash after my parents and i went to this park #knocked out for two hours after we got back to our hotel #and then we went to this venezuelan restaurant and it was AMAZING #i had an arepa and an empanada con queso with fosforera soup (gorgeous)#i want more it was so good #so sad i have to go back to my rotation of the same four meals now that my parents have gone back home lol #dianna.moon #also i could have broken up this post instead of writing everything in the tags but i do what i want

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obae-me · 4 months

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Would He Peel The Orange?

(I hope this hasn't been done too much already, but I really wanted to do it) So, if you've been in the same internet circle as I've been in, you probably know about this trend that's going around right now where people ask their partner to peel an orange for them. It's supposed to kind of signify your partner's willingness to do something important to you, even if it seems mundane or even inconvenient for them. So of course, I wanted to imagine what our favorite boys would do in this scenario.

Note: This is just for silly goofy times. A little ha-ha funny jape, if you will. Meaning not serious. If I think a character would not peel an orange, I don't think they're suddenly toxic or would not love the MC or anything.

"Could you peel an orange for me?"

Lucifer

To those of you who say he is too prideful to peel an orange for you, do I need to point out that he is the eldest sibling? Not only that, but he's practically a single mom. He has Sloth as the baby brother of the family. Do you think Belphie peels his own oranges? No! Lucifer probably cuts the crusts off of his brother's sandwiches for heaven sakes.

Is it heaven sakes or heaven's sake?... I actually don't know

However, I do think he would get suspicious, especially if you're trying to film his reaction. He would raise an eyebrow and know that there's something more to you just wanting an orange. Is this orange cursed? Is this a prank? You'll have to convince him it's perfectly normal before he straight up refuses.

Is he going to get up from his desk or move away from work to go grab you an orange? Probably not. But if you bring it to him, he will peel it for you, giving you a weird- and maybe slightly judging- look the entire time.

He will peel it very nicely, but you would have to take the peel back to toss yourself all while demanding to know why you have such a smirk on your face.

If you explain it to him, he'll definitely get a bit smug. "Who knew all it would take to prove my love to you was peeling an orange? If you needed some assurance, I would've gladly provided more for you."

He wins this one. He peeled the orange.

But...he might be asking his own favor from you later. So, minus one point for that, but they do say the devil dances in dealings, so...

7/10

Mammon

"Huh? Why do you need me to peel it for you, your hands broken or somethin'? I'm not your damn maid."

He is already peeling the orange. He is somehow managing to grumble and act like he's not doing it while he is in the process of doing it.

And if you don't have oranges on hand? Just give him any excuse to go shopping and he will take it. And not only will he peel those oranges, he'll buy them for you too.

And sure maybe he's a little ditsy and might not know what the difference between an orange, a tangerine, and a clementine is (they're all orange, dammit), but he will be buying you ALL of them just in case.

Listen, he's a man with impulse problems and an intense desire to be your number one demon.

Did he probably spend the next few hours in the store getting himself stuff as well? Probably, yeah. He see shiny, he get shiny.

But don't worry. He will peel you that orange.

And you will be eating an assortment of orange colored fruits for the next few days.

Is...this a peach?

9/10

Levi

If he's gaming, probably not. Some games can't be paused. And it's not even that he doesn't want to, he'll probably be glad to do so, but he'll do it once this round is over.

And then he'll probably forget. Which, fair, I do it too. You get into the zone and then six hours have passed. Sometimes the measure of love can't always be held behind an orange.

However!

If a controller is not in his hand and his mind is not occupied by several random colorful flashes, he might peel the orange.

BUT

If too many other people are around, he might get anxiety.

You know when you somehow manage to fumble peeling an orange? You can't manage to break the peel properly or you end up dropping it and looking like a fool?

If you've never had performance anxiety over peeling an orange, you... well that's actually really good, you must have a much more peaceful mind-- but it exists for us anxious people, okay?! It's too much pressure!

In the end, he's very situational! But that doesn't mean he refuses to peel you an orange! It would actually make him very happy to do that for you...

5/10

Satan

Very confused. Will ask too many questions before he does anything.

Are you hurt? Is the peel too tough for human fingers? If you're having a hard time using your fingers, why not get a knife or a tool to assist you? Why are you in his room rather than the kitchen? Is that not a waste of energy? What if he'd not been here, would you have wandered around?

He doesn't get it. He means well though.

He might get a little irritated, not so much at you as at himself. He feels like he's missing something.

Is this some form of human bonding? Are you afraid of the orange? What secrets does it hold?

He will peel it for you. He'll even put his book down to do so.

But please answer his questions, he can't find the logic in seeking him out just to peel a fruit for you. He can list off several other more efficient methods.

If you explain it to him, you'll see him visibly relax. So there was some deeper meaning.

Although now he might think that this form of act is some sort of love declaration. Prepare to have him peel and/or cut all your fruits from now on. Which... is actually kind of sweet. What a gentleman.

8/10

Asmo

No... with his nails?! Please. I've only worn fake nails like twice in my entire life, and doing anything like that with those little suckers hurts like hell. Why?? Tried to open a can once and thought my real nail would peel right off.

And even if he's not wearing fake nails, getting that pulpy orange peel underneath your fingernails?! Having the juice make your fingers all sticky? No. Awful. Bad texture. I've always headcanoned Asmo with texture issues, and if his are even close to being like mine, it's gonna be a no.

BUT

If you want an orange so badly, I can guarantee he knows all these cute little places around town that make delicious fruit selections! He'd probably go out and get you one of those beautiful and decorative edible fruit arrangements and make sure they somehow include lots of orange.

Or, if you don't want that and you just want a normal orange right NOW, he'll charm someone else to peel it for you, hon. Don't even worry.

And once it's peeled, to make up for not doing it himself, he'll be all to happy to feed it to you if you want him to. ~

Never underestimate the lengths he'll go to provide for you and himself at the same time.

6.5/10 I appreciate the hustle.

Beel

I... I mean... he's gonna eat it.

Love the man to death, but if you hand him an orange before you fully preface that it's yours and you just want it peeled, it's gone. He probably didn't even peel it before he ate it too. Probably just eats it like an apple.

But, but, but, he'll get you a new one. So please don't look so sad...

It might be best if you accompany him just in case, but he'll absolutely get you another one. Besides, he wants more himself now, that first one was delicious.

He'll gather a whole basket of oranges and you can share them together.

One slice for you...five for him. Another slice for you...

It make take a minute to get a full orange's worth, but it's about the attempt and the time spent. And he's technically actually peeling SO many oranges for you.

I'd also like to point out that I have actually written out a scene in one of my stories where Beel actually EXACTLY peels an orange FOR MC. WAY before this trend was a thing.

--Eventually he came across an orange, peeling off the wax shell meant to serve as extra preservation. Citrus flooded your nose. Your mouth actually watered at the scent, watching Beel strip the fruit before peeling it apart. A sniff, and then it was actually handed to you.

So he would! 100 times over! Even in my silly little side story where everyone is nearly on the brink of death and in a freezing wasteland, he would still peel an orange for you!

10/10 Minus one point for eating your orange first, plus one point for peeling you an orange in another universe.

Belphie

Y...yeah, no. No, he won't.

Or there's at least a very slim chance he will. He does get in weird moods sometimes where he wants to pamper you, but that's on his own terms and his own time.

He doesn't even peel his own oranges, as I previously stated in Lucifer's section.

If you just waltz up to him and ask him to peel it for you...there's a 95% chance he will not. Most of it being due to him being asleep. You would probably have a better chance trying to train him to peel an orange while sleepwalking. That might work. Would also probably make a good party trick.

But, he's weird at remembering details like this. Even if he doesn't act on it right now, it will be logged in his memory. You could mention something briefly once seven months ago and he'll bring it up to you and remember the conversation completely like it happened yesterday.

So, even if he doesn't peel the orange now, when he's in the mood, maybe after his nap, maybe the next day, maybe two weeks after in which you had forgotten it, he will bring you a peeled orange.

Either that or he'll do what Asmo does and make someone else peel it for you.

3/10

Diavolo

You want him to peel your orange for you? You mean... he gets to treat someone like that for once?! ABSOLUTELY.

He is all too happy to peel you an orange! This is like, groundbreaking for him. He gets to provide! Gets to hand you a tiny fruit, broken and prepared with his own two hands! Is this how Barbatos feels when he cooks?

How does one exactly peel an orange, though?... He's seen them whole like this before, but they're typically already in strips when he gets around to eating them.

Break the skin? What, like an egg?

Well...there goes your orange.

On the bright side, it seems he's very good at making orange juice.

But fear not! He'll have Barbatos bring another one!

Wait...look, see, they come pre-peeled. Oh...you mean Barbatos has been peeling all his fruits for him this entire time? He's never known the joyful luxury of unveiling and working for the literal fruits of his labor?! This will change today.

Get another orange, unpeeled, and he will do it himself this time!

It might take some personal discovery and some patience before he peels you an orange, but it will get done, he swears it!

11/10 Plus one point for wholesome life lessons and sheer determination.

Barbatos

An orange? Just a plain orange? If you wait just a moment, he could have an orange chiffon cake, or would you perhaps prefer some orange panna cotta? Orange Merengue pie? Pound cake? Made into a buttercream? A pudding? A sorbet? A sherbet? Served as a juice? Main flavor or just as a zest? Would you like a meal before dessert? Or he could always find healthier options for oranges? Would you like him to list of those options as well?

Okay, so... he overcorrects a little bit.

Bottom line is, he'd peel you an orange. He'd make an entire seven course meal based around oranges. Make it all the color orange if you'd prefer.

Like I said though, he tends to overdo it.

He falls into his royal butlery habits and misses the fact that this is supposed to be so important to you because it's so simple. Although it's cute the way an ever powerful ever perfect being can miss such a detail.

You might have to put your foot down a bit and not let yourself get carried away in the splendor. You just want this orange. This one orange, and if he could just peel it for you, that's all you want.

So he'll take his gloves off and peel it for you. He'll make sure all the extra little white strands are plucked off as well. And he double checks it for seeds.

Are you sure this is all you want? "I guess something so simple can often be taken for granted. I forget that sometimes."

12/10 He'll probably still end up making you several other orange treats and he learned a valuable lesson today. It's a win for everyone.

Simeon

Are you kidding me?

This man probably brought the orange with him. You probably didn't even need to bring it up! He's single dad with two one kid and a sorcerer. He's like that sweet mom who always has certain things on hand. Medicine? Bandages? Spare cash? Candy? Gum? He's got it. He puts the Guardian in guardian angel.

You want that orange? He'll peel that orange, you just hold on. Let's make sure your hands are clean. Use this hand sanitizer he brought with him. Here, have a granola bar while you're at it. Are you hungry? You didn't skip lunch, did you? Here, take this water bottle, you look a bit dehydrated.

Oh dear, and your hands feel so dry! Here, he brought some lotion.

This angel is 100% fully here for you. You are about to be so taken care of.

Not even oranges. You want your apples fully peeled and sliced? Got it. Want something pitted? He can do that too. He'd be willing to stain his fingers and clothes on a pomegranate for you. How is he doing this even outside of the house? Magic or something probably.

He'd pack you an orange in a cute little bag with a hand written note and a short poem.

This man is a real one.

100/10 He definitely thinks that LOL means lots of love.

Solomon

Are...you sure you know what you're doing? He will absolutely peel you an orange, but at what cost?

If you're not careful, not only will he peel you an orange, but he'll add some of his Special Solomon Spices to make your experience all the more... thrilling.

Quite like how thrilling bungee jumping in the dark could be...

Also, he might just try to peel it with magic, which, while nice of him, defeats the purpose of the entire test.

You'll have to specify he's to do it by hand, and keep an unblinking, ever-careful eye on him to make sure he doesn't 'enhance' the flavor.

But, all in all, he does it. Quite happily too, one might add.

Are you sure you just want an orange? He'd be glad to whip something up for you if you're feeling peckish!

You kind of... tempt fate with this one.

2/10 One point for wanting to peel the orange, one point for trying to go the extra mile. But... well... Will you survive is the thing? You might want to try to measure his love for you using different non-edible methods.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon

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nariism · 6 months

Text

another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.

wc. ~1.1k

— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️

"don't be mad, but..."

rin's eye twitches.

4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.

in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.

before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.

"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."

bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.

"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.

you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.

but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.

"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."

to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.

and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.

what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.

he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")

if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.

frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.

he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.

"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.

rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...

you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.

"i... don't think that'll happen."

"but what if we are?"

"there are worse people i could be locked to."

silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.

"you think so?" you finally manage out.

god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.

he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."

you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.

he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.

"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."

rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.

"you have claustrophobia?"

"i just mean that we're so close right now."

"so?"

you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."

"...you're weird," he tells you.

your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.

"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."

he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.

"yeah," he lies. "me too."

("is it working?"

"i don't know, i can't hear them!"

"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"

rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.

"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")

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bookyeom · 4 months

Text

pairing: mingyu x reader word count: 3k warnings: kissing, swearing, Mingyu being a simp

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. (Also, this fic in particular references the iconic 1987 film Some Kind of Wonderful, but I think I explained it well enough for someone who may not have seen it! However, if you haven’t seen it… Watch it. In my opinion, it tops all of those “must-see” movies like Sixteen Candles, etc. I adore this movie. The OG friends-to-lovers.)

nothin’ on you by b.o.b., bruno mars

they might say hi and i might say hey but you shouldn’t worry about what they say ’cause they’ve got nothing on you, babe

You groan as the doorbell rings, your eyes finding the time on your phone. You’d just settled in with your bunny pajamas and your rattiest, biggest, comfiest sweater, and you really don't want to move now. What you want is to disappear into the couch that you’d spent way too much money on, under your favourite blanket, and mindlessly scroll through social media videos of cats for hours while pretending you aren't perpetually single on the holiday of love.

As much as you try to ignore it, the ringing only becomes more persistent, mixed with obnoxious, intermittent knocking. You groan again and stand up, making your way over to the door in annoyance. There are only a handful of people who would dare to be so irritating — Soonyoung if he wanted food, Chan if he wanted to show you a new dance routine, or…

“Mingyu?”

“Hi,” he says brightly, and your brain short circuits. He looks as wonderful as always, black hoodie and sweats, eyes warm as he waits for you to reply like a normal human.

You know that the right answer would be a greeting in response, but all you can think to say instead is, “It’s Valentine’s Day?” When Mingyu’s face falls a little bit, you hurry to explain yourself. “I mean… Do you not have plans?”

Admittedly, that response isn’t much better, but you genuinely don't know the answer to your own question. You had just assumed that he did have plans — you hadn’t even considered the possibility of him being alone today, honestly. You hadn’t really wanted to think too much about it. It wasn’t like it’d be hard for funny, kind, Adonis-among-men Mingyu to find a date. All he had to do was smile at any man or woman in his general vicinity and they’d be under his spell.

You know first hand what that feels like.

Your best friend showing up at your door on February 14th has replayed a thousand times in your brain. You’ve been head over heels in love with him for years now. The fantasy usually consists more of him in a tuxedo holding a huge bouquet of roses, proclaiming his love for you before kissing you passionately, but you can’t deny that you like this casual, tuxedo-less Mingyu just as much — if not more. He’s just… Mingyu. Soft and warm in that hoodie that you love, holding a box of your favourite pizza in one hand, a bag of who knows what else in the other.

“Do you not want me here?” He pouts, and you cave.

You sigh, but a smile makes its way to your face regardless. “Of course I do, Gyu. I just thought you had plans, that’s all.”

“I do,” he counters. “With you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words, ignore the soft smile he sends your way when you move aside to let him in. “Alright, then… Let’s be single as hell on Valentine’s Day, together.”

Mingyu beams, stepping past you and into the apartment.

“Movie?” He suggests as he slips off his shoes and immediately makes his way to the kitchen with the pizza. You hear the sound of cupboards opening and closing as he makes his way around with ease, like he knows where everything is like the back of his hand. Because he does. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest at the reminder of how well he fits into your life, how well he knows your apartment.

He knows you pretty well, too, which is actually a big part of the reason you’re so surprised that he’d shown up today.

Because anyone who knows you knows that you’re in love with Kim Mingyu. Even new people who spend just five minutes with the two of you can tell, and you’re basically a pro at dismissing the couple questions by now. It seems the entire world can tell you’re head over heels except for the man himself, and you really don’t understand how he seems to have absolutely no clue. If he did, you don’t think he’d be so cruel as to suggest spending Valentine’s Day together.

And yet here he is, moving around your house like it’s his house, too.

He has no idea, you remind yourself. He’s just alone on Valentine’s Day, and he likes spending time with you. That’s all.

You busy yourself setting up in the living room, making room on your side table for the pizza and whatever else he’d brought. You catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the TV and grimace. Theoretically, you’re both dressed casually, so you shouldn’t feel underdressed for this impromptu hangout. But in reality, Mingyu looks better than everyone else all the time, no matter what he’s wearing. He reappears a few moments later looking every bit the part of an athleisure model with the pizza box, a bottle of wine, and a box of your favourite chocolates in hand.

“A heart-shaped box of Lindt?” You can’t help but blurt out. It isn’t unlike Mingyu to bring your favourite snacks to movie night, but it’s Valentine’s Day, and the chocolates are in a heart-shaped box.

“It was on sale,” he shrugs in response, settling down on the couch, and you want so badly to question the peculiar choice further. You don’t.

You hand him the remote, grabbing the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor at your abrupt departure from the couch while he puts a movie on. He seems to know exactly what he’s looking for, which is interesting considering he’s one of the most indecisive people you’ve ever met.

“What are we watching?” You ask. “Action? Thriller?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, his other arm already outstretched for you to fall back against. You settle in next to him, pulling your knees up and draping the blanket over the both of you.

“I thought we could do something a bit different tonight,” he finally answers after a pause, and you look up at him in surprise.

“Like what?”

He simply nods his chin towards the TV, where the opening scenes of the movie he’s chosen are beginning to play. You recognize the title immediately: Some Kind of Wonderful.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

You’re not sure what to make of this. You’ve never seen the movie, but you know the premise of it: two best friends falling in love. This has to be a joke. You can’t help it as your entire body stiffens, and you tell yourself to relax.

You can’t.

“Why?” You finally blurt out. Your chest feels tight. You don’t know if you’re reading far too much into it, but when have you ever watched a romance movie together? You’ve expressly made sure that you didn’t.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Mingyu replies. “Thought it would be nice.”

You’re looking at him again, eyebrows knit together in confusion. He finally acknowledges you with raised eyebrows of his own, meeting your eyes briefly before motioning to the TV with his chin.

“Can you just watch it? It’s a good movie, I promise. Give it a chance.”

You nod slowly, doing as he asks, but you can barely focus for the next hour. Everything has been so strange; the movie choice, the way he’d shown up with wine and chocolate — all of which could have been excused, maybe, if it wasn't for the fact that Mingyu is acting strange, too. He’s normally so pliant against you during movie nights, so clingy. But tonight, despite your closeness on the couch, all he does is rest his arm loosely around your shoulders. No fingers tracing your skin, no pulling you against his side, no getting distracted by your hair and attempting to make a shitty braid with it. No maneuvering his own body so that he’s the one with his head in your lap. It feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s waiting for something.

What in the world is going on?

It’s excruciating, but you try to focus. You’re almost there when the ending scene begins to play, but your whole body is still tense. You watch as the main characters, Keith and Watts, finally kiss in the middle of the street, and you think you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You swear Mingyu has tensed up beside you, but you don’t take your eyes off of the screen as Keith finally speaks his confession.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stupid,” comes the words from Watts, and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. This all feels a little too real. Why did he put this on? What the fuck is Mingyu playing at?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” At Keith’s last words of dialogue from the screen, you feel Mingyu’s grip on your shoulder tighten.

“You never asked,” Watts replies, teasing, and you can’t take it anymore. You turn to your best friend, eyes wide, and he slowly moves to turn off the TV.

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, and you can’t look away from him, frozen. You can’t utter a single word. He’s picking at a piece of thread on his sweatpants, eyes downcast as he avoids your gaze.

It hits you like a brick, the reason why he’s being so strange. It’s because he’s nervous.

There’s no way.

A million thoughts race through your mind, a million reasons why going down this road could be a bad idea. But you have to ask — you have to know.

“Why didn’t you have plans tonight, Gyu?”

He meets your eyes again, and you can barely breathe. His gaze holds firm, intense, as he says, “Because I wanted to have plans with you.”

“On Valentine’s Day?” The insinuation of your words is clear, and you know that Mingyu understands exactly what you’re asking.

His eyes remain steady on yours as he replies, easily, “Yes.”

So simple. Certain. Sure.

You remind yourself to breathe, gathering all the courage that’s left in you to speak again. “‘Why didn’t you tell me?’”

You watch Mingyu’s face as you repeat the words from the movie, your voice trembling just the slightest bit. He’s really looking at you now, a soft smile on his face at your words, and your heart leaps into your throat. He’s stunning. He��s always stunning, but the way he’s looking at you right now has you feeling like you’re walking on air. His gaze is so warm, and you don’t want to look away from him ever again.

“‘You never asked.’”

“Neither did you.” Your words are your own now, and Mingyu nods, using the arm around your shoulders to pull you in against his chest. You flush as he draws you towards him, and you briefly wonder if you’re dreaming.

“You’re right.” He gazes down at you fondly, and your hand lifts tentatively to his jaw. He nuzzles into your fingers, turning to gently kiss your palm, and your eyes don’t leave his mouth. His free hand lifts to rest on top of yours, before he softly runs his fingers down your arm and up to your shoulder, your neck, your face.

“‘I knew you were stupid’,” you quote cheekily from the movie script again. Mingyu’s lips break into a wide smile as he lets out a surprised laugh, canines on full display as he beams.

Then he’s using his whole body to pull you into him, silencing your own giggles with a kiss.

Your breath is caught in pleasant surprise, and you can feel him smiling against your mouth. You’re impressed with how quickly you’re able to respond after your brain factory resets, the feeling of his lips on yours stunning you for only a moment before you react. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging softly and earning a pleased hum from him. His teeth gently sink into your lower lip in retaliation, and you can feel your entire body react to it. His hands find your hips, helping move you so that you’re in his lap. All you can feel is him as he pulls you in closer and closer, kissing you like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do. He finally breaks away to kiss along your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, before moving to slowly press one final kiss at the base of your throat, and you can feel goosebumps spread across your skin at the featherlight touch.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, and you lower your chin to meet his eyes. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s broken out at his words, and you feel a bit like you’re soaring as he continues, “I’m in love with you. I really am, and I need you to know that.” His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, his fingers gently massaging the skin there, and your forehead falls to his.

“Mingyu…”

He hums, and you pull back to look at him, your fingers moving to softly trace every part of his face. You’ve long since committed him to memory, but one more time can’t hurt. He waits for a moment before he lets out a whine, burying his face into your collarbone.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You let out a giggle. “Why?”

“Because I’m shy.”

You let out a snort, and Mingyu pulls away to pout up at you. Your fingers gently brush over his lips, his nose, his cheeks, and you can tell he wants to hide again, but he doesn’t.

“I love you too,” you say softly, and his pout is gone. “I have for a really long time now.”

He surges forward to press another kiss to your mouth, and you can’t help but gasp into it. You can tell he’s satisfied with himself as he smiles, pulling back just to say, “Guess we’re both stupid then, huh?”

You laugh, and you can almost feel the happiness radiating off of him as his arms fold around your back, pulling you back in and resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. Your hands move to wrap around his shoulders, your head softly falling to rest atop his.

“Oh my god,” you hear him mumble after a few moments of silence. You hum in question, and he moves to look up at you again. “I’m so excited to date you,” he says, his face full of genuine joy. You can feel yourself flush crimson as he continues, “I’m going to date you so hard. You can’t stop me. I’m going to hold your hand all the damn time, you have no idea.”

“I can’t fucking wait, boyfriend.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the fifth of our Thirteen Valentines just in time for the holiday/Carat Day! Who better to celebrate with than Kim Mingyu himself? Special shoutout and dedication to the best girl @tae-bebe, who fell victim to the Mingyu enemies-to-lovers trope irl :) xx

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, I’m sorry!)

#Mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu imagine #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #My writing #thirteenvalentines #kmgfic

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runningfrom2am · 6 months

Text

leveling the playing field XI

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

next part

"You can't call me that here!" You hiss, taking the final steps out into the summer nights breeze.

"Never mind that, what are you doing here?" Coriolanus asks as soon as the door to the back of the building shuts behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet alley behind the Hob.

You groan, dragging your hands over your face. "I had nowhere to go."

"Well, I... what happened?"

"Does it really matter?" You just shake your head looking up at him now, face red with anger. "If we're gonna talk, how about we talk about how you tried to drag me down to hell with you, huh? How about we talk about you showing up after trying to ruin my life and kissing me like I'm some kind of object to you! After all this time! Let's talk about that!"

Coryo takes a sharp breath in, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "You're not an object." He says, a hint of disgust in his voice, upset that you would even imply that he felt that way.

"Funnily enough, that is the bottom of my list of concerns right now!" You laugh dryly. "I thought we were friends! I thought you cared! And maybe that was stupid of me but don't come back now saying that you do." Your narrowed eyes are rimmed with tears now, and he can see that you're hurt despite you trying to shield it in anger.

"We are friends, I-"

"No, Coriolanus, we aren't, because friends don't do that!"

"Will you stop fucking interrupting me!" He shouts, making you jump. He's fed up with you always having to have the last word. "For once, just one time, will you let me explain?"

You just stare at him, jaw grit as you look up at him. You've never looked softer, your clothes and your hair are so loose and freeing and unlike you and you've somehow never looked more like yourself.

"I'm sorry. Okay?" He says, taking a hesitant step closer to you.

"Is that all you've got?" You scoff, nodding to yourself and pushing past him to walk back inside.

He can't let you go again, he just can't. He grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"Y/N, listen, I'm sorry. I regretted it the moment I said it, I shouldn't have pulled you into that but they already knew and I just wanted to be able to help you." Internally you roll your eyes, relaxing your arm so he knows you won't run. You'll hear him out. "All I wanted was for you to come with me, I thought they would ship us off together."

"Me? As a peacekeeper? Un-fucking-likely." You reply bitterly. "Did you think that through for even a second before you decided that I would be better off with you? Or were you just scared of being alone?"

The question makes him pause, which was enough hesitation for you to pull your arm away and start walking off toward the street. "Tigris wanted me to tell you they love you, by the way!" You call back over your shoulder, turning the corner and disappearing out of his view.

You walk around the building and back to the front entrance, hoping you could lose him in the crowd if he decides to follow you. You were no longer in any mood to dance, that's for sure, so you would just wait for the show to end in the back where you first talked to Lucy Gray again. You push through the abundance of people dancing, the music blaring in your ears. You make it to the desolate hallway, attempting to gather yourself before you really start to cry.

"Y/N?" You hear someone call from behind you, and you turn at the use of your real name. It didn't sound like Coryo, or any of the Covey band.

"Sejanus!" You squeal, running back toward him and tackling him in a hug. "God, I have never been happier to see your face in my life." You sigh, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Likewise." He chuckles, rubbing your back. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm great." You grin, taking a step back to talk to him face-to-face instead.

"We have to find Coriolanus, he'll be thrilled to see you." He says, looking over his shoulder to see if he could spot the blonde anywhere in the crowd.

"Ugh." You groan, rolling your eyes. "No, I saw him."

He snaps his head back, looking at you confused. "You don't seem happy." He observes, stating the obvious.

"Tell me, Sejanus," You muse, resting a hand on your hip as you shift your weight. "If you had someone you perceived as more than a friend take the liberty of framing you for something that could cost you your whole life when they knew you were innocent, would you forgive them if their only apology was a kiss?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. You knew you were stretching the truth, but Coriolanus had done the same thing, clearly, so what was the harm in wanting Sejanus on your side?

"I... what? No, he didn't- he didn't tell me that." He looks shocked, looking back again to see if he could see him.

"Well. That's what just happened, weirdly enough." You laugh, shrugging to try and portray that you don't really care much more than that.

"I- um... We were told you were sick." He changes the subject now, something you're happy about because one more thought about Coryo and you might be in tears; or you might start throwing things.

"Sick? No." You shake your head. "I ran because if I hadn't, I'd be six feet under in the Capitol cemetery by now, no doubt. That or I'd be lacking a tongue."

"Oh, wow." He doesn't know what to say, so you just hum in agreement. "Coriolanus almost convinced me you were dead, but I knew better. They couldn't kill you if they tried, I don't think."

You chuckle, shrugging slightly. "Well, yeah. So that's been my life recently. Now I'm staying with Lucy Gray." You explain. "But what about you? You follow out here Coryo too?"

"More or less." He nods, a slight smile on his face. "Hey, uh, I've got to go, got some business to take care of but we'll get together again soon, okay? I'm really glad you're alive."

You nod, hugging him again. "Yeah, of course. I'm staying at this ugly, old grey house at the edge of the seam, past the end of the road. There's goats out back, you can't miss it. You'd think there's nothing out there, but trust me, we'll be there. Come by sometime when you're free, okay?"

"Will do." He agrees, hugging you back for just a moment. "I'll see you soon, Miss Sage." He teases, giving you a polite bow before turning to return to the party. You furrow your brow a bit as he almost directly approaches Billy Taupe, Lucy Gray's ex alongside one of his scummy friends, but you decide to mind your business. Sejanus was always too nice to everyone for his own good, anyway.

"Y/N's here." Coriolanus states, both him and Sejanus helping to carry their intoxicated bunkmates back to the barracks. "You see her?"

"I did, yeah, I talked to her." He nods, eyes straight ahead as their shoes crunch over the gravel.

"You talked to her? When?"

"A little after her performance, she was heading to this back room. Seemed awfully upset."

Coryo sighs. "What did she tell you?"

"That you betrayed her." Sejanus answers simply, adjusting his friend's arm over his shoulder. "That she was going to be killed or worse if she stayed."

"That's not-" Coryo thinks it over. "I didn't betray her, Sejanus. We know one baseline thing about Y/N Y/L/N and it's that she is, if nothing else, dramatic."

"Really? I wouldn't describe her that way." Sejanus argues subtly. "She's outspoken, maybe slightly obnoxious at times, but I feel like I am too. The one thing I know for sure about her is that she's not a liar, Coriolanus."

Coryo doesn't know if he's more angry about Sejanus calling you 'obnoxious' or framing it so nicely that you don't keep your mouth shut when you probably should. You were his girl, his. No one should talk about you like that but him- praise you or critique you all the same. You didn't know it yet, necessarily, but you were his to protect and to fix, if need be. You were rough around the edges, that's for certain, but you would mellow out eventually if you ever forgave him. "She wouldn't let me explain."

"Oh, was this before or after you kissed her as an apology?" Sejanus matches the heavy statement with a laugh and Coryo rolls his eyes at his response.

"I just, I needed her to know I did it because I care. I thought she was dead."

"Okay, well, she told me where she's staying. Told me to stop by on a day off." Sejanus admits. "Maybe you should come with me."

"Maybe." He agrees.

It was another week of torturous loneliness before Coriolanus was graced with a day off, and not even so much graced as he had to trade with one of his bunkmates to have the same day off as Sejanus. As soon as they ate they grabbed a couple bags of ice to bring with them to help you and your new friends beat the heat- a peace offering, of sorts.

The early August sun beat down on their backs as they walked through the Seam, a decrepit and rundown residential area that Coryo had no doubt had never seen a single air conditioner in all its days. There's no way you were happy here. Even with the lightness of his t-shirt and the early hour, he still had to fight the urge to remove it and instead drape it over his head to shade his skin from the sun.

"There's nothing down here. She lied to you." Coryo mutters as the already crumbled road falls into nothing more than a trail.

"Y/N said we had to keep going past the road." Sejanus says, looking back at him over his shoulder. "You want to hate her so bad, but you can't."

"I certainly can." Coryo grumbles in denial. "She's giving me the runaround. Obviously, she gave you fake directions-"

"Are you sure about that?" His friend replies smugly, looking through the overgrown trees ahead at a small grey house circled in by a white fence that hadn't seen a wash in years.

Coriolanus doesn't say anything, mentally rolling his eyes at being proven wrong. "Alright, go knock, then." He gestures for his friend to go ahead.

"This is your big plan to win her over? Hide in the bushes while I go in?"

"No. I'm just sure she lied and a local drunk is about to open the door with a gun pointed at your head."

"Suit yourself." Sejanus replies lightheartedly, practically skipping up to the door and giving it a few gentle knocks before taking a step back.

It's only a few moments and lots of chatter from inside before the door is swung open. "Hello there, what can we do ya' for?" Lucy Gray grins, and Sejanus looks pointedly over his shoulder at Coryo.

"Hi, I'm Sejanus, I'm a friend of Y/N's from back home." He explains and she smiles.

"Of course! I thought I recognized you, come on in, she's out in the back but you can just pass right through." She lets him in, looking at Coryo standing just outside of the fence line.

"You coming, Coriolanus?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as she holds the door, leaning against the frame.

He plasters on a smile, nodding and walking up to her on the porch that he's shocked doesn't collapse under his feet. "How are you?" She grins at him. "It's good to see you."

"You too." He nods. "I'm glad to see you made it home safe."

"Hey, well, welcome to the club." She chuckles, closing the door behind him. "Y/N's just out back." She points toward the back door. "But she's not too keen about seeing you, you know."

"So I've heard." Coryo sighs. "The feeling is mutual."

"Then why are you here?" She asks her previous mentor calmly. He's stumped by this, unsure how to respond. "Well, if it helps, I'm real glad you're here. I missed you." Lucy Gray promises, leading him to the back door and swinging it open.

Your head turns at the appearance of Coryo's silhouette on the back stairs. You internally groan, of course Sejanus would bring him. "And you brought Coriolanus." You smile bitterly at your friend, sliding an ice cube from the bag across your bare collarbones over the shirt you had now cut the sleeves off completely to turn into a tube top.

"Yeah, well, I figured you might want to actually talk." Sejanus offers, raising an eyebrow at you.

"We wanted to make sure you were doing okay here. Living up to your high standards." Coryo replies for you.

"Do I look uncomfortable to you?" You ask, placing a hand on your hip. "Well, now you've seen it all. Thanks for coming, Coriolanus, but I'm clearly happy here, so you can be on your way. Don't you have a rebel to shoot at?"

"Hey, woah-" Sejanus chuckles, holding his hands out to you in mock surrender. "Y/N, we just wanted to visit. I know I speak for both of us when I say that we've missed you."

You sigh, rolling your eyes slightly. You were nothing if not polite, raised to be a flawless hostess in your own home. "Alright. Sit." You gesture to the patch of grass next to you, by the little garden you're digging into to start some fall flowers. You've always wanted to try a garden, but your family paid people to do that and you didn't have the time, so why would you?

Lucy Gray and Sejanus do most of the talking, and you try to avoid looking up much from the dirt you're digging up and the small seeds you're planting. Coriolanus is sitting too close to Lucy Gray for your comfort, but you've been working on your temper, and until he showed back up it was going really well.

"Lucy Gray!" Billy Taupe calls from the front of the house, drawing all of your attention. You'd seen more of him than you have cared to since you've been here, he just won't leave her alone.

"Oh lord, here we go." She huffs, standing up and brushing off her skirt.

"I'll come with you." Sejanus offers quickly, standing as well. You're reminded of how, apparently, he and Billy Taupe know each other but you still can't understand why. The two of them disappear around the side of the house, and you're left alone with Coriolanus.

You keep a straight face, continuing with your cycle. Dig a hole, move the dirt, bury the seed, water it, repeat.

"What are you planting?" He decides to break the silence, moving a little closer to you and leaning back on his palms.

"Flowers, some fruit." You mumble back, keeping your focus on your hands.

"Isn't it a bit late in the season?" He asks, head tilted as he watches you.

"Raspberries are perennials." You reply plainly. "And roses bloom until late fall, do they not?"

"They do." He nods in confirmation, smiling a little to himself. Raspberries and roses together. He wonders if you even know what you're doing, or if this was a subconscious yearning you didn't know you had; to be with him in every form.

"Then there's no harm in planting them now." You say, stopping to take a quick break. You lean back on your calves where you were kneeling, grabbing the ice bag that is now mostly melted to drink out of. You hold it out to Coryo when you're done, shaking it when he hesitates to take it from your hand. "Drink. It's hot, you'll get dehydrated quickly even just sitting out here."

Coryo takes it at that, looking away quickly when he catches that glimpse of pity in your eyes, the same look that plagued him in the weeks leading up the the games and after he thought you died. He hated it until then, but now, maybe it wasn't so bad. At least you were looking at him, and it seemed like it was some kind of inherent need you had to take care of him. The thought of that made his stomach flip.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you." You say suddenly, catching him so off guard he almost spits out his water. District life really must have been changing you, and it was worse than he imagined. It wasn't just the loose-fitting clothes that were one stitch away from falling off of your frame, however breathtaking they may somehow look. Now, Y/N Y/L/N was in the business of issuing apologies? Someone call a doctor. "I shouldn't have said... that. It was cruel."

Coryo nods slightly, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I figured you didn't mean it."

"You were lucky they had already decided my guilt. I would have torn your head off by now, otherwise." That's the Y/N I know.

"Sejanus told me they were going to execute you."

"Well, not necessarily." You sigh, pulling your skirt back out of the way before digging your hands back into the dirt. "It wasn't stated, but it was service that was suggested. Possibly nursing, probably under my father back home. When I climbed out my window, they were discussing the possibility of having me turned into an Avox. Highbottom said I knew too much, but I know my father would rather shamelessly bury me than have his oldest turned into a symbol of rebellion." You explain, now seeing no harm in telling him the full story.

"What do you know, anyway?" Coriolanus asks. It had been bothering him for a long time, and up until a week ago, he thought you took those secrets to the grave.

"That he and my father are proprietors of the largest drug ring Panem has ever seen." You answer simply, a smug smile taking over your features as you press some dirt carefully over a planted seed. "The main storage is in a secret room in our wine cellar, an old bunker from the war. I stumbled into it when I was thirteen-ish. I mean, you wouldn't believe everything they had down there. I haven't seen anything like it. Actual gallons upon gallons of morphling, other addictive crap that'll ruin your life, even weed." You giggle, sitting back again to gesture with your hand how big everything is.

Coriolanus can feel his eyes going wide at your confession, and he stammers. "I- wow, uh..."

"Come on," You chuckle, tilting your head at him like it was obvious. "Doctors don't have that much power unless they're a game maker Like Gaul, or have that money to start. They make money, sure, but not like that."

"Well," He swallows, nodding slightly at the intake of information. "That explains you being able to walk all over Highbottom for so long." He chuckles. It all makes so much sense now, how both you and Highbottom have a seemingly endless supply of morphling on you, and your father had a decently sized sought-after medical practice, but nothing that could add up to the amount of power and influence he possessed back home. "And the weed you brought to Livia's seventeenth birthday party."

You laugh. "No one even knew what to do with it- we were all so damn sheltered." You hum, matching his smile. "Still, don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He shakes his head.

"You sure? Because last I recall, you did snitch on me, Snow. And frame me, if I’m remembering correctly…"

Coryo sighs. "I know, I know... But I did mean what I said. I just- it was stupid, but I thought I could protect you. Genuinely."

You don't seem mad anymore, just smiling at him. "I know." You say, voice so sickly sweet and soft in a way he had only ever heard from you once before; when he was on the verge of a panic attack in the arena. You had told him that soon it would all be over, simultaneously you were right but you also couldn't have been more wrong.

You needed him to believe all was forgiven, and the small look of satisfaction on his face proves to you that it has worked. From here, the games were back on.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , @lauravanderbooben20 , @dry0campa , @luclue , @lokidala , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

#tbosas #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #the hunger games #thg series #thg #thg fanfic #thg fanfiction

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thereticx · 3 months

Text

ᎠᏆᏙϴᎡᏟᎬ́Ꭼ

♰Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader

♰Warnings: toxicity(all characters), smoking, drinking, sexual content, cheating, home wrecking, infidelity

♰Author's Note: Geto is such a beautiful character and I desperately wanted to write about him since I have read every fic possible.

“What would your poor wife think if she saw you fucking with me?”

“You mean ex wife”

“Whatever”

He didn't remember when the chase first started. It might've been on the celebration of his fourth year as a married man or maybe–at your father's monthly dinner with family friends.

There, he first noticed the daggers his dear wife shot at you. She tried to play it cool, saying that you're only there for the show and that you're too young to understand any of the talks at the table.

Geto reassured her like always, with a kiss and a good fuck right after. He chanted over and over again ‘you’re the only one’-a truth that'll soon turn into a good for nothing lie.

“It's just in your head”

“No it's not. She's staring at you whenever we’re over at their house. I don't like her. She's bad news”

Geto chuckled, stroking her jaw with his fingers. He gently kissed her lips before lowering his hand to squeeze her naked thigh “Do you hear yourself?She's like twenty. No need to worry over a college girl”. His wife smiled, almost relieved. She wanted to believe her husband, but something deep down told her no to–that that college girl wanted what's hers–you wanted him,Geto.

The man tucked his bangs away from his face and bowed down, sucking at the delicate skin of her neck.

”Fuck,he is hot” One of your friends pointed out, zooming over the picture you just showed her. Her manicured nails danced over the screen carefully, analyzing every detail the picture showed.

”Yes, he is. Although his wife is kind of a bitch” Mumbling under your breath you continued playing with your lighter ”Why?”

You huffed, searching into your bag for something that might cool you off. The pack was almost empty even though you bought it in the morning ”Want one?” She smirked, making herself more comfortable on the kitchen counter ”Sure. Now, tell me. What is this wife of his like?”

Taking a drag of the cigarette you responded ”Insecure. She keeps watching my every move when they're over for dinner. And whenever I speak she just starts snorting” Venting to your friend about your problems wasn't exactly on your to do list. Only when your father called you asking you to make yourself busy and not attend dinner tonight, you freaked out.

”She told your father?For what?Can't she just talk to you like a normal person?”

”Apparently not. She just made my dad uninvite me to a dinner hosted by my own family” The call was a short one, your dad explaining that maybe it'll be for the best if you make yourself busy and skip this time. However, he accidentally slipped out and mentioned that Mrs. Geto did not feel comfortable around you.

”Damn. Maybe you should give her something to be really uncomfortable about”

Blowing the smoke out you put out the cigarette in the ashtray ”Maybe I should"

She was furious. Seeing you in a corner with her husband, chatting some nonsense.

”Your tattoos really suit you” He smiled at the compliment, taking another sip of his drink. Geto wasn't much of a talker, preferring the idea of just listening. Surprisingly enough, he liked talking to you. You were a good company, despite his wifes words. Perhaps you spend a little too long staring at his lips, trying to play it cool like it was nothing. However, he found himself staring at your exposed chest as well. The dress was awfully tight and maybe a little too revealing.

”What?You don't have any?” Geto asked, supporting his weight on the side of the counter.

Shaking your head you pursued ”No no, I do. Only in more private places”

”Oh”

”Unfortunately I can't show you. Your wife is already up my trail for some reason. I don't want to add fuel to the fire”

Geto bit the inside of his cheek, feeling ashamed for some reason. He fidgeted with his now empty glass without looking at you ”I don't blame her. Her husband is quite charming” You admitted while grabbing your jacket ”If you'll excuse me, I'm going for a smoke. The place is already too crowded for my liking”

Geto scanned your body as you left, the fabric of the black dress riding up as you stepped away from the room. Blinking rapidly, he moved his attention to the table where his wife was, she, sporting a look of pure anger and jealousy. He was fucked.

”Yeah-right there….” His hips buckled up faster, fucking into his wife cunt at a brutal pace.

She yelled his ear off in the car and in the lift, talking nonstop about you shamelessly flirting with him. And, to avoid another cold night on the couch he did what he always did.

”Ffuck-” He groaned, chasing the euphoric sense of release for the third time that night. Geto was tired, yet desperate to make his wife happy again. He wanted to prove himself as loyal and caring, the perfect husband who loves no one else but the one underneath him.

She clinged to his bicep, her walls squeezing him painfully. She was close, he could tell ”Give it to me” He demanded, circling his thumb over her clit, her body surrendering under the massive amount of pleasure.

When she came undone, Geto pulled out, his dick still painfully hard. Something was wrong. For the first time in years he used his hand to get rid of the erection between his legs. The water was hot, the windows becoming foggy as Geto jerked himself off. His eyes were closed, a figure coming to his mind. A figure much younger than him, a woman of twenty years of age, one that he imagined kissing, moaning his name, shaking while he held her.

You wished nothing more than the feeling of guilt to disappear. Two weeks after that conversation you had with Geto, the world seemed to shift around you. Punishing you for going after a married man. You only wanted to spite his wife, nothing more. Yes, you found Geto attractive as hell but that ring he wore put a label on him as unavailable.

Two weeks after that damned conversation, you ran onto him a few times. It was only just innocent talking and a little bit of lingering sights. You two laughed, getting along surprisingly well. Geto understood you like no other. He was patient, listening to you for hours, while the ashtray filled up with cigarettes.

He desperately wanted to taste the nicotine off your tongue and rip your clothes to see where you were inked.

”Maybe you should go. Your wife is probably going mad you're not home already”. Truth be told, you didn't want him to go. His presence started to grow on you.

Geto pressed his lips together, the ring on his bottom lip making itself noticeable to you “How can I only see your lip piercing now?”

“I have had it since I was about your age, although my wife is not very fond of it. Says it's past my time”

You chuckled softly. Was his wife blind? He looked perfect. With long black hair, gorgeous dark eyes and those lips with that piercing. Geto was utterly dreamy “She's wrong. It suits you. You look…hot”

Now it was his turn to laugh. He ran his hand through his hair, silky strands falling on his broad shoulders. Geto felt a strange sense of warmth, more like a desire–that's how he knew it was time to leave.

He quickly got in the car, sparring you no glance as he drove off. Was it wrong to openly admit that he was attractive? Was that the reason why he ran away? Next time you'd think twice before doing something like that again.

You cleaned up after you two and entered the house. No one was there beside you. The rooms were all dark, a pregnant silence engulfing the whole place. This way you liked it better-when it was just you with your thoughts, no one to question you or distract you.

No, your family was by no means a source of annoyance-you just grew to love being all by yourself or..used to.

I should apologize

And that's what you did as soon as you saw him again.

After a rough and tiring day of classes and assignments you decided to treat yourself and go shopping. Who knows?You might be lucky.

Seeing Geto walk around the shop, almost lost, made you sympathetic, so you approached him with a smile. He was looking at some dresses, inspecting them carefully ”What's the occasion?”

He licked his bottom lip and said ”On Sunday we're having a party. It's my wife's birthday . I wanna treat her with something”.

For some unknown reason, your heart became heavy. You hated how much he cared about her. How he was always trying to make her happy and accomplished. It's honestly a pity how she treated him till this very moment.

That bitch doesn't deserve him

”I have some kind of experience in this department. I can help you if you want”

”Thank you”

Two hours later and you were still shopping, only at a different store. You showed him some good examples, dresses that were sexy and yet simple. If it were you–the more the better.

”What about this one?” You showed him a long dress with a slit and the perfect cleavage cut. It was a darker shade of red, almost a wine color–a seductive one.

He scanned the piece for a moment before touching the material ”I think this is it. Will it fit her?”

”I can try it on if you don't mind. We are quite similar in size….I think” You were hopeful that he'll agree. It's only a dress after all. You weren't trying to impress him–no. Definitely not.

Geto looked hesitant but still, he really wanted the dress to fit. This could help ”Yeah.Sure.Ill wait on the couch”

You were excited, entering the changing room as fast as you could.

”So, what do you think?” You asked, sitting there, in front of him. He looked up from his phone and his eyes fixated on your pretty figure. The dress was almost like a second skin, resting on your body effortlessly. Geto didn't even realize he was staring at you before you pointed it out ”Geto, what's the verdict?”

The man stood up and got closer to you, closer than usual ”You are beautiful–I mean it's beautiful..Yeah”

His words made you blush ”Actually it's kinda tight here–”You gestured to your chest ”But I don't think it will be a problem for her” Geto nodded before taking his wallet out.

”It was a pain to zip it up. Can you help me?” You batted your eyelashes innocently at him, taking his hand in yours. He bit the inside of his cheek and allowed to be dragged into the dressing room by you.

Staring in the mirror, you felt his fingers unzip the dress with no effort, his fingers lingering on your back a bit more ”You think you're smart. Don't you?” He smirked, grabbing you by the waist and pinning you against his chest ”Finding this lame excuse only to be undressed by me. Desperate girl” Geto kissed your shoulder, dragging the fabric further down with no warning.

Your chest was exposed, along with a small piece of ink under your left breast ”And that's one..” He whispered, folding your tits, while he dropped the dress to the floor.

You saw him lower his hand, tracing your belly, to your pelvis where the second tattoo was revealed and then pressed on your clothed core.

You sucked in a breath when Geto dragged your panties down until they rested around your thighs ”I don't want to hear a sound from you or you're not getting dicked down”

He sank three of his fingers in your cunt, the stretch making your legs quiver. The ache was painful as he didn't have the patience to prep you before. Geto started to finger you rapidly, pushing your body towards the mirror, your breasts getting mushed. You tried to control your moans, truly but something about the way he moved his digits made you lose your mind. A broken moan escaped your lips and as soon as it did, Geto pulled out ”What did I tell you? Gues you'll have to cum by yourself”

”B-but you can't leave me like this. Im sorry-”

He exhaled before getting down on his knees ”Spread your legs”

God…he was disgusting

What a beautiful sight that was….with you on his bed–in the same bed he shared countless nights with his wife. How is he gonna fix this?

You shifted on the bed, your face hiding in the pillow. Geto, no matter how much guilt stabbed at his conscience, he couldn't resist but to place his cold lips on your naked back, breathing for a short second the scent of the woman who now was all he thought about.

”Its cold”

Geto smiled, kissing your shoulder and playing with your hair ”Hmmm..” He sneaked his arm around your waist, holding you close to his chest. The butterflies in his chest made him uneasy. Geto had no intention to screw around with you, definitely not to catch feelings for you either. But it happened.

”She's gonna be home in an hour. I think it's best if you go” His words struck you directly in the heart. Although you were aware of the place you found yourself having sex and with who–you still dreamed of a possibility that it was you who bore his last name, not her. Yet, you were the intruder, the homewrecker, the bitch, the whore who chose to destroy a happy marriage and to fuck the husband of another woman.

Geto's wet kiss on your jaw brought you back from dreamland ”C'mon. I'll help you”

You pulled away from him and got up ”No need. I can handle it”

”Don't get mad. What do you want me to do?”

”For starters, you could stop treating me like a simple hook up that you just send home after” You argued, angrily putting back your clothes. He stayed there, stunned, contemplating what to say next.

He grabbed you by the hips and glued his lips to your tattoo ”You are not a hookup. I'm sorry if that came out wrong. But she can't catch us like this. She's still my wife”

Tears started to gather in your waterline, avoiding his touch you put on your jacket and grabbed your phone ”She is your wife…Yeah right. And what am I exactly?To you?!”

”My love”

”Well, it doesn't feel like it”

Three weeks and you still avoided him. No text, no calls, nothing. The fight you had with Geto left you with no choice but to reflect on your relationship–if you can call it that.

Six months of sneaking around, of lies, and hot showers where you would aggressively rub at your skin until red painful marks would be visible. You needed to be cleansed of your sin and you needed closure.

The water had long got cold in the tub. The wine bottle was almost empty as you poured another glass. Your eyes were puffy and your skin had wrinkled.

A mess..that's what you were. A mess you created

The number was already dialed, you only had to press the call button.

”Take it like a good girl” He groaned, pinning her down.

His wife held onto him for dear life as he fucked his dick into her cunt relentlessly . She knew something was bothering him but the way he expressed this anger did not annoy her at all. She enjoyed it.

”Baby baby–faster please” She moaned, meeting his harsh thrusts. Geto manhandled her as he pleased. Smashing her face in the pillow–the same one you last rested.

His hair tickled his hip bones as the black strands got longer and longer ”Fucking greedy–” The heat was unbearable, his orgasm approaching. Geto emptied himself inside his wife, allowing himself a few until he calmed down.

She felt him pull out, his cum dripping down her thighs. She turned around to face him, her belly barely noticeable ”What's bothering you?”

”Nothing” He stroked her cheek ”It's nothing”.

”You sure?” She pressed on.

Geto let out a fake laugh, his fingers grazing her tummy ”Hope I didn't disturb the little one”

She reached up for him, settling on his lap, locking her lips with his in a wet kiss ”You were quite rough–I love it”

As they kept on kissing, swirling their tongues together her phone rang ”Don't pull away”

She smirked before leaning back to get her phone ”I'll cut them short”

”Yes?”

The world went dull, quiet. The wine was spilled on the bathroom floor, mixing with the bubbled water.

Your head was thrown back, your eyes closed, smiling to yourself as you listened to the screams on the other side.

What a beautiful mess you created.

#fanfic #x reader #anime #one shot #jjk x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x reader #jjk smut #geto smut #jjk angst #geto x you #geto x y/n #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x y/n #jujutsu geto

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feelbokkie · 1 year

Text

When he has to keep your relationship a secret

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

Part 2

genre: disgusting amount of fluff

pov: 2nd person

description: Subtle ways bf!skz simps for you when he can’t reveal your relationship.

pairing: bf!skz x reader

warnings: there is like one swear word

word count: 1,934

방 찬 (Bang Chan)

Makes a playlist

Loves you and also wants to keep your relationship private anyway

But also adores you and wants to show you off

He thought it would be fun to mess with Stay too

So he just started playing music that spelled out your name with the titles during his lives

He didn't do it all in one day because he was scared that someone would figure it out immediately

So he spread it across several lives

After he was done spelling out your name, he would just play your favorite songs

Or songs that would remind him of you

Or a song that you two heard while you were together and formed a core memory to

Would be blushing smiling like a dumbass while the songs are playing, remembering you and all the happy memories

Makes a playlist with those songs and shared the link on his bubble

He adds songs to it periodically so fans don't read too much into the order and see your name

이 민 호 (Lee Min-Ho)

A special hand sign

He's not the type who is big on matching couple items

And you were okay with that, he wasn't supposed to talk about your relationship anyway

But he was so in love with you, he wanted to tell the world

So he came up with a hand sign that he could do during performances and vlogs

Spent a lot of time researching sign language to make sure he wasn't going to do anything offensive or stupid

It also needed to be small and not complex so he could sneak it into dances

The first time he did it in a performance, he sat down with you and watched your reaction to the video

"Why did you do that? Did you forget the move and freestyle?"

You had sat through enough rehearsals and watched enough of their performances to know the choreography, especially Minho's parts, to know that he was not supposed to do that

"No, I did that on purpose." "Why?" "For you." "What?"

He let you sit confused for the rest of the video before finally explaining

The hand sign is meant to let you know that he loves you

And misses you

And is thinking about you

He did it every chance he got

It got to the point where Stay noticed and just thought it was a Lee Know Quirk™️

Naturally, they adopted it

You thought he would be annoyed that Stay was doing it too

"They're just helping spread and amplify my love for you."

서 창 빈 (Seo Chang-Bin)

Wears a necklace with your name

Genuinely does not care about having to keep it a secret

Wants to shout it from the rooftop

And has

The only reason he keeps quiet is because you don't feel comfortable being in the spotlight

But he will wear a necklace with your name on it

Like a dog collar

It literally says "If lost, return to Y/N"

Smug bastard

Refuses to take it off

Won't even tuck it inside his shirt

Will even purposely show it with your name facing out in pictures

It has to be edited in every picture

It's either edited to read "If lost, return to Stay," made to look blank, or edited out completely

Stay thinks that the return to Stay is the original so they made their own versions of it

"If lost, return to *insert select skz member*" or "If lost, return to Stray Kids"

Fans don't try to read the necklace anymore, they just think it's the Stay one

It's also a tiny locket

Which you only found out about 3 months into him owning the necklace

Naturally, there is a little picture of you in it

황 현 진 (Hwang Hyun-Jin)

Couple rings

He wears a lot of rings anyway, so nobody would think about the one that you two share being a couple ring

It was the one ring he never swapped out so Stay just thought it was his favorite

They aren’t wrong

That thing is always on his person at all times

If it doesn’t match an outfit for a photoshoot or a performance he’ll either wear it as a necklace or in his shoe

One time he tried to be creative and tied it to his hair so you could see it when they did a close up for a performance

Naturally, the ring flew off when he was dancing and it was lost

Couldn’t even go on stage to look for it when he realized because another group was on stage

Had a mini panic attack and called you crying while the guys tried to help find it after the show

You tried to calm him down over the phone and tell him that you two can just buy a new one

He didn’t want a new one, he wanted that one

He knew he could buy a new one, but he couldn’t buy the memories that came with the original

He won it in a claw machine during the date where you two made it official

It was one of those games where the prizes are actually expensive and good quality

After you two redeemed the rings, he got down on one knee and “proposed”

“Y/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and allow me to be your boyfriend?”

And on your one year anniversary you two got each other’s names and your anniversary date engraved on the inside

A few days later a staff member brought the ring and told him how they found it when they were taking down the set

After that he made sure all of his performance clothes had a tiny pocket on the inside just for his ring

한 지 성 (Han Ji-Sung)

Paints one of his nails to match yours

It started randomly

You two were watching an anime together and you were painting your nails because you needed something to do with your hands

When you finished, you saw how engrossed be was in the show

So you painted his pinky nail to see if he would noticed

He didn’t

After you finished painting his pinky, you contemplated painting the rest of his nails to see how far you could get

Decided against it since it would be a waste and he would just take it off soon anyway

“Look, we match!” Drawing attention to your handiwork

He looked confused at first

He saw how happy it made you and decided to just leave it

You were honestly surprised to see the nail polish still there 2 weeks later and slightly chipped

He was not happy to see that you had painted them a different color

“We don’t match anymore.”

It’d take you a second to realize that he was talking about the nail polish

"Let's get that fixed, shall we?"

"Can we put it on this finger this time?"

He would point to his ring finger

Wears his nail polish like a wedding ring

Has gotten to the point where you just text him when you changed the color

Would not let his stylist remove the polish or paint over it anytime he had to paint his nails for work

That nail was reserved for you two only

Fans thought he was just trying to be stylish and different with the singular different color nail

He bought a large set of mini nail polishes so that he would be prepared for the next time you went and painted your nails

Takes them with him on tour with him so he can keep up

Stares at his hand fondly and thinks of you

이 용 복 (Lee Felix Yong-Bok)

Matching bracelets

He was helping you move out of your parents' house and into your first apartment when he found a bracelet making kit

Persuaded you into taking a quick break so you can make bracelets

You taught him a few simple braids that he could weave together on his own

Took him a few minutes but he got the hang of it

When you two were finished, he suggested that you two swapped bracelets

Only takes it off when he has to for work or when he's taking a shower

Stay once made fun of it because it was so out of place with all of his expensive accessories

"This is the most expensive accessory I own, actually."

He felt bad because the one you wore was like a shoelace compared to his

You had incorporated both his and your favorite colors and somehow added little heart beads

Bought his own kit and practiced making bracelets until he was satisfied

Surprised you with the new bracelet

"Now I have one for each arm." "You can just take off the first one." "Why would I do that?" "You don't have to pretend to like it." "Why would I pretend to like it? I love it, you made it for me. A Lix original."

Would try not to cry, and fail miserably, over those words while tying the bracelet for you

김 승 민 (Kim Seung-Min)

Keeps a photo of you in his phone case

You two went and printed photo cards of each other at the mall one day

It was one of those kiosk where you could upload personal photos and they print out in photo card form immediately

You guys have two each, one individual photo of each other and your favorite couple photos

He keeps the couple photo framed and takes it with him on tour

But the one of just you? That's on his person 24/7

He considered getting one of those phone cases where you could insert a photo card or a clear case but he knew that would only cause him trouble, you two were meant to be a secret

So inside the phone case it went where it couldn't be seen

That thing is so protected, even if his phone fell into a sink full of water, your photocard would be fine

Pulls it out and stares at it when he's sad

Or tired

Or anxious

Or stressed

Or mad

Or drained

Or happy

He's so in love with you that he's always staring

Especially when you two are apart for long periods of time

If you two are unable to video chat but can talk on the phone normally, he'll pull out the photo card so he can at least look at you while talking

Panics any time his phone is missing

That photo cards, and the countless other photos he has of you on his phone would be gone forever

If you ever ask him about where he keeps his picture of you, he will lie and say it's at the dorm or something

You can't know how much he is actually in love with you

Sometimes the boys will find him asleep clutching his phone and when they go to try and take it so that they can charge it, they realized that he was just staring at the photocard taped to the case

양 정 인 (Yang Jeong-In)

Sets a picture of you as his lock screen

It took a lot of work

Chan had to help him figure out how to do it at first

If anyone looked at his phone, they wouldn’t see you, they would see a random landscape

But, if anyone held down on the lock screen, they would see the landscape pan over to you and you would be smiling at the camera

He saw that trend where people were turning live photos in to lock screens and figured it was the best compromise

Plays the video often when he misses you

Just sitting there, looking at his phone lock screen

Is careful how he holds his phone in public, does not want to accidentally trigger the video to play

Gets teased and called a simp for how often he looks at his phone smiling

But he doesn’t care

He just want to see the love of his life

—

Buy me a coffee?

1K notes · View notes

lucifers-rubber-duck · 2 months

Note

hazbin crew with a reader that's having a love surge. it means to where their like jumping or just fidgeting and giggling and just really wanting affection and when they get it (like a hug or something) their just so giddy about it afterwards

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Husker, Angel, Niffty, Sir Pentious & Lucifer.

Warnings: They/Them pronouns used for Reader.

A/N: I researched to know more about it and man, why were people so mean to that poor couple, they were just being sweet. Thanks for the ask anon and sorry if I wrote a love surge wrong.

𖤓Charlie

• She easily notices the way you're fidgety, your legs are moving even though you're sitting quietly, you have a smile on your face and she gets a little worried.

• “Is everything okay Reader? You look unquiet.”; you proceed to try and explain what a love surge is and will tell her not to worry.

• Her eyes shine with the new information, she just can't help but few proud when anyone at the hotel open up about anything, especially if is something she can help with.

• She'll ask if she can give you a hug to easy you, you immediately say yes, you're earning for any kind of affection at this point and oh boy, do you get it. Charlie totally gives the best hugs in the world and she gives one extra tight to you.

• Your legs kick a little more in excitement before you completely melt on her arms, putting your head on her shoulder and giggling like a idiot, she sits there and waits until you feel better again.

• She'll be always looking out to see if you're having a love surge again and will offer a hug everytime, you don't have to worry about it alone anymore.

𖤓Vaggie

• Is extremely confused at first, she thinks your having some sort of epilepsy attack by the way you're moving your arms.

• When you explain she's clearly still a little confused but doesn't seem as judgmental as you thought she would be, you wonder if maybe Charlie experiences that too, that's why she's so chill about it.

• She's not the best with physical affection, she's more the one to show love through actions so she would probably ask Charlie to do the hugging part while she makes sure you're feeling alright.

• One day you would be having another love surge, and couldn't help but hug her from behind. At first you were one second away from being tossed to the ground by surprising her, but when she notices it's you she calms down more and decides to stay quiet while you put your love out.

• You swear you saw her blush after being hugged but you're too busy with your arms around her and resting your head on the top of her head to care too much, you just want to enjoy the moment, since it probably won't happen again.

𖤓Alastor

• He's the most confused man on the world, he does not get why you are so unquiet and giggling to yourself, he thinks you're going totally insane.

• If somehow, out of curiosity, he asks you what's going on and listens to your explanation, he won't see very impressed.

• He doesn't know really how to make you feel better in those moments, he's not a big fan of showing or receiving affection. He would talk to Rosie about it and she would say that he should at least try and help you.

• He's giving you small taps on the head, maybe swinging you around when he finds a opportunity to dance, he's trying his best and that's just enough for you.

• The down side to him is that after a while, every time he shows you affection after a love surge, you hold onto him like a koala to a tree and he won't find the courage to tell you to leave, he's being too soft with you and that makes him annoyed.

• “So, what's up with you two?” Husker would ask one day with a smug on his face. “I would shut up if I was you, Husker my friend.” Alastor growls back, with a smiling Reader holding him by the waist on a hug.

𖤓Husker

• Would probably notice you're having a love surge before anyone else, he's good a reading people, he may not know the exact name, but he'll be the first to confront you about it.

• He's very open minded and understands what you mean, he understands what you're probably feeling in those times even if he doesn't shows it. He keeps small details on the back of his mind, so he always knows how to act around certain people.

• When you're having a love surge, he'll call you to the bar, sit by your side and pull you close with his wings. He won't say a word or do more than that, he'll keep drinking his cheap booze, he won't stop you from cuddling in him.

• Don't get too cocky tho, as much as he enjoys seeing you all giggly and feeling comfortable he won't let you rub his ears or let you touch his tail, he has boundaries and won't let you break then. He'll let you brush your fingers through his feathers if you ask very nicely.

• You two could probably be found sleeping in the bar’s counter a few hours later, you because all your energy was drained out by his affection and him because he got way to drunk, face probably smacked into the counter.

𖤓Angel

• When he sees you jumping he also thinks you're going insane; when you explain to him he laughs and makes a rude joke about it.

• He stops laughing when he notices that you were actually sad because of his joke, you normally aren't affected by his jokes, you know it's his way to show he cares but that one made you feel down because it's something you already don't have much confidence about.

• He looks at your sad face before sighing and pulling you to a side hug with one of his four arms. You looked surprised at him, mainly because this feels like a genuine shown of affection and he rarely gives anyone those, but hey, you're not complaining.

• I like to believe he would also give you quick kisses on the top of your head, he pretends it's because he's trying to mess with you or that is just a lazy way to do his flirting but you can feel there's something more about it, especially because he smiles when you giggle with his kisses.

• Recovering your energy after a love surge while sleeping on his fluffy chest is something that happens a lot too, that's simply the best pillow in the world, what can you do?

𖤓Niffty

• She doesn't understand very well what do you mean and probably is the one that least cares, she's already very affectionate with you! Well… in her own way.

• She'll just keep doing what she already does and climb you like a tree, give you gifts made out of bugs, clean you with her duster and sit on your lap once and a while.

• Even that is already enough for you to feel so loved that you feel yourself just giddy while gently holding her in your arms, she's (kinda) the side of a teddy bear and is the best one to hug.

• She would also show affection in these moments by climbing on the couch and making your hair in different hairstyles, brushing and putting accessories on it until you're a giggly mess, she finds your reactions funny.

𖤓Sir Pentious

• The first time he sees you fidgeting he's very confused, but different from everyone, he wouldn't ask you at first what was happening, he would go to Charlie to see if she knew what was wrong.

• “What's wrong with them?”; “I don't know… hey! Why won't we make it our next exercise? Communication is the key to be a good person and to reach redemption, so, go there and try to be communicative with them.”

• When he finally asks you about it, he's a little surprised to hear the answer, he doesn't know how to react to it very well but doesn't ask you what he can do to help, he's going to discover himself, he's a genius after all! Guess he already forgot about the communication exercise.

• He reaches the conclusion that hugs and holding hands might help you in those occasions, so he does it! In the most awkward way possible, he practically screams to the whole hotel that he's about to hug you and he's also a blushing mess, he's just not used to it.

• And when you got all giddy about it right after too? He just panicked thinking he did something wrong or hurted you, you have to calm him down and say it's okay and that's just a normal reaction from you.

• Besides being kinda awkward and having no experience showing affection, he's a great hugger and can be a real sweetheart with you, especially when you two are alone, he gets more nervous when there are people around him, he doesn't want to make a fool of himself in front of anyone.

𖤓Lucifer

• When you first tell him about it, he would sort of understand the feeling, there were times when he looked at Lilith and Charlie that he couldn't contain himself and would pull them into a hug or else he felt he could explode of how much love he had for them.

• And because of that he'll let you be as clingy and as affectionate as you need to put all that energy out. He would hug you, let you play with his wings, bake for you and teach you how to build rubber ducks.

• Do I need to say even more how much he's a sucker for physical affection? He's simply in ecstasy to have someone around that loves him so much and that isn't just his daughter.

• Everytime you feel giddy from the love surge, he'll make sure to hold you still so you don't fall, it's like you're drunk of how much love you're receiving.

• There were times were both of you were just exhausted from having a nice time together, he would bring you to his apple tower and cuddle with you until both felt the energy come back.

360 notes · View notes

starryeyedjanai · 9 months

Text

sitting between comfort and chaos

steddie | 5.7k | rated: teen

5 times everyone thought Steve and Eddie were dating before they got together + the first time Steve tells someone after they actually get together

happy birthday @legitcookie!!! i hope you had a fantastic day!💗

read on ao3

Thinking back on it all, Steve thinks he should have known something was up when Dustin started letting Eddie sit up front when he drove them places, a spot reserved only for Robin or Erica when Dustin was riding with him.

Steve has seen that kid - who's not really a kid anymore, he's in college now which is so weird to think about - elbow his friends in the neck trying to get to the car first so he could ride shotgun. So giving up the coveted spot for anyone - even Eddie - should have been a giant red flag.

Steve brings up Dustin letting Eddie sit up front to Robin and gets an eye roll for his trouble.

"What?" he asks. "It's not like it isn't weird. The kid will literally only let you or Erica sit up front and he only lets Erica do it because he's afraid of her."

"Yeah, and he let me sit up front because he thought that we were a thing or about to become a thing or whatever," Robin says, like that explains anything.

"Right," he says, not quite getting what she's getting at.

Dustin knows better now and has stopped bothering them about it, stopped asking Steve when he's going to finally ask Robin out. It only took a million years, but he thinks Dustin gets it now.

He still lets Robin sit up front out of habit - and because Steve refused to start the car the one time Dustin tried to bully his way up front with Robin after figuring out they would never be a 'thing'.

"You know he still kind of idolizes both of you and now that you're, you know-" Robin says trailing off.

Steve lost the thread a little bit, but he nods. "Sure, sure," he says.

Now that he and Eddie are friends, Dustin has stopped bugging them about about each other. Maybe Robin's right. Dustin is still just idolizing Eddie and that's why he lets him sit up front.

Steve still thinks it's weird though.

The first instance Steve can remember something weird happening even before Dustin started letting Eddie sit up front was at a club in Indianapolis.

Robin's sitting in between him and Vickie in the booth, talking about her classes this semester, when she stops short.

"Rob?" Steve asks, and then waves a hand in front of her face when she doesn't respond.

She snaps out of it when he boops her nose lightly. "Uh, um. Don't look, but-"

He immediately looks in the direction she was looking in when she spaced out and tries to scope out what she saw that caught her attention so hard she stopped talking. He sees the crowd of dancing people in his line of sight, but he doesn't see anything out of place.

"I said don't look!" she snaps at him and he turns back to her.

"What? I don't see anything!" he says, feeling chagrined at her snapping at him like that. "You can't say 'don't look' and expect me not to look."

"Just- Eddie's, like, dancing on someone right now," she says, tone almost apologetic.

Steve fails to see what's so special about that. Eddie's always hooking up with someone when he and Steve come out together. He doesn't even think it's the first time Robin's seen it, so he isn't sure why she's so shocked. Vickie has a sympathetic look on her face when Steve glances at her to see if she thinks it's weird that Robin is bringing this up.

"Okay?" he says, voice lilting high at the end like a question.

"And you're okay with that?" Robin asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Uh, should I not be? He's always hooking up when we go out," he says, looking back over and yep - he's got his tongue down some guy's throat on the dance floor, the guy's hands gripping Eddie's ass to bring their hips together. Steve feels a ribbon of want float through him - it's been a while since he hooked up with someone.

"So, you've got like an arrangement where you can hook up with other people?" Robin asks, confused.

And Steve is also confused. The way she says 'arrangement' like it has connotations that he should understand. Why would he and Eddie have even talked about hooking up with anyone?

His slightly tipsy brain tries to rationalize it - maybe she's talking about when they go out just the two of them, like if Eddie hooks up with someone, Robin's assuming Steve would be all alone. He doesn't have a problem with it - he's a social butterfly when he's drunk and even if he wasn't, Eddie running off to go dance or make out or hook up with someone gives Steve time to find someone to hook up with himself. It's not like he's ever bored when he goes out with Eddie.

So he tells her, "He can literally do whatever he wants, Bobbie."

She sips her drink and stares at him, her gaze scrutinizing, and whatever she sees must appease her because she drops it and starts talking about her courses again.

When he remembers that conversation the next day, all he can think about is how bizarre Robin was acting.

The next weird occurrence he can remember happening, he didn't even find out until after the fact that something was awry.

He's on vacation with most of the older crew, staying at a house near the ocean, just a small little bungalow, for the week that they're in California.

When Steve and Eddie go to drop their suitcases off in the room Nancy shuffles them towards, they pause.

There's only one bed.

He and Eddie look at each other and Eddie says, "Maybe all the rooms have one bed?"

"Yeah, yeah, probably," he says, dragging his suitcase to the far side of the room.

"We probably shouldn't say anything, right?" Eddie asks, later, before they all head out to the beach. "Like, about the room?"

Steve thinks about it. He knows Nancy is the one who got the keys to the house through her parent's friends and she got here earlier than them and scoped out the place. If there was another option to them sharing the same bed, Nancy would have told them. "Yeah, I mean. It's fine, right? You don't have a problem sleeping next to me?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Oh, of course not. I'm good sharing if you are."

"Yeah, it's no problem," Steve says. He kind of can't remember the last time he shared a bed with someone other than Robin when she stays over at his apartment sometimes.

"Okay, then we'll just. Keep it to ourselves. Besides, I feel like Nancy would skin us if we tried to complain about a place we aren't even paying for," Eddie says with a grin. The perk of Nancy's parent's friend having a vacation house is that even though it's a little small, they let them use it for free. And it's empty because they only use it when it's winter in Hawkins.

"She one hundred percent would," Steve agrees, so they drop it and don't bring it up. Too few beds isn't the end of the world.

Waking up with Eddie's arm firmly wrapped around his waist is fine, nice even. If Steve turns off the alarm that woke him, snuggling back into the embrace, making them both late for breakfast when they finally do wake up, that's no one's business but his own.

It's later, after they're home, that Eddie stops by and tells him about the extremely bizarre conversation he had with Nancy the last day there.

He says, "So something weird happened on vacation and I don't know what to make of it and I'm only telling you because you're the only other person it affected," as soon as Steve opens the door.

"What happened," Steve asks, instantly worried. He lets him in and Eddie starts pacing in the living room. Steve goes to sit on the couch.

"So, that last day on vacation, Nancy asked me to come sit on her suitcase because it wouldn't close with all the souvenirs she bought. I went into her and Jonathan's room and there were two beds," Eddie says, stopping in place to look at Steve to gauge his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh," he says. He's really not sure what to make of that either.

Eddie starts pacing again.

"Yeah. So I asked her why there were two beds in their room, but not two beds in our room - kind of put my foot in my mouth if I'm being honest. I didn't mean to just blurt it out, but then she said 'we were just trying to make sure everyone was comfortable'," he says, inflecting his voice higher to mimic Nancy.

"What the hell does that mean?" Steve asks, trying to wrack his brain and see if he remembers her telling him anything about her and Jonathan's relationship being shaky. He thought they were good. There were some rocky times before Vecna, with the distance and everything, but once they were both in the same place again, things seemed to smooth out between them. They've been happy together for years as far as he could tell.

"Exactly!" Eddie says, finally coming to sit on the couch next to him. "I literally asked her what does that mean? Because I had no idea. Still have no idea. She said 'what? It's not like you have a problem sharing with Steve', which honestly something about her tone made me feel like I was stepping on her toes, so I just dropped it. But I can't stop thinking about it. Are she and Jonathan okay?"

"As far as I know," Steve says. "That's so weird. But if there is something happening between them, it would make sense that they'd call dibs on the one room that has two beds. I gotta talk to her and see what's going on."

"Don't, like, tell her I told you or anything," Eddie says to him. Steve still thinks it's hilarious that Eddie is patently afraid of Nancy and her guns, which are mostly retired and locked up.

"'Course not," he says. "I'll just ask how they're doing the next time we hang out. I hope it's something they can get through at least."

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. "If they don't make it, how are the rest of us supposed to have a chance?"

Steve does ask Nancy about it later, just casually asks how she and Jonathan are doing.

She kind of narrows her eyes at him and says they're fine, but her voice is suspicious like she isn't sure what he's getting at. He drops it because he's also a little afraid of her.

The entire situation just leaves him confused, though.

He doesn't bring it up to Nancy again, but he does talk to Robin about it because his conversation with Nancy left a weird feeling in his chest.

"Eddie told me Nancy and Jonathan had separate beds on vacation," Steve blurts out, trying to go for casual, but absolutely failing.

She looks over at him with a weird expression on her face and says, "Yeah, I thought you knew that? It was just how it all shook out. Nancy just wanted everyone to be comfortable." And those words are eerily similar to what Eddie told him Nancy said about it.

He asks, "What do you know?"

"What do you mean?" she counters.

"You know something," he says, narrowing his eyes. "Are she and Jonathan alright? I tried asking her, but I felt like she was gonna bite my head off."

"They're fine," Robin says. "Nancy and Jonathan were just taking one for the team."

Steve's still so confused.

Robin must see the confusion on his face because she grabs his hand and says, "Look, we don't really ever talk about it, and that's totally fine by the way, but we all just want you to be happy."

Steve isn't sure where that came from or what it has to do with Nancy and Jonathan, but he's touched that his friends want him to be happy, he supposes.

It's when he and Eddie get an apartment together that Robin brings up the thing she said at the club, jogging his memory of that bizarre night.

She's helping him unpack his room, putting stuff in the drawers, leaving space in some of them like she expects half of his wardrobe to be filled with something else. He thinks it's just another one of her weird quirks. Does she keep yarn for her knitting projects in half of her dresser or something?

He's hanging some shirts and she's folding his jeans when she blurts out, "You know, you don't have to let him 'do whatever he wants' just because it's what he wants, right? You're allowed to have a say in it too, you know."

It takes him a minute to realize who she's even talking about and even longer to realize she's referring to the conversation they had at the club years ago now.

"What- Eddie?" he asks confused. She nods, so he asks, "Why, because we live together now and that should, like, change something?"

Robin sighs, setting the folded jeans in the drawer. "I just mean, this doesn't exactly seem like the type of thing you'd be into. You've never mentioned wanting-"

He cuts her off, and says, "I mean, it's not like I don't also hook up with people when we go out."

That shuts her up for a solid minute. He watches as she processes it and almost wants to roll his eyes. His friends really think he has no love life whatsoever, huh?

He knows he hasn't dated anyone in a long time, but he's fine hooking up with people when he and Eddie go out sometimes. He can't say he doesn't miss having someone, or being in a relationship, but he's fine for now. He's still young, he still has time, you know?

Robin looks at him and says, "Okay. Okay, if that's something you want. Only if it's what you want, though. Don't just let Eddie talk you into something you don't want to do. Don't let him walk all over you."

"Yeah, of course," he says easily. "And if you're worried about us bringing people back here and it causing tension or whatever, we have rules in place and everything."

Robin says, "That- that's good! Rules are good."

'Rules' might be stretching it, but they did talk about guests not staying for longer than one night and trying to keep it down when they do have guests and that's good enough for Steve.

Luckily, Robin seems content to let him drop the subject and talk about how they're thinking of decorating the living room.

The invitation comes in the mail.

Max popped the question - surprising Lucas, who had been agonizing for weeks over how to propose - a few months ago.

They knew the invitations were coming. Max told him over the phone that they'd be coming soon and that she expected them to send back an RSVP even though she already knew they'd be coming.

Steve checks the mail and is surprised to find just one invitation addressed To Steve & Eddie.

He takes the mail inside and shows the invitation to Eddie, who's eating his breakfast, still a little bleary-eyed and soft from sleep.

He drags the chair at the kitchen table closer to Eddie's chair and drops into it as he watches Eddie frown at the envelope in his hands.

He looks at Steve and asks, "Just the one came?"

Steve nods and Eddie opens the envelope to pull out the invitation.

They look over the invitation and Steve notices the RSVP section doesn't have options to add a plus one for either of them.

"Wow," Eddie says, dragging the word out. "None of our friends think either of us would manage to convince someone to come with us to the wedding, huh?"

Steve hums in agreement. He knows Robin, Dustin, El, and Erica helped Max and Lucas with the invitations and no one saw an issue with this one.

"God, are we both so extremely single that not one of our friends thinks we could find a date?" Steve asks, putting his head in his hands.

"Truly and deeply so fucking single, dude," Eddie says, rubbing a hand over Steve's back to lament with him.

+1.

"Hey, can we talk?" Eddie asks him after dinner one night and Steve's heart immediately starts beating out of his chest.

That phrase, even uttered by a friend, out of blue, makes him think something is wrong. He has the irrational thought that he's about to get friend-broken up with or that maybe Eddie wants to get his own place or something, which would really fucking suck.

They've lived together for a long time and are kind of co-parents to a cat now - it would just be a supremely inopportune time for Eddie to suddenly decide he wants out.

Eddie must see the anxiety in his expression because he quickly says, "No, it's nothing bad. It's just- it's actually something good, I'm hoping."

"Uh, okay," Steve says, wringing his hands a little with worry.

Eddie takes a deep breath and says, "So you know how I haven't really been interested in going out or hooking up lately?"

Steve nods, his heart finally calming down a little. Eddie hasn't wanted to go out lately, but it's fine - Steve hasn't really been all that interested either, more content to just lounge around the apartment with Eddie than to go out and try to meet new people.

"It's because there's someone I'm kind of interested in right now, but I'm not sure if he likes me back. It's a close friend, so I've been debating whether or not to say anything because I don't want to screw things up if he doesn't feel the same," Eddie says.

Steve's eyebrows furrow trying to think of who Eddie could be into. The thought that he might be into Jeff or Grant or Gareth, one of his closest friends, makes something in Steve's stomach swirl. He's not sure he likes that. Eddie dating a close friend, moving out to move in with him, sharing a life with him - that leaves a bad taste in Steve's mouth.

But it's Eddie - and Eddie deserves to be happy - so he says, "I think if you like someone, even a friend, you should tell him. If he's into guys, I mean. He'd be a fool to say no to you, whoever he is."

The smile that lights up Eddie's face is a little painful to see for some reason.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Eddie says.

Steve expects Eddie to get up and leave, to go find whoever it is he's into, but he stays put, on the couch next to Steve.

He reaches out and takes one of Steve's hands in his, still looking at him, like he's waiting for something.

Thoughts churn through his brain, first wondering why Eddie would hold his hand when he's apparently in love with one of his friends, and then realizing that he's probably also in the category of people Eddie considers a close friend and then-

Oh.

"Me?" Steve whispers, eyes wide.

That smile is still there, fond and happy.

"You," Eddie says, squeezing his hand.

"But why though?" he blurts out.

Eddie laughs. "We kind of share a life together, dude. We have a cat together and a home. And like, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone the way I want you, so there's also that."

Steve looks at him and thinks about their friendship up until this point, thinks about them deciding to move in together, to keep the stray cat Eddie found, the natural stop to them going out to clubs and bars in favor of staying in together and curling up on the couch.

He thinks of waking up for a week straight on vacation with Eddie's arms wrapped around him, feeling safe in his arms.

He thinks about the feelings that wrap around his heart and squeeze when he looks at Eddie sometimes.

He thinks about Eddie's hand in his right now.

He squeezes his hand back.

"I did say whoever you were into would be stupid to say no to you," he says.

"You did say that," Eddie says. His cheeks are a little flushed and Steve is overcome with the urge to pepper kisses all over them.

He scoots closer on the couch and says, "I meant it."

Eddie leans in closer and says, "I want to kiss you, but I want to be sure that we're on the same page. Like, it's not just about wanting to fuck you, which I do by the way-"

Steve interrupts and says, "I mean, I kind of got that when you said you didn't want to ruin your friendship if I didn't feel the same."

"Shut up, I'm trying to confess my love to you," Eddie says.

"Love?" Steve teases.

The blush on Eddie's face deepens, spreading down his neck. "Kind of. I mean, I've known you for how long now? I think it's kind of impossible to know you and not love you."

There's heat prickling behind Steve's eyes, embarrassingly enough. "I'm gonna kiss you," he says, instead of addressing how that one line has absolutely swept him off his feet.

He pushes closer, closing the small distance between them, getting his mouth on Eddie's for the first time.

Eddie sighs against his mouth, this pleased little sound that lights Steve up from the inside. He wants to kiss Eddie until he's dazed with it, wants to hear all the noises Eddie can make, wants to draw them out of him with his mouth and his hands.

Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until his mouth feels tender under Eddie's.

He pushes Steve backwards on the couch to lay on top of him, his hips in the cradle of Steve's thighs. He keeps kissing him as he settles his weight on top of Steve, their bodies pressed flush together.

They lick into each other's mouths for a long minute, just tongues tasting each other and mouths moving together.

Steve is working up the courage to touch Eddie, to put his hands on him, when he hears him hiss in pain. He pulls away from Eddie's mouth and sees Trick clawing her way up Eddie's arm to get on the couch.

Eddie sits up and pulls her off his arm and deposits her on Steve's chest. She immediately steps on his windpipe in an attempt to curl up near his head.

"God, your daughter is so mean to me," Steve says as he moves her off his neck.

"To you?" Eddie asks, looking at his arm to make sure he's not bleeding. "It was my arm that she clawed."

Eddie's still perched between Steve's legs, but with Tricky on the couch, there's no way they can go back to making out.

And-

"I have to tell Robin," Steve says.

Eddie grins at him and asks, "Immediately after our first kiss? You're gonna run over to her place?" There's no judgment in his voice and that makes something in Steve's chest feel tender - that Eddie knows how he is with Robin and isn't weird about it.

"Yeah, it won't take long. I'll be back before you know it." Steve watches as Eddie climbs off him and adjusts himself in his pants. He covers Patricia's ears and says, "Trick won't like it, but when I get back, we can lock her out of the bedroom so she can't interrupt us next time."

"Oh yeah? And what are we gonna do 'next time'?" Eddie asks.

"Whatever you want," Steve says, watching the flush return to Eddie's face.

He bites back a grin and says, "Hurry back. I'll, uh, I don't know. I'll get myself ready or something."

Heat floods Steve's veins. "You gonna be waiting for me with a rose in your mouth when I get back?" he teases, trying to dissipate some of that heat.

"I think you're the roses boyfriend, not me."

"Boyfriend?" Steve asks, standing up from the couch.

"Boyfriend," Eddie says, cupping his jaw and kissing him again. It's easy to get swept up in it, the feeling of Eddie's mouth moving against his, the feeling of Eddie's hands on his waist.

He pulls back from the kiss with a slick noise and says, "I'll be back in like twenty minutes."

Eddie nods and lets him go.

Steve grabs his keys and heads over to Robin and Vickie's apartment where he knows Robin will be.

"Bobbin," he calls out as soon as he opens the door to her apartment.

"In here," she calls back from the kitchen.

He rounds the corner of the kitchen and says, "I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Eddie."

He watches several emotions pass over her face, none of them excitement, and deflates a little bit.

She says, "Okay?" like it's a question, like she's confused.

"Like, we're dating now and I'm. We like each other and I'm pretty sure it's more than that for both of us," he say, hoping to get some kind of reaction from her.

"I don't understand," she says.

"What's not to understand? Eddie and I- we're together now," he says, in case she didn't get it the first time.

Robin squints at him and says, "Okay, but you've never wanted to talk about it before. What's changed?"

"What do you mean, what's changed? We kissed and he said he was confessing his love to me. I thought you'd be happy?" His chest feels a little tight at the thought of Robin not approving. He really thought she'd be happy.

"Did you, like, break up and not tell me? Why would him confessing his love to you warrant a house call? Where is this coming from?" she asks, and Steve's moment of hurt is replaced with a deep sense of confusion because they are somehow not on the same page about this.

What the hell is she talking about?

"Rob, what do you mean break up?" he asks, feeling off-balance.

"I mean, you and Eddie have been together for years nowso I'm not sure what you're talking about." She looks in his eyes and then lights up. "Oh, are you trying to tell me you're exclusive now? That's exciting!"

Steve just stares at her for a minute, memories of the weird things his friends say to him and Eddie and the weird things that happen coming rushing to the surface. The weird conversations he's had with Robin over the years, feeling like they were talking about two different things. The first vacation where they shared a bed together even though there was a room with two beds, and how it happened again the next time they all went on vacation together. Dustin letting Eddie sit in the front seat of his car. The one, singular wedding invitation.

He's not even sure how to broach the fact that his friends all apparently thought he and Eddie have been together for years, but he says, "Eddie and I weren't dating before now. We literally just got together. We, like, literally just had our first kiss less than fifteen minutes ago."

"That's not funny, Steve. You guys have been in each other's pockets for closing in on five years now," Robin says, coming to sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island. "You, you live together and have a cat together."

He can see her mentally going through all the things she thought about them as he comes to sit next to her.

He gently says, "We weren't together before. We were only friends before today. I'm not sure what we did to make you think that we were together, but you know I'd talk to you about anyone I was dating, even Eddie."

"It's not just me!" Robin says, looking at him again with a piercing stare. "It's everyone! We all know. Or we thought you were together. I'm so confused. How is it possible that you've never kissed before? Like, wait a minute."

She stops talking and puts her head in her hands.

"What are you doing?" he asks her when she doesn't say anything for a couple minutes.

She pinches the bridge of her nose as she says, "I'm trying to channel my memories. Because there has to be a time where I asked you point blank if you were seeing Eddie and you said yes."

"I can guarantee you won't find that memory. Because it doesn't exist. Because Eddie and I weren't dating. Until now," he says.

"You went to Max and Lucas' wedding together!" she says, looking at him triumphantly.

"Not really," he says. "We thought everyone just thought we were both terminally single or something and that's why they sat us together."

Robin smacks her hand against her forehead. "This makes no sense to me. Wait, I asked you if you were in an open relationship before! We talked about it at the club and again when you moved in together. How do you explain that?" she asks.

"That time at the club, I thought you were talking about him ditching me to hook up. It didn't bother me. That's literally all I said. Not that we were in an open rela- wait, you really thought I'd be in an open relationship with someone?"

"I know! It never made sense to me! You're like the most monogamous person I know," Robin says. "Okay, I get that we crossed wires there, but what about when you moved in together? I talked to you about it then too. You said you had rules about hooking up."

He can see how saying that might have been misleading. He says, "I meant like, rules about keeping it down, not about us dating and hooking up with other people." He feels a headache coming on.

Robin looks just as exasperated as he feels. She looks like she's grasping at straws when she says, "You're always together and you touch each other all the time. When I've seen you cook together, you're always bumping his hip or hand-feeding him extra ingredients."

"We live together, of course we found a groove cooking together." he says.

"A groove, okay," she says, rolling her eyes. "But even before then, you were always hanging out."

"Because he's my closest guy friend? Closest friend in general other than you," he says, still so unsure how he missed his entire friend group thinking they were together.

Steve doesn't know how this happened - how all his friends could have thought they were together when he didn't even know how he felt about Eddie until today. How could he have missed this?

But listen.

Steve has never claimed to be a smart man.

If anything, he thinks Eddie should have caught on long before he ever did, so he's holding strong that it's not his fault he didn't see the signs. If Eddie couldn't see them either, how the hell was Steve supposed to be able to?

"And now you're boyfriends," Robin says, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"And now we're boyfriends," he agrees.

She grins over at him and says, "That's the first time you've said the b-word. This is the first time we've talked about it and you said the b-word. You really weren't dating before now."

He shakes his head. "We really weren't. And I seriously can't believe you ever bought me saying we were in an open relationship. It's like you don't know me at all," he says with a sniff.

"No, I was extremely confused about it, but you were happier with him than anyone else I've ever seen you with, so it didn't matter what I thought, you know?"

Steve's face smooths out at that and his heart melts a little. He loves her so much.

He hugs her to his side and she playfully shoves him away.

"I can't believe I've had it wrong - we've all had it wrong - this whole time. The more I think about it, though, the more it makes sense that you weren't together. Like, I expected you to be talking about him all the time, but you never really gushed about him to me. At first, I thought it was because it was your first boyfriend, you know?" she says.

He nods. He can get that. What he can't get is- "You were okay with me not talking about him, sure. But you really think I wouldn't kiss a guy I was dating in front of you? Or hold his hand?"

Robin shrugs and runs a hand over her forehead like she's getting a headache from thinking about it. "I thought you were just shy at first. Again, the boy thing. And then it was just habit not to or maybe Eddie wasn't into PDA- I was just guessing. And, I, everyone thought it, so it's not just me. You guys literally adopted a cat together, how were we supposed to take that any other way?" she asks in an exasperated tone.

"She's Eddie's, technically."

"You're telling me Patricia's not your daughter?" Robin asks.

"No, she is. But Eddie's the one that found her, so I'm just her step-dad," he says.

Robin stands up from where she's seated and says, "See! You say shit like that all the time and expect us not to think you're dating him?"

He winces. "Yeah, I kind of see it now. Well, good news is that we are dating now and I'm gonna go home and fuck him about it."

Robin rolls her eyes. "Christ, I can't believe I ever thought you could be dating him and be anything other than like that about him."

"Oh Robbie, when we come up for air, you're gonna wish we weren't like that about each other. Apparently, we've got like five years of PDA to make up for," he says with a grin.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #this has some sweet stobin moments as well #platonic with a capital P #happy birthday jen!!!#janai.doc

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yyawnjun · 11 months

Text

KISSES w enhypen!hyungline

a.n. hi guys, this is my first time writing for these pretty boys, i hope in time to get the hang of it.

Let me know your opinions and hcs !! comments, like and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it ♡

!! fluff !!

[ HEESEUNG - 희승 ]

Heeseung loves kissing you on the head and forehead. However, when you kiss him and your forehead touches his, his heart beats extremely fast.

He never kisses too quickly; instead, he prefers kisses with leisurely, relaxing movements. When he slowly comes to you with THE look - his flirty stare - you recognize that he is about to kiss you. Then he places his hand on your cheek, moves his head to the side, closes his charming eyes, and kisses you. His kisses are most often characterized by slow, passionate, and sometimes awkward movements. Oh God, how he loves kissing you. It's as if in that moment it's not just your mouths or your bodies kissing, it's as if your hearts join in one beat and your souls dance together. He loves most of all the moment when, after the kiss, your foreheads touch; it is as if that made each kiss a little longer and allowed him to stay for a few more moments in that beautiful world with you. Sometimes you two do not have time for his ideal make-out session, but for him, it is enough for your lips and forehead to touchnassckm

[ JAKE - 제이크 ]

Keeping his eyes half-closed after kissing. I think Jake's kisses are especially passionate, full of pathos, and instinctive.

Your lips don't part for a split second and so do your bodies, his hands clinging to your waist and yours to his neck. holding you together. The attraction seems almost surreal when it is nothing more than instinctive. It is natural for you to stay for a short while longer with your eyes closed at the conclusion because you are tired. All to make that moment infinite. His scent also remained with you, and you continued to taste his lips for some time after that. Since closing your eyes makes all of your other senses more active, you were unconsciously doing it to partially maintain the state of mind in which you were when you kissed Jake. He, on the other hand, opened his eyes right away to take advantage of the brief period while you kept your eyes closed. Your breathing was almost imperceptible as if you were trying to hold it in, and your body was still moving carefully after the make-out session. Although he thought you were gorgeous all the time, in those circumstances you believed his eyes sparkled and his smile was sweeter and more comforting than ever.

[ JAY - 제이 ]

SPIDERMAN KISS. okok now imma be fr. He likes kisses not too common(?) but still extremely attractive. For example just a little below the ear, on the jaw, on the temple, ON THE SIDE OF THE MOUTH, on the tip of the nose….

He loves to start at your lips and then move to his favorite places - nothing perverted. I feel that all his movements are faster and more impatient than those of the previous two boys. Even though he is not yet so used to kissing you in public he LOVES kisses on the cheeks to greet you as soon as you see each other!!! I can't even explain it, I think it's a habit he started by accident, as a joke, once, and now he does it every time you see each other. No matter who you are with or where he does it. Strictly the right cheek first and then the left cheek. Short, rapid, quick kisses that still make butterflies appear in your stomach are absolutely this guy's specialty<3

[ SUNGHOON - 성훈 ]

I think he is the kind of person who stays for at least 30 minutes staring at your lips before he comes to kiss you - actually waiting for you to realize that he wants to kiss you and for you to be the one to make the first move.

Ik I am not the only one who finds it extremely attractive when the person you like watches very carefully the movements of your lips when u talk. At that moment it is as if his hearing shuts down, and all concentration shifts to the sight. He is frozen in place, staring at you, and can only turn his head to nod in agreement with what you are saying. When you notice it there are two possibilities. You kiss him first and istg that he smiles so hard in those kisses. Or, if you keep teasing him, he will be the one who shushes you with a kiss. dw then he will ask you to talk to him again because he is interested in what you were talking about. I think he is also the kind of person who finds light, gentle bites on your lips extremely attractive. and vice versa, he loves it madly when you nibble on his...

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razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

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Yandere Mammon. Do it (you don't have to if you don't want. I just saw you wanted mammon requests specifically and I felt called)

ᯓ★ "I LOVE you like an ALCOHOLIC" Yandere! Mammon / Reader | Drabble, (and some practice)

‗ content / trigger warning: GLORIFYING YANDERE/OBESSIVE BEHAVIOR, dark romance, toxic relationship, not proof read (we die like Adam). hurt/comfort, mammon scaring the reader, threats of physical abuse, MAMMON APOLOGIZING???

‗ author's note: ngl, Mammon is like the worst rest flag you can have but also why is the bastard so loveable? I want someone to explain that to me.

"MAYBE THERE WAS NO WAY OUT OF THIS; MAYBE THIS, WAS MEANT TO BE YOUR FATE."

"BABE!" Came the gruff voice, the loud voice, the ever so demanding voice that snarled your pet name as though it was the last thing it wanted to do; and you were sure that was the case, especially after he had to come case after you like this. Mammon was not much of a chaser for what was his, he simply expected it, you know that fact well; And now, with trembling hands covering your mouth as you tried to cover your sobs, hunched over in a corner of your bedroom trying to silence your sobbing, you thought you should have headed the warning. The warning to stay put, the warning to listen to him, to accept whatever he had to tell you. The warning to not go back to the lust ring. A foolish warning, you had thought first, but now knew why he was so stern on such a rule. He wanted to keep you from Ozzie, he wanted to keep you from Fizz, he wanted to keep you from the outside world if you weren't right by his side; If he couldn't monitor you and make sure you were "safe" and no one "dared tried to fuck you over". And sure those had been his words, the lies that he fed into your pretty brain once upon a time as his played with your hair, promising to always keep you safe. . . But you weren't so sure you could trust such words now.

You had only gone back home to speak with Ozzie, to catch up with him and share how your lives had been fairing since you left the Lust Ring. You had never told him why, granted, as he would have surely freaked out hearing that you left to be with Mammon of all people, and you were sure Fizzarolli would have hated your guts. So you had left under the guise of having met someone new, of testing the waters of living with them . . . and Ozzie had been happy with that response, though a bit uneasy upon your constant dancing around who your new lover could be. It's not like Ozzie would have burnt them to crisp, Fizz had joked, but you knew differently. Ozzie absolutely hated Mammon's guts after the clown pageants that Fizz was still recovering from. He would have scolded me relentlessly, though also in the end said he would be there if I ever needed anything if I was in trouble; Knowing how Mammon could get. You would have blown him off, saying Mammon was not that kind of person to you and it would be alright. That you loved him, that he loved you, and no it wasn't any sort of weird love potion or crystal and it wasn't forced. You had loved him, truly and fully and deeply and you still do. . . yet that love was slowly muddling with anxiety and hatred as you heard his spider legs tap against the floors of Ozzie's apartment, slyly getting closer to your bedroom. "Baabe," His 'a' was dragged out, his voice ever so sweeter, honeyed to convivence you to come out of the room without him having to use force. His hands pressed against the door, "I know you're in there sweetheart, just come on out and we can talk! I promise." Yet his words only caused you to shrink more into yourself, hiding your face away from the door on the most likely chance that Mammon would knock it down, forcing his way into your room. Into the one place that you still had felt safe in, safety which was now dwindling. My bedroom, well Ozzie's guest bedroom in the flat Fizz and him shared, was the one place you had thought to run too when Mammon hatched from his larva egg; Having grown in size and towered over you.

He had gotten upset as soon as he realized you had gone to the Lust Ring behind his back, accusing you of having cheated him and having cheated on him with Ozzie or even Fizz! Which was absurd, and you quickly tried to explain that Ozzie was simply like a brother to you and you would have never betrayed his trust by trying to get with him nor Fizz! You had simply gone had gone to catch up with Ozzie and Fizz and nothing more! You swore by it on your life, all while slowly shrinking away from Mammon in fear. Fear . . . Terror . . . Worry, Anxiety! You should never have to feel any of those things about Mammon, you should only feel secure around him and loved by him and likewise he should feel the same. Yet the way your heart pounded in your chest, the way your tears fell down your face, it was all too much and you knew this wasn't love. At least, it didn't feel like love but in a weird way it also did. He cared enough to come after you; He still stabbed any person who dared tried to get close to you; He just wanted to make sure you were okay! Right? Were you over reacting? Some part of you screamed no, shouting and pleading as the bangs on the door started to grow louder. You hadn't noticed them before they threatened to start breaking down the door, where their pounding brought nothing but a sickening feeling in your stomach that curled and churned and knotted inside you, wanting to be puked out and swallowed all the same. You help back a scream, hearing the last blow before the door was slammed open. It gave a devastating swing the wall, crashing against it and helplessly getting as stuck as you felt right now. Your breathing became ragged, your body trembled as your hesitated to look up and towards the crawling that was no other than Mammon, slithering his way towards you. Hide, Hit, Yell, Scream! But your body just froze as Mammon took a pause at the center of the room, and you weren't quiet sure why he did so yet you were too terrified to find out. You did your best to curl around yourself, to make yourself small and hide and hopefully avoid any sort of punishment that was to come from your small little mistake. Was it small? No it had to be a big one for Mammon to be acting like this, right? It's not like he's ever made you feel like this before, the rush of adrenaline you only get when faced with the possibility of death looming over you. Never. . . he's never. . . "Babe," Mammon's voice came out softer, less echoey and less demanding as it had been, though you still refused to look up. You barely heard the "shit" that Mammon had muttered from under his breath as he still stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do now that he finally got a good look of the state you were in. His top pair of hands subconsciously rubbed together, his right over the back side of his left palm; The actions he had taken replaying in his mind with a feeling of disgusting regret filling his stomach. This is now how he wanted this to go, not at all; He only wanted to give you a little scare, a small seed of terror, to show you how much he cared and yet . . . he caused this to happen. It was for the better no? . . . oh but he couldn't stand seeing you like this, in this state. You shouldn't be cowering away from him, no matter how fucking sexy it looked, you should be cowering away from others behind him! "Fuck, Babe I'm-" Mammon helplessly started once more as he extended his arms out, trying to gather some sort of explanation or reason or apology he could give to you. Yet his words fell flat, and everything he was going to say to you didn't feel right or it felt like some half-assed excuse or apology strung up by some lazy PR team just trying to sweep some incident under the rug like it had never happened. And Mammon was a bit lost on what do to. . . so then he did the only thing he could even fathom of doing to try and comfort you.

Slowly, evenly, he would make his way over to you, trying to make his footsteps rather loud and clear, yet paced and even to show you he was trying to think more rationally, more clearly. You still didn't look up and flinched at time from the steps. So then, he made it to you, and looked over your smaller figure next to his for a moment before he slowly sat down next to you. Silence; It was deafening to the ears. You were too afraid to speak. Mammon was too afraid of making the situation worse than it already was. What could he do in a situation like this? Pat your back?. . . actually that didn't sound like a half-bad idea, you always liked some sort of comfort through contact or PDA while around Mammon! And yet when he went to go do so, you only flinched away from him and drove yourself further against the wall, if that was even possible at this point, and Mammon lowered his hand back down with a frown.

Fuck you weren't ready yet for that. Okay! But he was sorry, he needed to show it to you and you couldn't be a whiney bitch about it either; He was trying to give this a shot! But then again wasn't there, like, boundaries he should respect?? This love thing was all too complex for Mammon, it hurt his brain trying to get everything right, and yet. . . it always felt rewarding whenever he had to by his side or sat upon his lap. It felt rewarding to even look in your direction and know he managed to snag someone like you, to get someone like you . . . someone so perfect . . . to love him back despite everything. It felt rewarding just to be in your presence, to be by you. It was an odd feeling that stirred Mammon's chest, it was an odd feeling he didn't know much about yet wanted to explore while he explored you. It was an odd feeling that delivered highs and lows that not even money could give him. It was an odd feeling only you can give him. . . And he hadn't realized he began to spew all this out to you; "-And that's why I got like, upset, Babe! I thought if you went back to the Lust Ring and feel in love with some fucking hot shot like Ozzie, or the fucking bastard ass clown Fizz, or some . . . GUY here that I would lose you!" He tried explaining the best he could, though his heart felt like it wanted to vomit. "I didn't want you going to some weird ass who could only give you half of what I can too! Babe, I'm fucking all you need and you're all I fucking need, and I didn't-. . . I shouldn't have-. . ." There was a pause in Mammon's words as his face scrunched, trying to find the correct way to phrase what he wanted to say. He barely noticed the fact that you had raised your face to look up at him, even if you were just peaking through your arms. "FUCK! I lost my train of thought." He would shout soon after, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in himself. So, instead, he would snake an arm around your waist and pull you upon his lap, even though he had felt you jump and jolt, trying to pull away from his touch.

And still, you sat ever so stiffly in his lap and yet. . . it felt right, for you both. It felt right for Mammon to have you on him, it felt like bliss, he was sure he could just jack off to this if he wasn't concerned about you! And . . . it oddly felt like home for you. Even still stiff and unsure about being this close to Mammon after what happened, you still leaned against him as you usually did. Fear and love, it was an odd combination that nestled itself into your heart whenever you now thought about Mammon. Yet, all the same, your heart and brain agreed he was home. "Babe, what I'm trying to fucking say is I'm s-" Mammon started, trying to apologize yet quickly felt sick to his stomach and gagged. The word felt so foreign and disgusting, he never had to 'apologize' before! And yet, when he glanced down at you and saw the small look of shock in your widened eyes, mixed with some sparkle of hope, he tried again . . . to only gag once more before he could choke out the sorry. And you were sure you both would be sitting here for eternity, and he would never be able to choke out a sorry. Even a pathetic one for your sake. It was just how Mammon was, for being the Sin of Greed he was ever so Prideful as well, and that always came at some sort of price. Yet, he was trying. . . that had to mean something, right? . . . it had to mean that he truly cared, somewhere deep inside that small heart of his, he cared; Truly cared. It was also amusing to watch him struggle. He never struggled often.

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effortandmore · 11 months

Text

the sleeping hours | knj x f!reader

summary: namjoon thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

au: okay. so this is canon-compliant but also maybe a little bit of a time-travel/multiverse au

warnings/tags: here we go... time travel (kind of), discussions of war, descriptions of famine, talks of anarchy/revolution, descriptions of ww2 germany and nazis, minor character death (not a tannie), implied gun violence, the japanese occupation of korea, sex worker!namjoon, soldier!namjoon, architect!namjoon, idol!namjoon, spy!reader, namjoon has a big dick (ofc), mentions of blood... smut, including: biting, unprotected sex, sex work (this is not the unprotected sex), oral sex (f!receiving), a little bit of cumplay... idk i think that's all but honestly it's not as weird as it sounds i promise

word count: ~12k

a/n: i have wanted to write a songfic for "here i dreamt i was an architect" by the decemberists for... years now. and with my three month vacation from work, i've finally done it! listening to the song will help this make more sense, but essentially there are three verses, and they start like this: "here i dreamt i was a soldier," "here i dreamt i was an architect," & "and in spain i was a spaniard." so, i thought it would be fun to turn that into a story about namjoon and reader across all these different universes. my research for this fic was completely unhinged, and i'm sure i still got some things wrong. if you need translations for any of the dutch, german, or spanish in this, lmk but i think it's pretty readable given context. i hope you like it, but even if you don't, i'm glad i wrote it. thank you so so so much to @ugh-yoongi who assured me this was not too unhinged for the locals—ily and i appreciate you

read on ao3

Namjoon always tells people he doesn’t have dreams, but it’s a lie… Sort of.

If these are dreams, he doesn’t know how billions of people aren’t talking about them like they’re magical experiences, can’t fathom why so many people still don’t believe in multiverse theory.

Lying about it seems infinitely easier than trying to explain it to people. His “dreams,” if that’s what they are, seem so real. He can smell the scents, he can feel the rain and the blood and the orgasm that courses through him when he inevitably, in every single one, finds a version of you. When he wakes up, he can feel the phantom pain, feels like his skin’s just barely dried out from a shower, feels loose and lazy with the pleasure he’d felt while he was asleep.

So, he says he doesn’t dream, because he’s halfway convinced they’re actually happening, and he has absolutely no clue how to explain that to anyone. He thinks there must be infinite versions of the universe, infinite versions of him. At first, he thought maybe it was a past-lives sort of thing, but he’s lived parallel paths on different parts of the planet during the same time frames. Or, he’s dreamt that he has, anyway… maybe they’re dreams. Maybe not. What he’s sure of, though, is that you must be out there in the universe he lives in—you must exist outside of this near fugue state where he always finds you. If you’re on the streets of Germany during the war, if you’re in Andalucia dancing the flamenco and catching his eye on every twirl… If you’re fleeing with him to Jeju as more and more Japanese soldiers encircle your small farm town… If you’re all of those places, he knows you must be here, too.

There must be infinite versions of the universe, and in every one he’s known, he’s meant to love you.

Every dream is different, but the love he feels for you? It’s always the same, and it goes like this:

Birkenau, Germany — April, 1942

He comes to, and he’s lying in a cot. It’s dark. It would be pitch black, except there’s a crack of light on the floor that’s muted and warm-looking even though the air around him still carries a bit of leftover winter chill. Somehow, he knows there’s a coal shortage this spring because of the war. There’s an everything shortage, really. No coal, no clothes, no food… He can’t think of a time he’d eaten anything but potatoes in days… Namjoon can’t think of anything, really. It’s strange, his memories feel dull, rounded around the edges and blurred out, everything just slightly out of reach. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s hypothermia (he’s a little dramatic), maybe it’s hunger; he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know, because there’s not much to be done about whatever it is. Knowing the future doesn’t always mean you can change it, he thinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The clothes he is wearing are stiff—they make it hard for him to bend his elbow to reach his own face. There’s a worn crease in his right sleeve from saluting, dirt that will never scrub out on his lapels… his badges and patches do a poor job of covering the wear and tear. Although his brain isn’t fully awake, the thoughts still cloudy, two are clear: he is ready for this war to be over and he is terrified that he is a little in love with the woman lying next to him.

If someone asked him how he got here, to Birkenau, Germany in the middle of the spring in 1942, he couldn’t tell them (a consequence of for some reason not remembering anything concrete prior to this week at the moment—just feelings and sensations and language and you). He feels as if he doesn’t belong at all and at the same time, as if he’s always existed right here.

He teases you awake slowly. Whispers sweet nothings to you in a language he finds himself surprisingly fluent in—it’s not his native one. He doesn’t know if it’s yours, either, but he knows you like hearing his voice. Remembers how you ask him to tell you stories of his home, how you hum softly along with the folk songs he sings to you when he thinks you’re almost asleep in his arms. He knows he likes the noises you make as you start to come to, knows you need a soft re-entry into wakefulness or else you’re a little off for the rest of the day.

You’d both fallen asleep after what some people would call lunch, although the persistent pit in Namjoon’s stomach would argue that. It’s hard to have energy when you can’t really eat, so the two of you do your best to conserve it.

Tonight, though, tonight he wants to be special. The carnival is in Birkenau this week, maybe longer, but he won’t know. He’ll leave soon, onto the next base, the next battle. It’s a miracle he’s able to go tonight, being a foreign soldier here is dangerous and the demands on him are high. He wears his uniform while he sleeps to stay warm, but doesn’t dare wear it in this town outside of this private and safe space that you’ve carved out for him. It’s been going on for a while, this sneaking away to be with you. There’s another soldier, Seokjin, on his base, who always covers for him. Namjoon doesn’t know how, it’s one of the fuzzy things he can’t figure out. Regardless, he’s here with you now and he knows he’s always grateful to his fellow soldier. And here, he’s someone different. He’s not Namjoon the soldier, he’s Namjoon who loves you, who will give up almost anything to be with you.

Except the one thing you ask him to.

He may be grateful to escape for a while, but he is duty-bound—loyal to his country, to the cause. He is, above everything, a soldier, and that cannot change. The Remington on the cheap bedside table is his best friend, and a reminder that this between you is dangerous, that it has a time limit.

And you? You have to leave, too. He knows it, you know it. It’s not safe for you here, probably just as dangerous as it is for him.

You don’t wear a uniform, you don’t carry a gun (often), but you move under the cover of the night and you deal in secrets you’re not supposed to know. The work you do is just as important as his—sometimes he thinks it’s probably even moreso. He admires you, adores you, thinks you’re brave and beautiful and brilliant. Maybe he thinks some of those things because of how dangerous you are, because of the risks you’re willing to take. Being with him, hiding him here with you is a big one.

Beside him, you stir. Your voice is a melody, always lilting, tumbling from one word to the next. “Love you, Namjoon. What time is it, baby?” Later, he won’t know why he never thinks it’s strange that you weave words across several languages. Maybe that’s just how all spies are; and that’s what you are, at the core of it, isn’t it?

“Is it time?” you ask into the darkness.

“Yes. I need to change and then we can go.”

“Do you think we’ll find something to eat there?”

Namjoon smiles even though you can’t see him in the dark. “We will. Sausages and sauerkraut, I’m sure.” He waits for you to make the gagging sound he knows you’re about to.

You do. “I hate German food,” you complain. “Can’t wait to get out of here once and for all.”

“They’ll have schnitzel,” he says, trying to make you laugh.

“Germans and their pork,” you say dismissively, “swine for swine.”

“They’re not all bad.” He means it, but it sounds a little weak when he says it. It’s hard to see the forest for the trees, sometimes. Doesn’t help that the both of you see the worst of people… that the both of you sometimes are the worst of people.

“Hmm…” you hum, he knows you agree with him. “I know, I'm sorry. I’m just tired. And don’t want to leave you.”

“I know.”

“You could come with me. Run away with me, Namjoonie.”

When you say it, he almost believes it could work. Knows it wouldn’t, knows you’d both end up dead or worse, knows he could never go home, never see his mother again. Knows it would break his heart to bear witness to the secrets you have to keep, to the lives you take.

He never responds, just lumbers off of the cot and strips his uniform off, trades it for the street clothes you keep here for him. They’re ill-fitting, cheap and scratchy. He loves them because they smell like you, smell like the soap you carry with you from France—lavender from Provence—the one luxury you allow yourself.

The two of you walk hand in hand through back alleys and quaint cobblestoned neighborhoods, making your way to the carnival. He hears the barkers getting louder the closer you get, promising fun and winnings and love and only happy fortunes told. In reality, there are no happy fortunes here, and you both know that. But Namjoon’s happy to give into the fantasy of it all, just for tonight. Just to see you smile. He’d do anything to see you smile. Except…

“Win me a prize,” you coo sweetly. It’s futile, since you never take anything with you, and later tonight (or very early in the morning), you will leave Birkenau for good—a mission needs completing, and dead or alive, you won’t be back here again.

“Whatever you want, jagiya.”

You bounce on your heels in excitement and drag him to a booth, one offering cheap stuffed birds. There are swans, peacocks, parrots, ducks… He doesn’t know what you’re drawn by, but he’ll knock over as many milk jugs as he has to get you what you want.

“My strong soldier,” you whisper in his ear after he knocks the top three over. It makes him grin, makes him show you his dimples. He loves you so much, loves how you tease and bait him with your words—then with your body in the privacy of your hideaway. Loves your confidence and your unwavering belief. Loves your conviction. “You can do it, Namjoon.”

He does.

The final three jugs topple off the ledge. With you by his side, he thinks he can do anything. He knows he can.

“Wähle eins,” the barker shouts at him, Dutch accent thick in his German.

“De pauw,” you answer immediately in his native tongue, pointing to the top shelf.

The man pulls one of the blue birds down and hands it to you with a smile. You can charm anyone, Namjoon thinks. A skill you’ve honed doing the work you do, he supposes. “Voor de dame,” the huckster says with a bow and a flourish of his hand.

You giggle as you take it. Namjoon’s enamored with you.

As the two of you wander (you clutching the peacock tightly under your arm), he watches as you make friends with a fortune teller and charm free pieces of chicken schnitzel from a mustached French man. Your greatest feat is sneaking the two of you onto the ferris wheel. Namjoon’s in awe of how you move—though sleight of hand is usually what he catches you at, you’re not as skilled a pickpocket as you are a liar—how you can weave in and out of a crowd unnoticed, how you can blend in with any surrounding, any language, any group… It’s a skill he wishes he possessed, too. He’s too large, a little lumbering, a little awkward in his long limbs made to feel longer as he loses muscle to months of being malnourished. But somehow, you make him nimble, you make him invisible to everyone but you. He wants to chase that feeling forever, wants to bottle it up and uncork it again when you’re gone, when he’s so desperate with the want of you that he’s got no other solace.

Bellies unusually full, legs tired, and peacock secured, he leads you back to your basement apartment. He pulls you along to follow a different path to return than the one you took there—a trick he’s learned from you. Don’t give people the opportunity to see your face twice.

It’s still dark, and you have no electricity, no oil for your lamps, so Namjoon makes love to you by memory.

He feels so foggy, but this he knows how to do, like he’s done it a million times and will do it a million more until you and he become different versions of the same thing. Maybe you already are.

Slowly, using time you don’t have, he undresses you. He’s careful with the buttons of your blouse after he slides your cardigan off of your shoulders. Takes time to press his nose into the skin of your neck once it’s exposed, to try and remember the way that you smell, that lavender soap and the iron of the hard bathwater and the danger that rolls off of you in waves.

When he lets his arms drop from your body, you walk backward toward the cot, unlacing your skirt as you go. Namjoon can’t see you well, but he hears the sounds of the cotton strings being pulled through the gussets, the soft swoosh of it hitting the floor when you shimmy out of it.

“Come here, Namjoonie,” you whisper. He would, even if you didn’t ask. Wouldn’t be able to help himself. Always pulled to you like a magnet.

“Yes, jagiya,” he breathes, now trembling fingers removing his own clothes as he moves. When he finally can feel your skin under his hand, he’s fully undressed, thinks you are, too. Lets his fingertips explore your limbs just to confirm.

You straddle him on the cot, press your thumbs into the meat of his thighs and tell him he’s brave, powerful, that you’re so lucky he’s chosen you. But he knows it wasn’t a choice. Can’t explain it, but he’s always existed for you, would always find you. Couldn’t choose anyone else if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

The way you kiss him feels like forever, but he knows better. Chases something deeper and messier as his heart rate rises. Knows you don’t have time to draw it out, knows he won’t be able to be as gentle with you as you deserve. No one’s ever gentle with you, is what you always tell him. People who know you know how dangerous you are and they treat you accordingly. Except Namjoon. Namjoon who reveres you and knows you and he are cut from the same cloth—the one where you need to fight for what’s right at any cost. It doesn’t make you dangerous to people who don’t deserve the battle scars you dole out, he thinks. It makes you a hero. To him, you are a lionheart.

Your palms press into his chest above his own heart and you sink onto his length. Every time you’ve been together seems to bleed together for him, but he knows you know exactly how to move to bring him bliss, knows you feel like the god who seems to have abandoned you made the two of you for one another.

It’s a risk, but he reaches up to pull the thick curtain back just a few millimeters. Wants the sliver of light to illuminate the tendons in your neck with your head thrown back as you ride him. Wants to see the peaks of your nipples, the smooth skin over your ribcage, the mole you have right on the plateau of your collarbone. Wants to let his eyes roll back in his skull, that’s how good you feel, but can’t let himself pull his attention from your body.

“Come here,” he says quietly, wraps his spindly arms around you and pulls you down so your chest is flush with his. “Be with me,” he almost begs, “look at me, love.”

Your hands cup his face, and his guide your hips on top of his.

“I want to feel like this forever,” he thinks he hears you say, and Namjoon can see a tear dripping down your cheek before you lean in to press your lips to his. He licks at your mouth, gets you to open for him, plays melodies along your tongue with his.

He thinks they’re love songs.

He hopes you know.

You’re all tight heat around him, and your nipples brush his chest in time with his tongue brushing yours. Your lavender scent is a balm, your tears drip onto his cheeks from above, and your breaths come shallow and labored as he fucks into you.

“I think I’ll love you forever,” he says.

“Mijn schat...” You whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone and smiling the sad kind of smile. Quietly, you tell him that you want to feel him, beg him to move.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t stop. Thrusts into you, lets the sound of his skin against yours get louder and filthier. He knows he should stop. Can’t make himself. “Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s probably too late.

You’re nodding anyway, letting out a sweet little moan when his fingers find your clit and he comes, deep inside of you. Feels like a claim he shouldn’t be making. Gets one back from you just moments later when you squeeze around his softening cock, shuddering with your release above him.

Against his chest, you breathe, and he waits for the moment when your inhales align with his. It’s going to be the last time you share the same air, he thinks.

Your work tonight will be messy. He doesn’t ask what that means, thinks he already knows. Eyes the Remington in his periphery and you give him a tight-lipped confirmation. Yes, you have things you have to do. Yes, they’re worth sacrificing your life if you have to.

Namjoon spends a lot of time wondering about the balance between sacrifice and selfishness.

Never seems to decide where he sits on the spectrum.

Lithe like you are, he should barely feel it when you climb off of him, but it’s a crushing weight. Feels like his heart might be melting, like his lungs can’t expand anymore.

Once you’re dressed—in clothes he’s never seen before, those usually given to people of a different gender, maybe a different time—he watches you toss your skirt into the hearth first, then the clothes you’ve been lending him for your trysts. He watches you find the smallest vial of kerosene and some tinder you’d been collecting and add those, too. It’s as if he can see you in your full vibrancy now: focused on the mission, focused on destroying the you that has existed in this space, the him that has loved you.

The fire burns more brightly than he could have imagined after all the time you’ve spent together in the dark. It allows him to see the hope in your eyes when you lean down to kiss him one last time. Allows him to see the tears you no longer let fall when you hand him the peacock, press it close to him so he can hold it like a child.

“Why the peacock?” he asks when you turn to leave. It’s the only question he can think of that he suspects you’ll give him an answer to.

“Immortality, Joonie. You know, the Greeks thought the flesh of the peacock would never decay? Perfect and enduring even in death.”

“Are you the peacock or am I?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” you say as you heave open the door.

He shudders with the cold gust and wishes he knew what to say. Wishes he could choose you over his gun. Wishes you would choose him over yours.

“Until next time, Joonbug,” you say against the wind.

You pull the door hard behind you, and when it punches shut, Namjoon is startled out of his dream.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“You gotta stop falling asleep in here, hyung.” Jeongguk’s voice is almost drowned out by Seokjin’s laugh.

“I covered for you at the last meeting, told them you were chasing down an idea… don’t interrupt a genius… creative flow… you know.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and sits up. Of course he’s not in Germany during World War two. Of course he’s in his studio in Gangnam, and apparently he’s slept through a meeting.

He hates these dreams because he feels so thrown off when he wakes up. The pain of losing you always sticks with him for a while afterwards, makes his whole world tilt about one degree. Not enough to change anyone but him, but more than enough to notice.

He loves the dreams because he gets to be with you—tries not to let that thought be concerning.

“What’s that smell?” he asks, still half asleep.

“What smell?”

“Mmm… you know, the lavender smell.”

“Hyung, are you having a stroke?”

“I think people who have strokes smell toast,” Jin says.

“Nevermind,” Namjoon sighs as he gets off the couch. “Thanks for covering for me, hyung.”

“You owe me now.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course.” Agreeing is always easier than arguing with Jin.

Namjoon’s awake enough now to notice the looks that Jeongguk and Seokjin are passing between each other. He knows they know something’s going on with him, sees how they adjust the ways they move around him after these dreams, when he’s out of sorts and halfway out of commission for a half a day or so. It’s not just them, either. Jimin has tried to talk to him about it, but didn’t get very far. Hoseok knows Namjoon’s had a few bad dreams, but that’s the extent of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell them, it’s more that he doesn’t know how to explain it without sounding like he’s completely batshit. Doesn’t know how to tell them that he knows you’re real, that he believes in you the same way he believes in the existence of his sister or his best friend, Heeyoung. It’s part of the problem, really. Because every time he has one of these dreams, he finds himself actually looking for you. In real life. In Seoul. In every city they have a show in. Thought he saw you once in Switzerland, but was too afraid to get close enough to know for sure… Still isn’t sure if he regrets that or not.

It really messes with him when he’s in a city that he’s dreamed you in. Once, in Sevilla, he was too fucked up about it to even leave the hotel room. Tried to explain to one of the managers that something bad had happened last time he was there, but it got complicated when Namjoon couldn’t explain when exactly that was.

“What’s on your mind, Namjoonie?” Seokjin’s tone is gentler now, cautious.

“Spain.”

Another look of concern between Jeongguk and their hyung.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jeongguk asks softly. “Sometimes it helps to talk about things—you taught me that.”

He can’t help but smile at that. Caught in his own words. And he’s so tired of this, so tired of feeling like no one will understand… he’s tempted. To be honest, he could probably talk about it with Taehyung. Maybe that’s what he should do, he thinks. Tae would listen, wouldn’t judge him. But maybe Jeongguk and Seokjin wouldn’t either. Namjoon has assuredly done more questionable things than possibly believe in a ghost. Or whatever you are.

He sits back down on the couch. “I’ve been having these weird dreams,” he says.

“About Spain?” Jeongguk and Seokjin find seats to settle into, too.

“About a girl, mostly.”

“Want to tell us about her? Is she Spanish? Is she someone you know?”

“I’m not sure,” Namjoon admits. “She’s whoever I want her to be, I think.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows almost lift off his face. “Okay, Namjoonie. Why don’t you tell us about these dreams?”

Namjoon nods. “Well, the one I just woke up from, we were in Germany.”

“All of us?” Jeongguk asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Just her and me. I think hyung maybe, too, but I never saw him in the dream.” He gestures to Seokjin.

“But you have these dreams often?”

“Yeah.”

“And one of them was in Spain?”

Namjoon’s not sure what they’ll think of him once he tells them, but maybe he doesn’t have to give everything away, he decides. Maybe he can just tell him about one of the dreams and see what they think.

“Yeah, I can tell you about it if you want.”

Jeongguk nods eagerly and Jin does, too. He supposes he can’t back out now.

“Alright… well, here’s what I remember…”

Andalucia, Spain — Summer, 1913

The heat is relentless.

Namjoon sweats so much under normal conditions—this is borderline torture. If it were up to him, he’d be back in Sevilla with you, content in the small pension you both scrape together rent for every week. It’s shaded by the orange trees surrounding it, feels safe and private and cool, and most importantly, it’s yours.

Ronda is less forgiving. Maybe because he doesn’t know it as well, isn’t sure who might be someone to know and who might just be pretending. He’s done this for long enough that he thinks he has a pretty good sense for it, but he’s still sucked into having his time wasted on occasion. Wouldn’t mind it so much except it’s time spent away from you.

Blas Infante has been yelling on the steps for a while. His throat should be raw, but the adrenaline of agitating the people of Andalucia keeps him fresh, voice ringing clearly through the square. Namjoon has been watching the wealthiest in the crowd drift away, paying attention to where they’re going, making sure he’s got a line on which bars and cafes will be the best to move on to. The time is about right, he thinks. They’ll be a few drinks in and soon the wider crowd will disperse. Wants to make sure he can find a seat at the bar next to someone rich, attractive if possible. If they’re a little desperate that’s even better.

They probably all will be given the way the political winds are shifting in Andalucia.

As he turns from the crowd, he hears Padre de la Patria Andaluza shout, “the moment has come for the privileged to die!” The remaining crowd roars like the lions on their flags, angry and proud. He agrees with them—as long as he gets his money first.

When he slides onto the barstool, he makes sure to order his own drink first. Chilled palo cortado says he’s from around here but maybe a little down on his luck, otherwise, he’d be drinking Fundador.

It’s strange, he knows he grew up poor, but he can’t remember any of the details. It’s as if his whole life before knowing you is completely out of focus. He feels the resentment, though, the frustration of knowing there’s more for the taking if you have the right family, the right education, the right skin color.

But he’s older now and while it’s there, it’s in the background. Because he knows how to get his share, knows now that it’s also for the taking if you have a nice smile, a silver tongue, and a willingness to do whatever it takes to succeed—including changing your definition of success. Including sacrificing the things you believe in the most.

Good thing the only thing Namjoon believes in anymore is you, and you’re willing to stick by his side no matter what.

She’s not anywhere near as attractive to him as you are. She’s round in all the places he likes—soft hips, soft stomach, thick ass, but there’s something with her face. Too drawn, a little gaunt in a way that doesn’t suit her. It’s age maybe, she’s got to be thirty years older than him.

Age is another one of those tricky things that feels a little elusive to him.

He thinks he’s around nineteen and she’s probably fifty. Doesn’t care, really, as long as she’s got pesetas.

She does. A lot of them.

He fucks her slow in a room above the bar and calls her “Princesa” because she asks him to. Because she’ll pay him more if he does, because he knows how women like her work. It’s been quiet between them since he took her upstairs. They don’t talk about her husband, her children… They don’t talk about you.

She shifts a little below him and it almost hurts. He’s not used to sex so dry like this—makes it hard to imagine it’s you beneath him. Digs his thumbs into the flesh at her hips and tries to picture you instead, but her noises aren’t as sweet as yours, her skin isn’t as supple.

At least, he thinks as he thrusts over and over to her guttural cries, he’s doing this for you. For the future the two of you have dreamed of since you were basically kids and he would throw stones at your window after dark to sneak a piece of your attention. He’s fairly certain you almost have enough saved up to escape, to get away from your father and brother who have never once approved of Namjoon. In their eyes, it’s bad enough he’s a foreigner, but then he has the audacity to be poor in addition.

He wants to give you a good life. There’s still a part of him that thinks someday he can give you an honest one, as well. There’s a part of him that hopes he’s not only his mistakes like your father thinks, that he’s capable of so much more than the world has allowed him to give so far. He thinks you see it, too. He’s pretty sure that’s why you stay.

As the work drags on, he realizes he’s made a critical mistake—he didn’t ask her how much she’d had to drink, didn’t think to slip the bartender a note to water it down a bit. Feels like she’s never going to come, and he can’t leave a job undone. God, he just wants to get home to you. Wants to take a lavender-laced bath with you and cleanse himself of this sin and the thousand others he’s committed before it. Wants to start on new ones with you.

The thought of you: in your orange grove, smelling of sun-dried linen and laughing while he chases you… it gives him the will to keep going.

Ironic that his love for you is the reason his cock is buried in someone else.

Eventually, she comes, and he lies and says he does, too. Makes quick work of ridding himself of the condom with his back to her. This isn’t the first time he’s lied. Would he sound like too much of a romantic if he said he’s only ever had an orgasm with you?

For tonight, his patron seems satisfied, romanticism or not. She asks to see him again the following week and he tells her all about how he’d love to, but he just doesn’t have the money, see? So, if she wants to see him, it wouldn’t be possible unless…

She’s more generous than he’s expected. What she gives him to come back to Ronda will pay for a month of your pension. He shoves it in his pockets and tells her he’s going to get them another bottle of sherry from the bar.

When he slinks out into the finally cool night air, all he feels is relief. He’s going to make it in time to hop the late train back to Sevilla, back to you.

He looks up and down the cobblestone street, taking a second to remember which direction he came from. Notices a man watching him, seems like it should matter, but all that matters is getting back to you.

Namjoon counts his earnings under the moonlight as the train rumbles through the countryside. It’s enough. He’ll need to count what’s at your home to be absolutely sure, but he thinks it’s enough to get you out of there. You dream of Valencia—of a different kind of orange grove, of thick and salty sea air, of vacations in Madrid or Barcelona, strolling the markets and church grounds.

He looks out the window at the moon and thinks of how bright your face will be when he tells you the good news. He looks at the stars and hopes they will guide you both faithfully to a better life.

The train pulls into the station at Sevilla several hours later. Namjoon feels like the time just slipped away, doesn’t quite know how he passed it. Maybe the wine was stronger than he’d first thought…

It’s quiet in Sevilla at this time of night, but he doesn’t pay too much attention to the bustle in front of him, the same man from outside the bar in Ronda rushing up the road ahead of him. Must be in a hurry to get somewhere—Namjoon can relate, he’s in a hurry to get home to you. His bag is weighed down from the coin he’s bringing home, but oddly enough, he feels lighter than ever knowing he may never have to give himself to someone that isn’t you again.

It’s freedom.

After years of conning and scraping and scratching to climb out of the poverty he’s known, he finally has hope for something better. Because of you, because you gave him something to believe in and to fight for.

Tomorrow, he’ll take you to the gardens at the Alcazar, and amongst the flowers and the peacocks you love, he’ll give you the news—tell you it’s finally time. Maybe you can even take the train to the sea that night.

He loves you so much, owes you everything because he gets all that he needs from your company and your faith in him.

As he draws nearer to you, dirt road narrowing as he approaches the pension, he hears raised voices. Yours and someone else’s. Maybe more. It’s all he needs to take off running, can’t fathom why you’d need to be fighting with anyone in the orchard after midnight.

“Namjoon!” you exclaim when you see him sprinting up the road.

He can hear the fear in your voice, and it only makes him come to you faster. “What is it? What’s going on?” he calls. And then he sees them: your father and your brother, gesturing wildly and yelling.

“Mija, you know what he’s doing in Ronda? How disgusting he is? How he’s making a fool out of you, making fools out of our family?”

You’re calmer than they deserve, standing your ground with your arms crossed over your chest, full skirts whipping around you in the breeze. You look brave, intimidating, and more beautiful than ever.

Namjoon starts to understand, realizes he should have known something wasn’t right, that the man in two places would be a problem. Hadn’t let himself believe your father would have had him followed, but why wouldn’t he?

“You know nothing,” you snap at your father. “Mind your own business, old man. I’m not your family anymore. He’s my family now.”

Namjoon joins you in front of the pension, stands by your side, wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple. “I think you should leave,” he says to the men facing you.

Your father spits in his direction, your brother makes rude gestures with both hands. They call him a whore, call him disgusting, claim he’s giving you diseases and ruining you for the god they say you need to meet one day.

(They still believe, Namjoon never has, and you think you already know god—that he lives in the way the birds call a bright greeting to the morning sun and the flowers bend to offer the bees what they both need to live.)

“Leave,” you say firmly. “We’re leaving for Valencia soon—you’ll never have to see us again. I’ll change my name, no one will know the disgrace you think we’ve brought to the family. Just let us be.”

And if Namjoon thought the crowd in Ronda was loud, he hadn’t yet had the screams of your father to compare it to. His face is a violent red, his whole body shakes with his anger, and Namjoon feels scared for the first time in a long time. The arm he has around your waist tightens as your brother pulls a revolver from the back of his trousers.

You are ever courageous—Namjoon can hear your racing heart, but you betray nothing, staring down your brother with iron conviction and pressing in tightly to the man at your side.

“No one will take you from us!” your father yells.

The barrel is pointed straight at the two of you. Namjoon can see your brother’s finger shaking and it’s as if he knows what’s about to happen. He can’t let it, would sacrifice anything for you, already has given up his body and his soul to you in some ways. He’s prepared to do it again. Would never make a choice that wasn’t to protect you. Loves you like you’re oxygen, like he needs you to survive.

He’s nothing without you, but you can be something without him. So, he moves.

And as Namjoon twists to pull you behind him, a single shot rings out through the Andalucian night, louder than a firecracker.

Seoul, South Korea — Present Day

“And then what?” Jeongguk asks, leaning so far in he looks like he’ll topple at any second.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “That’s when I woke up. I had the window open and I think there was a car accident or one backfiring or something. Startled me awake.”

“That’s so romantic,” Jeongguk sighs. “Don’t you think, hyung?”

Seokjin nods along. “How often do you dream about her?”

“Every few weeks… for a couple of years now.”

“Shit.”

Namjoon explains how he can’t stop thinking about you for days after the dreams, how you always look different in them but he knows it’s you every time. There’s something in the way you speak to him, in the way you know his mind, in the way you move across each time and space so self-assured and brave and admirable. And then the words just keep coming. He tells them about how he always dreams of you existing at night—never in the morning. Never had a dream where the two of you have made it through the night and woken up together in love with no tragedy befalling you. He almost cries when he tells them how badly he wants to find you, how he knows you must be real, a person he’s just yet to meet… Says he’s not sure he believes in something like soulmates, but that sometimes his chest actually aches with the need to know you, to be with you. Tells them that you’re never perfect in any of his dreams, but you’re perfect for him: a partner in crime, a lover, an intellectual rival, a battleground ally, just always by his side making him sharper and better and happier. Tells them that all he wants is the chance to wake up next to you just once, sunlight and joy and no crisis clapping him awake. Tells them how lonely he is in the mornings.

When he finally trails off, out of ways to explain that each time he dreams of you, the desire to find you seems that much more urgent, Seokjin and Jeongguk are speechless. Jin looks like the fish he loves, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Jeongguk is a little teary-eyed and his hand is rubbing careful circles between Namjoon’s shoulder blades.

“You have to find her, hyung,” Jeongguk says softly.

“I know.”

“We’ll help you find her, I promise.”

Namjoon thinks the commitment from Jeongguk is sweet, but doesn’t know how they could possibly help. You look different in every dream, a different voice, name, language… It’s an impossible task made even more challenging by the fact that you probably don’t actually exist. Just a figment of his imagination his brain has made to give him some stress relief, some friendship. He says as much, and he can tell Seokjin agrees with him, but Jeongguk is insistent. At the very least, it’s a little comforting that he’s told them what he feels like is probably his weirdest, deepest secret, and they didn’t laugh at him, didn’t march him upstairs to the company therapist.

After that day, Namjoon feels a little bit better about everything. Better enough that he doesn’t dream about you for a few weeks, starts to forget to look for you in the face of every person he passes. The best part is that he’s really able to focus on their upcoming tour, and by the time he boards the plane to another continent with the rest of the members, he wonders if he’ll ever dream about you again.

It’s been long enough that he misses you a little bit, as ridiculous as it sounds. He doesn’t mention that part to Jeongguk or Seokjin.

They touch down in a new city, and Namjoon rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He’d fallen asleep on the flight—no dreams. It’s early, but they don’t get the day to themselves. They’ll eat a snack in the cars on the way to the venue, run a short rehearsal for blocking and then Namjoon will do some foreign-language interviews from the hotel. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls his mask up, trying to mentally prepare himself a little bit for the remainder of the day. And then he smells it, as he steps into the airport, a gentle lavender scent that’s so familiar he thinks he might be imagining it.

Namjoon stops in his tracks right outside the gate and starts looking. It’s practically instinctual at this point, head on a swivel trying to spot you. It’s so ridiculous and he knows it. But there’s just something… it’s like he knows you’re here.

Unfortunately, it’s a terrible place to be having a crisis, and he’s literally knocked out of his search when another passenger on their phone runs right into the back of him.

“Fuck, sorry,” you say, only glancing up from your phone for a second.

Namjoon doesn’t look at you, just flushes with embarrassment as if anyone could possibly know what he’s thinking. Keeps his head down, says, “no problem,” and tells himself that the weird pit in his stomach is nothing and the smell he’s so drawn to is in his head. The you of his dreams isn’t possibly in this airport in a city on the other side of the world.

He tries to shake it off all afternoon, all evening, but doesn’t think he’s too successful. Thinks he probably fucked up a couple of the interviews, hopes one of his managers would have stopped him if he was too off the mark, though. It’s probably fine.

That night, for the first time in weeks, he dreams of you.

Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea — Summer, 1931

In these most uncertain of times, Namjoon is sure of two things: you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, and he is so much in love with you that he feels shaky with it.

It’s quiet in your father’s farmhouse save for your soft moans. With a rare stroke of luck, your mother and father have left to negotiate with the angry man who owns their land now, and Namjoon has taken advantage of sneaking away from Pukyong’s campus to be with you. He’d come to review plans for a new barn with your father, but finding him gone was a blessing.

You and Namjoon haven’t been able to find much time alone since he left for Busan. He comes back when he can, which isn’t often, and you sneak out to the edge of the fields to meet him under the moonlight. He’s gotten used to fucking you quietly and in a hurry, helping you brush grass and twigs out of inappropriate places when you’re done. This though, this is a luxury, to be with you in your own bed, in the daylight. To be as loud as you both want—Namjoon could write a dissertation on how nice you sound when he fucks you.

You’re slick and tight, and you’re the only home Namjoon’s ever really known. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and watches as you arch your back underneath him, whine a little, tell him not to leave marks where your parents might see.

Because you’re young and reckless and you’ve both only ever loved each other, he knows he’s got to pull out soon, but it’s hard to remember in the heat of the moment.

You call him “Namjoonah,” you tell him how good he feels inside you, breathy and sweet, running your fingers through his hair to brush it off of his forehead. It’s gentle, the way you touch him, like he’s something worth taking care of. You say all the nicest things to him when he fucks you—you tell him he’s strong and handsome and so big, you always emphasize, widening your eyes and palming his cock through his trousers. It’s probably giving him a little bit of an ego, he thinks, but he likes it anyway. Being the focus of your attention is so flattering. He always wants your eyes on him, your hands on him, your thoughts about him. You make him greedy and selfless at the same time—he wants everything you’re willing to give him and he wants to give you even more in return. Wishes this fucking war were over so he wouldn’t have to be on edge all the time. Knows he’s lucky not to have been conscripted to the Imperial Army yet, but that it’s probably a matter of time.

It’s a blessing, being smart, which people have told Namjoon that he is since he can remember. At least they’ve spared him so far because he’s of more use to them at Pukyong, learning how to be the best architect he can be, than he would be as a soldier. Someday, his own father says, he will build castles for a Korean leader, walls to keep the Japanese soldiers out. Those conversations are had in secret, in whispers and gestures. It’s dangerous to be someone like his father, to think there’s a chance for Korean independence, to fight for it in secret… But it’s dangerous to be fucking you into your mattress when your parents could come home any moment, too, and that doesn’t stop Namjoon.

Like father, like son, as they say.

He’s sure it’s not a secret that he’s your boyfriend. Your parents know him, invite him for meals, they like him. They think he’s a sweet, smart, college boy who’s going to give their daughter a better life than they can someday, and they’re not wrong.

Though, he’s also sure they’d like him a lot less if they knew he was a sweet, smart, college boy who loves your body, loves the way your soft thighs feel around his head when he licks at your core, loves the way he can throw your calves over his shoulders and hold you in place as he thrusts home. Loves the small violet bruises he bites into your skin, hidden away under your long skirts and long linen sleeves. Loves how you let him pull out and cover those bruises with his cum, and then especially loves when you run a finger through it and lick it off—when you tell him he tastes good and you thank him for sharing with you.

They’d think he’s ruined you, and he’d cop to it even though it is absolutely the other way around.

You come with a sweet, loud moan. Your throat sounds a little raw when you say his name again, which only turns him on more. With a few strokes, he follows you, leaving his release across your stomach and breasts and thinking that if all art looked like you do in this moment, he’d change his major.

Lazily, he lies next to you and pulls you close. You should clean up, you should get dressed, Namjoon should be sitting at the kitchen table studying his drawings with his shoulders back and glasses smart across his nose when your father gets home. You don’t want him to leave though, asking him to stay just a little longer, turning your head to kiss him softly.

When he wakes up, it’s dark, and he panics. You’re pliant in his arms, still sleeping, and your parents should be home—what if they’ve seen you? What if they know that Namjoon is taking something sweet from you at every opportunity, paying you back with pieces of his heart?

Maybe it’s time he faces this like an adult, he decides. He’s going to marry you someday anyway, it’s a foregone conclusion. They may not like that you’ve been breaking so many of their rules in secret, but someday you will be his wife, and he will care for all of your family as his own, and hopefully that buys him a little leniency with your father. He kisses your temple and gets out of bed as quietly as he can, pulls his clothes back on, and pads out of your room to meet his fate.

He spots them immediately, and as soon as he has the thought that he’s going to be sick, he heaves all over your kitchen floor. It’s going to wake you up, but he needs to spare you from the scene. Somehow, he gets their bodies covered before you get up. It’s the best he can do but it’s not enough—the scream you let out is haunting, half shock and half anguish. When you crumple to your knees, he holds you, lets you sob and scream into his chest and rocks you steadily. He doesn’t know what else to do.

After that day, he files for a leave from school and essentially moves in with you. You use your anger to fuel you, fighting for independence in secret alongside the bravest Koreans Namjoon knows. Your landlord comes around and neither you nor Namjoon even try to hide your rage and disgust. You spit at his feet and he warns you to be polite unless you want to end up like your parents. Namjoon tries to convince you that the old man isn’t even worth your anger, that you’re better off serving your parents’ memory alive than alongside them in a grave.

As the war picks up, so does conscription. Namjoon thinks he’ll be called any day, but the idea of fighting in the Imperial Army makes him ill. So instead, he makes a plan.

It’s only a matter of months before you’re on the ferry to join him on Jeju. He’s been there, building and fortifying. Perhaps it’s cowardly to cut and run, but he doesn’t care. It’s the only way he can be with you, the only way he can keep you safe. With the farm equipment sold off and a bit of his family’s money, he’s made you a home there, and it’s finally ready for you.

There’s a tearful reunion on the dock, and it’s followed by a trip to the courthouse to get married. It all happens in a daze, the memories hazy and dim, but the way he felt as he kissed you and made you his wife burns in him bright, bright, bright.

He makes love to you on the floor of the new cottage that night, slow and sweet. Tries to make you understand how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you. Thinks he succeeds when you tell him you love him as you come, thinks he’s never seen or heard something more beautiful in his whole life.

Finally, he leads you up the narrow staircase to the room he’s built for you. It’s got a big bed, but not too big, because you always want to be close to him when you sleep. Its wooden floors are made warmer with a rug his mother made for you, a wedding gift. The balcony is small, but he designed it himself, based on a wish you’d told him about, that you’ve always dreamed of a place to read in the mornings. It’s shaded from the eastern sun with a balustrade you can kick your feet up onto. There are crude drawings of your favorite animals carved into the balusters, alternating lions and peacocks. Protection and immortality, built into the home he’s made for the two of you. When you see it, you look like maybe you finally understand the way he cares for you, the way he will do anything he can for as long as he lives to keep you happy and safe.

You let yourself out there, and light up the night with your happiness. Namjoon watches you from the bed. He’s been on the balcony, and it’s small. He’s not technically the architect he always thought he would be since he’s left school for good, but he tried his best with this design, and then tried even more when he built it for you.

Maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident. The funny thing about light and sound is that he sees it happen just barely before he hears it. Sees you stumble a little to your right, sees the balcony wobble and thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. Then he hears the deafening crack and it’s perfectly timed with his stomach sinking and you disappearing from his view, the balustrade going with you.

New York City — Present Day

Namjoon wakes up in a cold sweat, the alarm blaring next to him. He hates this feeling—the one immediately after the dreams. At least he has most of the day off. The company always gives them time for the jetlag, supposed to be for sleeping, but he’ll use it to shake himself out of this fog that settles in after the dreams. Maybe the Met this time; he saw the Whitney last time he was here and he sort of wants to get out of Chelsea, anyway—thinks the walk might help him clear his head.

He sees you when he’s standing in front of a moon jar, wondering to himself what right these people have to even store this piece and then charge people to see it. Wonders if he could get it back to Korea somehow where it belongs, mutters something under his breath about colonialism and notices you smile at that out of the corner of his eye.

It’s exactly like he’d always thought it would be to see you: immediately he knows. There’s no question. You look different again, not quite like you have in any of his dreams, but you smell the same and you’re wearing a blue and green dress, tight around your figure and flouncy at the hem that reminds him so specifically of a peacock he wants to cry. You smell like fancy French lavender soap and you have a smile that could bring world peace.

The sight of you makes him freeze. What would he even say? There’s nothing he could tell you that wouldn’t make him sound insane, nothing that he’s willing to admit to a stranger, even if that stranger is you. His heart races and he feels himself start to sweat nervously. He’s been looking for you for years, and when he finally finds you, it sends him into a panic. How perfect for him.

He can’t stand in front of the same moon jar forever, though, so he swallows his nerves and stands up a little straighter and begins to turn to you, even if just to introduce himself like a normal person.

Namjoon’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re already gone.

He’s talking to Jeongguk while he sits on the steps of the Met, phone pressed to his ear.

“I know it’s her,” he says, sending Jeongguk into a frenzy of questions.

Namjoon is contemplating the possibility that he’s fucked up his only chance to meet you, when you appear, out of the blue, to take a seat a few feet away from him, he rushes out a “Gotta go, Kookie, bye,” and hangs up as Jeongguk is still talking.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi.”

“This is probably so weird, but…” You straighten out your skirt and don’t make eye contact. You look equal parts beautiful and nervous. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Namjoon gets this question a lot. Usually, it’s fans trying to ‘play it cool’ when they run into him in Seoul, trying to give the impression that they don’t immediately know who he is. And yeah, he thinks he’s more humble than some people less famous than him, hates to assume, but it’s always pretty transparent. But, for as much as he gets this question, as often as he brushes it off with an, “I don’t think so,” and a rushed exit from wherever he’s been recognized, he has no idea how to answer it when it comes to you. So, he just gapes at you. It’s mortifying.

“Sorry,” you continue. “It’s just that… Well, this is probably gonna sound crazy, but I think I’ve had dreams about you.”

“Holy shit,” Namjoon says, living up to his reputation as a certified genius and a clever songwriter.

This response flusters you even more, it’s clear you’re embarrassed. The way your eyes flit around and look for an exit from the situation tells him everything he needs to know.

“Sorry again,” you groan more than speak. “Nevermind.”

You start to stand, and Namjoon barely gets his shit together in time to grab your wrist and finally speak. “It’s not weird. I have them, too. The dreams.”

“No fucking way,” you whisper, your eyes wide.

“Yeah.” Namjoon nods in agreement. “How’d you know it was me?” He asks.

“Just knew it,” you shrug, wrist still kept tight in his grasp. “I’m not sure. It’s like… you feel the same. You smell like you, too.”

“Come on,” he says, dropping your wrist finally and standing. “Want to get coffee or something?”

To his relief, you do.

It’s awkward at first. Where do you start with someone you feel like you’ve known forever but you’ve never actually met? Namjoon has a million questions he wants to ask you but none of them seem to fully form in his head. It’s bad enough he has to think through how to not be seen with you—his lifestyle adds a whole layer of complication you’d never faced together in his dreams. Eventually, you knock on his hotel room door about ten minutes after he gets in. It had been a little stressful, waiting for you. He made you promise three times you’d actually show up and then on the fourth one, he made you pinky promise. When you took his little finger solemnly, instead of laughing at him, he was finally (mostly) convinced you’d be there.

And now, here you are, sitting at the little table in his room, clearly trying to be polite and not look at the mess of stuff he’s accumulated in just one night. After all this time wishing he could find you, he’s got no idea what to say to you.

“So… why the Met?”

You smile a little sheepish and shake your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” he says, trying to be as reassuring as he can for such a weird situation.

“I thought it’s where the lion statues were… you know… on the steps. I thought if I went there, maybe you’d be there. I was sure it was you at the airport but by the time I realized it, you were gone. So, I guess it was the only place I could think to look for you where you might look for me, too. But they’re at the library.”

“The lions?”

His confusion seems to make you a little shy; you duck your head and shake it, like you’re telling yourself off before you even explain. “You always say I’m like a lion in the dreams. No matter where we are or what’s happened to us. You say I’m strong and brave and beautiful—”

“A lionheart,” Namjoon whispers.

“Yeah,” you brighten at that. “Is it like that in your dreams, too?”

Namjoon tells you it is. And then he tells you about all the dreams he can remember. Not in detail, and not the worst of the bad endings, but enough that the two of you can compare notes. Enough that you realize you’ve been having basically the same dreams, although not at the same time. Both of you have had some the other hasn’t had yet. He loves it when you tell him about one that ended happily, the two of you betrothed in the Joseon era and figuring out how to fall in love. You think it’s supposed to mean something that the two of you are always facing something that’s keeping you apart—you wonder out loud what might keep you apart in reality, too.

“I hope nothing will,” he says without thinking.

“You don’t even know me!” You’re laughing, but he’s clearly taken you by surprise.

“Don’t I, though?” And the mood changes. You swallow thickly and he tries his best not to break eye contact with you even though he thinks you’re so gorgeous he might not make it through the day without passing out. “Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, but he’s already moving to your side of the table and you’re already scooting your chair back to make space for him.

You don’t kiss like you do in the dreams. In the dreams, you kiss him like he’s the beginning and end, like you’ll take anything he gives you. There’s something nice about that, makes him feel wanted and strong. In reality, you kiss him like you know it’s the other way around. You’re confident, teasing—you smile against his lips when you do a thing with your tongue that makes him let out a moan.

In the dreams, he can’t remember ever kissing anyone but you. But now he’s got your lips on his and you’re definitely not the first person he’s kissed by a long shot, but you’re absolutely the best. It’s almost like having something to compare it to makes it even better.

Maybe there should be some hesitation, but neither of you seem to have any. Not when he pulls you up from the chair so he can kiss you without bending all the way over, not when he walks you back toward the hotel room bed, leaving a trail of tender kisses up your neck and across your jaw in a surprising show of coordination.

It’s inexplicable, he thinks, how he feels like he’s done this a million times with you before but in the best way. He can kiss you without any of the awkward, nervous, first time worries he normally has. He can trust you without knowing quite why, and that part is probably the weirdest thing about all of this because he can’t trust anyone outside of the members and his family usually.

“Is it weird I feel like we’ve done this before?” you ask as you run your hands from his shoulders down his arms.

Namjoon just shakes his head and winds his fingers with yours, leaning in to kiss you again. “No, it’s the same for me,” he says.

Because of the familiarity, maybe, it’s not urgent when you undress each other. He takes time to appreciate this version of you, the one he’s actually holding in his arms, the one who pinches his side gently and then laughs. “Just making sure you’re real,” you say when he yelps in protest.

There’s a moment when you’re both naked, standing in front of the bed, when the air feels thick between you. You’re holding his jaw in your palm and he’s got his hands around your back and neither of you speak for a long beat. For him, it just feels incredible to be here with you. He doesn’t care that he has no idea what you do for a living, where you live… Doesn’t know anything about you except that he thinks he has loved you for a long time. Thinks maybe he was put on this planet specifically to love you. Wonders how the two of you could have messed this up so badly in every other universe, but is actually really glad you did, because maybe that’s why you’re finally here with him now.

“I… I think I love you,” he says timidly. “Makes me feel crazy.”

You have a tear falling down your cheek, but you’re smiling—Namjoon is pretty sure you’re not supposed to be crying before sex like this, but you seem happy. “S’not crazy, I think I love you, too. I’m so happy I finally found you.”

“I looked for you in every city,” he confesses before he presses his lips back to yours, then kisses the tears off your cheeks.

You go soft under him, body pressed into his, and he guides you onto the bed. The two of you laugh into each other’s mouths, mutter how you can’t believe it’s happening, let your breath grow heavier as you take time to learn each other. Namjoon loves it when your lips move against his pulse point, when you get a little rough with him, leaving small bites and bruises in places the stylists won’t give him shit for. You like when he talks to you, tells you how you make him feel, how much he wants to be with you—he whispers right into your ear, the sweetest confessions sandwiched by pure filth that makes your breath hitch and a shiver travel down your spine.

Namjoon’s dreamed you a hundred ways, in a hundred places, but here, spread naked underneath him in this hotel bed and laughing with him while he fucks you slowly is better than any dream he’s ever had.

“Can’t believe you’re real, baby,” he breathes as you run your fingertips down his sides. He looks down to see where his cock is moving inside of you, and he thinks this must actually be a dream. You’re perfect, he thinks as he moves fingers to your clit and presses there gently. When you pull him down to kiss you, it feels familiar again. You brush his hair off of his forehead like you’ve done in every one of his dreams, and now he feels like he could cry—he’s just so overwhelmed by you, so in awe just like he knew he would be. Just as he always has been.

You whisper his name when he makes you come. You tighten around him and dig your nails into his shoulders and Namjoon thinks this is the closest to heaven he might ever get. When you finally work through your orgasm, you encourage him to change positions, to lay on his back and let you ride him.

The way you know exactly what he likes is magical, that deep grinding of your hips in his lap. You don’t have to ask to know what makes him tick, bringing his hand to your lips as you move, sucking two of his fingers into your mouth and whining around them.

He’s always preferred this to something faster. This way, he gets to watch you, feels like you’re taking your pleasure from him, feels like you’re both getting precisely what you want from each other. He could lift his hips and fuck into you, could hold your waist and get you to bounce on his cock like you’re making a sex tape. But this is better. This is you and him, moving like you’re meant to be connected.

You absolutely are, he’s sure of it.

It’s a movie script ending when you come again just as he does for the first time—he wishes he could feel all of you when he spills into the condom, wishes he’d found you years ago and built a more tangible history with you. Hopes more than anything that you want to try to do that with him now.

The two of you clean up with a little bit of shyness; you hide your face as he cleans you carefully with a warm washcloth, and he tries not to let you see him get rid of the condom. It’s not as easy as the dreams where those things sort themselves out, but Namjoon wouldn’t trade these awkward moments for anything.

There’s not really a need to ask you to stay, he knows somehow that you will, but he asks anyway, preens when you agree and ask to borrow a shirt.

He can’t really risk room service with you here, but he gets a manager to bring you food (hand stuck shyly through a crack in the door as to not interrupt), and while you eat, he peppers you with questions about your life. Feels like he knows the important things that are the same as in his dreams (he loves you, you’re loyal), but wants to learn all the mundane stuff, too.

Much later, before the sun rises but after some people would already call it morning, you fall asleep in his arms and he lets himself drift off thinking of lavender and peacocks and falling in love.

Namjoon’s alarm goes off, and the sun must be high in the sky because the light in the room is a bit muted. It’s the first time in a long time he’s woken up content, hesitates for a second before he remembers why, remembers everything that happened the day before, remembers that you were real and here and in his bed and his arms. He lets himself just exist there for a minute, eyes closed, thinking about what might come next, how he’ll explain you to his family…

Then it sort of dawns on him that you should be right there, that he fell asleep wrapped around you and now he isn’t. He panics for a split second when he realizes you’re not pressed against him, doesn’t think he could handle it if this was a dream, too. Tries to be rational, but for some reason can’t quite bring himself just to tip his head over and open his eyes.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, smells hotel laundry detergent and sex and the faintest hint of lavender. He says a silent prayer and then sticks his hand out to the other side of the bed to feel for yours. Thinks he might scream when he doesn’t feel you there immediately.

Namjoon snakes his hand across the sheet and hopes he never has to dream to see you again.

#bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fluff #rm smut #rm fluff #rm angst #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #kvanity #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #rm fanfic

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ncteez · 11 months

Note

helloooo! i’m a relatively new follower (and a relatively new carat!) and congratulations on your milestone! for your sleepover event can i please request mingyu and 98 from the prompt list? i feel like you could make it as fluffy or as dirty as you like 😆

mingyu + “I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot.”

wordcount: 1.7k

tags: very much in love jock/fratboy!mingyu, regular ass girl reader. (shocking, coming from me lmao), grinding, kissing, hand job, implied sex

note: you know im not only thankful for your congratulations for me, but for offering the option to write about mingyu with free reign? thank u so much <3 I did split up the prompt a lil bit to work it into the drabble, hope you don't mind!

Mingyu, the kid from down the street that rode by on his scooter, fucking scooter, and knocked your popsicle out of your hand before immediately riding straight into a tree. Mingyu, the guy who took you to prom because he felt bad that your crush rejected you quite harshly. Mingyu, the kid who turned into an awkward teen, who then turned into a, to put it bluntly, beefy ass jock playing for the college football team.

The two of you lost contact after prom, feeling as if the two of you were entirely too different. Sure, he was kind, but his jokes weren't funny. His interests bored you, and he couldn't dance for shit back then.

Even now, seeing him in passing on the walkways of campus, you'll notice that his eye never meets yours. His interests are that of prideful trophies, medals, and Tuesday night drinking binges at the frat house before a big exam.

Your interests clash. Art, architecture, grades, a comfy career working from home with nine cats and maybe a dog? That's what you want out of life.

The two of you were always very different, but still always close by somehow.

He lived three houses down from you growing up, he knew you got rejected in the hall on the way to biology class in high school because he just happened to be there, and now, he goes to the same fucking college as you fourteen hours away from the town the two of you grew up in.

It was kind of strange, then again, not really. Small world this, small world that. The two of you live in it completely apart, but the strange part is the fact that somehow, someway, he's always following his own path within arms reach of yours, regardless of how fucking distant your personalities are.

It's honestly not something you'd think of on a day to day basis, today is different though. You have to think about it, because maybe, sort of, he's kind of under you right now? And it's hard to explain how or why it happened outside of like, opposites attract.

"Never expected this out of someone like you," Mingyu comments, his hands gripping your hips and holding you in place as you straddle his lap. "Admit that you've had a crush all of these years."

You shake your head at him and roll your eyes. All those years you've known him? He was just Mingyu. Attractive? Sure, you'll give him that, but otherwise a little too different from you to have a crush.

"Always so quick to flatter yourself, Gyu, really." You laugh sarcastically, knowing for a fact that he's very aware of this current, very temporary crush you have on him. Otherwise you wouldn't be two inches from him lips right now.

"Well," He glances to the side, hiding his fondness of that childhood nickname, pretending that there isn't the possibility of a stranger barging through that open door and ruining this moment. "I had a crush."

You figured as much, with the way he really did try during prom. Though it was more of a pity-date, you imagine he wouldn't have felt how he did if there wasn't something there pushing him to try and heal up that little piece of your broken high school heart.

And as much as you figured it, something inside of you finds this big, beefy, asshole of a man....incredibly endearing as he admits it to you.

"Oh? Did you now?" You tilt your head, leaning in a bit and sitting your lips against the corner of his mouth. "What happened to change your mind?"

He turns his face, hands gripping you tighter, and kisses you once.

"Nothing changed my mind." He whispers slightly, entirely suffocating himself in the moment of being with you like he's always imagined since puberty hit his ass.

He kisses you again.

"Meaning," Another kiss. "I still have that crush."

You say nothing in response, and instead give in to his assault of kisses against your lips.

The feeling is......warm. Cliché even, in the way he kisses you like he meant what he just said despite the two of you practically ignoring each other for years.

"You have no idea how many times I've thought about this," He admits between those little kisses, his hands gripping harder and harder by the second. "I always hoped you'd walk through those doors to come see me."

You pull back, looking at him with a raised brow.

"I came here because I'm celebrating the fact that I passed an exam that almost killed me, what makes you think I expected you to be here?"

He chuckles, rolling his eyes at you now.

"You're very aware that I live here." He laughs, trying to catch you in a lie, trying to give him a reason outside of a sudden bout of random horniness from you to have you crawling on his lap like this. "You're not here to catch up?"

You find yourself feeling a bit bad. You didn't often think of Mingyu after college started, and it appears he thought of you plenty.

"I came here for the booze but," You smile, intentionally rolling your hips to offer him some sort of apology. "I can't say that I'm upset that you're here, and you know, hard."

His eyes flutter a bit at the friction you're offering to him, twitching in his pants unintentionally as you intentionally pull it out of him.

"So, tell me," You continue, pulling back a bit to watch his face and the way he seems to turn to jelly under you. Your hips continue, working him up, up, up. "How much did you think about this?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle, a half-moan coming out immediately after as he tries to gain back his ability to talk. Out of all things, this isn't entirely how he imagined doing this with you. Sure he always thought of you being on top of him like this, but never did he imagine feeling as though he's....shy.

"Couple of times," He tries to say nonchalantly, pressing his hips up and against you for more. "Like I said before, i never would have expected this out of you though."

You look at him closely, knowing for a fact that he probably expected to be the one in full control. It's cute knowing he can't live up to his own fantasy.

"You think I expected to have you under me like this? Looking like you're about to cry just from a bit of grinding?"

He groans out of slight embarrassment, nodding because he kind of didn't expect it either.

"Didn't expect someone like you to act this weak for someone like me." You continue, laughing more with him than at him.

Before you let him respond though, you reach down and fiddle with the button of his pants, feeling entirely in control of the situation.

"Does it feel good to be weak?" You smile, leaning forward to kiss against his neck as you slowly work your hand under his jeans.

God, the way he loses it. Pleasantly surprised with how you're speaking to him, and even more pleased with the fact that fucking finally you're giving him a chance. An ounce of your attention, even.

He's not ashamed to be weak around you, never has been. He wouldn't be ashamed if Vernon's drunk ass stomped through the door and watched, because at this point there's no stopping. He's too far gone in the feeling of your fingers working their way around his length, even in the tight space between your bodies. He's too gone in the feeling of your lips fluttering across his neck.

If he can, he'll take you right here, right the fuck now.

"Yeah..." he trails off in a dreamy sigh, letting himself feel you touching him for the first time.

"So," You ask, loving his reaction, squeezing the base of his cock and sliding off of his lap before lowering yourself to your knees and focusing solely on how big his cock is in your hand. "You just gonna sit here or are you gonna, like, take me to your actual room and let me really feel it?"

Mingyu's cock reacts before his brain does, as he freezes and processes the words. Oh god, you're really gonna let him? After all these years of crushing on you? Pining for you? Thinking about you in the early morning hours when he definitely shouldn't have been?"

"I never thought I'd hear you say that--" He says more to himself than to you. Seemingly looking like a deer in headlights before he's pulling your hand out of his pants, lacing his fingers with yours, and leading you straight to his bedroom. Arousal in full swing as he passes by stranger after stranger, friend after friend, until finally, he's got you behind his locked bedroom door.

"Fuck," he says immediately as he watches you and the way you stand there, as normal as ever, lifting your shirt off of you without a second thought and revealing a part of you that he only ever imagined being able to kiss.

The fact that you seem eager to get your clothes off, doing it the second the two of you are truly alone? Honestly, he can feel the waves of arousal making his length pulse painfully against his pants. The fact that other people have seen you like this before? The fact that you chose to let him see? The fact that this is how you act when you're turned on? Fuck, fuck, fuck. He's entirely desperate at this moment.

"That's so hot," He starts, feeling a little dumb but ultimately running with it because, well, he's not fucking lying. "It's so hot seeing you, the girl who always ignored me, doing this."

"Mingyu, all I did was take my shirt off." You try to brush his dramatic response off, feeling very seen right now.

"For me." He adds to your sentence, practically feeling like his knees will buckle and make him fall to the floor and grovel for a taste of you.

You feel doted on. Like the most mundane acts regarding sex seems to be driving him up a fucking wall, and arguably, it very well may be. With the way every inch of your skin is massaged and kissed before you can even fully reveal it to him.

It didn't take much to get Mingyu to actually fall to his knees once your pants came off. And goddamn you never expected such a big, beefy ass jock, to be so gentle with someone else's body. With your body.

#[sleepover]#mingyu smut #seventeen smut #[mingyu]#[m]#heartsandwheels

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scekrex · 2 months

Note

I know you've been expecting this, so here ya go 😘

Punk!reader getting into Heaven and him just sort of bumping into Lute. Her being skeptical and annoyed at first but she quickly noticed his style and whole vibe/aesthetic and becoming interested. They talk and get to know each other, simply becoming fast friends which surprises many people since Lute isn't someone to trust another person this quickly.

Lute deciding that reader is an absolutely rad person and seeing similarities to Adam in him, she decides to make them meet. Her letting her bestie meet someone new who she thinks is awesome? Rare af and so Adam is intrigued. They meet up and even tho Adam was like "Eh, do I have to?" at first, he swiftly changed his mind after talking to reader for a bit and they hit it off. From that moment on it's just Lute being their wingwoman, trying to get them together. I trust your absolutely amazing, creative mind of yours that I adore with creating ways of her trying to set them up on a date. Maybe even failing once or twice before successing? 🤔

Muah, love you, you badass mfer ❤️

^ Lute showing off reader to Adam, that's canon, I was the Reese's Sticks on the shelf.

I love punk!reader - this simply has a light undertone of punk though bc it's still x reader :3 I love you too, babes xoxo <3

Never wanted to dance with nobody, but you

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute was kind of in a hurry, she had been talking with one of the other exorcists for a little too long and now she was about to be late to the meeting with Adam and Sera so when someone ran into her, knocked her off her feet and then offered her a hand to help her back up, she slapped said hand away angrily before she took a look at whoever had just dared to run into her. “Don’t you have eyes? Watch where you’re going,” she grumbled pissy as she got back up on her feet. You were quick to apologize, the lieutenant didn’t seem to care for such empty words though, she simply brushed the dirt off her clothes and pushed past you, her shoulder colliding hard with yours as if she tried to prove the point of being stronger than you - that you didn’t doubt.

That much about making a good first impression in heaven, huh?

It was a couple days later when you saw the lieutenant again, this time she seemed more relaxed so you decided to step up to her and properly apologize, she deserved an honest apology after you had knocked her off her feet after all. “Hey,” you greeted the woman as you stopped on her left side and offered the angel a soft and warm smile, she simply side eyed you before tilting her chin up, demonstrating that her rank was above yours and she didn’t have to speak to you if she didn’t want to, yet she responded, “The unstable mess that ran me over three days ago, didn’t think you’d have the guts to speak to me again.” She sounded honestly surprised that you came up to have a chat with her, you ran a hand through your hair, your body language was soaked with confidence though and that - Lute had to admit - was impressive. You reminded her of Adam, if only a little, yet your vibe clearly said punk and that she liked very much as a punk girl herself. She decided to let you shoot your shot, if your vibe didn’t match your personality, she could always cut you off later. “Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a smile that looked a little too prideful in her eyes, being a unstable mess wasn’t something to be proud of, yet you took the insult as a compliment and that she found charismatic. “Wanted to apologize to my fella punk stan, I didn’t mean to knock ya off ya feet like that,” you explained yourself and watched as Lute turned towards you, her posture straight, her chin still tilted upwards but her hands reached up to remove her mask and with that she revealed a wicked smile and sort of kind eyes, “Well, you made it clear that you’re not taking shit, not even from me and that is impressive.” She extended her arm, her hand was balled into a fist as she introduced herself, “Lute.” You looked down at her fist before you copied her wicked grin and gave her a quick fistbump, “Y/N.”

It turned out that Lute and you had a lot in common, besides liking the same music that was. You not only shared some favorite songs and bands, you also had similar hobbies and the lieutenant even invited you to stop by the exorcist’s training at some point - to watch and maybe even join them for that one session. The white haired woman and you had clicked almost instantly once she had dropped her guard and you had learned that she was great company - fuck, she seemed to like you so much that she even wanted to introduce you to her best friend and that was no other than the first man God had created. And while you had managed to avoid a meet-up until now, Lute had other plans. So when you opened your apartment door for her, because she had randomly texted you she’d come over and that she’d bring dinner, you were surprised to not only see her on the other side of the door, but also Adam whom she had brought along. “Uhhh, hey,” you gave them both an awkward yet welcoming smile and stepped aside to let them in, “I did not expect you to bring company.” Lute simply shrugged as she stepped inside, was quick to follow her, “He wouldn’t let go of the fact that I haven’t introduced him to you yet and I thought you wouldn’t mind.” Oh you didn’t mind it at all, you would’ve liked a quick heads up though, then you could’ve cleaned up your apartment a little. The first man was quick to leave you behind and explore your home, “Pretty fucking hardcore.” That made you smirk proudly, Lute had told you a lot about Adam, she had also mentioned how skeptical he could be when it came to meeting new people, yet he seemed way more chill than Lute gave him credit for - or maybe it was just your vibe and the way your apartment was decorated. “Holy fucking shitballs, you like Mindless Self Indulgence?” the first man asked, visibly excited and Lute smirked as she took her mask off and tossed it onto the couch, “I told you he’s the coolest guy heaven has seen so far,” Lute commented with a cocky smirk before she quickly added, “Right after you, Sir.”

Adam came up next to you, a CD in his hand as he wrapped an arm around your waist, “Babes, tell me you have some fucking thing that can still play these old as shit bitches.” And of course you had - why would you own CDs if you hadn’t? So you wordlessly grabbed the CD Adam was holding and walked over to your stereo system, put the CD in and turned up the volume. “Good fucking shit,” the yellow LED smirk of his mask seemed quite joyful and made you relax a lot. You had expected the first man to be more judgemental, maybe even distant, but Adam was nothing like you had thought, he was the loud, all-in-your-face type of guy but you liked that, a lot actually. Lute had also mentioned that Adam would probably take a long fucking time to take his mask off around you - he never left the house without it, never. Lute herself had seen him without it before, but only two, maybe three times. And the both of them had been friends ever since Lute had arrived in heaven - which was very, very fucking long ago. So when Adam copied Lute’s earlier move and took off his mask to toss it onto the couch, you weren’t the only one who was surprised. “Are you shitting me?” you mouthed in the brunette’s direction as your eyes were basically glued to his face - this was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. The white haired woman noticed the look in your eyes instantly and grinned, she knew that look way too well. “Huh?” the first man asked as he turned around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, he wasn’t quite understanding what you were talking about and it showed. “You’re fucking beautiful man, drop dead gorgeous even and you hide all of that underneath a fucking mask every damn day?” The confused look on Adam’S face turned into confidence with a good amount of pride mixed into it as he nodded, “This pureness is fucking reserved for specific eyes only.” And while it seemed to be self obsessed to say, you noticed the flirty undertone in his voice, it had been louder than the music blasting from your speakers. And something inside of your chest warmed up at his words, he thought of you as ‘worthy’ enough to see his face, to take a look of what’s underneath that steel mask.

During the evening Adam wrapped his arm around your waist more often than he kept it to himself,and you truly didn’t mind that at all - he was simply a touchy guy, that was it, right? But Lute knew better, Lute knew that Adam wasn’t touchy with every stranger he meets, and taking his mask off around you during your first meeting? Fuck, the first man was down bad and his lieutenant knew from the first second.

The three of you kept meeting after Adam had been introduced to you and while the brunette continued to send you signals, it was always the three of you, never just Adam and you. The white haired woman noticed the tension between you and the first man, she saw the signals he was sending you clearer than everything else - and you saw them too, you weren’t blind and Adam wasn’t subtle, but you were afraid to act on them, so you simply sent signals back. And given the fact that Adam wasn’t acting on those either, you assumed that was a simple personality trait of his, something you’d had to deal with from now on.

“Guys,” Lute interrupted the both of you, you and Adam had stared at each other for a good while now, you could say you had been eye fucking each other. “Did you even listen to what I was saying?” You were quick to shake your head, there was no reason to even pretend you had, neither you nor the brunette had a single clue what the white haired woman had just said. She sighed in annoyance as she rolled her eyes at the two of you, then repeated, “I was fucking saying, I have tickets for a band you two will enjoy, I won’t be able to come with you though because Sera wants me to work late and tickets are already sold out.” You looked at Adam, then back at Lute, “The fuck you mean, Sera wants you to work late?” You frowned at the lieutenant, she was so obviously lying, yet the tickets were indeed sold out and therefore her chance of joining you was gone. But she herself truly didn’t mind, not if that meant that the two of you were going to a concert together - she knew how Adam was whenever he went to see one of his favorite bands live and she hoped that maybe the two of you would have one or two drinks and that maybe you’d crash at Adam’s place.

Well, Lute was pretty fucking disappointed in the both of you when she found out that her plan didn’t work out properly. After the concert you had hung out at Adam’s place for a couple more hours and while the first man had offered you to stay the night, you had declined and left at some point during the night - Lute wanted to grab you by your shoulders and shake you because why in God’s mighty name would you do something so stupid when Adam had offered you his bed? She couldn't understand but she did curse you for your poor decision. Seems like she had to try harder than that though.

You heard the lock clicking and your brain needed a moment to process what just happened. “Call me when you two have sorted your feelings out and I’ll unlock the door,” then you heard the door to Adam’s house falling shut. Well, fuck. “The fuck does she mean by that?” Adam asked and ran his sweaty palm through his messy hair, he was nervous, his body language told you openly that he’d rather be anywhere else right now. He seemed afraid of the confrontation, had expected you to take the first step by yourself. Lute however had prevented you from doing so - not that you would’ve taken that step any time soon, so really Adam’s lieutenant was doing both of you a favor, yet you hated her for her little stunt. “Don’t do that, “ you sighed in frustration and your back hit the locked door as you leaned back. You slid down until your ass met the floor, your legs were pulled flush against your chest by your arms that you had wrapped around them. “We’ll both spit it out, then we can call that hoe to let us out.” Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow at your words, was that a trap? He wasn’t sure but he knew there was only one way to find out, “You’re fucking hot.” You looked up at him, a small smile had curled itself around your lips as you tilted your head a little, “You’re one to talk.” His eyes kept looking into yours and neither of you wanted to interrupt the moment you were having, so you sat there and did nothing but to look in his eyes and listen to the story they told you. There were feelings visible in them that you were sure Adam would never voice out loud, feelings and emotions that he had bottled up and not shared with a single soul until now, those feelings exposed a side of Adam that he had tried so fucking hard to get rid of - a soft side. His soft side. “I don’t like tiptoeing around you anymore. I like you, you like me. Are we gonna kiss now, or should I call Lute so we can murder her?”

The brunette’s eyes widened from your honesty and he just blinked at you, every single thing that he had wanted to tell you had left his mind, the only thought that had stayed was the thought of kissing you - well, it was more of a wish than a thought but it fogged his mind up nonetheless. With heavy steps he closed the gap between you and him, he offered you a hand to pull you up and when you accepted he quickly pulled you flush against his chest right before he grabbed your chin, tilted your head upwards and placed a greedy kiss onto your lips. Oh and how you loved the taste of his lips on yours - you were sure you’d never ever get tired of this taste or of the feeling the taste brought with it. You pushed yourself on your tiptoes to make yourself a little taller, to push into the kiss properly and Adam hummed in appreciation as you did so. He wanted to hold you like that for the rest of eternity, until the stars would collide and this universe would find its end. Until then he’d treasure you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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