#Like a willow tree in the middle of the night. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fayeriess · 3 months

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE STORM ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: restless nights come with revelations.

warnings: 18+, tully!reader, mentions of death, descriptions of death, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of childbirth, a small bit of angst, an even smaller amount of fluff, ( should be everything but if something is missing please let me know )

a/n: not much to say except a big thanks to @aemondtarqaryens for beta-reading this for me, I appreciate you friend <3 enjoy!

Soil often had centuries of stories to tell; laying dormant beneath blades of grass. Tragic tales that weaved themselves deep within valleys, grasping the roots of trees, and twirling around death to keep themselves nourished. A realm stained with maroon liquid that would seemingly rejuvenate the earth; feeding it flesh and carcass as an offering for those who had conquered, who had built on such sacred lands and birthed destruction.

In turn, erde would lap the harsh waters that sat at Blackwater Bay, raising the tides, angering the gods — old and new. It devoured those whose hearts palpitate under the scrutiny of the sweltering heat, falling victim to the ball of fire in the sky. It clawed at the remains of sanity, erasing any and every part of one’s being until flesh peels away from bone.

For the lives erde took, less was given.

The greater the loss, the greater the greed.

That was something your mother had whispered near the shell of your ear, her voice lilted and as smooth as honey — becoming equally sticky when it finally stuck itself between lumps of tissue that made up your brain.

She had told you to be cautious, for she would not be around much longer. Within the crevices of your soul, you knew that to be true, as she had sacrificed her entire being to keep you gentle, and strong — something she could not be. Though young, pale skin and sunken cheeks were what you gazed upon when the thinness of your fingers would swipe across her face in tender affection, you were always doing your absolute best to keep the tears at bay.

Sickness flourished in her lungs soon after; blooming from the inside, withering her away little by little until you had nothing else left to cling to. Her skeleton became fine flora and fauna on your ten-and-fifth name day, sprouting stems of green, budding willows and small clusters of lavender blooms.

Your bones had ached with growth as the years grew harsher, and war crept close in the form of those a part of the City Watch, donned in the finest of armor and longswords sheathed at their sides when they’d march about back within the walls of safety. Imagining the blood dripping down the sharp, curved edges of their blades came easy, as you had witnessed such brutality and heard it with your ears.

And once you were married off by your father, serenity became a craving. An itch in your gums and esophagus exceedingly stuffed with savagery so grand, the familiar taste of copper would pool in the middle of your tongue. The foreign feeling would not fade until it was acknowledged, welcomed with warm arms and an equally warm heart — somewhat naïve — just like you.

At first, it had been bearable. Starting as a tingle on the bumped expanse of the spine, inching in every way possible, a certain desperation in how quickly it spreads, how it consumes you whole in something mildly familiar. Delusion — something you’d come to realize you would happily tangle yourself in if the soles of your bare feet weren’t absorbing the vibration from woodland grounds, greenery tucked between your toes.

Moonlight descended upon your skin, trickling up the stretch of your arms in a dim warmth you were sure that none else would bring you. The lids of your eyes were screwed tightly, a dull throb forming in the sockets as you balled your fists at your sides.

If there was one place you should not be, it was here, out in the open and shaded by nothing but leaves of the weirwood tree in the Godswood, the looming towers of the Red Keep filling your veins with a sense of dread.

Misery has become you; sealed in your fate the minute you were bound to your husband — a Targaryen man with a temper as hot as coals. Though you have never been on the receiving end of his murderous wrath, you were no stranger to his sharp tongue and hasty decisions. Aemond was clouded by his loyalty to his family and the crown, and in the end, it would surely be the thing that would kill him.

A reoccurring dream would appear behind your lids on eves such as this, when the night grew colder and the violence you had grown accustomed to faded with the crickets' songs, becoming a solemn lullaby. Most nights, you’d have no qualms, resting your mind once you were cradled in the arms of your lover. But this night, sleep had yet to find you, and without Aemond’s presence looming over, scarpering was as easy as taking a breath.

A light wind swept through the air, ruffling the already creased fabric of your nightgown even further as you stared at the face carved into the tree, corners of your lips downturned in a slight frown. By now, you had committed every single piece of chipped wood to memory, eyes growing watery and skin bumpy with gooseflesh the longer you stood atop dead leaves, hearing them crunch beneath the soles of your feet as you shuffled somewhat.

Perhaps you were waiting for a beam of lighting to strike down upon you, to scorch your insides and eviscerate every single cell in your body until you become one with the earth. Either that or whisked away into the air. As of now, you had no arguments as to which one would be your fate.

Cold had nipped at the pads of your toes, a sure sign that it was time to retire to your chambers and retreat underneath the comfort of your sheets. Yet, no matter how tempting that fleeting thought was, it felt as if you were cemented to your spot, slightly swaying in place to get rid of the chill.

“What are you doing out here alone?” His voice made your spine stiffen, teeth gritting together at the low, patient tone of his voice. The clatter of his shoes reverberated throughout your ears, turning light as he joined you on the grass, shoulder nearly pressed against the left side of your back.

Aemond’s lingering presence brought you some sort of comfort, even if it was just a ghost of a touch covered by clothing, and you found yourself longing to be in his arms. Ultimately, you kept your distance, fingers numb as you tried flexing them at your sides.

“I received a raven earlier in the evening,” your murmur came quickly, lips barely moving as your gaze blurred slightly, eyes glistening with a sheen of unshed tears. Although he does not answer, you can feel his violet eye cautiously peering at the side of your face, lips slightly pointed downward.

“Grandfather is ill. Elmo will be lord soon.”

Not a crease embedded itself in the muscles of his face as he continued to stare — only for a second longer before averting his eye to the weirwood tree. “We’ll make him see reas-”

Shaking your head, you finally cocked it in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest to self-soothe as you took in the sharp angles of his face shadowed by the moon.

“He is still keeping our house banners in Riverrun. I know Elmo well enough to know he has already chosen. He’s always looked at Rhaenyra as the sole heir to the Iron Throne, and when grandfather takes his last breath, he’ll surely pledge allegiance to the Blacks.”

Your elder brother was stubborn. His skull was as thick as the fattest lords in all of Westeros, and even if it was indeed your grandfather’s dying wish to join the Greens in this war, Elmo would rather take a blade to the skin of his own throat than obey. Perhaps, that was one of the many reasons why you did not get along as well as siblings should have. Where you were meek, he was bold. Where you were sharp and quick-witted, he was dull and slow-minded. Choosing opposite sides when it came to the facet of war, of life and death, further broke a bond that was already weakly stitched together.

Deep within, you were confident your words would fall on deaf ears, and Aemond would eventually take to the skies with Vhagar, only to find himself in Riverrun and surprise Elmo Tully with an unwanted and unexpected visit. He was married to you after all. What good of a husband would he be if not to check on the wellbeing of your kin?

Aemond sighed, momentarily closing his eye before turning his body to face you, hands snaking up to circle your forearm. “You should be resting. The maester requested that you not walk much.”

Huffing, you swat him away, practically ripping your hand from his grasp before turning sharply on your heels. “I just need a minute, Aemond, please. I do all you ask of me, just grant me this.”

Salt-ridden were your tears as they cascaded down your chin, dripping onto the linen of your nightgown when you clutched your swollen belly, anxiety rumbling with your little one. A throat full of sand and a broken heart was what you carried when he nodded reluctantly, taking small steps toward you until his arms snaked around your hips, coming to rest at your stomach.

He smelled of dragon; the faint scent of rose and citrus from his earlier bath still clinging to his clothing just as you are, the back of your head pressed to his chest. You focus on the low thrum of his heart, the stiffness of his body as he hums lowly.

“He spoke to me about your dreams as well.”

Blinking, you press your lips together thinly before responding. “Now I’ll refuse to utter a word to him.”

“Hm, yes, I would rather my wife tell her husband what troubles her.”

“I am worried the babe might be suffering.”

Aemond’s chest caves below your head, crisp, night air all but knocked out of his lungs at your vague concern. However, he does not move, not even when you crane your neck to stare at his clouded eye as best you can.

“When I finally find rest, blood decorates the sheets. It all starts the same. I reach between my legs and the smell of copper sours in the air, and everything feels wrong.” You shake your head, ridding your mind of such an ugly, yet recurring thought.

There’s a fearful movement in your fingers as your nails bite into his covered arm, eyes blinking rapidly as you nonsensically continue. “Fire spreads, setting me ablaze and I watch as my flesh burns.”

Aemond says nothing, only pulls you as closely as he can manage, thumb bending to trace shapes over the clothed, stretched skin with his nail.

“It’s merely the stress, sweetling.” His dismissal has you scoffing, warm breath hitting soundless air, eyes rolling far in their sockets when he continues. “A lot has happened within the past moon, I’m positive it's taking hold.”

Your hands curl inward under his warm palm, the other moving to clasp over the fingers that itch your skin. “No, Aemond.”

Foreign to your ears is your voice, laced with annoyance and fearfulness at the darkness consuming you entirely. Even in a state of unconsciousness, you weren’t safe, and as long as this babe grew bigger inside of you, you’d never be.

Turning in his loose grasp, you clutch at the collar of his tunic, lower lip trembling as his brows furrow in concern. “Then what is it?”

In the short time you’ve come to know Aemond, you’ve always made it your goal to at least try and understand him in ways none could; whether that be through a slow blink of his eye or a quick twitch of lip, his expressions weren’t as concealed as he hoped to keep them. You could tell it peeved him to no end — having someone recognize what emotions were harbored in the center of his heart, unprotected by the rest of his shielding exterior. In truth, it would’ve been all too easy to lie and say he was quite satisfied with the way things currently were. In his mind, what little claim to the throne he had in the palm of his calloused hands amounted to nothing, especially when he had offered to seek out his brother the second word had passed that his father, King Viserys, first of his name, had succumbed to the Stranger.

It was a striking reminder that anything, and anyone he’s ever held dear in his heart, could wither away before his very eyes.

Including you.

His wife. The mother of his unborn child. Someone he had sworn his entire life to protect and cherish as if you were a part of him, a missing piece he had the pleasure of rediscovering.

Your revelation had hushed the dragon fire burning in his veins but emboldened the tragedy materializing in his psyche. Aemond Targaryen would never win, and that was something he would not swallow even if it had been poured into a chalice of wine.

“Helaena speaks in riddles, as if her tongue is twisted.” Tugging the pillowed flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth, you wrack the mess that is your brain of how to word your next sentence. “Death amid a storm.”

It rolls off of your tongue, malice laced between her spoken words that have yet to leave you. Helaena was peculiar — in a sort of way, one would either deem her mad with the words that left her mouth as quickly as they had come.

Her lavender eyes would fall cloudy, hazed with something unforeseen to anyone else but her, mind miles away, and never in the present.

“The sun rose and fell three times, and what has yet to leave with it, Aemond?”

The man before you can only part his lips, skin creasing in the gap spacing his brows, shaking hands now resting at either side of your waist as his sole eye scans the distress etched in your features. He knows.

He can smell previous rainfall in the air, inhales it, and lets it repose his lungs with freshness he can only compare to the feeling of your skin against his.

“The rain.”

You nod curtly. “Exactly. And with these dreams destroying my sanity, draining the blood from my very being, how can I not believe her words to ring true?”

The safety you had hoped the weirwood tree would bring, has not reached you, nor will it tonight as he pushes you toward the Red Keep, thin-lipped and jaw tight. “We’ll further discuss this in our chambers.”

Aemond clenches his teeth together; not out of vexation, but out of consternation. He hopes, and prays to the Seven, that everything you uttered was merely due to your worries of the babe’s nearing birth as he guides you up the steps toward one of the many halls.

And when his lips press against your temple, right hand coming to rest on your swollen belly once again, the clouds continue their crying.

#house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x female reader #hotd x reader #hotd aemond targaryen

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blackleatherjacketz · 10 months

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Nocturne

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel wakes you in the middle of the night to fulfill your arrangement.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit, NSFW, Wake-Up Sex, Kissing, Biting, Scratching, Miguel's Fangs, Miguel's Claws, Blood Drinking, Groping, Fondling, Caressing, Teasing, Taunting, Miguel Ripping Your Panties in Half, Vaginal Sex, Doggy Style, Female Orgasm, *Bonus points if you catch the Sting reference*

Word Count: 1.6K+

Read my other MIGUEL stories!

You always feel him before anything else; before you can hear his footsteps bend the hardwood of your floorboards into a whiny creak, before he whispers your name longingly into your ear as he crawls into your bed, slipping beneath the sheets. He’s always careful not to stir you from your slumber too abruptly, crossing over that threshold of the waking world and into the hazy realm of your dreams with relative ease.

He first appears as tall stalks of grain in fields of gold beneath your fingertips, as wispy branches dangling from the tops of willow trees, surrounding your face and arms with soft, delicate touches. Those leaves gently lay themselves across your shoulders, pleating around your upper body as they pull you in closer to the aged tree trunk, slowly growing in warmth. The smell of his sweat and the heat of his breath eventually signals you to his presence beyond the sandman’s grasp, the kisses he plants onto your neck tenderly waking you as the trees begin to fade out of sight.

“Mmm, you’re late,” you mumble as your eyes flutter open, the blurry green numbers of your alarm clock showing three thirty in the morning.

“Am I?” He slides his hand beneath your shirt, tickling the skin on your torso like those dreamy willow branches before cupping your breast with his palm. “I ran into some trouble, but I can make it up to you,” he kisses his excuses into the nape of your neck, taking your nipple between his fingers and pinching to get a quick moan from your lips. “I promise.”

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage in response, his targeted handiwork distracting you from his tardiness as he pinches even harder, forcing your breath to quicken.

“What were you dreaming about anyways, huh?” He twists your nipple toward him, grinding his hips against your backside as his bare arousal grows between your cheeks, getting your body good and ready for what he has in mind, for what he always comes here for.

“All kinds of things,” you whisper, his erection more than prominent against your underwear as you instinctively rock back into him, your own moisture collecting between your folds as his kisses only get deeper.

“Oh yeah?” He lifts his knee between your legs, shifting his weight onto your hips with a quickness that forces you onto your stomach, keeping you right where he wants you. “Anything like this?”

The weight of his massive body resting on your lower back nearly forces the air out of your lungs as both of his hands graze over the gooseflesh cascading it’s way down your spine. Like a blind man reading braille for the very first time, he palpates every bump, studies every raised hair on your skin as if committing it to memory before slowly pushing the fabric of your t-shirt up above your shoulders. He waits for you to fully acclimate to the sensation of him laying on top of you before tickling the tiny spaces between your ribs just enough to get you to shiver and tense back up.

“Arms up, baby, you know the drill.”

Too drowsy to make any quippy retorts for your usual snarky banter, you follow his command and lift your arms above your head. You let your eyelids fall shut again as he disrobes you at an agonizing pace, peeling your sleeves off your biceps and forearms as he playfully nips at your shoulders and neck along the way. He takes his time massaging the muscles in your hands as your collar passes over your head, finally pulling your shirt from your fingers before silently dropping it onto the floor.

“You’re almost all healed up from last time,” he notices as he kisses his way back up your arm, sucking on the yellowing bruise he’d left on your shoulder just last week. “It’s like I was never even here.” He sits up and leans backward, slowly dragging his claws down the length of your torso just deep enough to leave tiny trails of white, disrupted skin in their wake. “Looks like I gotta fix that.”

Your back arches instinctively as the cool air of your bedroom shocks your nervous system, stinging your freshly exposed skin as you inhale with a quick hiss. You try not to writhe beneath him as the pain trickles down through each layer of your skin, settling into a deep somatic ache in its futile attempt to soothe your now reddened flesh.

“Nice and open for me now, huh?” You hear the fabric of your underwear being split down the middle before he mercilessly rips it apart, each thread separating in sequential succession before it falls to shreds around your hips. Another hiss from you turns into a high-pitched gasp, his expanding audacity almost making you regret your unspoken arrangement with him to trade your blood for sex.

Almost.

You hear him laugh in sheer delight before you feel him glide down across your folds as he wastes no time thrusting against you. You can feel him pause to grab hold of himself at the base, barely brushing over your swollen bud as he spreads your juices up and down your length, refusing to acknowledge the wounds he just created. “Where should we start this time, eh, cariño?”

“Miguel,” you plead, lifting your hips up to meet him just in time for him to pull back with another confident chuckle. “Miggy, please, I’m so tired.”

“Oh, you’re tired? Hmmm?” He taunts, playfully slapping the head of his cock against your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart with his opposite hand. “Maybe I should bite into one of your wrists this time, huh? Take a little bit more than usual… or try this spot over here by your ribs,” he pinches the skin behind your breast to make you flinch. “That seems pretty fucking ticklish.”

You whimper at his callousness, nodding your cheek against the pillow as he glides over your clit a few more times, relishing those little bursts of joy that counter the throbbing ache in your back as he continues to toy with your emotions. “Or maybe you could just…”

“How about here?” He cuts your suggestion short by grasping onto the muscles at the base of your neck, tracing the outline of your pulse as it races down your throat into your right shoulder. “Give that other side a break?”

“Mmm hmm,” you nod again, your mumbled word stifled as he finally thrusts inside you at the most delicious angle, turning that moan into a feral groan as he delves inside your slick, velvety walls.

The two of you sigh together as he fills that void deep within you, stretching you out inch by inch until you’ve enveloped him completely, his muscular thighs flush against the backs of yours. You can feel his heart beating through his chest as it rests against your broken skin, pausing in a brief moment of stasis before he pulls out and pushes back in at twice the speed. Closing your eyes again, you choose to focus on the tantalizing, rhythmic thrusts of pleasure he feeds up into your core, clenching down around him as you ignore the stinging friction of his body as he holds up his end of the deal.

Each ounce of pain he doles out is worth every pound of ecstasy that he delivers along with it; his hand smoothing its way across your hip and beneath your pelvis to find your bud, rubbing it up and down in perfect tempo with the dizzying movement of his hips. Like a classically trained musician, he plays you like a fiddle, knowing exactly how deep to push and how long to pull against your soaking wet organ in order to get you to play the tune that he wants. Your breathy moans reach notes you’ve never even dreamed of hitting before, the sound of his skin slapping against yours providing the perfect beat for his baritone growls as he wraps his other arm around your chest. Pulling you into him, he plays the last few notes leading up to your crescendo with such unmatched fervor that he can feel you vibrate around his bow.

You surrender to the music and let it move its way through you, its rapturous notes immersing your senses with such unbridled bliss that you can barely feel his bite. Your part of the deal never felt so good, so mundane compared to what he gives you in return every time that he drains that little bit of life from your veins. That sharp twinge sinks deep into your shoulder as the song he plays continues up into your spine, exploding in a symphony of the erratic drumbeats of his hips, the mismatched chorus of your moans and his muffled breath against your skin. The reverb shakes itself through you both in waves, pulsing through your core as you flutter around him, quaking into your extremities and out of your fingertips as you desperately grasp onto the sheets.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet when you come.” He finally whispers after getting his fill, lapping up the excess blood off your neck as he finishes sputtering his release inside you.

“Yeah?” You turn your neck to face him as your body continues to shake, running your fingers through his hair as he playfully licks and sucks the skin around your new bite. “How’s that?”

“Like honey, or butterscotch,” he smiles, pressing a trail of kisses into your cheek until he reaches your mouth, giving you a small sample of whatever it is that he can taste.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you whine as he pulls out, the absence of his girth leaving you feeling empty again as he lets go of you completely before laying down next to you. You tuck your head up under his armpit and wonder if you’ll be able to feel him laying next to you in your dreams after you finally fall asleep again.

#miguel o’hara #Miguel O'hara smut #Miguel O'hara x Reader #Oscar Isaac #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara fan fiction #spiderman 2099 #2099 #across the spiderverse

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blueberryarchive · 7 months

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જ⁀➴18+

જ⁀➴3.8k words

જ⁀➴tw; poorly and drunkenly written, monster fcking (long tongue, dub-con, big dck!jimin), monster!jimin, cheating, question mark. scary, question mark.

Your laughter echoed in the room, the high ceiling and the clear windows covering one wall revealing the forest surrounding you. Dark, dense, and covered in raindrops. The storm had stopped a few minutes ago, and you finally woke up from a long nap. The vibrating of the old phone (the only form of communication, due to the poor signal) abruptly woke you up as you lifted your head from the furniture, the wool sheets covering your body.

"But you know you could have come with me if you wanted to." The voice on the other end of the line was soft. He had just woken up just like you.

"You know I don't like those events, they make me nervous." You responded to your boyfriend while playing with the dog resting in your lap. The German Sheperd was heavy, but it comforted you knowing you were not alone in the ample cabin.

Jimin loved nature. He had been talking about getting one in the middle of the forest ever since you met him. There were several opportunities for him to get one near his family, all beautiful. But they did not convince him. A few months ago, an old friend informed him of one in the middle of the forest. The closest neighbor was about forty kilometers away, he had a lake nearby and the house had not been restored since the 50s. Even the furniture you were resting on was from the previous family.

Jimin didn't think twice, in winter he invited you to spend the holidays with him. You couldn't resist the idea of a good fire, the rustling of fallen leaves, playing with sweet Pepper who ran around the house with a blanket in her mouth until she got tired.

Of course, also having Jimin all to yourself was a blessing. You woke up early to watch the sunrise from the window in the attic. Sometimes, you two would go for a walk, he would kiss you against the trunk of a willow tree and tell you the things he loved most about you. It was precious: to see him so calm in his own home, even if you had told him that it was a bit exaggerated to have a place with six bathrooms.

So what? We will fill the rooms over the years, he promised you the night before he left, making love to you fervently until you both fell asleep from exhaustion.

In the morning, around 6, a gray Mitsubishi stopped at the entrance to the cabin. A scandal, something to do with Taehyung going out in Paris and getting drunk. Same as always, Jungkook denied looking at his cell phone, trying to catch up with what they were saying on social media. He held up the device, searching for reception.

"It's useless, you have to go to the road if you want a reception," Jimin responded, hands on his waist, fog rising from his lips due to the morning mist. One of his favorite features of the place.

Jungkook clicked his tongue at him, putting the cell phone in his coat. "We have to go look for Kim, he's going to arrive at the airport in two hours."

Jimin looked back, you were at the front door. The sheets covered your shoulders as you tried to keep out the cold. You greeted Jungkook from afar, sleep still in your actions.

"It'll only be two days, love." Jimin paced back and forth, filling a backpack with essential things.

"I know, you don't have to explain." You looked at him while you were flipping through a 70's magazine in bed. "Besides, Pepper will be with me."

"You can call me whenever you want, no matter what time. I'll have the phone in my pocket." Jimin closed the backpack and turned his gaze to you, something was wrong. His eyes moved erratically over your features.

"Minnie." You called him to wake up from his stupor.

The man closed his eyes and smiled. "Sorry, this Taehyung thing has me stressed."

"Rumors pass."

"Did you go downstairs last night?" He interrupted you and put his index finger on his lips. As if the question had been bubbling since last night.

You shook your head, confused.

"No."

"Haven't you had those…you know, again?" His hands moved, trying to explain your sleeping problem. You had awful nightmares. Sometimes, you would even get out of bed and stare at the wall for minutes. Jimin knew about your issues and was happy that after going to a specialist, your sleeping habits were improving.

"No." You smiled comfortingly. "Besides, if it happens, Pepper will take care of me. I have her for that."

Pepper perked her ears at hearing her name. She was your companion, every time you had a nightmare, she would wake you up by putting her snout on your face, licking your nose and eyes to make you react.

Jimin nodded, thinking back to the topic of Taehyung. His fingers went to his temples, and before he could say anything else, Jungkook made the horn go off. Your boyfriend approached and kissed your forehead, love pouring from his pupils before he left.

He closed the door after giving you one last smile. "Take care, princess."

You spent the morning hours on the patio, finishing reading a book of stories by Borges. You walked a little with Pepper to the lake, where the birds settled on the protruding stones, looking for little fish.

If anything was notable, it was the silence that had engulfed you since Park left. Not even the birds in the pines squawked, nor did Pepper bark at the squirrels, nor did the leaves rustle the way they used to.

You decided to return earlier than ever to the cabin. You fed the dog and lay down on the couch. The light rain turned into a storm and, without realizing it, you had fallen asleep in the living room.

"How are the boys?" You asked, the long cord following your steps as you turned on the lights in the living room. The chandelier on the ceiling bathing the space in yellowish light. The lamps on the walls illuminate the hidden, dusty corners.

"We're resting, we went to eat at the hotel restaurant. Hoseok asked about you."

You smiled good-naturedly, grabbing the phone with both hands. Returning to your position on the couch. Pepper was no longer lying there, you assumed she went to finish what was left on her plate.

"You should invite them for Christmas. To the cabin, I mean."

"Maybe. I'll ask them in the morning." He answered with a sigh, he sounded drained. Your smile disappeared. You watched the flames in the fireplace flicker.

"Are you okay, Minnie?" Your voice was calm and comforting to your boyfriend.

"I just want to go back, I don't feel good sleeping alone… I feel like hotel rooms take the life out of me."

"Don't be so dramatic, I can hear you taking a hot shower." The running faucet rang as he moved the water.

A small laugh before going to silence, and the water continued to fall. Jimin licked his bottom lip before biting it.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about the video we made last night."

Your eyes drifted to the shimmering embers in the fireplace.

The reflection of the camera shows the silhouettes of both. Jimin pressed your head against the wall as the fire created a halo of heat around your sweaty, naked bodies. You moaned indecently, taking advantage of the fact that there was no one to hear you. Park loved how dirty you were after the stupid excuse that you had a glass of wine. He didn't even have to convince you much for him to put the cell phone on the bed and hit the red button.

"I hope you don't forget to buy condoms again. This is the last time we do it without protection."

There you were, putting on a show. Your skin crawled with every movement of his fingers, curling the index and ring fingers to caress your juicy walls.

"I thought you wanted the rooms to not feel so empty." He laughed. You stayed quiet. A long, eternal silence. He could hear you breathing. "Hello?" Jimin looked at his phone, you were still on the call. "Love?"

You clenched the phone in your hand, static as you watched a shadow: long and thin, like a worn-out umbrella, standing behind the glass of the front door. It couldn't be a tree, because it didn't move with the wind; not a forest animal either, it was too tall. Unless it's standing on two legs.

You don't know how long it lasted, maybe seconds, maybe a minute. The shadow quickly moved away, letting the moonlight come back in through the small window.

"Did you go back to sleep?" The voice tensed your body, your fingers trembling, trying not to drop the phone.

“No,” you stammered, looking towards the kitchen. Where was Pepper? "I saw a shadow outside, I-"

"The trees?"

"No, it's-" Why didn't you just say it? You looked towards the kitchen again. The light was off, but the windows let in the moonlight in all its splendor.

"Hey, what about Pepper? She was left whining at the door when I left this morning." Jimin was talking about how his dog would wait for him. The words dissolved in your ears like water. You got up cautiously and went to the hallway that led to the kitchen.

You heard Pepper's contented gasps, her tail slapping the ground with joy. The chop, chop, chop against the wood table. You approached the archway that led to the kitchen and pressed your body against the wall. You guided your eyes to where the animal was looking.

Your stomach flipped. It was Jimin. His back facing you, wearing the clothes he had yesterday. A tight black T-shirt and dress pants. His shoulders were tense with the repetitive motion of cutting vegetables.

"…I should get Pepper a partner, she's already getting old." He said on the line, the incessant creaking now louder.

"Jimin." You whispered so softly, but the being turned around. Even when you found yourself with only one eye in his sight, his gaze rested on yours with large pupils, distant and feral. The sound of vegetables did not stop when his body turned around. They came from his mouth, the cutting sounding so precise every time he parted his lips. Like a tape recorder with a scratched cassette.

"Jimin," he repeated as he finished turning around. Your voice coming out of his throat.

"Yeah?" Your boyfriend answered on the line.

You took a couple steps back, the hallway becoming longer and darker. The creature that looked like your boyfriend kept repeating his own name, your voice filling the room with an echo.

Run.

You dropped the phone and ran to the living room, a bloodcurdling scream came from your chest, and you ran up the stairs. Your feet getting stuck and falling a few times, you ran with your hands touching the walls, looking for a door. The lights were off, and the black was thick and dissolvable, your eyes trying to adjust to the darkness by sheer force.

The creature came like a scared horse, you could hear the footsteps of four limbs crawling up the stairs. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, he said over and over. Your voice so anguished, this disturbing feeling of hearing yourself, drowned in thousands of other voices. The stomping stopped for a moment. Silence.

You stopped breathing, your drumbeat heart threatening to burst from your chest.

The hallway lit up with a flash of blue, the sudden lighting let you see a door and you walked softly; You felt the handlebars in the dark, and you rotated it. You entered, locking it.

Your breathing was so erratic and uncontrolled that you were afraid you would faint, your eyes threatening to go black.

If this is a nightmare, I'll wake up soon. Pepper will lick my face, I will hit the wall, and thunder will wake me up. Whatever, you prayed.

Luckily, in that room, there was a telephone that connected to the one in the living room. You took it in your hands, the line sounded strange, far away.

"Jimin, help. Please call the police. I'm going to die." Tears overflowed your face and neck. You whispered, crouched on the dusty floor of an unused office, the musty smell of old books on the shelves and cobwebs floating empty in the corners.

"Love?"

"Jimin. There's someone in the house, help." Your skin crawled as you heard Pepper barking downstairs.

"Hello?"

You frowned.

"Minnie-"

"Honey, hello, Pepper, help." He repeated with different tones, and different emotions, like stations on an old radio about to die.

It was too late when you realized that your right side felt colder, the wind blowing even when the windows were closed. You didn't move, air rushing out of your mouth. From the corner of your eye, you could see how the creature was forcefully morphing into Jimin's face, failing several times and starting again. The viscosity of his body molded to Park's profile.

"Pepper, love, love, love. Help," he repeated like an actor warming up his vocals to find the right tone. You heard a woman crying in their notes, a child, an old man. Their eyes drooped from their sockets and their elongated tongue rolled to the side before they swallowed it and had that of a human.

You moaned in pain, it was torture watching the creature contort in pain to become your boyfriend. You closed your eyes tightly. If this is a nightmare, I'm going to wake up now. Jimin will open the door with a bang and hug me when he sees me sweating. The fall of a tree will scare me so bad that there will be no way for my body not to shake, you prayed again.

Pepper's barking stopped. The cold dissipated next to you.

Risking a look around the dark room, you picked up the phone again. You still had faith.

"Jimin?" You whispered, saliva spurting from your mouth, you wiped away the mucus collecting on your cupid's bow.

"Hello? Jesus, you scared me." Hearing his voice again, you sighed, turning your body into a ball.

"I don't want to die today."

"Of course not, I'm here to protect."

"I want to call the police, but I don't want to hang up."

"Do not." He interrupted. "Is not safe."

Your sobs choked you, the thick drops falling to the ground. You were afraid to lift your head, the darkness felt like thousands of cold needles ready to stab you.

"Open the door."

"What?" Not a second after answering, the door began to shake with each touch. They were short and desperate. The light that filtered under the door revealed a shadow, some feet.

You crawled to the corner of the office, the door slamming again.

"It's me, love. Open up, nothing's happening."

You shook your head vigorously. If this is a nightmare, I'm going to wake up right now and-

"Open up, I'm scared. Please." The tremulousness in his voice chilled your blood. It's like it's really him. Were they imitating your pain?

"There is someone in the house, I'm afraid. Please open up."

"NO!" You bawled over and over again, grabbing your hair in pure psychosis. The door kept shaking.

Silence again.

The handlebars shook a few times, you heard the metal shake. Your heart reached your stomach when, with indomitable force, the creature moved the handlebars to the left. You could hear the machinery breaking under the resistance.

Clack, and just like that the handlebar was completely dislocated until the door was swinging open. It only opened a little, just enough to let one eye peek through. It was stalking you, ready to pounce if you moved.

"Do not kill me, please." You begged, already knew there was no escape.

The creature shook their head and opened the door, their clothes with several tears on their shoulders, barefoot, and messy hair.

"Can I?" He opened the door a little more. Their veiny hands and their black tongue did not go unnoticed. You knew you couldn't refuse, it was useless at this point.

You nodded.

Jimin, or rather The Creature, opened the door. He crouched down to your level and crawled until he reached your face, your noses touching. You clawed at the ground, trying to balance yourself so you wouldn't fall or faint. Jimin looked at your eyes, then at your lips. Seeing how you were breathing, he began to imitate your rhythm. That made you breathe even faster, his eyebrows raised imitating concern, fear.

"Don't kill me, please. Jimin," he repeated taking your voice. But it didn't seem like you were crying, more like you were moaning. Confused, you opened your eyes wider.

He smiled, revealing his perfect teeth.

Without letting you think too much, he grabbed your cell phone from his pocket and looked for you and Jimin's chat, the last thing he had sent was the video that Jimin wouldn't stop talking about. As if to explain his behavior to you, he touched the screen, letting the sound of your moans fill the dark void. He saw your confused eyes again, the light from the screen illuminating his curious, questioning eyes.

You shook your head as he held the phone closer to you, your boyfriend's erotic growls exploding in your ear.

"Get up, come on." said the video and the creature in unison. You obeyed and with brute force he held you by the waist, taking you out of the room and into the attic. You wanted to scream but your throat hurt, your hope disappearing with each kilometer of pure pine that distanced your possibility of being heard.

Jimin dropped you on the bed, his pupils dilated by the fire that had not yet gone out. Your body bounced.

"Clothes, take off." He watched impatiently as you removed your pants and panties.

He couldn't stand how slow you were. He took off his shirt, he didn't have the tattoo on his rib, a sign that it wasn't Jimin but a monster. His hands squeezed your waist until he had you on top of his head, resting on the pillows. You lowered your eyes until you saw his.

He seemed excited, eager.

Even with the pain, with the certainty that it wasn't him, the fear running through your veins…those lips, the pointed black tongue that uncurled, inviting you so vehemently to sit your pussy on it. How could you say no?

He moaned again. He wanted to imitate the video on your cell phone, wanted you to make those sounds again. Just for him.

His hand tightened on your waist, eliciting a squeal from you until he forced you to sit down, his tongue was warm and slimy, strings of saliva hanging from his tongue as he moved from your entrance to your hidden clit. You groaned in disgust at how your stomach burned, pleasure shrinking your chest.

"Mm," he grunted back, frowning, the tip of his tongue entering your pussy, it wasn't possible.

"God. Ji-" You bit your lip, stifling a moan. No. It's not Jimin. You had to remember that this thing was chasing you, it would probably kill you if you refused to do what it wanted.

If this is a nightmare…what then?

His hand ran down your back and tore your shirt until it was exposed, marks from the night before still fresh, pulsing bright red. Your hands dug into his hair that began to sweat, you were on the verge of cumming around his tongue.

"Squirt for me, princess. C'mon." He gushed from his throat, lifting you up to place two of his cold fingers on your clit, moving frantically.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You whimpered, legs shaking, the imminent end approaching.

"Fuck," he repeated, smiling, hitting it faster until he felt the droplets fall on his face. His lips parted in surprise, pupils widening as he heard you moan uncontrollably.

You were fucked, he had liked it. The worst thing was that you, too. You couldn't believe what you were going to ask for.

"More." You whispered.

"More." He stated, putting your juicy thighs around his neck and stood up until he threw you on the bed.

With one finger, he lowered the torn shirt until your breasts were visible. His rough hands groped your breasts, and you turned your face to the side, enduring the delicious torture. His tongue curled around your breast and he sucked it until your nipple was hard. The creature just laughed, letting the drool fall to his chin as he released it.

When he went to suck the other one, you felt something hard at your entrance, thick and throbbing. He didn't give a signal, he didn't ask, he didn't say anything when you felt your pussy open with stinging pain to make way for the hardest and widest cock you had ever felt. He gave no sign, he didn't even look at you. He just smiled, idolizing your tits like the monster he was.

You moaned in pain, sweat gathering on your forehead. You put your hands in his hair again, and the monster raised its eyes in surprise. It was his face, it was Jimin's, with his cheekbones and his pouty lips, red and swollen. You brought his face closer to kiss him, and he reciprocated.

With each time you felt the tip protruding into the skin of your tummy, you moaned even louder into his mouth. On a particular thrust, you felt your walls embrace the massive cock that was destroying your insides.

"Cum." They ordered slapping your clit ever so softly until you were a moaning mess under him. His gaze drank you in, you were beautiful: your eyes wide shut, your dry parted lips, the hair covered in sweat. Such a cute human in the middle of their woods.

When you opened your eyes, he was no longer there. You were covered by the bedsheets, and the fire had died a while ago, leaving a wisp of smoke floating. You raised your head, it was already daylight.

Pepper was barking, circling, and wagging her tail. You heard a car door closing. It was Jimin. Thoughts of the night before burned in your memory.

You checked your body: you were still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and you had no marks or bruises.

"Here you are." You squealed as Jimin hugged you from behind him, his soft hands and warm body. You closed your eyes, smiling. "Did you just wake up?" You nodded. "Did you dream about me, hm?"

"Vividly."

#bts #bts imagines #bts dark fic #jimin smut #jimin imagine #jimin bts #jimin x reader #tumblr #bts drabble #bts fanfic

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justalittlebitbored · 1 year

Text

part one: willow tree | remus lupin

part one: when love comes knockin’

pairing/au: marauders era, remus lupin x reader

summary: you've loved your best friend for as long as you can remember and loving someone who doesn't love you back hurts. a lot.

warnings: angst, unrequited love, sadness, fluff, friends to lovers, childhood best friends to lovers. no use of y/n.

wc: 4.3k

a/n: here’s the very first chapter, let’s hope and pray you guys like it. sadly you might not get the next chapter for a while, so sorry about that. set in their fifth year at hogwarts

alexa play right where you left me by taylor swift

series masterlist main masterlist

part 2

You don’t really know when it happened. Falling in love with Remus Lupin.

You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. You loved him when you were seven years old and he pushed you over in the sandpit. You loved him when he told you his secret the night before you both set off to go to Hogwarts. And you knew you loved him when he snuck you out of your dorm room during your fifth year to tell you about his first kiss.

You didn’t even realise you felt that way about him until you were outside, under the willow tree by your dorm in the middle of the night when he told you about his first date. You remember how dry your mouth was and how your heart felt as if it was about to beat right outside of your chest. You smiled and nodded as he told you about the girl. This new, amazing girl who he had met in his potions class.

And you definitely remembered how you’d cried yourself to sleep once you’d gone back inside.

It wasn’t his fault, how could he have known about your feelings when you yourself didn’t even know about them.

—

Once you’d realised your affections for the boy you’d inadvertently started to avoid him. Taking the longer routes to get to lessons just to not to have to see him in the corridors. Not turning up for lunch in the Gryffindor common room, spending break time in the toilets.

You hadn’t even realised you had been doing this when he corned you in the library as you were packing up your things, ready for your next lesson. His cheeks were flushed like he’d rushed to the library and the curls on his head were unruly, as if he’d been running his hands through it.

“Listen I know why you’re avoiding me - ”

You froze, your hand shaking as you picked up the last pencil that remained on the desk.

“I’m not avoiding you Remus.”

“You are - don’t pretend like you’re not. I didn’t realise why you were until Sirius mentioned how close we were.”

“Remus- ”

You tried to respond, attempting to leave the conversation, you didn’t know if you could handle speaking about your feelings then and there in the middle of the library.

He cut you off, not letting you speak. Which in hindsight was probably the best thing he could’ve done as with the way it was going you probably would have avoided him for the next three years.

“You’re my best friend. I should’ve told you about the date when I got asked. We tell each other everything and this just slipped my mind, I just got excited and told Sirius and James first.”

He paused to take a breath before continuing.

“And you’ve been avoiding me this past week since I’d told you and I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what I’d done. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I will next time anything happens.”

He thought you were mad that he didn’t tell you about his date.

You blinked at him speechless.

“That was it right? That was why you were mad?”

He looked at you with his brown eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and a little crinkle by his eye.

You opened your mouth to speak, closing it when nothing came out.

He said your name again, his face contorting into a frown.

You found your head nodding up and down before you could realise what you were saying.

“Y-yes. Yes. That’s why.”

You stuttered and his face softened. He grabbed your shaking hand.

“I’m sorry. We don’t keep things from each other. I won’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You spoke monotonously, and looked towards your bag, you needed to get out of here and fast. “I have a lesson now, I can’t be late.”

“Hey, hey. Look at me. We’re good right? You’re my best friend, can’t have you being mad at me.” He asked again with a weary voice, whilst tugging onto the hand he was still holding.

Best friend.

Platonic.

You turned and looked at him.

“Yeah moony, we’re good.” Lie. “Don’t worry about it.” Lie.

He suddenly pulled you into a bear hug, his arms around your middle. His face was in the crook of your neck, his nose trailing across your warm skin. You didn’t know what to do with your arms but after a moment of hesitation you weaved them together behind his back.

“Oh thank god, I hate it when you’re angry at me.” He chuckled his breath tickling my neck.

“I hate it too.” I said meekly. After a moment he squeezed you tightly and stepped away, a smile adorning his face.

He was beautiful, his curly hair and strong jaw giving him a boyishly handsome look. Your eyes darted to the freckles on his cheeks. Did he always have freckles there?

“What class do you have next, do you want me to walk you there?” He asked.

“Herbology. It’s alright though, I’m sat with Sirius so it’s not too boring.” You teased trying to sound normal, whilst zipping up your bag. You slung it over your shoulder and walked backwards to the exit whilst facing Remus and gave him a bright smile.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure I can make it there in one piece, and I’ll see you at lunch anyways.”

Once you’d passed through the door and heard a vague goodbye that you were sure that was from him, you turned around and the smile dropped from your face. How had you never seen it before, how had you never realised your feelings for the boy.

—

The problem with growing up with someone is that you know everything about that person. You used to think that being best friends with Remus since you were both six years old was special, that no one could ever share the same bond that you did.

It was however this same bond that made you want to repeatedly slam your face into a brick wall. Everywhere you went there he was. Every time he touched you could feel your ears go warm and your words would get caught in your throat.

You started reading into everything that he did. If someone puts his arm around your shoulder regularly or places a hand on your knee whilst he talks, does it mean anything? Is offering to carry your bag and books whilst he walks you to lessons a normal thing that normal best friends do?

But this was normal for you. Growing up with someone allowed for you to be comfortable enough to do these things. It doesn’t mean anything.

This bond also made it very difficult to hide things from each other and every time he talked about another girl, a bit of your heart chipped away.

But it was Remus, just Remus. He would rather stay inside and read, or come to your dorm and watch a movie. He didn’t play quidditch and he certainly didn’t go on dates and kiss random girls. But ever since he had become friends with ‘padfoot’, ‘prongs’ and ‘wormtail’ things had changed.

He had changed.

Not in a bad way, he’d become more confident in him self, less skittish and less afraid of letting people in. He was growing up and making friends and it felt as if he was leaving me behind.

When he told you that his friends had found out about him being a werewolf, he was calm. He trusted them. You now weren’t the only person he confided in, he was moving on in life and you felt as if you were stood there stuck in a childhood illusion.

His regular visits during the night of a full moon stopped, becoming rare occurrences and the first aid kit that you had once used so often stayed under your bed and was beginning to collect dust.

You never brought it up though, never wanting to make it awkward. The thought of him explaining to you that he’d rather go to his new friends rather than you made shivers go down your spine. So you let it go, you never mentioned it. If it meant you could avoid that conversation, you would let it go.

It had now been three months since the marauders had found out about him and nearly four months since you had realised you had feelings for him. He had stopped visiting, instead of coming to you he went to his friends and they looked after him. It was that night when you cried yourself to sleep when you realised how truly deep your feelings ran. What you initially thought was a little crush that you could easily grow out of was something entirely different. Something entirely different that was starting to feel like love.

When you awoke that next morning to the faint sound of rain on the window, you looked outside and as you expected the willow tree had rain dripping off of its leaves, falling to the ground.

Ironic.

—

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t miss smarty pants.”

A body slumped into the seat next to you. You slotted a finger into the seam of the pages of the book you were reading and looked over. Sirius gave you a crooked grin whilst his back leant against the table and his legs were sprawled out in-front of him.

“Leave her alone padfoot.” You heard a voice say before you felt a warm body settle on your other side. You looked up and realised that Remus and his friends had come to join you in the great hall. Peter and James were sat opposite you, Remus on your left and Sirius on your right.

“Why, sad you got a C?” You teased.

“Professor Sprout hates me that’s why. You know me, I’m a model student. I love plants and those little mushroom things.” His eyebrows were raised with a smirk on his face.

You heard a snort from James. “Oh get off it. You - a model student. I’d love to see it.”

The boys snickered whilst Sirius pouted at you. You could certainly see what girls saw in him. Where Remus was boyishly good looking, Sirius had strong features, his dark eyes darted around your face. He was ruggedly handsome and he knew it.

He spun in his seat and sat facing the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, herbology is my passion.”

This was when you finally heard Remus’ deep voice speak out next to you as he reached over to steal a chip from your plate of food. “No need to be jealous. She’s way smarter than you.”

You could feel the tips of your ears warm up as he defended you. The dark headed boy to your right turned and looked at Remus with with a smirk. He stared for a moment longer before shaking his head and joining the other two boys’ conversation.

“It’s true, I am smarter than him.” You turned to look at him.

“There was never any doubt about it.” He smiled.

You could feel your cheeks heating up again as he looked at you so you averted your gaze to your book and focused on the way your nail was scraping again the spine.

God how were you supposed to not feel this way if he smiled at you like that. He had to stop smiling at you like that.

He lifted his hand and brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. It was a natural thing, he’d done it many times before, it just never meant anything more until now. He asked you about the book you were reading.

“It’s about muggle history. You know us, we’re all greedy, power hungry freaks.” You were referring to the fact that you were both muggle born, well he was only half.

He laughed loudly, opening his mouth to respond.

“Hey moony, turn around. It’s your little girlfriend, you going to go say hi?” James voiced loudly interrupting your conversation. He nodded behind us to where Violet Murphy stood.

It was the girl Remus had kissed. She had long black hair with dark blue eyes; you had potions with her in fourth year, she was a great girl. It was no doubt that she was amazing, you could understand why he went for her.

His face went red and you could feel his awkwardness emanating off of him.

Sirius whistled loudly before reaching behind you and patting him on the arm.

“Come on moony, you’ve got to go say hi to your girl.” The group of boys cheered as he stuttered, obviously not used to his kind of attention.

“I don’t know, do I go-”

“Of course you go. Go, get up. Now. Go.”

James and Peter leaned forward from their side of the table and gave him a shove that almost had him falling to the ground. Remus swung his legs over the bench and stood up.

“Cool, okay. I can do this. No big deal.” He murmured to himself before Sirius gave him another massive push forward.

You watched his back as he walked off towards Violet. You couldn’t see his face but you could see hers, and she was smiling shyly when he stopped in front of her.

You turned around before you could see anything else. Your eyes began to sting and your hand shook.

You need to leave. Now.

You slammed your book shut loudly garnering the attention of the other boys, making a lame excuse of how you had to speak to a professor about a piece of homework.

Turning around you left before you could hear any of their responses and rushed away.

—

Sitting in the library by yourself became a common occurrence. As the year went on you tried to act as normal as possible, and studying in the library became the perfect excuse.

Life outside of Remus was difficult. You didn’t realise that outside of your little bubble you didn’t really have anyone. You had your dorm mates that you spoke to but they weren’t really friends, more like acquaintances and once school was finished for summer you were sure you’d never speak to them again. Shame as some of them were sweet gir-

“Hi, excuse me but do you have a pen I could borrow?” A light voice whispered. You looked up to see Lily Evans standing by your desk, a smile on her face.

“Um yes. I do yes, give me a moment.” You rummaged around in your pencil case attempting to find one in the midst of all the clutter in there. You could feel her gaze before she sat down.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, you seem busy. I’ve been waiting for someone to show up and I don’t think they will.”

You finally found a pen and handed it to her, finally meeting her eyes.

“No worries, I’m not too busy. Just sat here doing whatever really.”

Your gaze darted around her face, she really was pretty, with her deep red hair and piercing eyes. She was in the top of her classes and head prefect of your year. You could see what James saw in her. He had been fervently pursuing her for the past couple months.

“Thanks for the pen.” She stared at you for a moment, opening her mouth before closing it again. You raised your eyebrows slightly in interest.

“You know James Potter right?” Nodding you looked at her curiously.

“Sorry, it’s just I’ve seen you and your boyfriend hanging around with him and- ” Your eyes widened.

“I- what.” You gulped. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh I thought you and Remus Lup- never mind. It’s just that James has recently been… um” She trailed off, you could see her eyes darting around trying to find the words to ask her question.

“…been pursuing you.” Finishing her sentence you leaned back in your seat with a smile. You knew exactly what this girl had come to speak to you about.

Her face flushed red and she began to stutter.

“I- no.” You raised your brows. “Well, yes. But I’m not asking in that way. I just wanted to know what his deal was, you know since… he’s just started to… you know.”

She was a sweet girl. If she truly wasn’t interested in James like she’s been saying she wouldn’t be asking, but by lord did the two of them make you chuckle so you decided you’d leave the both of them to their own devices.

“He’s a good guy. Headstrong. Once he knows what he wants he’ll go for it - within reason of course. He’s not a major creep if your wondering. He’s kind of a loser actually once you get to know him, I mean his nickname is literally prongs.”

She furrowed her brows and you could literally see the cogs in her head turning. She shook her head before replying.

“Oh… alright. I was just wondering. I’m still not interested though. ” You gave her a knowing smile before you began to pack up your stuff. She still had your pen in her grasp, a thoughtful look on her face.

“You weren’t waiting for anyone were you?”

Excuses began to stumble out of her mouth.

“Don’t worry your secrets safe with me. I’m not going to report back to him or anything. It’s very entertaining watching you shut him down everyday, really cheers me up.” You laughed and you stood up.

She began to hand you your pen as she rose from her seat.

“Thank you, I mean it.” You placed the pen in your pocket. “We have transfiguration together next right? Did you want to come with me to grab a cup of tea before we go to McGonagall’s class?”

You figured you had to branch out sometime. Staying in Remus’ shadow wasn’t an option forever and you certainly couldn’t do it for the next two years.

But being mistaken for being a couple surely meant something. That the way you two behaved with each other must mean more than friendship, it was a seed of hope but sadly the image of Remus rushing away to see Violet was an image that you couldn’t get out of your head.

If he did feel something for you he wouldn’t be going on dates. So you decided it was time, you had to make friends and this was the perfect time to start.

“Yeah sure. I’d love too.”

That was the start of your friendship with Lily and it surely blossomed within the next couple of weeks. You’d never had a close girl friend and looking back you don’t think you could ever go back.

Over the next couple of months you’d began to spend more and more time with her and her friends and less time with the marauders. Not in a bad way, you obviously still hung out with them but just less. Not that you wanted to admit it they were some of your closest friends but you would never tell them that, Sirius’ ego was big enough already and you didn’t need to inflate it anymore.

It was also an excuse to not have to spend time with Remus. He would still come over from time to time and you would do your movie nights. You had most, if not all your lessons together. But it gave you some healthy distance, you no longer just orbited around him.

You didn’t dare think about him romantically, even when he fell asleep in your bed with his head in your lap after you’d put a second movie on. You definitely wouldn’t memorise all his features, the freckles on his cheeks, the mole by his lip. The little bump on the bridge of his nose and you definitely didn’t sit there every time wishing you were more than what you were.

But it didn’t mean anything. You were still friends.

Just friends.

—

Before you knew it, it was the end of the year. Your entire class had just finished your end of year exams and you and the marauders were walking out of the exam hall.

Remus’ arm was around your shoulder as you all walked out, the boys all chattering about that last transfiguration exam.

James was complaining as usual, whilst Peter was timidly trying to explain where prongs had gone wrong in the exam.

The boy pressed up to your side was loudly having a conversation with Sirius about what they were going to do to celebrate.

“We need to go big. We’re gunna be sixth years next year, practically the oldest in the school.”

“Practically.” You muttered. The arm around you gave you a tight squeeze and when you looked up at Remus he gave you an amused smile.

“Why don’t you settle down a bit padfoot. We have just finished. If you’ve failed you’re going to have to repeat.” He teased his friend.

“I haven’t failed trust me.” Sirius said cockily, sure of himself.

You both let out amused laughs and whilst the conversation still went on around you, you walked quietly along with the boys whilst reflecting about the year.

Remus and Violet’s romance didn’t last very long, the girl broke up with him about six weeks after their first date for a reason that was still a secret to all of us. His lips were sealed and no matter how much his friends pried and pried he never told them why.

Lily and James still had their ongoing… thing. We would watch him ask her out, she would say no and the same thing would happen on repeat nearly every week.

You remember the day he came bounding towards you, questioning you about your friendship with the girl. He had interrogated you for nearly two hours before your friends had found you. Though, you never got involved with the two of them, rather you sat back, observing their ‘relationship’ was humourous enough.

“What are your plans for the summer?”

You didn’t realise that all four boys were asking you a question until you were shook gently. Startled you gave a long answer.

“My family are taking us all on holiday. We’re leaving tomorrow. I’m gunna be gone the whole summer. Surprisingly, I’m actually very excited.”

Surprisingly, you were actually excited. Usually you hated summers, thought they were pointless. You went back to the muggle world to your family whilst most of your friends stayed in the wizarding world. The main reason that you hated it was that you didn’t get to see Remus, but this year that factor was something that you were very much looking forward too.

You listed all the places you were going to visit and amazingly all the boys sat patiently and listened with Peter asking the odd question here and there.

“Alright then, we need to celebrate tonight then before you go, need to see as much of you as we can before you leave for the summer. Where are we going?”

A guilty feeling overcame you when you looked up at the boy.

“Actually Remus, I’m spending tonight-”

Your name was loudly called out drawing attention to your little group from the people around you for a second before they turned around and continued their conversations.

Lily came to a stop in front of you and you didn’t even need to look at James to see the giddy look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak and without even looking at him she raised her hand and muttered “No.”

“You ready to go?”

“Go where?” You could feel his gaze on the side of your face as you cringed. You hadn’t told him yet that you were spending tonight with your other group of friends. In all fairness they did ask first but it was an unspoken tradition that you and Remus always spent this last evening together.

“Um, me and the girls are spending the night together. Marlene’s parents are away so we’re going to her house tonight.” With a weary expression you looked up at him.

There was a range of emotions on his face. Mainly you could see the confusion, you were breaking tradition. The two of you had spent the last day of school together every year since you could remember.

He knew something had been wrong this last year, of course he knew. You knew that he did, you weren’t an idiot and he definitely wasn’t either. You could always feel him watching you when you acted differently, he had never said anything though.

He was looking at you that same way now. Every time you thought he was going to bring it up you ran, made excuses about how you had to leave and avoided him until he had forgotten about it.

“Oh.”

You could feel Sirius’ and Lily’s eyes on you. Anytime something weird or awkward happened between the both of you, you would look up and their eyes would already be on you, they would pensively stare for a moment at you both before looking away. It was unnerving.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, they asked and I totally forgot and said yes.”

You could see the hurt on his face and before he could open his mouth to say something, you felt a harsh tug on your arm.

Lily had pulled you to stand next to her.

“Okay! We really need to get going, the train is leaving soon.”

You didn’t know what to say, how you could smooth over this awkward situation. But before you could say anything she grabbed your hand and dragged you away, you shouted a goodbye and received waves back in return.

You really didn’t want to have this conversation but you knew Lily was going to pull it out of you one way or another.

“Okay, what the hell was that.”

part 2

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violetsiren90 · 10 months

Text

What the Moon Saw

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader

Genre: One-shot; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; young love; summer nights, angst/fluff/smut

Summary: Having been with each other through thick and thin, you and your childhood friend, Yoongi, realize that nobody knows how to say goodbye.

Listen to: "Nobody Knows How to Say Goodbye" by The Lumineers

Drabbles: Stolen Tides; Beacons Ashore

Content Warnings: 18+ (minors dni); allusions to domestic abuse; divorce of parents; cigarette smoking; infidelity (not between main couple); kissing; hickeys; making out; hand jobs; oral sex (female receiving); loss of virginity (female); moments of body insecurity; unprotected sex; cumming inside; cockwarming; characters are ADULTS at the time of their sexual encounter; LOTS of emotions

Author's note: I moved. Like, a block away from the beach, and the views and the vibes have me ALL up in my feels. I wrote this in two nights and then sat on it. I wasn't sure if I was going to post it or just keep it in my heart because parts of it are so personal to me. BUT, here it is. I want to give inspiration credit to @orchidyoonkook , because I will never ever be able to write young love or Yoongi without being influenced by the beauty that is Under the Willow Tree. 💕 If anyone chooses to read this little love story of mine, I hope it brings you something wholesome!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You inhaled deeply, taking the salty air into your lungs as you gazed out over the cliff side and across the rippling blue that stretched on and on until it met the soft pink glow of the horizon. Your eyes tracked the tide lapping at the smooth sands. You slipped off your heels to meet the cool pavement, but you could feel it already - the soft golden grains molding to meet your steps. These shores hadn't borne your footprints in over a decade, but here you were, drawn back again by the hypnotic crash of the sea and the lonely call of the gulls. It felt as though you had never left. You leaned over the railing of the rickety staircase that wove its way down the cliff side into the sand and scree. Your gaze trailed down the steps, one by one, until you saw it, jutting out halfway down: the lip of a ledge in the rock face. Your breath caught in your chest. Old, familiar feelings of a time gone by washed over you. The years rolled back like clouds from the sun in the western sky.

You were nineteen.

You shivered, drawing your knees up and hugging them to you as sat on the thick woolen blanket you had laid over the cool stone of the ledge. Even on a summer night like this, you should have worn something more practical. But you had worn your cotton sundress with the cherries. He had once told you that you looked like the main character in that dress, and it had been your favorite ever since.

You watched the moon dance on the dark water and thought about all it had seen. It had been watching the little alcove from the beginning. It had seen you the summer after your first year of middle school, wrapped in a blanket with book between your hands, as you took refuge from the emotional turmoil that shook your house nearly every night leading up to your parents' divorce. It had seen the boy one night, wandering the beach with a cigarette and busted lip, trying to smoke away the tears in his eyes. It had seen the boy climb the stairs, only to discover his favorite hiding place was already harboring another runaway. It had seen you look at him - skinny limbs in a jacket and ripped jeans not lanky on his small frame, tussled dark hair, round face, little bleeding pouted lips, dark sharp eyes wide with surprise - and consider that he was likely the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. It had seen him offer you a cigarette which you refused. It had seen him ask you for a light, which you didn't have. And then it had seen you become friends. Best friends. It had watched you become all that the other truly had in the small, beautiful, painful world of a child. And now it would watch him amble up the beach one last time to find you there.

Yoongi. He had been so upset when you told him that you were leaving for college, but he had tried his best not to show it. He was always like that, keeping things deep inside. You had to wait and watch and listen and coax them out. You could always find the right time to do it, when he felt safe to let you. Most nights, though, it was you pouring out every little thing in your heart. Yoongi loved it when you did that. He would listen with the softest little smile and warm eyes, creasing in the corners, as he watched your hands move with as much animation as your voice when you spoke. His nearly-silent breathy laugh would come like a breeze off the sea and waft around you, lifting your spirits and cleansing your soul. His rare, full smile spreading in breathtaking beauty over his face, pulling his upper lip away from his gums. There were the good times, and the bad ones. On hard nights you would hold each other in silence, letting the beat of the other's heart and the steady undulation of the tide carry you through to the dawn.

You remembered the first time you had awakened in his arms after such a night. The light had just started to stream over the tops of the cliffs, painting the water in rose gold. You had shivered, feeling the dampness of the cool salty air in your hair. And then you had looked up and seen him there, holding you, still fast asleep. His face was angelic, little pink lips just parted, chest rising and falling with the swell of his breath, and you swore you could endure anything life threw at you if the first thing you saw each day were his dark lashes resting gently on the apples of his cheeks. Yoongi had finally stirred and blinked down at you, just gazing silently - the little warm smile in his eyes rather than on his lips. In that moment, something had changed. In the weeks that followed, you thought you had never felt so many things at once.

You felt giddy. You felt a little sick. You felt like you could fly.

You were in love.

You were in love and you had very nearly worked up the courage to do something about it when you saw it - that horrid little purple bruise right below his ear. You had asked him if his father had done it and he had been confused at first. But when you brushed your fingers so softly over the mark, his eyes had widened and he had recoiled, pulling up the collar of his jacket to obscure it from your view. He had insisted that he was fine and not to worry. But worry you did, all the way up to the day you realized what the little bruise really was. Then your worry morphed into something different. You felt sick again, but this time it felt like a burden. You had chided yourself for being so stupid. He was beautiful and sixteen, of course he was involved with girls - girls that weren't you. Your heart broke. You pieced it back together with the succor of his friendship, and, soon, you started seeing other boys too. But you never let them give you purple bruises. You didn't want them from their lips.

As the seasons went by, you remained tethered to one another. Regardless of friends or suitors who would come and go, you knew each other in a way that no one else could. A way that didn't require words. Laughter bubbled up without effort or restraint. Fights ended in tears and forehead kisses and never lasted more than a few moments. Never past parting. Until one day a few weeks ago when he had told you that a boy you were going with was seeing another girl. Yoongi had never liked your boyfriend, and so you had reacted badly, gotten defensive and let yourself be angry with him for telling you. You had snapped at him to mind his own business. When he had insisted that you were his business you had said no you weren't, not in that way. He had gone quiet. So quiet. And then he had left. And he hadn't come the next night. Or the night after that.

You were so angry and anxious, and you told yourself you wouldn't wait for him another night, so you stayed home for the rest of the week. Then, on the third night away, you had tucked yourself into bed only to imagine Yoongi waiting for you, alone in the darkness. You had whipped off your covers and gone to find him in your pajamas. When he had seen you he had jumped up, throwing his cigarette aside, and crushed you in his arms. He had hugged you from the other side of the railing, not even waiting for you to climb over, then lifted you to stand before him on the ledge where he had enveloped you in his arms again. You had tried to apologize, but he wouldn't let you. And then you told him what you had been dreading to tell him all summer: you were leaving. He hadn't reacted. He had just held you in silence. But there was something different in him now, something that had his eyes trained immovably on the horizon. Something that wouldn't let him look at you. Something that distracted him from all you had to say as his thumbs brushed softly over your arms. He had looked at you so strangely before you had parted that night.

Now you were meeting one last time before you would watch the little coastal town and all its hurts disappear in your rearview mirror. You needed a second chance and this scholarship might be your only shot. Your reverie broke as you noticed a figure shuffling down the waterline in the bright light of the waxing gibbous. The figure sprung nimbly, with practiced steps, up the stairs, and lightly vaulted the rail, landing with a soft thud, catlike, a few feet from where you sat. He stepped forward, standing over you as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He was wearing tight khakis, white tennis shoes, and a plain white tee under his green military jacket. With a smoke tucked behind his ear and that little smirk on his lips, you thought he might be cooler than Steve McQueen.

"Got a light?" he asked coolly, shoving the pack of Marlboros back in his pocket. You rolled your eyes.

"Of course not, Yoongi. And why on earth do you always ask me that when you've got one anyway?"

Yoongi smiled to himself as he brought a lighter to the little yellow-tipped cylinder between his lips. It was a secret kind of smile, the kind that made you want to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth. But tonight wasn't for fighting, even the bickering kind. He eased himself down beside you with his signature careful grace. You sat in silence, gaze trained out over the water. While you were looking elsewhere, he relaxed, and you tracked his movements in your peripheral vision. You would do this sometimes, especially when he was particularly guarded. He had always been bad at eye contact, but if you gave him a little space he would let down his walls, and you could read him like a book. Just now, he had let his gaze settle on you. Smoke hissed through his lips, his mouth hanging open just a little in that way it did when he was lost to his thoughts. His eyes roved over you in a way that made you mouth go dry. You swallowed. He suddenly shifted his gaze, coughing a bit.

"I like this dress," he offered, like an apology.

"I know," you murmured with a smile.

"Yeah?" he questioned, brow furrowing, as he took another drag. He was quiet for a beat before pressing out another question. "Paul headed out east too?"

"I broke up with him," came your answer, but without a smile this time.

"Yeah?"

"Oh come on, Yoongi," you bit out, "You knew that was going to happen. That's why you told me!"

His jaw ticked ever so slightly.

"You know that's not true. He was cheating on you. I couldn't let you be in the dark about it - get hurt by another one of these assholes who don't deserve your time in the first place."

You sighed, frustration rising unbidden again as Yoongi casually hurtled the unspoken walls you had erected to make things easier.

"What I deserve is my business. I don't go chastising you for letting random bitches suck on your neck and god knows what else so that you don't feel lonely."

The remark had been soft but laced with venom, and you had regretted breaching your own resolve against negativity the moment the words had spilled from your lips.

"Random..." He stared at you intently, surprise and confusion mingling with another indiscernible expression in his eyes as they traced over your features. You were trying to think of a way, any way, to salvage the conversation when he huffed out a laugh.

"You did know what it was!"

"What?"

"That hickey you asked about sophomore year."

Your stomach flipped.

"How do you even remember that?" You blustered in incredulity.

"How do you?"

He was staring at you knowingly with those achingly beautiful dark eyes that always saw you. It was one of the things you loved most about him. But right now it was terrifying. Right now you wanted to escape, only, there was nowhere to go. So for a moment, just a moment, you didn't hide anymore.

"Because," you swallowed, trailing your eyes back up to his, your voice shaking a bit as you whispered, "I remember everything."

A beat. Two. You didn't make a disarming jest, or a hurried qualification. You didn't even blink. In a flash as quick and heavy as a summer storm, years of yearning filled your eyes like intangible tears, holding his face in your gaze before casting it back out over the sea. Yoongi had froze where he sat, eyes trained immovably on you before he suddenly stood, tossing his cigarette and cursing as he took a step toward the edge, weaving his fingers through his hair.

"What?" you asked, almost defensively.

He didn't turn around, but you could hear the emotion in his voice, his head bowed as he wrestled with the words.

"Nah, that's not fair. You're leaving...You're leaving and you're gonna make it even...even harder right now?"

Turns out you weren't the only one who had been building walls with invisible bricks. You jumped to your feet.

"Oh, so this is my fault? You've been telling me my whole life to get out! You convinced me to apply to the Ivy Leagues! You spent the last weeks pushing me away! I don't understand what you want from me, Yoongi!"

He turned toward you, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes on the ground.

"A clean break," he said lowly, "Not from you...for you. I just wanted you to run, no guilt no pain, and not look back."

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you shook your head.

"That's not how it works though. I was always going to look back. Whenever I was frightened or lost or uncertain. Whenever I woke up in the morning or closed my eyes to sleep, or laughed, or...or felt so much joy I didn't know what to do with it. I was always going to look back, Yoongi," You took a deep breath, "I was going to look for you."

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as you grabbed his arm and pressed your wet face into his shoulder. You could feel his body shake with little sobs.

"Don't," he croaked out, "don't look for me."

"Sorry," you huffed a tearful laugh into the fabric of his sleeve, "I don't think my heart will listen to you. Pretty rough deal when it's yours after all."

You had tried to say it like a joke. It had come out like a promise.

Yoongi stilled. Everything stilled. For a moment, it was as if even the sea and the sky and the moon held their breath. He let his hands fall from where they covered his face. As he lifted his head and turned, you dropped his arm, thinking for one horrible moment that he meant to push you away. But he didn't. He reached for you, and gently, firmly - like every move he ever made, like every word he ever spoke - slipped his hand around the nape of your neck and pressed his mouth against yours.

You gasped softly against his lips.

Sweet, methodical, insistent. He slipped his tongue against your bottom lip and you tilted your head to slot your mouth against his, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed languorously against your own. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and him. You could do this all day. A little dagger pierced your heart at the thought that you only had tonight. You stumbled back, tugging him down beside you onto the blanket. You pushed him to his back and slipped onto his lap, leaning down to reconnect your lips with his. He chuckled into your mouth, his cheeks still wet with tears.

"Slow down," he hummed.

"No," you murmured in simple defiance, kissing along his jaw before dipping to press your mouth to the soft flesh of his neck.

You licked softly, experimentally, along the side of his throat, and his fingers tightened against your waist. He tasted like salty skin and the alcohol of that cheap musky cologne he wore and Yoongi. You leaned back, supporting yourself with hands on either side of his head as you looked down at him.

"Can I?" you asked with a shy smile

"Hm?" he hummed, large, lithe hands massaging your waist.

"Leave a mark?"

His eyes squeezed into little crescent moons, and his mouth pulled up into a full smile he couldn't repress. He chuckled again, reaching up to brush his palm over your cheek, and nodded, tilting his head to the side to expose the creamy skin of his neck. Your heart hammered in your chest as you leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat before sucking until you had pulled a low, deep groan from him. You pushed up again, surprised at the sound, new and lovely, to find him flushed - his blown pupils darkening his eyes, and a little wet patch of smooth skin growing rosy against his throat. You felt a thrill rush through you, making you tremble. You leaned down and marked him again and again, pulling sweet moans from his lips until his neck and collarbones were littered with the proof of your mouth. You lifted your face to kiss him again, but after pressing his lips to yours twice, he pulled back.

"One more," he whispered, taking your hand from his face and guiding it down to the slight firm swell of the top of his left pec.

His eyes played over your face as you felt it softly against your fingertips - his heart. In a valiant fight for your composure, you pressed your eyes shut and buried your face in his chest. He ran a hand over the back of your head soothingly. You raised your face to meet his gaze again, choking out a little sob at the depth of its gentle affection. You slipped your fingers to the collar of his cotton tee and stretched it down and to the side, revealing his bare chest. With reverence you pressed your mouth to his skin, fulfilling his request.

No sooner had you raised your eyes to his again than he was pulling you against his lips and rolling you to your back. His weight sank into you as your mouths moved together and you thought, maybe, under his warmth was the only place you ever wanted to be. Your body responded to him seemingly of its own accord, your legs weaving around the backs of his thighs as a thrumming ache intensified at your core. As he moved to kiss your neck you found your hips rolling up, seeking relief for the sticky ache at their center, and you were met with a firm knot in his groin that pressed just where you were neediest. Your high-pitched whine was a sharp contrast to his low growl into your shoulder. It was intoxicating - his sensation, his sound, and you undulated against him over and over to slake your want on his growing hardness and hear his breath come quick against your ear. He began to rock against you in return, and soon you were whimpering into his neck, beads of sweat cooling on your forehead against the night air as each rut of his hips became overwhelming and not enough.

"Yoongi, please," you begged in a breathy moan, lightly squeezing the back of his neck and turning your damp forehead against his soft cheek.

He pushed up to look at you, brushing away the little hairs clinging to your brow. He looked as needy as you, but a little uncertain.

"What is it?" he asked. You knew he knew. You leaned up and kissed him chastely before letting your head fall back against the blanket.

"I want you," you murmured, suddenly barely able to look at him as the words formed on your lips.

Yoongi dipped to press another kiss to your mouth before sitting up and back on your thighs, and gently tugging you up with him. You noticed the bulge straining against the front of his khakis, and he winced slightly as he wiggled to adjust against your legs. He took your hands in his, that little smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips, tongue darting out lick at them as he considered you thoughtfully. Impatient, you pushed his jacket off his shoulder, which he fully shed and cast aside, and ran your hands over his cotton-clad chest. His muscle jumped when you grazed down over his stomach, which you thought must be as soft and lovely as the rest of him.

"Are you sure you want this to happen right now, with me?" he asked tenderly. You looked up at him, your brow pinched in question. "Your first time?"

You scoffed, your face heating as you looked away, brushing bits of sand from the blanket.

"How do you know if it's my first time?"

His little smile spread into a grin.

"Because I know," he offered, a bit smugly.

You toyed with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm sure," you murmured. And then you looked up at him. "Have you ever..."

"Yeah," he responded, almost like he was sorry, as he glanced down and took your hands in his again. He bit the bottom corner of his lip. "I don't have a condom."

You felt your heart pounding as the concept of him taking you where you sat became increasingly real.

"So pull out," you offered nonchalantly, hoping you sounded far more experienced than he knew you were.

He nodded. You snaked a hand between you to dance your fingers over the strain against the crotch of his pants. His hand flew to encircle your wrist and still your movements. He took a deep breath.

"It might hurt you at first. Maybe the whole time," he said, his thumb brushing in a pendulum motion over your arm. You nodded.

"I know. I don't care."

He smiled again, regarding you for a long moment.

"Okay," he said, nodding and licking his lips before taking your jaw delicately between the rounded pads of his fingers. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"Hm?"

"You still have to leave in the morning."

You heaved a sigh. Oh, Yoongi. You thought you might cry again, so you nodded, pulling him down over you once more.

"Promise me," he murmured against your lips.

"I promise," you breathed.

You kissed slowly, greedily, learning each other's mouths and mapping each other's faces and necks. At some point he dipped below your collarbone to drag his lips along the tops of your breasts. Your hand flew into his hair and he looked up at you, dark eyes seeking permission. You nodded, bottom lip clamped between your teeth as he tugged down the stretchy bodice of your sundress to reveal a simple beige bra that clasped in the front.

"It's not sexy," you remarked apologetically.

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and dipped to kiss the tops of your breasts as his fingers found the clasp.

"Shhh, it's just the wrapping," he whispered as he snapped the garment open, letting your breasts fall into view as they pushed aside the fabric cups that had confined them.

He cursed under his breath as he brought both hands to your tits and kneaded them gently, sliding your pert nipples in the spaces between his fingers. You mewled, arching your back to press your chest up into his grasp. Before you could truly revel in the feeling of his hands plying your supple flesh, they were gone, but your whine of protest was cut short by a sharp keen as his mouth replaced his fingers. He suckled and nipped at one bud and then the other, and each time he released one with a pop, you were certain you had been rendered temporarily unconscious. Soon he was sitting up and smirking down at the panting, writhing mess of you beneath him. You saw him grimace again as he adjusted his stance, and you reached for his zipper, only to find your hand caught in his.

"No yet," he chided lightly, a twinkle in his eye, "I have to make you cum."

You drew your arm back and cast it over the top of your face, suddenly shy at his remark.

"To get you ready for me," he explained again in a murmur as he pushed your dress up to your rib cage.

He traced his hands lightly over your naked waist and you shivered. He moved to his knees, pushing your legs to either side of him. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pink cotton panties, when you suddenly felt yourself sitting up, your dress falling back over your midriff. You were a sight - wild hair and your tits half out, still panting for breath while worry painted your features. Yoongi pulled his hands away and sat back, confusion in his widened eyes.

"I don't shave," you rushed out, "I know some girls do, but I've never tried. And...I don't know, I'm kind of a mess down there right now..."

Yoongi's face softened and he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours.

"I don't care," he whispered. You huffed out another sigh.

"But...but what if you...don't like it?"

"I know I will."

"How?"

He bumped your nose with his, swallowing again as his hand found yours.

"Because I love you."

He only let the words hang in the air for a millisecond before he was crashing his lips into yours again, passionately, as if it was the only way he could convey his conviction.

He loved you. You could have died. But he was pressing one of the kisses you would always remember into your lips like an oath, so you didn't. And then you let him bare your skin and lay you down and tell you that you were beautiful. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you felt your heart believe him. How were you to leave in the morning when his soft, warm words felt like the sun?

He ran his hands over your sides and thighs, dipping to trail slow, deliberate kisses down from your navel until his chin brushed the soft, curly hairs of your mound. Your breath caught in your chest as the cool air hit fresh slick dampening your sex. He leaned back again, regarding you with warm eyes, and took your hand in his, placing it over your lower lips.

"Do you touch yourself?"

You stammered. He had asked you as simply as if he were inquiring about your favorite flavor of ice cream. With effort you admitted that you did. He stroked over your hand.

"Show me how. What makes you feel good."

You nodded slowly, feeling yourself tremble a little as you moved to stroke your middle finger in beckoning motions over your swollen clit. The motion that should have been almost automatic and familiar felt new and lewd under his gaze. As you dipped to gather more arousal from your entrance you watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat and his hands tighten where they gripped your thighs.

"You're soaked," he murmured as he stooped to press a kiss to your belly. Then he did something that would be seared into your brain for all eternity: he scooped up your hand and brought it to his lips, sucking your sticky middle finger into his mouth. You gushed at the sensation of his lips and tongue, wide eyes locked on his as he slowly let your finger slip free.

"You want to know how you taste?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before humming, "So fucking good."

"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, propped up on your forearms to watch as he laid down between your legs.

"Mhm. Sweet. Like honey."

He kissed into your pubic hair, slipping one of his long fingers to trace over your clit the way you had showed him. You gasped as you watched him work you up, something inside your growing taut like a bowstring. And then a kind of pleasure you had never imagined, the kind that made you want to melt and scream, rushed through your trembling body as a single finger pressed slowly past your entrance while his mouth found your clit. You found your hips bucking to meet his thrusts as he pressed in a second finger. You felt a slight sting at the stretch, but the exquisite pressure of this knobby knuckles caressing your walls overwhelmed any pain, and when he pressed the pads of his fingers to massage a spongy patch of muscle, you cried out, gripping his dark locks.

"Yoongi!" you moaned as he repeated the motion, and when he took your clit between his lips to suck you came.

You came hard and in waves, rolling your hips into him until you were clamping your thighs shut at the raw sensitivity of overstimulation. Yoongi sat up to rub his hands over your shaking thighs and heaving belly before leaning back down to kiss you and return your spirit through his lips from the astral plane.

"You did so good," he cooed, "Came so easy for me."

"That's good?" you asked between pants. He chuckled into your neck.

"Mhm."

"It felt good, Yoongi, really good." He dropped a kiss to your shoulder, and then mumbled into your skin.

"You still want to go all the way?"

"Yes," you whispered, pulling his shirt up his back and running your hands over his bare skin.

Yoongi sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to lay with his jacket. He was slender and milky, as you had expected, but his shoulders were surprisingly broad, and his upper chest firm. The soft swell of his belly was dusted with a trail of delicate dark hairs leading down from his navel. You reached instinctively for the button of his pants, and this time he let you. Trailing the zipper down, he helped you shed his tight pants and boxers, sighing in relief as he freed his erection. You bit your lip as your hand trailed over the velvety skin of his shaft. Even this part of him was beautiful, you thought - not overly long but thick and proud with a pretty vein and a smooth tip glistening with precum. You had been so consumed with drinking him in that you only now noticed the little needy whimpers falling from his lips as you stroked him. You squeezed a little firmer, pumping him with more confidence.

"Like that?" you asked, unable to look away from the sweet sight of his face as his eyebrows knitted and his head tilted back.

"Yeah, just...no, no, I won't last," he groaned, his hand stilling yours.

When he met your concerned gaze he reached up to stroke your cheek.

"Feels too good," he murmured reassuringly, then he guided you back down on the blanket, balling up his jacket and slipping it under your head.

He lowered himself carefully over you, skin to skin, as he kissed you again and again, his right hand toying with your breast and trailing lower to caress your clit. You could feel the heat rising in you again, and an aching want inside growing deeper and hungrier with every shock of pleasure. When he trailed his fingers through your folds to find you thoroughly wet he leaned to the side, gliding his length between your lips, his smooth tip brushing over your bud. You cursed, fingers digging into his back and he huffed a little laugh, eyes sparkling down at you.

"Dirty girl," he chuckled, before kissing the tip of your nose. "Are you ready?"

You felt a squeeze of trepidation in your chest, but you pushed it away.

"Yes," you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For a long moment, he just stared down at you, the same look in his eyes as the morning you had first awakened in his arms, but so intent - as if he was trying to commit every feature of your face, in this moment, to memory. Finally breaking his gaze, he glanced down between your bodies, aligning himself with your entrance. His eyes flicked back up to you as he slowly, slowly breached your core. When he had pressed in past his tip you felt the searing stretch he had warned you of. You closed your eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.

"You okay?" came is worried voice, "Want to stop?" You shook your head.

"No, just do it," you panted through the pain, "I want it to be you."

You pulled him down to press your mouth to his. Every kiss between you seemed to say something. This one said that you trusted him in a way you would never trust another.

He was so gentle. Pressing in slowly, giving you time to stretch around the thickness of him, kissing you sweetly through your whimpers, until he was fully sheathed inside you. Tears filled your eyes and trickled down your cheeks. You were so full of him.

"Why are you crying?" he cooed, touching his forehead to yours.

Your hands clutched his back as you raised watery eyes to his.

"Because I'm yours, Yoongi. Yours first and no one else's." He buried his face in your neck.

"Take me, Yoongi," you whispered desperately into his ear, "Take me like I'm yours."

You felt him let out a tiny sob against your skin and then he started to move. He kept a slow pace at first, carefully gliding against your tight walls, unaccustomed to his presence. You could feel him jerk and twitch as he moved, and thought he must be restraining himself. You found the worst of your pain had passed, and all you wanted in the world was to make him cum.

"Don't hold back," you hummed as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts.

He didn't need you to tell him twice, instantly setting a quicker, sharper pace that had his balls slapping your ass and his pelvic bone pressing to your clit with each forward snap.

"You're so fucking tight," he mumbled, a dazed look beginning to overtake his features, "You feel so good, baby. So good." You wove your hands into his hair, pulling him down to kiss him as you breathed in every curse, whimper, and moan. And then he was looking down at you with dark, wild eyes.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?"

You didn't have to think.

"Inside," you answered breathlessly.

"But I'm not..."

"Please, cum inside me, Yoongi. Please," you whimpered, tempted to wrap your legs around his waist - your desire for him transcending every fear of consequence. But you wanted to give him the choice.

He raised himself up on his elbows, his thrusts coming impossibly harder and more erratic, and then he came. You watched him in exaltation as he threw his head back and cried out, emptying himself inside you. So beautiful, you thought, with his hair clinging to his brow, his chest heaving and flushed, and his face drawn in the throes of his release. You did wrap your legs around him then, and he collapsed, his head falling to your breasts as he gasped for breath. You tangled your fingers into his hair, caressing his head. You were swollen and sore and messy, and yet the thought of him abandoning you was unbearable. And the moon saw it all.

It saw you stay each other's as long as possible. It watched you both try to hide your tears as you pulled on your clothes. It watched you fight desperately, and fail, to put your heart in words. It watched him silence you, and hold you, because you didn't have to say it. He knew. It watched you fall asleep in his arms one last time.

You opened your eyes. The gulls were crying and the pale morning sunlight was spilling over the tops of the cliffs. The sea was soft and plashing and cerulean. It was the most beautiful of the ninety-three mornings of summer. But you didn't notice - all you saw were dark lashes on the apples of soft cheeks. You watched his breath rise and fall as the sun tipped over the horizon in the east, the dew trickling down your face as salty as the sea.

When Yoongi's eyes fluttered open they met your red ones, and he pressed is forehead to yours only for a moment before pulling you up to stand.

"Get outta here," he whispered shakily, hands still clutching your arms and brow still tilted into your own.

"Come with me," you choked tracing your hands over his chest.

"I can't leave her with him."

"I know." Your fingers traced over his heart and the little bruise you knew rested under the cotton fabric.

Yoongi wept.

"Go," he whispered, squeezing your arms. You nodded weakly.

"Go, goddamn it, go!" he cried, as you shook with sobs, then he crushed his mouth against yours.

Time didn't stop, you'd have any - so you stole every second you could.

And then you kept your promise.

You shivered as a zephyr sprang off the water to whip around you, disrupting your thoughts. You tugged at your blazer. It had been a long time since you wore a sundress with cherries.

It was time to let them go, the little girl huddled in a blanket and the boy with the bleeding lip. They had held your hands for so long. They deserved to be free. It was time to let them go, so you did.

With a deep sigh you cast one last wistful glance back over the great blue expanse as the sun sank into the sea.

The moon was just a silver slip in the sky that night, but it saw. It saw before you did, as you turned to go, the breath catching in your chest when a low, soft voice behind you asked,

"Got a light?"

-Fin-

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frodo-with-glasses · 25 days

Text

More Reading Thoughts: In the House of Tom Bombadil

BEHOLD! ANOTHER CHAPTER! We’re making it at a magnificent clip nowadays

Eyyyy it’s Goldberry!

Frodo surprising himself with the poem that springs out of his mouth when he sees Goldberry will never not be hilarious and adorable

It does beg the question of where the heck that came from. Does Goldberry just have that effect on people? Does it have serving to do with Elf magic, like she implies? Does Frodo just have that accidental rizz?? Who knows!

Frodo: “Who is Tom Bombadil?” Goldberry: “Well, he is, of course, silly :-D”

Mighty convenient that Tom has exactly four beds for the four travelers

They DO take a bath before supper >8-D (Don’t mind me, just a comic idea percolating in my head. Some of you know what I’m talking about.)

Tom was waiting for them. Tom was waiting for them. He’d heard word that the hobbits were coming. He wasn’t actively trying to find them, but he wasn’t surprised when he did. I don’t know why that enchants me so much.

Merry and Pippin like “AAAHH NO DON’T TALK ABOUT THE WILLOW TREE” is simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking depending on how you look at it

Heeheehee nightmare time

Frodo has a dream about Gandalf and Black Riders. Hmm, pity. You’d think he’d have a nightmare about water, given his near-drowning and the way his parents died…but I guess this is important for foreshadowing purposes.

Pippin has a dream about being inside the tree. He feels surrounded and afraid. Understandable.

MERRY has the dream about water and drowning?? Shut up!! If I were him, I’d be way more disturbed that a freaking tree was IN MY HEAD and threatening to kill me!!

“Sam slept through the night in deep content, if logs are contented.” Hilarious 🤣

Much apologies to my girlies on the server who headcanon the hobbits with phobias corresponding to the four elements; sadly, Tolkien is not on the same page as us this time.

Tom: “You’d better not be late to breakfast, or you’ll get nothing but grass and water!”

See, Frodo gets it. Rainy days are awesome. They are beautiful and force you to slow down and admire the world.

“The trees were here before you, mind, and they don’t much care for your shenanigans!”

Ooh, so the Barrow-wights are the ghosts of dead kings that the Nazgul woke up. Fascinating.

Nothing makes the world of Middle Earth feel old and rich in history more than Tom’s stories

Goldberry’s hand being partly translucent is such a vibe

WAIT. Tom and Goldberry. Differences. Tall and short. Blonde and brown. One graceful and ethereal, the other down to earth and joyful. Working together, not in competition. Frodo and Sam. SHUT UP GUYS I’VE CRACKED THE CODE—

Tom is friends with Farmer Maggot!!

FARMER MAGGOT HAS SPOKEN TO GILDOR

Dang where’s my fantasy epic about Farmer Maggot you guys

And this is the part where Tom puts the Ring on his finger and doesn’t disappear, and if they’d ever included this in the movies it would’ve destroyed the gravity and mystique of the Ring altogether

Merry having to bite back a yell like “HOLY CRAP FRODO’S GONE” 🤣

WAIT I CAN MAKE THAT ANGSTY TOO aw heck the brainrot is setting in

“Frodo laughed (trying to feel pleased)…” Relatable, Frodo, relatable

Tom: “And remember, DON’T GO NEAR THE BARROW-DOWNS!” Meanwhile, the hobbits, in the very next chapter:

#tom bombadil #frodo baggins #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #peregrin took #pippin #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #chapter review

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

—LIBEROSIS | SIX

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Right. Now things are going well and Wednesday should be basking in the vindication of it all. But now there's other things that keep her up at night and it's maddening. Wednesday used to never care and now she wished she cared a little less.

Warnings: Pining & Angst. Dramatic!Wednesday. Enid, is focused on her boat. Thing, is the GOAT. Xavier, just expects no peace.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: Wednesday: things are nice right now. I should create more problems :|

Part Five

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Liberosis: Noun. The desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's a certain bliss when things go well. It's like a well-thought-out plan that came to fruition, bearing the fruits of desired results.

It always brings Wednesday acute satisfaction.

She should be basking in all the glory and victory that her actions have brought her—to know that her suffering wasn't for nothing.

Yet, as Wednesday sits out near the lake under the shade of a willow tree while reading a book, she feels—discontentment.

Winter has long passed, and Wednesday misses the weather.

The day was warm and sunny, with a slight soothing breeze—terrible. On top of that, everyone seemed to have gathered around the willow tree, trying to relax under the shade. She had Enid and Yoko on her left, yapping like chihuahuas. Xavier, Ajax, and Eugene sat a few feet in front of her, playing some kind of game.

On her right, you sat a foot away, chatting with Bianca and her fellow sirens next to you. The conversation she'd be listening to hadn't been anything of interest, but Wednesday supposes that Bianca wouldn't spill her plans for the Poe Cup race with everyone else around.

Every so often, Enid would lean over her, trying to say something to you, and it would make Wednesday stiffen uncomfortably.

"Wednesday," Enid frustratedly sighs as she tries to lean over Wednesday to say something to you. "It'd be so much easier if you switched seats with me. You're just reading anyway! You can do that at the edge."

Enid starts to move to get up, but Wednesday turns her head and glares at her roommate. "If you so much as try to force me out of my optimal seating, I will dump all your nail polish over the balcony."

Enid gasped, hand to her heart dramatically as if it was the worst thing she could ever hear.

"Really, Addams?" Bianca asked with a sardonic expression. "You've lost your touch on the threats."

Wednesday raises her brow at her rival. "Enid is unique and stupidly no longer fears my homicidal threats. I have to get creative with her to instill fear."

"What's so optimal about that seating anyway?" Enid grumbles, but Wednesday see's the blonde looking at you with a smirk.

"The shade," Wednesday answers briskly. "This is the only spot without a speck of sunlight getting through."

You suddenly laugh, grabbing everyone's attention. You look over to Enid and smile. "Why don't you and Yoko come and sit in front of me?"

"But I want to lean my back against something," Enid whines with a frown.

"If the boys move in front of you to play their game, I'm sure Ajax would be happy to let you lean against his back," you smirk while Ajax looks at his girlfriend happily and nods.

"But we're going to be in the sun," Xavier complains.

"Count yourself lucky," Wednesday looks at the artist, her face deadpan. "As much as I adore the aesthetic of ghosts, the complexion doesn't suit you."

"Fuck you," Xavier gives her the middle finger. "I don't want to hear this from someone who looks half-dead all the time."

"I've spent my free time in cold lockers," Wednesday looks back at her book. "What's your excuse?"

Xavier grumbles in reply, but the three boys get up to readjust so Enid can sit peacefully in front of you and resume her conversation.

Wednesday relaxes more comfortably now that her left side is free. Wednesday was side-sitting, her knees both on one side, facing away from you as she held open her book in front of her face with one hand. Her other hand rests against the grass between the two of you.

Soon enough, the chatter resumes and becomes static noise to Wednesday, and when it does, she stiffens. You've placed your left hand down against the grass, and the very tip of your middle finger brushed against Wednesday's.

You're talking animatedly with Bianca and Enid, and no one else seems to notice Wednesday's inelegance. It seems no one is paying attention to her at all anymore.

After a few moments, Wednesday swallows. She looks carefully at those around her, ensuring they're all lost in their own conversations. There's something that she particularly wants, and she should simply do it.

After all, she's gone through enough emotional suffering because of you, and the last few months have shown her that she's evolved enough to hunt down the desires she didn't think she'd ever have.

Yet, fully moving her hand to grasp yours seemed more difficult than solving murder mysteries.

Wednesday shifts, hinting at you what she wants.

Nothing changes as you're too lost in your conversation with Enid.

Wednesday purses her lip in annoyance. Perhaps it was a mistake to have Enid move in front of you.

Wednesday shifts again, the tip of her middle finger brushing against yours more intentionally. The hint was very obstinately clear now. Or, it should've been.

You don't budge.

A thought drifts through Wednesday's mind. She has lamented over you, suffered because of you, chased after you. The least you could do is take her fucking hint.

Just grab it, Wednesday tells herself. Grab it and crush it—

You shift, sitting straighter, and move your hand to fan yourself from the warm weather.

Wednesday doesn't know why you'd ever think she's enticed by the sun.

She detests the sun and its warmth.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday sits at the pond's edge, staring out into its vast, clear reflection. Little fireflies hover near the surface, dancing their way back and forth. Her face is strained, her eyebrows furrowed in their natural way, and her lips pressed in a line.

"Oh, you're here."

Wednesday turns around and sees you entering from behind a tree. She nods in acknowledgment. "Of course," she plainly replies and then demands, "why are you late?"

You smile at her, and it both irritates Wednesday and delights her.

"Henry wanted to show me his mindscape," you reveal. "He's been excited about it all week, so I thought I'd go see it now rather than during my free period. The verdict is that he might need some work because precisely nothing changed or happened."

You sit next to her, grinning at her blank face before you fall onto your back, staring at the moon.

"Why not during your free period?" Wednesday asks as she kicks the side of your shoe, signaling to turn onto your back. You turn over with a puff of breath, focusing on your wings to come out and unfurl.

Wednesday watches in interest as she always does. She anticipates when they'll fully heal, and she'll get them to see them fully stretch. She feels titillation at the thought of them spanning wide enough to block out the sun.

It occurred to Wednesday then that one; she was looking forward to something that seemed so…frivolous and, frankly, embarrassing. Second, Wednesday believed that your presence in her life would be a more permanent fixture.

The image of her mother pops up in her head, and she feels unwell.

"Well," you drag her out of her thoughts. "You have fencing at that time, right? I thought I'd come watch your match against Xavier."

Wednesday is initially silent, feeling something stir in her stomach at your words. She applies the salve leisurely and thinks about how it doesn't matter how fast or slow she administers it because you won't be running off anywhere after.

"It won't be anything special," Wednesday monotones. "Xavier will pathetically lose after seven and a half minutes."

You laugh. "Well, I'll enjoy the seven and half minutes of it then." You hum, your wings trill as Wednesday ruffles some of them to apply the salve. "Tickles," you mumble, and Wednesday feels the comfort of it.

Soon enough, Wednesday finishes, and you turn around and sit back up.

"Anyway," you interject and smirk. "Since you'll only be fencing for about seven and a half minutes, why don't you play hooky with me?"

"And do what exactly?" Wednesday asks flatly with her brow raised.

"Hm," you hum, tilting your head. "I wanted to see the Jericho town but Larissa won't let me leave the school grounds for the next couple of weeks."

"Oh?" Wednesday raises her brow in intrigue but then follows up with, "You call Principal Weems by her first name?"

You nod. "I mean, yeah, in private only since she said it was okay. I guess it's weird to call your guardian Principal Weems after hours."

"On the contrary," Wednesday tilts her chin to the side. "I believe we should refer to our birthmakers by their name to establish distance."

You roll your eyes at Wednesday, trying to hide your smile.

"Why is she trying to keep you locked in this penitentiary?" Wednesday asks.

"Jericho grows these flowers—draeconiums. They're usually harmless and have a short bloom lifecycle," you tell her. "But I believe this year they bloomed under an eclipse."

Wednesday recalled the eclipse last week. Enid had been so excited about it and made plans with everyone to watch it.

It was boring.

"Anyway," you continue on. "If that happens, draeconiums produce a certain sap in its stem that's very, very poisonous to faeries. It's the only thing that can cut a faerie's wings off."

"Poisonous sap?" Wednesday's brows furrow.

You nod with a hum. "The sap hardens and it's harder than any metal to exist."

Wednesday processes the words. "Interesting."

You laugh. "Don't tell me you thought just anything could cut off my wings."

Wednesday's silent.

"If wings that could grant wishes could be cut off that easily, I think my kind would've gone extinct long ago," you chuckle.

Wednesday's not really thinking about that (although she was under that impression). She's thinking about how hard this sap would be to come by and probably how faeries would make it their business to find any draeconium saps to keep the outside world from having it.

And she thinks of your mother and burns.

"So, I don't think I'll be stepping out of the academy anytime soon until the draeconiums wilt and the sap isn't potent anymore."

Wednesday looks at you and nods. It would be prudent to keep you away from things that could end your existence.

"I wonder what we could do," you muse and then shrug. "I guess we can just hang out."

It was something in the way you say it that formed a knot in Wednesday's stomach. "You sound bored," she keeps her tone flat. "Do you grow tired of my presence already?"

"If I was then I suppose I'm a masochist for inviting you to play hooky with me," you look amused. "We don't have to do anything special to enjoy our time. Why would you think that?"

"I told you I wasn't dating material."

You raise your brow at her. "We're not dating."

You continue speaking about different things, and Wednesday just sits there silently, letting you ramble on.

But later that night, she lies awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling with her arms folded over her chest, restless.

Of course, there was no basking in the glory and her victory of chasing you. She had caught you, and now she didn't know what to do with you.

Grow closer and become more like her mother, or distance herself and—

Wednesday couldn't even finish that thought.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Your eyes narrowed on Wednesday's form.

You should be angry, considering how Wednesday seemed to be distant lately. She still spent all her time with you, but it was like her mind was someplace else.

Even now, Wednesday was staring out the balcony with a larger frown than usual.

But you're not angry, especially since you've had your fair share of avoidance with her. You suppose you're lucky Wednesday still lingered around even if her mind was elsewhere.

"Wednesday," you call softly. She looked at you, her face blank and unrevealing.

"What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong," Wednesday answers, and it's terse, and it's biting you to warn you to stop asking questions.

You shuffle closer and watch as Wednesday tenses, leaning away from you. You'd thought it would hurt your feelings, but you see something past the discomfort in her eyes, and it makes you push forward.

"Wednesday," you repeat. "You can tell me what's wrong." The way you say it is soft and unassuming, and it offers security instead of pressure.

Wednesday reluctantly shares what's on her mind at your probing. It takes her a few minutes, but eventually, she opens her mouth.

"Despite achieving the results I wanted when it came to you, I worry about the fact that I become more and more like my mother every day. It's disgusting."

It was so unexpected that you bit your tongue to refrain from laughing. You're pretty sure that though Wednesday more than tolerates you, she would still kill you.

You try to come up with something to say, but you can't help but tease her.

"You worry a lot for someone who has yet to go on a date with me."

Wednesday glares, and you chuckle. You feel relaxed knowing what the issue is.

"What exactly do you worry about when it comes to being like your mother?"

"That I'll fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family."

"Well," you smile dryly. "I think we're okay on the biological family front unless some kind of a miracle happens with the reproductive system. Otherwise, I think you quite enjoy having a little bandwagon of misfits to call your chosen family."

Wednesday's jaw only locks tighter, but you continue on.

"Regarding being a housewife, do you really think the person you'll be with—me, in this hypothetical scenario—would expect you to be a housewife?" You raised your brow. "While I personally think there's nothing wrong with being one, I know that isn't you, and nor would I want you to be one if that's not what you want."

You slowly reach out to grab her hand, smiling when Wednesday allows it. "I hope the person you choose to be with will work with you in building a home that you both take care of together. Although—once again—I, in this hypothetical scenario, can't cook and may burn everything to the ground, which I know you find arson thrilling, but I promise you it's not romantic in that situation."

Wednesday's lip twitches, and you smile wider knowingly.

"As for falling in love," you sigh. "I'm not really sure what you want me to say, Wednesday."

The raven girl tenses up at your words, immediately frowning. You stroke her palm with your thumb, attempting to soothe her.

"I struggle with it sometimes too," you admit. "I believe most psychologists would say every problem we have in our life can be led back to our childhood or our parents."

"But I think, at the bare minimum, we should get to choose how we love and what relationships we develop," you look into Wednesday's dark eyes. "Your parents seem like lovely people—" Wednesday scoffs—"but I don't quite think we'll ever behave like them."

You pull Wednesday to sit next to you on the ground, slumping and leaning your head against her shoulder. You link your arm through hers, and Wednesday finds it easy behind closed doors.

"You think too much, Wednesday. There's no rush, and we've made it this far, so we should take our time. I'm not going anywhere."

Wednesday relaxes, and you can feel it against your body. She feels a lull of peace settle over her as her mind settles.

Still—

"And if after time passes, what shall you do if I decide to leave?"

You look at her seriously. "I will have no choice but to accept it, but not before pushing you down a flight of stairs of at least 20 steps and framing it on Bianca."

"Bianca?" Wednesday raises her brow at you.

"She'd be the most believable suspect," you tell her, smiling as you joke.

But it's probably the most romantic thing Wednesday has ever heard, and she looks at you with a soft gaze you've never witnessed before.

"Promise?"

PART 7

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

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captainsophiestark · 6 months

Text

Werewolf

Remus Lupin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Prompt: Artemis; wilderness, the moon, protection, hounds

Summary: Remus' SO decides to finally figure out why he's been looking so rough every month and gets more answers than they bargained for.

Word Count: 1,890

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Mysteries were overrated.

Every so often, when I dove headfirst into learning something new and spent hours doing that for fun, I wondered whether I should've been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. But now, after spending far too long trying to reason my way to understanding, I'd decided to throw logic out the window and do some good old fashioned following people around instead. My Ravenclaw friends would never let me hear the end of it when I told them, but right now, I didn't care.

My boyfriend, Remus Lupin, had been ill on and off for months. He leaned on his friends, relied on them for support, but never turned to me. I'd talked to him once or twice, but he'd never given me a straight answer, and when the third month in a row came around that he looked on the verge of death's doorstep, I decided to get to the bottom of things one way or another.

Which was why I was out in the middle of the night on the Hogwarts grounds, trailing a far distance back from the Marauders as they moved in a pack. All of them except my boyfriend seemed in good spirits, and whatever was going on, I felt for Remus. I hadn't expected the adventure to take us out of the castle, so I still wore pajamas, and only love for my boyfriend kept me from turning right around to seek shelter from the cold night air.

To my surprise, the four boys ahead of me made straight for the Whomping Willow. I knew they were idiots, but I had no idea what possible draw the murder tree could have for them right now, especially with Remus so clearly feeling terrible. Then, in a flash, Peter disappeared.

I blinked and rubbed at my eyes, trying to figure out what I'd seen. Then, in the dull moonlight just barely filtering through the clouds, I saw a rat scurry across the roots of the tree. A moment later, the branches froze in place, and the remaining three boys ducked into a passage normally hidden among the roots, the rat following right after them.

Of course they were unregistered Animagi. I knew that month they'd spent barely talking hadn't been a ploy to mess with the Slytherin Quidditch team, or James trying to impress Lily with his friends' support, or anything else they'd claimed. But Remus hadn't been part of that.

Before I could second guess myself, I let every last ridiculous Gryffindor instinct take over and rushed to the tree, sliding into the hole at its base a split second before the branches began whipping around again furiously. I muttered a quick lumos to light the way ahead of me, then hurried after the boys.

Before I got very far into the tunnel, I heard horrifying screams coming from ahead, the same kinds people said came from the Shrieking Shack. I hesitated for half a second before racing off down the tunnel in the direction the boys had gone. Whatever that noise was, it wasn't good, and I needed to make sure Remus and our friends were alright.

I made it about ten steps forward before I collided with someone. They wrapped their arms around me and held me in place to keep me from moving forward, and after a moment's shouting and confusion, I recognized the person holding me.

"Y/N, you have to get out of here!" shouted James, his tone urgent. I'd never heard him yell like this before, never saw his cool composure drop to the level of the panic currently in his eyes.

"James, what's going on?" I cried. I heard that horrible screeching again, and I tried to move past him. "Where's Remus?"

"You have to leave, now! It's not safe-!"

A moment later, an earsplitting howl replaced the screaming. I froze and so did James, and our wide eyes slowly found each other. I knew that howl from Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was a werewolf.

"You have to run, now," James finally said, his voice low but firm. "If you don't, he'll kill you. It doesn't matter that he loves you, when he's transformed... he has no control."

"Is he... is he going to be okay?"

"Not if he comes back to himself to find out he killed you. Now get out!"

With that, James turned on his heel and transformed before my eyes into a gigantic, gorgeous stag. I could hear barking and snarling further down the corridor, still not close but definitely getting closer. I hesitated, hating to leave without doing anything, but James was right. I didn't have a choice.

I took off running back the way I'd come, trusting the Marauders to take care of Remus tonight. For now, that was the best I could do.

Commotion followed me the whole way out of the tunnel, getting just so slightly closer as to make me nervous. When I finally raced out of the tunnel, I just remembered to slam the root on the tree to stop the branches. I didn't look back as I raced up the grounds to the doors of the castle, finally breathing a sigh of relief from the safety of the entry hall.

I quickly ducked into the nearest secret passage lest Filch catch me out of bed, then slumped back against the wall and slowly sank to the ground. The adrenaline of the past few minutes crashed over me in waves, and I focused on taking long, deep breaths. Slowly, as I calmed down, the actual information that came with my investigation tonight sank in.

My boyfriend was a werewolf. His three best friend were unregistered Animagi, and they apparently spent every full moon with him in their animal forms.

Every DADA class we'd spent discussing werewolves (which, thankfully, hadn't been that many) suddenly came rushing back to me. All the time our teacher had spent talking about them as if they were monsters, while Remus just had to sit there and listen. I clenched and unclenched my fists, taking a second to run the odds on expulsion if I punched a teacher.

Remus was nothing but the sweetest, most wonderful person I'd ever met, and I was so lucky to have him in my life. The thought of people ignoring that, of Remus' face if someone called him a monster... all I wanted to do was wrap him up tight in my arms and never let him go.

I decided to focus on that last feeling instead of the 'punch a teacher' feeling. I had no idea how long these transformations lasted, but I had a feeling Remus would be awfully beat up when he finally did make it back here. With a quick pitstop in the kitchens to grab a few of his favorite snacks, I headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to wait.

Only sheer force of will and a deep love for Remus kept me from passing out after the first hour. The fire was warm, the blanket nest I'd made on my favorite common room couch was comfortable, and the adrenaline dump just made me want to pass out. But I kept my eyes open, waiting for him to come back. Finally, a little after three in the morning, the portrait door swung open.

"Come on, Moony, let's get you upstairs."

"It's okay, nobody got hurt-"

The Marauders staggered into the common room, James and Sirius holding Remus between them as Peter held the door. They all froze on the spot, however, when they saw me waiting on the couch.

"Hey," I said, finally moving from the spot I'd spent the past few hours holding down. I blinked sleepy eyes and managed a smile as I approached Remus and the others. "Uh... do you guys mind if I get a minute with my boyfriend?"

James and Sirius shared significant looks, then both turned to Peter. After a moment's hesitation, they looked back at me and nodded.

"Moony we'll, uh... we'll see you upstairs," said James. He nodded to me as he eased away from Moony and headed for the stairs, Sirius following behind him with a narrow-eyed warning look in my direction. Peter followed, giving me a mix of a look between James and Sirius'. Then, finally, I was alone with my boyfriend.

"So... I'm still your boyfriend?" he asked. He leaned heavily to one side, away from me, as I approached him. The hurt and defeat in his voice ripped my heart open all over again.

"Rem... of course. I love you. Nothing could ever change that."

Remus didn't look like he quite believed me, but he drifted in my direction anyway. I smiled and closed the rest of the distance, taking up the position his friends had filled before. I wrapped an arm around his waist and started leading him towards the couch.

"You're not... afraid of me?"

I scoffed and helped Remus ease down into the blankets, then settled in next to him. I'd spent hours preparing this fort, and when I saw a little weight ease off of Remus' shoulders as he settled in, it was worth it.

"Of course I'm not afraid of you. I love you."

"But James said..."

"Never mind what James said. I love you, Rem, and nothing in the world could ever change that. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more to help you."

Remus huffed a laugh as I leaned against his side, then finally put his arm around me. I laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he spoke and wrapping my arms around him in the most comforting hug I could.

"You find out I'm a werewolf and almost get killed in the process... and you're wishing you could've done more to help me?"

"I'm a Gryffindor, babe, I don't scare easy."

He laughed fully now, loud and joyous. It didn't last long, since he was clearly exhausted, but the sound made my heart sing.

"What on earth did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?"

"You were a wonderful person every single day of your life, clearly. Now here, look what I got." Without further ado, I pulled out the snacks I'd stolen from the kitchen. Remus literally gasped.

"Did you get these for me?"

"Yup. If I'd gotten them for me, they'd've been gone already."

"You're wonderful. Have I mentioned that lately?"

"Yes, but I can always stand to hear it again." We shared a smile as Remus dug into the snacks, his head resting against mine, and then I sighed. "So... what do you think the odds are of the rest of the Marauders helping me through the steps to become an Animagus?"

Remus choked on what he was eating, then looked at me with wide eyes.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not! I want to be there to support you, Rem, through everything. I guess... as long as that's okay with you?"

He smiled, then gave a little disbelieving laugh. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before snuggling up with me again.

"I can't think of anything that would be more okay with me."

"Okay, good. But I'm going to put myself in charge of coming up with a lie to cover the mandrake leaf in my mouth. I'm pre-vetoing anything the rest of you come up with."

"Probably a good decision."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Harry Potter Taglist: @valkyriepirate

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redbleedingrose · 1 year

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Pre-Girl Dad!Eris with Pregnant Reader

Guys, I just had this thought to do a mini drabble of what Eris was like when you were pregnant with your babes, Marwa and Twila!

Eris was initially terrified when he found out you were pregnant. He walked in on you changing and just paused at the door, eyes wide open and jaw on the floor as the change in your scent flooded his senses

He didn't want to fuck things up with his own babes. He is deeply terrified of turning out like his father and it takes a couple weeks of reassurance from you that he is going to be the best father to your babes

The final nail in the head for him is when he feels the babes kicking in your swollen belly while he rests his head, and murmurs down stories at the babes

We all know Eris swore left and right that he would be fine with any gender, as long as the babe is healthy… we all know he constantly reassured you he had no expectations for whether he was expecting a girl or boy.

We all also know that he secretly prayed to the mother and gods for the entirety of your pregnancy that it would be a girl babe that looks exactly like you and is exactly like you.

I think you were blessed with no experiences of morning sickness, but Eris suffered nausea for the first trimester of your pregnancy. He always claimed it was him stealing any sort of pain you could possibly experience for himself to save you, but you know it’s because the poor male was anxious

Protection spells galore. He has Helion teach him every sort of shielding spell in the books and even out of the books. Surprisingly, the people of Autumn are really good with charm magic, and so, Eris brought you an anklet with little willow tree charms that he had spelled for protection. He insisted you wear it the entirety of your pregnancy.

Any pregnancy cravings you experienced had Eris jumping out of bed at 3 in the morning to go to the kitchen so he could cook for you himself. And if it was something restaurant specific, he was going to the homes of the chefs and bakers, promising them bucket loads of money if they were to make whatever you were craving

Foot massages daily, your feet were swollen from carrying your babes, and at the time, you didn’t even know you were carrying two. No wonder your ankles were the sizes of apples. Eris constantly had you resting your feet in his lap, massaging at the skin delicately. He constantly had a little stool around that he could rest under your feet so they would be raised instead of hanging on the floor

This male spent hours designing the nursery, he wanted everything to be perfect for his perfect babe. He worked hand in hand with different carpenters and artisans to create everything that was in the room, part of it with his own hands.

Eris bought tons and tons of children’s books. He created a wall of book shelves in the nursery filled with books because he wanted to spend hours reading to his babes.

Constant cuddles with you. Your scent is so soothing to him, and he is constantly resting his warm hands on the swell of your belly, rubbing it in circles and pushing in every so often to feel the babe kick back at him.

Sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the night to Eris resting his head on your belly, whispering stories of his life and promises to protect and love his babe no matter what. Promises to be the best papa he could be. Promises to shower the babe and you with love and affection, promising only happiness.

Anytime he came back from being away, he would kiss you deeply before getting down on his knees to rub and kiss your belly, “hello little love, papa missed you,” smiling as a little foot pushed at his lips

In your final trimester of pregnancy, Eris bought you a cottage by the sea as a thank you for giving him the best life, for giving him love and happiness he couldn’t have ever imagined.

The autumn midwives are able to use magic that allows for you to listen to the babes heartbeats, and Eris cried the first time (and every time after) he heard it

Hours upon hours of searching for baby names. You went through books and myths and meeting people and reviewing history to find the perfect names for the babe. Constant debating with the stubborn lordling on what his perfect babes name should be.

While the babe is in your stomach, he settles for “squish” and “little love.”

“Hello my little love”

“What’s my little squish thinking about in there?”

“Why are you kicking your mama squish?”

“Can you believe your mama is eavesdropping on our conversations little love? What a busy body she is… that’s okay, we still love her more than we can describe, right little love?”

I’m weak

Also when you finally give birth to not just one, but two girls???

First off, Eris nearly passed out from the shock.

Second off, he was sobbing as the babes were laid down on your chest, smothering you with kisses all over your forehead and cheeks, thanking you over and over for the best thing that has ever happened to him.

And when he held his babes for the first time? He felt complete.

Some NSFW stuff (really not a lot) so MDNI 18+ only

Your scent is absolutely soothing to him later on during your pregnancy. Absolutely.

But those first five months????

This male was absolutely feral for you.

Like, you thought he was horny 24/7 prior to your pregnancy, think again.

Bending you over the couch before you had your belly bump, fucking you on the kitchen counter, splaying you across the floor right next to the hearth so he could devour your cunt.

It was fucking endless. Orgasm after orgasm. Climax after climax.

You could barely walk by the time he was through with you and that’s okay because he would just carry you bridal style to wherever you needed to be.

He loved grasping at your widening hips as you would ride him into oblivion

Constant palming and small squeezes at your swollen tits, he just fucking adored them.

Cumming in your cunt every time and tonguing it back in

Ugh, missing my girl dad Eris, I love him so much.

As always, please gimme some feedback with some likes, comments, and reblogs

@fieldofdaisiies

#girl dad!Eris #marwa and twila #girl dad!Eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #acotar Eris #Eris acotar #Eris vanserra acotar #rose rambles

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cometlevi · 9 months

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Levi Week - Day 1: Teashop ☕️

Tags: @leviweek2023

After the war, Levi didn’t really have a clear plan on what he wanted to do. To him, the mere idea of not having to be on guard 24/7 was absurd. It’s safe to say it took him quite some time to get used to his new life, a life of peace. Around a year and a half after the war, Levi decided to pursue one of his life long dreams. Opening a tea shop. Levi is a picky man so finding a property he liked proved to be a challenge. He would spend hours viewing potential properties but he didn’t like the majority of them, mainly due to the locations.

Eventually, he struck gold and found a gorgeous little property with a medium size front deck that overlooks the picturesque harbour. There were two large willow trees on either side of the deck, the leaves swaying along with the gentle sea breeze. The moment Levi laid eyes on the property, he couldn’t help the small smile that graced his angelic face. Sure, there was quite a bit of work to be done before the teashop was up and running but Levi was more than eager to get the renovations underway. His dream was finally coming true.

9 months later

“Hello, what could I get you?” Levi stated calmly whilst looking at the tall black haired man who stood at the counter.

“Hm, I’m not too sure…what’s better, Assam or Darjeeling?” The man asked inquisitively whilst eyeing the large display of tea leaves.

“In my opinion, I’d say Assam. It has an extremely pleasant malty taste. Darjeeling on the other hand, has a more fruity taste” Levi answers confidently.

“Ok! It’s settled then, could I please get a pot of Assam tea with two butter croissants?” The man states exuberantly.

“Of course, please take a seat inside or outside and I’ll bring your order to you when it’s ready” Levi says smoothly whilst tapping the mans order through the till.

Since Levi first opened the doors to his shop 5 months ago (Kuchel’s teashop, a name everyone in town was familiar with), business was booming to say the least. The day he first opened the shop, there were queues of people waiting to sample the infamous Captain’s wide selection of teas and pastries. Levi was overwhelmed, in a good way of course. The amount of support he had received from the local people moved him, more than he’d like to admit.

During the first week, Kuchel’s teashop had received a hugely positive influx of reviews. Everyone loved Levi’s tea and the warm, welcoming atmosphere of his teashop. But most importantly, people loved Levi. They loved how passionate he was about tea and they loved how knowledgeable he was about the numerous different types of tea he offered.

Levi was getting ready to close the teashop for the night, he had finished cleaning the tables and counters and was now restocking the large display of tea leaves as low classical music played throughout the shop.

Once he has finished the closing tasks, he walked to the storage room and grabbed his belongings, throwing on his black trench coat and hanging up his beige apron on the peg behind the door. He turned all the lights off and walked outside to lock the front doors. As he walked down the deck stairs he stopped on the middle step and looked back at his shop, a huge sense of achievement and joy filled him.

Levi smiled to himself as he looked at the wooden sign that hung above the door. The words ‘Kuchel’s teashop’ laid on the wooden sign in bold black writing. He reflected for a moment, he knew his mum would be so proud of him. That thought brought him happiness. He was finally where he wanted to be.

#LeviWeek2023 #levi ackerman #teashop #attack on titan #captain levi #drabble #fluff #fluff drabble

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monster-disaster · 8 months

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[bear shifter] Willow - 2/2

bear shifter!Willow x human!Reader - 2/2 Good to know: smut

Summary: Your weekend getaway with your girlfriend couldn't get any better.

After Willow disappears, you decide to jump back into the river one more time before heading home to cook something before your girlfriend comes home.

While busying yourself in the small kitchen, you can't help but be shocked. Not long ago, you couldn't have imagined yourself in the middle of the forest, trying to make something delicious for your girlfriend, who is out somewhere in her bear form. But to be honest, you never thought you would be lucky enough to meet someone like Willow. The young woman is full of sunshine, laughter, and everything you missed in your monotone life. She completes your usually strict and planned ways. She makes you do things you otherwise wouldn't do. Like spending your weekend in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Or bathing in a river.

When the night comes, and Willow is still nowhere, worry starts to eat at you. On the one hand, you worry about your girlfriend, and on the other hand, you don't want to be alone in the forest at night. The trees seem even less inviting in the dark, with the broad silhouette of the mountains in the back.

Your focus is on the candle in the middle of the small table you prepared for Willow's arrival when the door of the cabin slams open with a loud thud. The walls shake at the sudden elan. The small fire at the top of the candle blows out when you gasp in fright, but you don't have time to scream. The air gets stuck in your lungs when your gaze jerks up at sudden noise, and you see Willow's naked form at the entrance.

"Hey," you croak out, still shocked. "I love you!" Willow almost shouts, bouncing in front of you while the door closes shut with another loud thud. "I love you! I love you!" By now, your brain stopped working. Your mind desperately tries to process the sight of her breasts rocking in sync with her movements and her words. It's a first. None of you said those words before, but when you hear them, you can feel them bubbling in your chest and warming up your whole body.

Willow's arms curl around your neck, pulling you down for a searing kiss before you can say anything. Her lips are soft and taste sweet as usual. "I love you too," you reply in a quiet murmur when she gives you a chance to breathe. When Willow hears your words, she grabs you again for another kiss. Her body is against yours. You can feel the globes of her breasts pressing to your chest. Her tongue teases and explores your mouth while you do nothing but hold her desperately. "I-I cooked," you gasp out. Her lips wander down the line of your jaw, continuing their path to your neck and collarbone. "Hmm," her reply fans over your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body. "There is something I really want to eat." The smug curve of her lush lips and the hungry glint in her beautiful green eyes make you forget everything else.

Yeah, food can wait. Everything can wait.

Before you know it, you are on the bed, with your clothes forgotten on the ground somewhere, and Willow is kneeling between your legs. Her hands are warm and steady on your thighs as she caresses and adjusts you as she wants. "God," she groans impatiently, lying down to get closer to the aching heat between your legs. "I wanted to do this all day."

Oh?

"Oh!" Willow's tongue is flat on your wet slit, licking you up from the bottom until she reaches your clit. She flicks and teases the hard bud, lapping at your juices to her heart's content. She plays with you and tortures you while you moan and groan under her. Her arms curl around your thighs, pushing you down to keep you in place while eating you out. The sound of your wet pussy and her tongue fills the cabin. Her lips close around your clit, sucking and pushing you to your orgasm before backing away at the last second. "Don't!" You cry out, tightening your hold on her wild hair but doing nothing to control her. Mostly because your focus snaps to the feeling of her at your entrance. The young woman drives her tongue inside you, fucking in and out of you while her thumb finds your clit. Willow builds you up with every thrust and circling rub until you break under her spell. Wave after wave of release rocks your world. Your stomach tightens at the heat rushing through your body, making you shake and arch against the bed.

When your mind clears up a bit, and you can focus on your surroundings, your legs are still spread open with Willow on top of you. She straddles your thigh, grinding down her pussy on your skin. You can feel the heat radiating from her wet slit, soaking you in her juices. "An-" Your name gets stuck in her throat halfway when you move your leg and rub her in a new spot. Her creamy skin glows with a thin layer of sweat. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes seem darker. "I'm here," you reply, sitting up to get closer to her. Your lips meet in a clumsy kiss while your hands find their place on her hips. You can feel the stretchmarks under your fingertips. You caress them before tightening your hold on her to press her down even more. A breathy moan escapes her lips, and you lick into her mouth. Willow sucks on your tongue while chasing her own high. "Soak my thigh, love," you encourage her. "Grind that pretty pussy harder until you cum." While your one hand finds its way between her legs to rub on her clit, the other hand goes straight to her tits. Your thumb flicks her nipple, drawing a few circles around the hard bud. Just the weight of her heavy breast is enough to make you excited again. Your juices drip on the blanket under you. "Aniko!" Her scream is strained and needy. Her movements get erratic, and you speed up your finger on her clit. Your fingers are soaked, and your nostrils are filled with her scent. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and your lips close around her nipple. You suck on her hastily while her arms curl around your neck to keep you close. She could suffocate you with her tits, and you would be the happiest woman on Earth. The sound of her orgasm is sweet in your ears. Your arms slide around her body, keeping her up and close while she crashes from her high.

"Are you okay?" You ask Willow after a while. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper. "I love you," she replies, pressing her lips to yours again. You can still feel yourself on her tongue. "We should eat something," you tell her, pulling away. "Before I fuck you." Her posture straightens in your arms with interest. "Did you bring…-" "Of course," you grin, letting her fall on the bed beside you so you can get up and grab two plates to eat quickly before the next round.

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

#bear shifter x reader #bear shifter x human #monster romance #monster smut #ironridge #monster girlfriend

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kitmon · 2 years

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Let's Dance! | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chaperoning the middle school dance isn't what most would consider a weekend well spent and Eddie is inclined to agree. That is, until he formally meets you.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that has ever existed, vice president!reader, swearing (I genuinely don't even know if that's actually true, just assume that with all of my writing comes swearing), cringe? ok, some of what the reader does could be considered cringe but I DON'T CARE, IF IT'S CRINGE THEN I LOVE CRINGE, written out dance scenes (writing a lot of movement is hard, guys), that should be it, there's definitely no hard warnings for this, it is just pure, unadulterated fluff

Author’s Note: This idea came to me while I was listening to David Bowie's "Let's Dance" and maladaptive daydreaming hard. And it's been rattling around in my head for months and I'm glad that it's finally finished and it's way better than I could have ever hoped! @queenimmadolla did such an amazing job beta reading (she always does) and this is as much her work as it is mine and I would really love it if you could go send her some love because Tumblr's being mean to her right now and she could really use it. This is probably one of my favorite fics I've written and I really hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I do. I think that's all I have to say, as always, happy reading!

With your hands clasped in front of you, your hips sway to the beat of whatever mainstream, upbeat pop song the DJ was playing—the pristine white skirt of your dress shifting like the branches of a willow tree, caressed by gentle gusts of wind—you can’t help but admire your hard work; streamers and tinsel flow down from the ceiling, framing the slow-to-twirl disco ball that you stubbornly bartered for at a flea market in Indianapolis, and the glittery sign you painstakingly crafted by hand even though it took you all night and you’ve been finding flecks of glitter in your tissues every time you’ve sneezed for the past two days. Totally worth it, you think with a pleased smile.

You still remember your Snow Ball (though, arguably, it wasn’t all that long ago); December 15, 1980. You’d been stuffed into a poofy, absolutely ridiculous gown that you adored with all of your heart, dancing to the Bee Gees with Pat Rafferty, a foot-and-a-half of space between your bodies as you stepped, stiffly, from side to side. The scene had looked just like this, right down to the plastic flowers you arranged in the center of each table and, even though it’s entirely trivial, you remember that night being one of the best you’ve ever had. It was the sole reason you begged Principal Higgins to let you join the planning committee amongst the middle school staff and PTA. And now, here it is: all blue and white and shiny, having come to fruition.

Your smile softens as you lose yourself in the memory of that night but it isn’t long before you’re jolted out of the past when you catch a large, clumsy movement from the corner of your eye, followed by the sound of someone tripping and nearly falling. Your head whips around to find a man—definitely not a boy considering he stands at least a whole foot above the rest of the attendees—with his ankle caught around one of the tinsel cords. As you watch him struggle, you realize that you recognize him. It’s kind of impossible not to; the messy nest of hair, the randomly spaced tattoos along his exposed forearms. The only thing you don’t recognize is his attire, it’s still definitely… him. His lean torso is sporting a wrinkled dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the slouchy pinstripe pants he’s wearing are assuredly a size or two too big on him. It’s a far cry from his usual harsh leather and denim.

He’s hopping a bit, trying to untangle himself and you figure you better step in before he falls and crashes into the concessions.

“Here! Just—Let me,” you insist, chuckling as you step closer and crouch down to unwind the ribbon from around his shoes, finding a mangled knot. Jeez, how did he manage to do all this just by tripping?

You manage to undo the binding and he steps free with a little bounce, stumbling a couple of steps. He clears his throat as you stand and pat your hands over your skirt, “Sorry about that, can barely see anything a foot ahead of me in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assure, giggling at the red hue that paints his cheeks, noticeable even in the dim light. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he shifts his weight a bit, looking over his shoulder and licking his lips before continuing, “I’m supposed to be chaperoning, or something like that.”

“Oh!” You didn’t know any other high schoolers were chaperoning tonight—because why would they?—but it’s not like you’re going to refuse the help. “Well, you’re in the right place.”

Before he can properly respond, you shove your open palm towards the center of you both and introduce yourself with a confident flow of words. He’s a little taken aback by how quick and concise you are with your actions.

“Eddie,” he says as he accepts your smaller hand into his own, intrigued with how shockingly cold your fingers are.

Your handshake is a firm one and he takes a step back once you release his hand and clasp yours together, suddenly aware of just how in your space he’d been. You watch with an amused smile as he purses his lips, nodding his head and surveying the small array of finger foods.

“Soooo,” he drawls, lips still comically pursed, “what exactly do we do for the next three hours?”

“Well,” you sigh, “we basically just watch the concessions and stuff; make sure the punch isn't getting spiked or whatever happens in movies. Though, I highly doubt any one of these kids managed to get their hands on a bottle of booze.”

Eddie seems to get the gist of the job, looking out over the sea of children.

“Oh, we also have to make sure no kids are getting too handsy behind the bleachers—Jenny! Ryan!” you shout, having caught sight of the two eighth graders kissing a little too aggressively for their weight class. “I see you two!”

You jut your finger out and as the clap of your voice reaches them they scramble away from each other and hold their arms at their sides like they’ve been caught with their grimy mitts in the cookie jar.

“Got it,” he says, eyeing the eighth graders with a sideways glance.

You huff and look back towards Eddie, eyes wide and features soft as you ask, “How’d you get roped into this?”

He dips his head and stares at you from below his brow.

“No offense!” you’re quick to defend. “It just… doesn’t seem like your kinda scene. I’ve seen you around school, you know. You wear those band tees and the vest and, well, your hair. . .” You chuckle and mimic ruffling your fingers through your own mane.

“What d'you mean?” he starts, voice laced with sarcasm, “Chaperoning a middle school dance is my idea of a perfect Saturday!”

You cock your head and send him an unimpressed stare, blinking your eyes with a heavy slowness.

“Okay, fine, you caught me. I don’t actually like watching a bunch of preteens awkwardly shuffle to crappy pop music on the weekend. I made this stupid deal with Higgins so that I could start a club.” His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares down, face shrouded with his wild hair as he watches his toes nudge at the legs of the table.

“What kind of club?” you ask, angling your head to try and catch his eye.

Your question raises some suspicion in his mind, almost hesitant at your interest and he shakes his head before answering.

“A D&D club. You know D&D?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. You shake your head slowly with an apologetic look over your face as you bite your lip and it’s clear that was the answer he’d been expecting from you but he isn’t upset, just a little disappointed.

“Well, it’s like a tabletop roleplay ga—actually, it doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that I came to Principal Higgins with it and he shot it down, as soon as he saw me walk in.”

That makes your brows furrow and your lower lip jut out as an unpleasant emotion settles in your stomach. That’s definitely something you’d have to bring up with your cohort of student council members later.

“He said, and I quote, the only way he’d let my ‘band of hooligans congregate’ is if I showed that I was ‘committed to the community,’ or something like that, which means… chaperoning the middle school dance.” He finishes and you nod your head in understanding, feeling slightly sympathetic towards his cause; it's a bit unfair that he has to go through all this trouble just to start a club when you were able to start up the Photography Club with no questions asked.

“And you?” He questions, causing your head to perk up and your eyes to widen, “What are you in for?”

You smile and respond with a cheeky tilt of your head, “I’m actually here of my own free will, if you can believe it.”

“Ohhhh,” he draws out, faux-interest candying his voice before it drops down to a playful dullness, “you’re right, I can’t believe it.”

“Hey!” A smile is consuming your face even as you realize you have to defend yourself against his teasing. “Some people actually like to give back to the community. Plus, it’s a part of my Vice Presidential duties; to show I care about stupid things like the middle school Snow Ball.”

You draw your stare down towards your toes and share a shy smile with yourself as you toy with your fingers. Eddie smiles down at you for a moment, his hands stationed along his hips before his gaze drifts to the scene ahead of him, taking in the neat decorations and the hordes of prepubescent children that jabber amongst themselves and it’s clear the awkward shuffling of feet on the dance floor is here to stay. Despite that part of it being unbearably hard to watch, the rest is quite impressive.

“You sure do know how to plan a party, I’ll give you that much. Looks way better than my Snow Ball.”

That causes your head to snap up and an entirely dumbfounded look to paint your face.

“You went to the Snow Ball?” you ask in disbelief.

You know better than to judge a book by its cover but it seems so out of place for him. You’ve heard all of the stories and the rumors; that he’s a shut-in who dedicates the weekends to his cult-leading responsibilities. You’ve never thought to believe them, even for a second. It just felt so thoughtless and cruel and a genuine waste of your time to be gossiping behind peoples’ backs just because you didn't understand them. It was beyond lame. But you’d see him at parties, all broody and intimidating in the corner with a rusty metal lunch box he’d pop open and not-so-discreetly demonstrate his stock. He never danced, never talked to anyone unless it was to discuss prices, and he never smiled, not unless he was flipping through his wad for the night and counting his bills.

“Mmhm,” he smiles, almost proud for dispelling any preconceived notions, “got all dolled up in a monkey suit and everything. Even managed to work up the courage to ask Andrews to dance; she did not seem too impressed, I can tell you that.”

“Paula Andrews?” Again, the disbelief laces your tone but this time for good reason. Paula Andrews was vile, not for her looks or anything like that—she was actually ridiculously gorgeous—but for her nasty attitude. Anyone with a cowardly bone in their body would turn tail and run at the sight of her for fear of being ridiculed for even breathing in her direction. Even now, she was catty and prissy and mean.

“Yup,” he sighs like he’s already predicted your criticism and agrees with all of it.

“Ugh!” You visibly recoil, squinching your nose and wrinkling your lip. “Why would you ever want to dance with Paula Andrews? She’s… evil,” you shudder. “She once put gum in my hair because I wouldn’t let her cheat off of my science quiz.”

“I dunno,” he chuckles before simmering down, his voice becoming uncharacteristically hushed as he twists his rings up and down his finger. “Because she was pretty… and popular.”

You can't really fault him for that; everyone either wanted Paula Andrews or wanted to be Paula Andrews.

“What’d that witch do?” you ask tentatively like you’re afraid of the answer.

“Oh, nothing original,” he reminisces, “called me a freak and cackled that witch laugh of hers before stalking off with her flock of flying monkeys.”

You snort and move to cover your mouth with your hand, giggling behind it, “She does kind of laugh like a hag, doesn’t she?”

He laughs with you until you both calm to huffs and gentle smiles.

“Well if it’s any consolation,” you begin, “I would have danced with you.”

He looks you in the eye for a moment before dropping his gaze and sucking his lips in slightly towards his teeth, nodding with a pleasant grin on his lips.

The conversation merges into a comfortable silence as the both of you assume your chaperoning chores, Eddie picking at the charcuterie platter, exclusively the buttery crackers and tiny cubes of American cheese, tossing the morsels into his mouth while you survey the room, both with the intention of monitoring any misbehavior and gauging the room’s energy. Your findings are rather disappointing; the dance floor is empty! Not a ghost town, by any means, a few couples took to dancing but the walls are much more saturated with middle schoolers than the actual space meant for dancing.

You watch as the boys chat amongst themselves, throwing a few fleeting glances over their shoulders towards where the girls are cliqued up every once in a while. It's obvious they want something to happen but lack the confidence to be the ones to start it. Why not give them that extra little push?

“Do you want to dance?” you hurriedly blurt out, twisting to face Eddie beside you. His eyes are glassy and saucer-ish as he stares at you, mouth stuffed full of crackers and cheese as he addresses you. He twists his head over his shoulder only to find the spot behind him empty, pointing to himself and humming a muddled question.

“Duh!” you giggle. “Who else would I be talking to?”

He swallows his mouthful with some difficulty and begins stammering for a response.

“I don’t, um, really think that’s a good idea,” he laughs with a nervous tinge.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!”

You’re already winding your fingers around his wrist and leading him to the dance floor, weaving past and around the few brave couples that were dispersed about the court.

He’s babbling the whole way, noncommittally digging his heels into the ground and leaning away to slow you and when you’ve found your spot on the floor, turning to face him, he leans forward and whispers to you, “I can’t dance.”

His words are panicked as his eyes flit around you, hyper-aware of everyone’s stare on the two of you. He’s less so worried about his reputation as much as he is yours; you’re a sweet girl, people like you, like you enough to have voted for you and he’s… him. And in this town, being him or anywhere near him is social suicide.

But his warning does hardly anything to stop you. You can't dance either but you keep your head held high and your back straight as you feign confidence to encourage him.

“You’re in a band, right?” It was an odd question for the situation but he knits his brows and nods anyway. “You like music, you go to concerts. What do you do in those situations?”

He thinks about it for a moment, turning his head to survey his memory but stops himself when he reaches a conclusion, not thinking it a good idea but you seem entirely oblivious as you hearten him with an eye-squinting smile.

He shakes his head, taking in a large breath before huffing it out. The calm, collected act is disrupted by his whiplash energy shift as he starts violently moshing, headbanging, flicking his hair all over the place while he jumps and kicks around. The sudden burst makes you jump in your spot and blink your eyes at him. You watch for a second or two, lips ticking up at the corners at his very… passionate expression and as much as you’d like to keep watching him bounce around, you figure you should start with something a little more… pedestrian-safe.

You cautiously reach your hand out, a little afraid to approach him in fear of getting taken out by a stray limb or a particularly aggressive clump of hair but you manage to touch your fingers over his shoulder without injury, halting him. He slows his movements to a controlled bouncing of the toes, breath panting, hair wild, and shirt wrinkled—well—more wrinkled than it had been.

“Maybe not like that,” you cringe with a bunched nose and lopsided twist of your lips. “Try this instead.”

You trail your hand that was over his shoulder down his arm to take his hand into yours, scooping the other one from his side to guide the both of them to your waist, coaxing them to mold there. He looks a little afraid, eyes owlish as his tongue sprints out over his chapped lips too many times in a single moment.

“And I'll put my hands over here,” you narrate, placing your forearms over his shoulders as you link your fingers together behind his neck. You begin shuffling your feet, your white mary janes clicking against the lacquered gymnasium hardwood as you foster some movement.

“See, it’s not that hard.” Almost like you’ve jinxed it, as the words exit your mouth he steps right over your toes, and your face twists with a wince you do your best to suppress.

“Sorry, “ he winces with you, his eyebrows bunching with an apologetic look.

“It’s okay!” You’re quick to reassure him, a laugh and a smile embossing your words. “Just—look at me; when you look down you only end up tripping yourself up.” You release your fingers and bring one of your hands from around his neck to cradle his jaw in your grasp and angle his face upwards so that he’s gazing at you with those large, glazed cow eyes. You smile when you capture his rich chocolatey stare. “There, much better.”

The two of you sway glacially, Eddie relaxing under your touch after meeting your eyes, the shy lilt of his lips making a warmth bloom in your chest. You stay like this for a while, remaining committed to your designated square where the two of you can rock from side to side without disruption before you attempt to perform something a little more difficult. You slide your hand down over his shoulder and along the cotton of his shirt until it's grasped in his own, twirling yourself and gracelessly switching your feet before stumbling back into his chest with an uninhibited chortle, head thrown back as you laugh at yourself. He’s laughing too, his eyes trained on your ruched nose and crooked smile as you press your forehead against his chest.

As the song builds in energy you separate your hands from his chest and step away, starting to clumsily dance. It’s a gentler sort of moshing, he thinks as he watches you hop in place and shake your head, completely uncoordinated but entirely adorable. His posture slouches to the side as he watches you move, wholly mesmerized.

“Come on!” you laugh, breaking him out of his trance, taking his hands and moving them to simulate dancing.

He smiles before he's splitting from you and doing his own goofy thing, illustrating a botched and lumberly take on The Twist as he shakes his mane of wild hair this way and that.

The two of you are one of four couples on the dance floor and the army of children that trace the edge of it and surround you throw their estranged glances your way and could you really blame them for it? You had two high school seniors—one the predicted Valedictorian of her graduating class and the other the school pothead and resident freak—tearing up the dance floor of the eighth grade Snow Ball. But as the chatter of your embarrassing antics grows louder, a few brave souls make their way to the dance floor to join you and Eddie, hopping and shaking and twirling like unhinged maniacs, but they were giggling and tittering and having fun and that’s all that really mattered.

As you dance with Will Byers, holding his small hands in yours as you twist and twirl him, Eddie smiles to himself and stands with his hands on his hips, admiring the precious sight. As he watches, a particularly rowdy couple crashes into him and sends him flying towards you.

Just as he collides with you and knocks you a bit off balance, the previous song fades into a brief silence, a slower, calmer, more romantic song following; "How Deep is Your Love" by the Bee Gees.

“I’m sorry!” he’s quick to remedy, stabilizing you by holding your waist.

You chuckle, clearly high off of the endorphins that come with exercise, “It’s okay—”

“Are you hurt? Did I step on your foot again?” He’s rambling now and chasing each worried sentence with another as he’s examining you for any hidden injuries that could come with being bumped and stumbling three steps.

“Eddie!” You raise your voice to grab his attention, that same laugh twining your words at his ridiculous worry as you place your hand over his bicep. “I’m okay! Promise. Scouts Honor,” you say sucking your lower lip in and holding up your first three fingers.

“Okay, good,” he sighs, relaxing into a smile, “Good.”

Will looks between the both of you and smiles with a glint of understanding in his eyes.

“Hey,” he touches your arm to grab your attention, “I’m gonna get some punch and sit down, you really wore me out with that last song.”

You smile down at him and ruffle his hair, “Okay, Little Byers, you let me know if you're up for another one, you’re probably the best dance partner I’ve had all night.”

Will flashes a toothy grin and exits, weaving his way past warm bodies towards the abandoned snack table.

“I cannot believe you just said that.” Eddie reclaims your focus.

Your brows furrow as an anxiety of misspeaking clouds your features, “What?”

“And to think I thought, for even a second, that we shared something special, dancing like idiots,” he says with a smirk, the sarcasm now dripping from his words.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, landing a punch to his shoulder.

“You wanna give me another shot at redemption?” he offers with a smirk, reaching his open palm out to beckon you towards him.

You smile, an air of bashfulness consuming your actions as you stare down at the floor before taking his hand and assuming the same position as before: your hands twined together, behind his head, fingers slithering under his hair as you play with the scraggly strands at the nape of his neck, winding and unwinding them around your digits.

“So,” you start, “how d’you feel about chaperoning now?”

“Mmm,” he hums, looking out at an unseen point in the distance to ponder on it, “still on the fence.”

You gape at him, “We just danced like crazy! You were laughing like a madman!”

“Well,” he laughs, “is chaperoning always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know—fun, exciting, metal?”

You giggle as you stare down at your feet, lifting your head to send him a suddenly heavy look in your eyes, the rest of your expression at once sober.

“When you have the right partner.”

There’s a silence as he takes a moment to ruminate on your words before concluding, “Alright, tell you what: I’ll chaperone every dance if you're there.”

He looks down at you with fond eyes and you glow under his gaze, dipping your head to hide away from his abruptly intimidating stare and lay your temple against his chest. You can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart against his rib cage and sigh at the comforting noise.

“That’s a deal, Munson.”

The air is empty and silent, a calm, welcome quiet that permeates after all of the kids have left and gone home, likely recounting the events of the night with their friends or family. You and Eddie, on the other hand, are working to tidy the place; you're climbing onto chairs and tables to swipe paper streamers and tinsel ribbons from where they’re taped to the ceiling and pillars, and Eddie sweeps up fallen snacks and any glitter that has trailed along the floor. You hum David Bowie to yourself as you crumple the paper and the plastic into your hands and toss it into the bin.

You do the best you can with only two pairs of hands and figure what you’ve accomplished is substantial for the night as you walk towards the bleachers, plopping yourself onto one of the benches and leaning back against the one behind you to rest your head in your folded arms. Eddie trudges towards where you sit, after tossing the broom into the corner, and slumps into the space next to you, propping his elbows along the same bench you rest your head on.

He slants his head to look down at your weary body and lets a tender smile pull at his lips and dimple his cheeks.

“You have a fun time, kid?” he appeals, luring you out of your burrow.

You nod into your arms and hum, turning your head so your face is revealed to him as you peel your eyes open and offer him a sleepy smile. You reach a groggy hand out and place it over his.

“Thank you for dancing with me.” It comes out hushed and a little raspy.

He takes a better hold of your hand, flipping his and wrapping his fingers around yours to rub his thumb over your knuckles and the soft joints of your fingers, the skin radiating a healthy warmth.

“It was my pleasure,” he smiles, before teasing, “Gave me a hell of a workout.”

You giggle at his joke before righting yourself and stretching your arms out in front of you like a cat, releasing his hand as you do it and scrunching your face as the tension releases from your body. When you finish, you stand, taking his hand back in your hold and encouraging him up with a ginger tug.

“C’mon, time to clock out.”

He complies and stands with some effort, creaky joints groaning as he places his free hand on his knee and lifts himself. As you walk to the double doors and click off the remaining lights you don't feel the need to let go of his hand, even if it makes locking up the gymnasium a little bit harder.

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@dadsbongos

@lunatictardis

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