#and then forget all the intricate details when i wake up

[cassettedec]

i once had a dream where i bumped into tom cruise on the way to the oscar's red carpet and the first thing i said to him was "my aviators are cooler than yours". then he sent me on a high stakes mission where i had to break into the dolby theatre during the oscars ceremony (because apparently the fate of the world depended on it)

#like I'm not kidding i will have the most insane and detailed high budget action movie dreams #and then forget all the intricate details when i wake up #this is horrible just imagine the movies i could make if i remembered them properly #i dreamt this the night before the oscars so that explains the theme lmao #top gun #mission impossible #(?) #tom cruise is a character to me

[sweetheartsaku]

—HAIKYU!! various ; better in the dark

a/n ; [gn!reader] how deep is your love pt 2???!?!! AND YES!! the title is a tv girl reference :3c please dont let this flop!! praying that all the ppl who found pt 1 found this 🥹🩷 tysm for all the notes everyone!! <3

— characters : akaashi, kenma, kita, semi, kageyama, suna

part 1 ! ♡ oikawa, osamu, tsukishima, hinata, sakusa, kuroo

tea roses !

keiji akaashi ; tip toe - HYBS

THIS MAN. he will take you out on absolutely BEAUTIFUL dates. they are scheduled and well thought out, all without you knowing. knows what you like, can predict what you order, where you will sit or do, and KNOWS how to fluster you effortlessly. UNSPOKEN RIZZ AT ITS FINEST YOUR HONOUR!!

at one point he had to resort to the notes app to write what you're like but had realised he had subconsciously memorised all of it by heart. deleted it and still knows you like the back of his hand!!

weirdly knows how to pick the best candles.

the warm, nostalgic smelling ones. candles that are the perfect dash of nostalgia, that feel comforting and warm. i wonder if its in the brain or an instinct thing

for anniversaries or literally just whenever, he makes paper flower bouquets. they are so intricate and every little detail, colour and fold makes it so perfect. in-between classes or when he finishes work early, he'll be nonchalantly folding another smaller flower for the arrangement. he does it so effortlessly too 😭!!

sometimes likes to fiddle with your fingers especially if you wear rings. one of the only and very sweet moments of PDA!! gently rubs his fingertips over your knuckles and tracing all the lines. i need an akaashi keiji in my life

will send you the most beautiful, heart-wrenching and mesmerising poems at an insane hour. you'll wake up with a couple paragraphs about how important healing or taking one step at a time is, making sure you fall in love with yourself everyday too. (please do)

kozume kenma ; cherry wine - grentperez

facinated by painted nails. on holidays he might paint them black, or maybe get a little cat sticker on his index!! pick the colour he'll love it either way

cherishes your little trinkets so much 😞 polaroid of you two and stickers on the back of his phonecase, keeps some of the random stuff you give him in his pocket. you could find a rock you gave him like 3 months ago but he kept it because you said it reminded you of him??

perfectly able and capable to order things by himself, but you know he isn't the type of guy to actually seem to WANT to do it. he is too lazy to actually get up but not lazy enOUGH when it comes to you. he might hide behind you. "HE SAID NO PICKLES!!"

CRAZY beef with your plushies. or anything you hold dear honestly. he can and will get pouty. BEWARE!! you must give him a lil' kiss to earn his attention back. (loves the forehead ones)

sometimes he forgets or just doesn't want to eat. it will get to the extent where you have to spoon feed him,,please remind and encourage him to ! eating, sleeping... just can't do it without a little push.

does this thing with his hands when you cross the road. i don't wanna say grabby hands because its pretty cringe, but it is definitely grabby hands. has no idea why he does it but its such a sweet and small gesture╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ !

cat parents but not exactly cat parents? 🤔 you found this stray cat once, and started visiting it everyday on the way to school. you cared for it, and when kenma picked that up he was also instantly fond of it too. now you both kinda feed it your leftover lunch when you visit the cat after school.. he's so precious with the little cat ueue.. take pictures before the moment fleets!

has the date you two met written on his controller... (he was so hesistant at first though LMAO)

shinsuke kita ; old love - yuji, putri dahlia

uses your initial for math variables. he'll use x or y sometimes, but his first option is ALWAYS your initial. you found this out on a study date once, math talk blablabla and he uses to what seems to you a 'random letter' NO. it is your initial!! 😞 when you ask he seems unfazed, but his ears are pretty red... idk guys i think he wants you

one of the people that make you stiffen up when they get physical. when he lays his head on your shoulder you instantly freeze up, trying not to move a BONE so you won't disturb him. it's like muscle memory to you LMAO.

really pretty, long lashes... if you've read part one, oikawa and tsuki are very similar :0!! loves when you graze his lashes with the back of your index finger

like akaashi, learnt how to make flowers but they're crochet 🥹 i think growing up his grandma had taught him how to crochet and all the little patterns. overtime, dedicated himself to making an arrangement every anniversary... they come with little heartfelt letters too!! (kita boyfie material COME HOME!!)

very routinal as well!! like kuroo (he is the full package) he never misses a morning or night to say good morning or good night. AND he places sticky notes around your desk or places he knows you'll be in reminding you to smile or something along those lines !!

what took the cake for me was when he left a little bag filled with goodies once he realised atsumu was sick 😣 definitely does the same for you... sends bag with a bowl of hot soup his grandma made at your front door

eita semi ; i wish you roses - kali uchis

weirdly immersed in the painting of nails as well. sometimes he'll ask you to paint his in black but he got dress-coded a week later 😓 SIKE gives NO shat and kept them on anyway. they are way too valuable to him to just erase. nails done in a simple colour he likes?? by his s/o?? wiped off?? very funny shiratorizawa

i think + the neighborhood, he likes tv girl, kendrick lamar, childish gambino but has a duality of laufey and beabadoobee's bedroom pop and fuzzy rock??

sick of people making arctic monkeys his personality 😞 musicians arise!! apart from the VBC, hes probably in a band too. small gigs here and there for school, and a few fun sessions with his friends just to play whatever. come to his gigs! (sometimes he'll magically play 10x better when you're around, he says)

share earphones with him PLEASE. on rainy bus rides or walks home, he'll play something you like hehe c:

takes you out to the mall closest to shiratorizawa to go pick up some fast food or a drink. it usually gets really crowded from all the surrounding schools so he keeps you close by the waist

and obviously the basic, will sit with you and teach you the basics of bass or electric guitar. i think he'd play a bit of percussion too (о´∀`о) sometimes he'll take you into his lap, but thats when he feels pretty clingy but very discreetly!!

tobio kageyama ; what would i do? - strawberry guy

please don't try to flirt with him he WON'T UNDERSTAND!!!! *gunshots*

if you say literally anything that isn't directly stating your point, he will not get it. using metaphors or just figurative language in general he is STRUGGLING. you need to say, "you're pretty." because things like "i fall in love with you every day" or "i'll find you in every universe" he will actually look at you BAFFLED. please help this man

thinks about what YOU would do. like when he is in doubt or feels like he's about to lash out, he will take a moment and literally ask himself what you'd do or say. even in tests or something completely unrelated to you he will literally ask himself what you would put in the answer box !!

face scrunch when he gets jealous ! he kinda has a lil' pout but can't bring himself to say anything. when you finally notice him he'll have this lil' (๑ˋ^ˊ ๑) face... please kiss his eyelid or the corner of lips cuz HE HAS TOO MANY PRETTY BOY PRIVILEGES!! (and he'll get flustered it's the cutest) revoke them THIS instant!!

his favourite type of kisses are the ones where you'll push his hair back and give him a forehead kiss. he'll take you in by the waist and keep you close, he likes to listen to your heart because you have his. when he feels clingy, he'll nuzzle his head into your shoulder. what a dork

will attempt to find you at his games pre and post timeskip. before the game he will try to make it not look frantic but one of his members eventually catch on 😞

rintarou suna ; SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK - joji

camera roll is either 0.5's of the most jaw dropping, majestical sunsets and sunrises that he's experienced with you or literally anytime the sky is feeling a little different (if he's not with you at the time he WILL send them to you at either 5am or 7pm saying it reminded him of you) or the CRAZIEST 0.5's of you losing sanity or of you off guard. its wild blackmail material but he chooses not to LMAO. (because of the love in his heart, he says)

has a little photo album for you and anything you related!! he also takes the best candid photos of you and post them on close friends!! (´∀｀)

no. #1 victim of couple tiktok trends. pretends and looks like he doesn't like it, but doesn't want it to end. once you press post he will stare you down with his beautiful ahh olive hazel eyes (he wants more)

last one on the social med side, he mentions you in posts with your initials all the FLIPPIN' TIME!! his dedication is quite endearing

on days where everything becomes overstimulating, he will notice. will eye you for a while, but once he knows when it gets to a certain extent he will hand you an earphone.

anyone who says suna is an arctic monkey's listener is a LIAR I SAID IT I SAID IT!!!!! *more gunshots* JOKES he probably has a couple of their songs in his playlist, but i personally think he's more tyler the creator coded. people who get it get it (avril lavigne sk8r boi? keshi beside you? definitely)

hot adams apple

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #akaashi x reader #kenma x reader #kita x reader #semi x reader #kageyama x reader #suna x reader

[eveningepiphany]

pirates gold | H.S series, part three

[series masterlist]

summary: finally, a break from the ship is in sight. you and harry end up in a very pirate-y bar, but even a good night can’t last forever. and seemingly, neither can uncomplicated feelings.

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, teasing, sexual mentions, tension, pining, protective h, y/n being an absolute menace, mentions of death and disappearance, alcohol, violent themes.

a/n: this is really humbling to post after so long. I hope you all enjoy it, I’m so sorry for the wait.

———

You don’t realise how easy it is to forget sometimes.

How fast an old life can fall out of view, and shed off you like an old skin. How on occasion, it happens so quickly you don’t even register it’s occurred.

The shortest periods of time can alter how you view your life. You didn’t realise how different being on a ship was when compared to living on land— not until you bridged between the two while conscious, and felt the transition with your own body.

Your feet had came to the ground more unsteady than you’d thought. Maybe you forgot how to walk too. As dark had already consumed the town, you’re not sure if you were shaking out of anxiety or genuinely from how long it’s felt like it’s been since you’ve stood on solid unwavering ground.

Harry, whose hand occupied the flat of your back, felt the intake of breath your lungs pulled in as you finally made it all the way onto the dock.

He had come back into his room to find you asleep, curled into his side of the bed, knees tucked into your chest. To it, he’d smiled… legs carrying him over to glance over your peaceful frame closer.

Examining the rise and fall of your chest, as air passed through your nose softly. He noted that your hair looked damp, and he almost chuckled at the fact you’d seemingly helped yourself to a shower.

He gently said your name, “Y/N…”

When you didn’t stir, he muttered it again, hand coming to jostle your shoulder slightly. The touch woke you up, your legs uncoiling from their tucked up position, stretching out down the mattress.

A tiny sound whimpered from your throat as you started to fully wake up, eyes flitting open with a sleep-induced glaze over them.

“Evenin’.” He remarked, “fancied a shower and a nap, aye?” When you took in his frame standing next to the bed, he had an armful of brown paper bags.

You sighed out, sitting up, “Not much else to really do.”

However your brain was rerunning the fact you had plenty you could’ve done since you found that key in one of his pockets. Mentally, you had to shove it away so you didn’t end up with a guilty look plastered on your face.

“Well, waits over, dove. Got ya some clothes, you’re welcome to pick something out before we go. Want you t’blend in.” He placed the bags down onto the bed for you to shuffle over to.

You felt oddly curious, like a child on Christmas. All these bags filled with things for you. The abundance of clothes you pulled out shocked you, because there really was half a wardrobe in there. Including a pair of boots, ones you’re not sure how he figured out would fit your feet.

There was also white linen blouses similar to his own— others black lace with intricate detailing, and brown fitted long sleeves— and also an array of pants, all slightly differing in styles. You stumbled across a black under-bust corset, and your eyes shifted to him. He was leaning against the wall watching you, a smirk over his lips. That wasn’t even the only corset he had bought, there were 2 others.

However, the satisfied look on his face only grew as you reached the bottom of the last bag. Several undergarments lay folded, bras and underwear.

“Had to do some guessing with the sizing of those…” His voice comes from a few feet away from you. All too close given the fact you’re staring at intimates he bought for you.

Your face was flaming red, unable to contain the embarrassment that was coursing through you, purely at the fact he was shopping for your underwear and bras— probably imagining you in them. Someone acting so casual about this was throwing you into disarray.

His passing comments and dirty teases were one thing, this however, was another.

“Everyday you get a little more pervy.” You bite out, and he laughs at your defensive tone.

“Did you suggest I leave you without any? A thank you will suffice perfectly fine. No need t’insult me when im jus’ looking after you.” A smug smile fell over his features.

“Harry.” You groan, voice warning him, and he let it go after rolling his eyes.

He allowed you to pick out what you wanted, watching you flush as you discreetly pulled a set of undergarments out of the bag.

You had picked a white linen shirt, matching his own, and a black pair of pants. He let you change into them in his bathroom, but when you’d come out adorned in clothes that perfectly fit the pirate energy, he was holding what he’d deemed as the final touch.

The black under-bust corset.

“C’mere. You’ll be fine.” He says at your immediately displeased face.

“You might not be.” You sneer, frowning at him as the loosened corset hangs in his hands— leather shining with the golden reflection of the candle light around the room.

He walks over to you, since you clearly weren’t going to be the one to do it, and a tut comes from his pink lips, “Always so stubborn.”

You decide to just let him— since partial freedom is in sight— and you stepped into the corset, allowing him to slide it up your body, until it was in place underneath your breasts.

“This fine?” He checks in as he tugs the strings, waiting for your confirmation before the leather was too tight to your waist.

“I still think I should just elbow you.” You glare, hands clenched at the sides of your thighs with the looming pressure of the garment.

His attempt to be courteous was to no avail, clearly. And the white linen gets sinched inward, and he wrenches the strings roughly with purpose.

His deep laugh sounds, and with that firm pull you’re bought close enough to him you can feel his warm breath against your ear as he leans down.

“Let’s not be mouthy, dove. Not when I’m in control of how tight this thing is on you.” He tugs the laces a final time, hard enough the material feels like it’s completely restricting your diaphragm— making you hold your breath for a moment.

At your silence, he lets his hand relax, in turn the strings loosening enough for you to intake a breath. Your soft gasp makes his stomach heat up, warm with an unexplainable feeling.

He ties the corset at the back, and you don’t even get to step away before he’s linking arms with you.

“You look good." He states with a nod, and your eye's veered downward to see the corset against yourself.

That was what lead you to here, stepping off the pier, lit only by the latern Harry was carrying, and onto dirt.

Dirt that may have been separated from your feet with a pair of shoes, but was amazing to feel press against your boots again.

You were so eager to touch something other than wood, that this was like heaven.

The sea lapped up against the shore a few metres away, as the earth transitioned back into sand on the shore. You felt deep anticipation to get further away from the uniting of the two worlds. Because away from anything regarding the ocean and the vessel that floated upon was freedom in your mind.

Harry could see every micro-expression on your face, despite the weak candlelight. The way your eyes had lit up at the sensation of soft dirt below you, and it was endearing. He’d never seen one get so excited over merely dirt.

The air was warm, and felt like a summer night— but the breeze that blew through your hair was crisp. Whispering hints of a change in weather sooner rather than later.

He watched the wind twirl your hair, and he was almost envious of it. Watching its fingers comb through it, in such a way he could only imagine himself in its place with an intense longingly.

“The boys are at the bar. But if that’s not your scene, what we do is up to you.” He supplies, watching your eyes slant to him.

You hadn’t really thought this far ahead, what you’d do once you were off the boat. You looked at him, and then back to the cobble path that lead presumably into the heart of Sintir.

The buildings were lit up, warm light glowing, “Do they have a night market?”

“Mhm, infact they do.” He nods, beginning a slow walk to encourage you onwards.

Oddly enough, as his body was pressed to your side, you felt safe. He was something familiar in this new environment. “How exactly are you going to hide me?”

The pressing question to you was merely a slight concern to him.

“Chances of them knowing that you’re the missing princess is unlikely. And if they have seen the posters with your face on it, I somehow struggle to believe they’ll connect the dots.”

“That’s a lot of faith you have in that.” You comment, boots hitting the cobblestone with the same clacks they did back at home. There was a sense of invigoration that rushed through the blood beneath your skin at the sound.

It bought back your nightly adventures around Kelna, where nothing mattered. And all you had to worry about is what time you were sneaking back through your window without getting caught by your own guards.

It was nostalgic in a weird way. The kind that threw your mind spinning, since the memory was so fresh yet so distant. Too much had changed in the time from then to now.

“‘Cause y’don’t really look anythin’ like your picture.” He comments, dragging his gaze along your frame again, playing a mental spot the difference. He’d seen the flyers earlier that day, and was honestly unconvinced it was really you himself.

“God— tell me they didn’t use an ugly picture of me from 2 years ago…” It’s the kind of thing your parents would do, but Harry only shakes his head, letting out a prompt cackle at your distress.

“No, they didn’t use an ugly photo of ya at all. You’re just s’put together in it, hair slicked back in this fancy satin dress and pearls.” The two of you are walking between the first two buildings facing the sea, luminaries lighting up the path.

He continues, waving his hand as though it adds something to the conversation, “Now, y’hair is down now, all wild. And you’ve got this untamed look in y’eye. No one would look at ya an’ see y’fine dining in a gown.”

You’re not sure what to make of all of this, since he’s talking of you like he’s certain. Coming from his own perspective more than anyone else’s.

“They see a pirates girl. Probably look at you and think y’wrapped around my finger.” He nudges, and you finally scoff, “I would prefer they see it the other way around. That you’re following me like a lost puppy.”

“That’s never usually how it is, though.” He raises his brows, and your arm slips out of his, walking backward as you face him.

“But maybe it could be in their mind. They see you foaming out the mouth for me. And it’s like that ship docked over there,” your point in the direction you’d both originally came from, “is all mine.”

The concept feels like a power trip. You do wonder how many female captains there are in this world. Likely not enough.

“Sounds like quite the fantasy y’ve built up.” He muses.

“I want to go to the pub.” Your tone is certain and confident. To this he raises his eyes brows in challenge.

“Perhaps you’ll share a drink with me, dove?”

“Or it could be the other way around.”

“Well, it couldn’t, because you don’t have any gold to pay with. An’ things here aren’t complimentary like they are at home.” He huffs in amusement, poking fun at your previously lavish lifestyle.

“I don’t need gold,” you begin with a smirk that’s starting to spread across your mouth, “all I need to do is undo a few buttons on this blouse and I’ll probably be able to get a round for the whole crew on the house.”

You’re walking backwards, hands clasped together behind your back, a grin on your face that makes him feel insane.

His eyes immediately darkened, pupils blowing out at the thought of what you’re insinuating. Flirting your way for a free drink… something he can’t imagine you’ve ever done before. Yet would probably succeed at like you have a million times over.

“Right,” He clears his throat, trying to calm himself down, “didn’t take much for you to start whoring yourself out for some booze.”

“It’s not whoring… men are horrible creatures. They’ll do anything if they think it’ll get their dick wet.” He thinks you’re so… uneducated and naive. That just because you’re in a court, that you know nothing of the males on this earth.

However it’s quite the opposite. Sexual topics are strictly forbidden in the palace and court meetings… but elsewhere, when it’s private and no one is around to hear it, men help themselves to the topic.

They have no concern discreetly passing by you, head turned in whisper, just to tell you what a body you have. Or just how badly they want to…

And on the street, it’s even worse. So you know more than enough when it comes to that. That makes you anything but stupid to a man’s intentions.

He picks up the pace of his steps to breach the distance between you both, so that if you were to stop walking suddenly— he would probably crash into he was that close.

“You’re not doing that.” He says, tone serious.

“Why not, afraid you’ll get a little jealous?” You’re flirting with something dangerous now. Eager to prove a point.

“Don’t try to get a rise out of me. Because I said you’re not. Do y’want a drink or not dove? Because the way you’re headed, all your getting is a glass of water.”

“Whatever.” You scoff, still unsatisfied, but resigning your argument for now.

“I’m concerned your attitude will only worsen with alcohol in your system.” He deliberates.

The streets have now fully lit up, with other people starting to appear, and the nightlife is able to be heard from where you are.

The singing happening in the tavern can now be heard as you round a corner into what can only be deemed at Sintirs town centre.

A night market is clearly running, and you can see the pub a few doors down from it. Men and women out the front, drinks in hand and cigars hanging from their lips.

He catches up to you enough to slide his arm between your elbow again, silently obliging you you to stay right by his side.

As you get closer to the tavern, he verbalises this.

“You don’t move from here,” He pulls you tighter into his frame, “and you don’t make any trouble. Otherwise it won’t be pretty.”

His tone is firm, unwavering. You nod to it, accepting the rules begrudgingly, “Yes, Captain.”

You both come to the door, and he pulls it open. The building on the outside was rustic bricks, and inside it was the same— except the flooring was wooden. As the door opened, a bell chimed, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming amount of noise.

Men were shouting, and bellowing all about. Drunkenly chatting, playing darts, and stumbling around. There were women too, but they were not near as rambunctious. All of them were dressed like pirates… and it was clear this place was specialised for them. Maps on the wall, and news clippings of what appeared to be local Sintir pirates were framed around the place.

A few blokes stopped to greet Harry. And he engaged in short conversations. But in the back of his mind, he was regretting bringing you in here. Not because anyone recognised you, but because he could see every single slimy gaze that dragged over you.

One man stopped him by the darts—Harry had called him Evan— he said greetings to the captain, but his gaze never left you.

You had noticed immediately, and it was a bit disgusting. It made you regret calling Harry a perv. Because he was nothing like this.

It immediately pissed Harry off, the way the brutish and large man was eyeing you up and down like you were an object. And his blood spiked when he considered the array of things likely running through Evans head.

The grip he had tightened on you.

It’s protective, you feel. And at the least, you know you’re safe with him.

Harry almost regretted putting that corset on you now. It made you look too good. Too enticing.

He, unlike others clearly, has a moral compass. And enough human decency to see you as a human opposed to a sexual object. He was forgetful that most men lacked that ability.

When he spots his crew, he uses it as a quickly conjured excuse to get away from the other pirate. And as he leaves, he tugs your body in front of him, shadowing your retreating figure from prying eyes.

You’re a bit overwhelmed, in all honesty. But accept it as normal— you hadn’t been anywhere so busy for a while now. Especially when it’s in such a rowdy way.

The second his crew spots the two of you— your body sheltered by his own, and his hand on your hip urging you forward— Niall, the blonde one whose name you finally remember, lets out a bellowing cheer.

“She made it!” He’s excited like you’re an old friend of his, and he drunkenly rises up from the booth the boys had taken.

Harry feels a little more at peace knowing he’s now with his crew— the two of you are less likely to be bothered now, and he knows his mates will look out for you as well. Prisoner or not, you’re still a human.

Niall barrels towards you, and Harry renounces his hold on you. Chuckling as he pulls you into a drunk bear hug.

You’re unsure what to do with your hands as he rocks you around like a child, “Glad ya here, lovie.”

“Mmhm…?” You agree, looking helplessly his crew mates as they cackle hysterically— smacking their hands down on the table and sloshing their pints of beer in fits of laughter.

He eventually slides his arms off you, and hiccups, “are ya havin’ a drink?”

His already heavy accent is slurred as you make out what he’s asking, and you don’t even get an answer in before he reaches over the table and grabs you his.

Sliding the cold glass, around 3 quarters empty, into your hand.

“‘Ave mine! I’ll go get anotha’” He chortles, and then stumbles off just like that.

Harry watches in surprise as you bring the glass up to your lips and down the rest of it without hesitation. Hoping alcohol will take the edge off all the overstimulation you’re having in here. Calm you down a bit.

The rest of his crew whoop and cheer for you, which at the least gives you a bit more confidence.

Before they can all hand you over their half finished beers, Harry comes back to your side, head craning down to talk in your ear.

“Let’s go up t’the bar, get ya somethin’ fresh, instead of people leftovers.”

You nod, walking with him as he pulls you through the crowd.

At the bar, there’s several people sat at the stools. Including a touchy couple, that are practically feeling each other up, front and centre. She is sitting on the seat, but is taller than the man that’s between her legs. Clearly she’s in charge, and you smirk.

Go girl, you thought, and Harry clocks your pride for the woman. Something stirring in his chest.

He ignores it, going up the bar to place on order.

The lady at the bar, whose got muscles on her like an absolute god, nods at him to rattle off his order.

“Two beers and a shot of the best liquor y’ve got, thanks, Naomi.” He asks, but you interrupt before she can walk away.

“Make it two shots, please.” To your quick mouth, she smiles. She has dark skin, and a beautifully done head of braids, it’s clear you’ve piqued her curiosity.

“I’ll make it two,” she smirks, getting two shot glasses from beneath the counter.

“And who is the second one for?” She asks, implying she wants your name.

You slide your eyes to Harry, who is shocked that you’re trying to get his permission for giving your name. He blinks sharply in disapproval.

“Mary.” You nod, listing the fake name off like it was nothing. It was a common enough name, so she takes it.

You don’t realise how effortlessly you and Harry are communicating without words until he ghosts his thumb over your forearm, and you know he’s thanking you.

Naomi smirks at you, “Well, miss Mary, I have to say i quite admire you.”

You give her a thanks, and she slides the two shots on the counter, going on to prepare the beers.

“Been a while since your captain here has bought a girl around… nice to see.” The irony of the situation could almost make you laugh.

“Well, someone’s oughta keep him inline. Otherwise he’d end up prisoner somewhere.” You supply, putting up your best pirate imitation for her.

He shakes his head, your play on words half amusing, half unbelievable.

“Was good to see you, Naomi, thanks for the drinks.” He says, grabbing the beer while you grab the shots.

She gives her momentary goodbyes, and he walks over to a vacant barrel to place the beer down.

You follow suit, but with only one of the shots. You toss the other back before he can say otherwise. The brownish-gold liquid burning a trail down your throat.

He watches in disbelief. You are so shockingly rough around the edges, that the idea of you being a princess feels unfathomable to him.

“You broke a lot of those royal rules, didn’t you.” He raises his brows, voice unreadable.

Licking over your lips, the strong alcohol gives a zip up your spine, “on occasion.”

“Christ.” He mutters, picking up his own shot and downing it.

The two of you take your beers back to the booth his crew was at, and you drink that and whatever else got handed to you by his crew mates— that you’ve officially learned most names of— and are well and truly a bit drunk.

You were sat between Liam and Harry, and the night was actually quite fun.

It was nice to truly forget the situation you’d landed yourself in.

That was until, as the night drew on, and once the early hours of the morning were likely in play, the pub quietened.

It was now regular noise level, just drunk and tired chatter, and someone came over to your booth.

A lanky guy, sporting long dreaded hair with olive coloured skin. Despite his moderately tan complexion, there was an almost queasy undertone to it. It stained a faint yellow tinge under his eyes, and screamed future liver failure the longer you stared.

Yet a gold tooth that peaked through when he flashed a smile. He looked like the epitome of a pirate.

“Ah, Styles and his crew are back in town.” He announces rather loudly, like as if he has an audience he’s talking to.

“Leon… Hello.” Zayn drawls, far from enthralled to see the man.

“Great to see you all,” he claps his hands together, smiling, “now, I’ve jus’ come round to spread the word…”

It piques the men’s interest slightly, and they all start to pay attention to the skinny bloke.

“Garrets boat was found the otha’ day.” He states, looking between the boys, eyes stopping momentarily on you.

Harry pipes up from where he’s sat next to you, and if there was anything amiss, the only telling thing would be the way his hand snakes to your knee, tensing around it slightly.

It’s his bruised hand, and you try to draw your attention away from it.

“I’ve heard word of that… did he not turn up with it?” Harry asks, nonchalantly.

“No… it was in perfect nick, jus’ without its capan’.” He sighs out, stepping forward to trail his boney hand over the wood pattern on the table, “Reckon someone’s got him… so keep an eye out for raiders.”

“Mm, alright. Thanks for the heads up. Hope ya’s stumble upon him…” Harry nods, hand clutching your knee harder.

The man’s missing…

And suddenly, it clicks in your brain.

Despite his crews unreadable faces, you are almost certain that the man currently in the chambers of their ship is the same person Leon is on about.

It sends a wave of anxiety through you. In a room full of pirates, you are something they all would want. Yet for varying reasons.

You’re suddenly grateful again that Harry and his crew seem to only have the intention of money with you.

What a horrible thing to be thankful for in this world, you think.

That you’re happy the people who kidnapped you don’t want to use you in worse ways. Don’t want your body or to keep you as a souvenir.

You’re drawn from your spiralling thoughts as Leon speaks again,

“Ah, and you have a las with you too…” he remarks, although it adds no substance to the conversation.

“Mary.” Harry provides, and the boys all exchange a glance.

“You keep your eye out too then, sweetheart. You women have an attention to detail that us men don’t...” He flashes his golden tooth, and gives a final nod to the crew before turning away.

You purse your lips, glancing down at your lap, trying to hide your frown. Confused if the approach was a convoluted kind of threat, or just an odd exchange.

“That’s us done for the night,” Harry says, his previous relaxed tone was gone. It was riddled with seriousness now.

“Give it ten so it doesn’t look suspicious, and then we’re leaving.”

That was confirmation to you that Garret is the man below deck… and you were itching to ask questions, but knew now was likely not the time.

The tension aided sobering everyone up, and after around ten minutes they all collectively rose. And Harry scooted out of the booth, and gestured you to follow suit.

You slide out, leather gliding against your skin as you got to the edge and took his hand without protest. Despite being upset at this situation only minutes earlier, you craved to feel safe.

So as anxiety was welling in your chest, you easily allowed him to pull you against him. Tan hand clasped around yours as he held you firmly close.

This time, he held you with his good hand, free of dark purple bruises.

You transfixed on his complexion instead now. It was completely different to Leon’s. Tan from the sun, yes. But Harry was— as always— all beauty. Liquid gold was accidentally spilt into the colour of his skin. It shone under even the dingest of bar lightings, and never failed to completely encapsulate your attention. His skin had no sickly undertone.

Tiny freckles and beauty marks that trailed up his forearm. They were colour of chocolate… and he was perfection.

Christ.

You got pulled out of your trance by the tug of his hand, his bruised one busy fishing out a small bag of gold.

It’s unbelievable the state he can put you in. It’s otherworldly, and you feel sort of ashamed how easily your mentality can fold to him.

Taking you up to the counter that Naomi was scrubbing down with a rag, he placed the small coin bag atop the bar.

“Thanks for your hospitality as usually, there’s a little extra for all your help.” He was keeping the exchange short, bidding his farewells after her gracious appreciation.

She smiles a goodbye to him, yet eyes slide back over to you,

“And you too Mary, keep y’man in-line.” She teased, and Harry genuinely rolled his eyes.

“I will.” You stated, voice oversaturated with faux confidence.

With that, you all left the tavern. It felt odd stepping into the now cold air, a change coming in quicker than expected. The market having packed up for the night likely hours ago.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as the boys moved in haste, a unity of clanking boots against the paving.

“Y’shivering.” Harry remarked.

“It’s colder than it was earlier.”

“Even the tropics must feel the cold.” Tanner states matter-of-factly.

Once out of the town centre, they start running— it was sudden and unexpected. Like once they were fully out of view, urgency could be expressed.

“This’ll warm you up.” Harry raises his voice against the wind, pulling you along to match his pace.

By the time you made it back, storming across the pier, you were near breathless.

Blood pumping, and you did feel a little warmer at the least.

“Alrigh’, Liam, are you right enough to get us going?” He asked, patting his back as the boys walk along the temporary bridging from the pier to the ship.

“Plenty fine, H.” He nods certainly.

“That’s the way…” his voice raises, “Ashton, Miggs, batten down the hatches!”

His pirate-y tone was prevalent as he threw orders left right and centre. Before you knew it, the ship was starting to move from port. You were shocked, considering half of them weren’t even fully sober. But you supposed this wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, readying up the ship for something unexpected while half drunk.

Maybe things were done better that way, with beer in the blood, you supposed. More officiant.

Once he was finished confirming what everyone was doing, his voice lowered, and gaze softened as he turned to you.

His eyes fell where you rung the bottom of the corset cinched around you. You were evidently anxious, it was written all over your face.

“Cmon, dove…” he walked the minor distance between you, “I’ll take you back below deck.”

“To the chambers?“ your voice was abundant with sudden fear, and the thought of going down there knowing there’s likely a corpse in the room across from you made you feel sick.

“No.” He immediately clarified, “My room. You’re not going back down there, Y/N.”

He said it with such certainty, and you wondered what changed to make you a permanent fixture in his room.

You were lead down the increasingly familiar way to his bedroom, “Nothing you can task me with?”

He laughed at your question, “Nothing, love. I doubt you even know how to tie a knot on a rope.”

You couldn’t say you properly did. And then you wondered why exactly you offered to help, considering you have no business aiding people who kidnapped you.

“I don’t.” You sigh, as he lets you into his dark room. He felt oddly domestic, stepping through the doors quickly to light a wall lantern so you can see.

“Then you’re better off safe in here, the waters already a bit rocky.” The ship was rising and falling more dramatically than this morning, which added to your list of things to worry about.

“Harry,” you say his name before he can walk out.

“Y/N?”

“Can you be honest with me…?”

He huffs a laugh, “Tha’ depends.”

“Is the man in the cells dead?”

The seriousness in your tone has him dead quiet. And you can hear the ticking in his brain as he decides on whether he’s answering you or not.

The innocent look in your eye pushed him to be truthful. He wasn’t used to this. Seeing someone undeserving of being captive on the ship. It was always horrible people.

“I’ll go a step ahead of you, yes, Garret’s dead.” He answered like he knew your next question would be that. And he was right, because it was.

You draw in a breath, the only sound heard is the crashing of the ship against the waves.

“Does that scare you?” He asks, and then asks deeper, “Do I scare you?”

You pause to then think how to answer that.

“Yes and no…” You deliberate, because you truly don’t know. You felt safe with him today, but the concept of what he’s probably done to people is eye opening to say the least. And always the potential of what he could do to you.

The air was thick— the alcohol in both of your systems clouding your judgements— and something churned in your hearts. There was a shared breath in, and out.

You feel the cruciality of the moment, and are certain he can too.

Right now, this goes much further than the taking of a royal, the trapping of a person. It’s a question that the answer can only create more confusion.

Because why on this cruel, twisted earth would you be thinking of any response other than a plain, hard, yes.

A breath catches in the back of your throat, and the real answer slips out with a rasp.

“You scare me because I don’t know how to fully hate you. I hate you, but not like i should.”

A half blink, and the look in his eyes switches. It’s unreadable for a moment, blank in processing.

He steps closer, feeling an urge to touch you that he can’t explain where it come from. It’s so forceful he breaches the distance between you faster than he can rethink it. Fingers reaching out to brush a gentle stroke over your cheekbone.

Your lips part, the haze in your mind making you wonder if this was a dream of sorts.

All Harry is thinking about is the fact he wants more right now. The same whirlwind that pushed him to cradle your cheek with his hand is begging his lips to brush against yours.

He pushes it down into the pit of his stomach, replying with a tone so tender he wonders how it come from himself.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise on the damning of my own soul.” He reassures.

The lines have blurred. Blurred from keeping his prize safe, to keeping you safe.

His words feel like they carry too much weight to be coming from a pirate. Like the impact they have is meant for manipulation.

And if that’s they’re intention either way, it worked. Because a part of you resigns to believe it.

He waits for confirmation on your end that you understand, and you give that to him through a curt nod.

“Good. I’ll be back later, you go to sleep.”

Your heart wrenches for no apparent reason as he lingers close to you for a moment longer. Then he drags himself away from you, despite the intense urge to do otherwise.

You catch his eyes a final time as he leaves the room. Leaving the door unlocked…

It tempts you, but with the boat rocking like this, you think better for yourself.

Now you want to throw yourself off the ship again, but for an entirely different reason.

You’ve laid trust in him. Something you said you wouldn’t ever do. Oh how that promise to yourself broke quickly.

But you’re drunk and vulnerable, and his words were so soft and sweet. Two sides of yourself are at war.

Yet either way, you feel it can only lead to a plethora of bad things. It’s all too much for you right now.

Unlacing your own corset, you wiggle out of it, then slip out of everything else. You stand in only undergarments, realising how truly exhausted you are now that you’re back in his room.

The alcohol and emotional turmoil settles deep in your bones, you feel it rattle heavily with each step.

You grab soft clothes he bought for you today, and pull them over you, taking off your bra.

The storm is coming. You feel it within you. It’s a foreshadow of your mentality, the precursor of what’s to come with all of this— and the ever growing complexity of your feelings.

You crawl into Harry’s bed, ashamed at the way you inhale his scent. Hating the way it’s turned into a form of reassurance.

He has kept you safe this last week, which in your subconscious— whose clinging to any sort of saftety— means he is something to you that he shouldn’t be. And you wonder when he went from something you disdained to something you craved connection with.

The idea of stockholm syndrome was familiar to you, but didn’t resonate. Or maybe you were in denial… who fucking knows. All you are sure of is that he makes you feel somewhat stable. Your body craves that shred of stability more than anything.

Either way, it didn’t stop you from nestling into his sheets. Or falling asleep curled up in them.

Nor did it hinder you from when he finally returned to reach out for him, all while still hazed with the slumber you were just in.

A meek call of his name came from your mouth as he gets into his bed, it was at least an hour or so later. The sun would be closer to rising then not, but you choose to haul your body closer to him the second you could.

He sighs with relief of finally laying down, the weather sounds worse outside now. It’s gotten harsher sooner than he expected, something hurrying the system further south. Although it means it’ll hit earlier, at the least it’ll be over in a day or two.

He must’ve gotten undressed, because as you press yourself into his back, his bare skin is warm to the touch.

It was evident feeling him now that the sun coursed through his veins, it replaced the blood of a regular person. He spent so many hours in it, it seemed to be a part of him.

“You’re so warm.” You stated quietly, half conscious.

“Mm, and you’re so bloody cold.” He mutters, voice deep and ready for sleep. His comment causes him to roll into you, tugging you closer into his chest.

Somehow, regardless of if you had been asleep for an hour, you still felt exhausted. Maybe it was the drinks too, they were settling a slight hangover upon you. So, shamelessly you coiled further into his arms.

Your hands snaked up his bare back, and into the hair at the nape of his neck. The curls were damp as you played with them.

There’s definitely still something in your system, and he notices it as well.

“You’ve gotta be still a little tipsy… ya all over me dove.” He laughs tiredly.

Your front is pressed to his, his scent equally as distracting as the slabs of muscles you could feel up against you.

“Tipsy and exhausted.” You murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you carry on playing with his hair.

“Oh, are y’feelin’ needy?” He teases, voice slipping into a shockingly deep lilt, one you’d caught glimpses of yesterday morning.

It sparked a feeling in the pit of your stomach, “Shut up.”

The two of you did eventually go quiet, nothing but the sounds of mixing breath and the brush of hands against skin.

His own hands had taken refuge on your waist, rubbing gentle circles with calloused fingers. Somewhere in the back of your head you reevaluate for the seventh time just how intoxicated you still both were. Enough alcohol in your system to completely blur the lines.

You couldn’t even claim in the morning the cuddling was an accident on part of your sleeping selves. You’d have to try and pass it off as the drinks from earlier. Which although true, feels like a harder excuse to play off this significant.

You were wrapped up in his arms. Voluntarily. And… enjoying it.

It’s a horrible thing to be indulging in. It’s only going to spell you more trouble. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

He felt you slip back into a quiet sleep, evident in the way your fingers ceased their movement where they sat, tangled in his hair.

In the silence of the night, he thought about you.

Images trailed carelessly through his mind, dragging up ideas of what the two of you looked like right now. He wished he could see it from an outside perspective.

The way you had completely settled into his frame. Chest to chest.

He could feel the ridges and dips of your body too easily, only separated by a thin cotton sleep shirt you’d put on.

Something throbs inside of him at the touch, and to make matters worse, you stir, throwing your leg over his hip just like you had the night before.

He feels dirty as he conceptualises the idea of something more with you.

He wishes he didn’t drink now, because he can’t get the vision of himself inside of you out of his head. He’s weak after some beer and liquor, he lacks self-control, even when half of him is begging to sort himself out. Now, because he hasn’t stopped himself early enough, his prick has swollen in his boxers.

Thank the stars you’re asleep.

He stays deathly still, pursing his lips, waiting his boner out.

Staving away the idea of being pushed inside of you. Such a pretty girl, you were. It’s hard not to wonder how good your mouth would be against his own.

It takes atleast 15 painful minutes for his cock to soften. He’s thankful for being tired, because once the thumping of his heart calms down, he allows himself to pull you further into his hold.

He will let himself have this, at the least.

———

Waking up was almost a carbon copy of the morning before.

A tangle of limbs, but you’ve had a warmth that’s sprouted through you the entire night.

However, this time, Harry was already awake.

The hours of sleep you got were minimal. And the sun wasn’t even fully up. It was mostly cloud coverage outside the window. The room still dim.

He watched you wake up, thankful it’s now— because otherwise he would’ve had to get up and go. Too much to do to be laying in bed with you, unfortunately.

He got to watch your eyes slowly open, their glossy appearance. They lazily scoped the room, as if re-familiarising your brain with your surroundings.

Then they dragged to Harry’s face, catching the softness of the morning still on him.

“I have a headache.” Was the first thing that croaked from your lips.

Your throat hurt and the hangover was clearly in its full effect. You did not usually drink that much.

He hums a laugh at your lack of greeting, starting off the morning with a complaint. Oddly charming somehow?

He wanted to kiss you still.

“Big night for you last night?” He asks, jokingly, but he knows you didn’t drink enough to forget anything.

“Don’t tease.” You plead, head dropping back down to between his chest.

He strokes a hand along your back, “We oughta get some food into ya.”

His gentle encouragement falls on deaf ears. All you’re able to do is fall back into his hold.

“Dove.” The coo he lets out does nothing but makes your stomach flutter.

You shake your head against the warm skin of his chiseled chest. All the muscle there… fuck it makes you light headed.

But you can’t think about that.

You just wanted him with you right now.

“Harry.”

Hearing his name makes the heart in his chest clench.

“Stay here.” You say, simply.

At his momentary silence, your voice drops.

A whisper.

A plea.

“Please?”

Everytime you talk to him like that, a piece of him unravels.

Already too far in, he throws another handful of cation to the wind. Before he knows it, there will be nothing left.

His quiet demeanour is unusual. Where was his quip that usually followed?

You were slowly poisoning him.

“You’re like a drug.” He states.

You’re not sure how to feel. Is that good… or bad?

“Is that bad?”

He doesn’t say anything, just rolls his body weight to the side, moving you to be facing one another.

He stares into your eyes, searching for something. An answer maybe.

But it’s just not one he’s going to find yet.

Time is a virtue, they say.

And maybe if he waits long enough, unravels far enough, gives away enough of himself. He’ll know.

He’ll find out what it is about you that drags him in.

Maybe you’re like the current. Yet he’s not sure if it’s taking him out to a reef, where paradise lay. Or dragging him out into a rip.

His eyes wander the plains of your face.

And finally, he speaks.

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”

———

taglist:

@saturnheartz @slap-me-harry @ilovehsstuff @ameerakane20 @matildasatellite @harrysslut7 @sunflowersey @styleswiftie @anotheryoutubefanpage @straightontilmornin @oknothanks26 @closureesny @angel-upon @brother-lauren @maddie7writes @tenaciousperfectionunknown

(—comment or reach out to be added to the taglist for future parts🤍)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #pirates gold #piraterry #pirate harry styles #royal y/n #fantasy #writing #I have the worst upload schedule ever I am so sorry #fanfic

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Clingy [Part 9]

In which living together feels completely surreal to Jungkook.

Tags/Warnings: Hybrid AU, Wolf hybrid!Jungkook, Otter hybrid!Reader, Angst, strangers to lovers

Additional Chapter Warnings: Fluff, he's so in love eww

Length: short

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"Have you seen my toothpaste?" Jungkook asks in the morning, your sleepy face coming into view as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. "I can't find it." He asks more quietly now that you're close, no need to speak and louder in the small confined space of your rather cramped bathroom.

"Hm?" You wonder, before you point to a tube of toothpaste at the side of the sink. "Its right there?" You say, and he looks at it- before he turns back towards you.

"But that's yours.?" He questions, making you giggle and roll your eyes, reaching for your own toothbrush from the side.

"What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine." You mumble, screwing the cap of the tube off before you reach for his wrist to put some on his toothbrush as well. "Its called sharing, kookie." You joke, before you start to brush your teeth.

He watches for a short moment before he does the same, though his mind keeps thinking back to your words. It's a little odd to be living with you now- he's never truly lived with anybody before, apart from his father when he was younger, though his dad wasn't home a lot. It felt like he was alone ever since he was a kid, having to grow up fast to take care of himself to lift at least a bit of weight off of the shoulders of his old man.

In the end, it didn't help much, apparently. He still died from a heart attack, presumably due to stress.

Living together with you now feels more like a fever dream. The good kind; the one where once you wake up, you keep your eyes closed in hopes to just return back into that world your head had made up in its hazy state. Even the small irritating moments seem to have their own charm- he happily accepts being a little annoyed at your constant change of plans last minute if it means he gets to spend those plans with you in the end.

You include him. You don't just blindly offer him a place to stay, or let him live with you out of pity- you make sure he pulls his weight too, scolding him if he forgets chores or leaves things messy somewhere around the apartment. And in return, he finds things that are his own completely blended into the decor of your place-

Truly making it his own as well now, after almost two months of living here.

His scent has mixed with yours now, creating a new, distinctive feeling of a home rather than just a place. Old blankets of his, books and video games, even pictures and cutlery he'd packed from his old apartment have now found their place in between your things as if they'd always been there.

He truly loves it.

"...-kook?" You ask again, ripping him from his thoughts. "You're drooling." You tease, laughing as you wipe his chin, before leaving the bathroom to move around in the kitchen.

When he joins you not even five minutes later, he's still not wearing a shirt- intricate details on his tattoos clear to see for you as you look at his arm wrapping around you from behind, warmth of his body seeping through your shirt, making you lean into him. And as soon as you do, his tail wags- and he's unashamed of it, because he knows there's no shame in being this happy.

He finally feels like he deserves all of this. Because you make him feel like he does.

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 10: Chosen

In which Christopher and Danny realize that maybe they're not so different after all.

Contains: 1.4k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

As the week went on, Danny found herself spending more and more time with Christopher. He’d taken over Sam’s hobby of showing her around the mansion, although the giant was much less concerned with the identity of the paintings and the age of the fruit bowls. Instead, Christopher delighted in doting over the craftsmanship of the house’s architecture—the skill it had taken to carve the elaborate, intricate designs into the molding and balusters, and the details that Danny could see quite well as he lifted her in his palms to show her up close. He practically fawned over every little detail, seeming to be as incredibly well-acquainted with every corner of the mansion as Sam had been, with no detail escaping his interest. 

He explained that the life-size birds Danny had seen carved into the grand stairway at the entrance were something called peacocks. Their long, elaborate tails—almost seeming to be covered in strange eyes—hung low and wrapped delicately around the post at the foot of the stairs.

They had been a symbol of his family for generations, he said—a representation of nobility, beauty, and pride. He recited this with a dignified, but detached air—as if the words didn’t quite go below the surface. And there was none of the enthusiasm he’d displayed earlier when he’d been going on about different types of wood grain.

“Were you…close, with your family?” Danny asked hesitantly, trying to get a read on the solemn expression Christopher wore.

She could see his lips tighten slightly. “No. I was quite young when they passed. And I don’t remember many times I spent with them worth remembering.” He looked down at her and his face broke into a quick, easy smirk—as if it was simply effortless for him to hide what little vulnerability he permitted himself to show behind it, like he’d done it many times before. “I find the family you choose is better company.” 

He paused, a question on his lips he seemed hesitant to ask. “Are you…close with yours, Danny?” 

She was taken aback by it, staring off into the distance as memories of Nathan flooded back to her. Beyond those more pleasant thoughts was nothing but the memory of dark, cold streets and the never-ending feeling of hunger so debilitating that it stretched her skin over her ribs and consumed her from the inside. 

“Nathan’s really the only family I have,” she admitted quietly. “He had a nice family, but I never met them. He took me in when I was younger, when no one else would. I…grew up on my own.”

A sudden sympathy flickered in Christopher’s dark eyes, like a sputtering flame emerging from coals. “You were an orphan?” 

“...yeah,” she mumbled, ashamed as she was to admit it. “So I guess you’re right about choosing family.” 

She sighed heavily, collapsing somewhat into his palms and forgetting that they were the same hands that had grabbed her so callously days before, forgetting that it was him who held her here at all. “I miss him,” she whispered—not quite to Christopher, but he heard her nonetheless.

There was a beat of silence before she heard him speak again. “I’m sorry,” he said, in a hushed whisper. “You’ll see him again soon, I promise.” 

It was confusing for him to apologize when he was the only one keeping her here, as if the chains of some sort of strange aristocratic custom to imprison trespassers were too unyielding for even him to break. He spoke like he was a prisoner somehow too—and while the thought did make her angry, she was almost too confused to be—because his sympathy, as little sense as it made, actually seemed sincere.

Why was he holding her here at all? Today alone—waking up in a comfortable bed, eating good food, being given a tour of a fancy giant mansion like she was some important guest instead of someone held hostage—was completely different than how she’d been treated her first night here. Christopher himself seemed like a new person entirely, and she couldn’t help but wonder which version of him was the real one—the cocky, charismatic bastard or the man with a gentle smile who found a fascination in the details of wooden banisters.

Something wouldn’t sit right with her, no matter how much she tried to ignore the feeling—she swore there must be something she was missing about all this. If the giant had no plans to torment her, or put her to work, what was the point of holding her hostage for a month? Was it really just some strange formality, one in which Christopher’s hands were inexplicably tied by a social convention she wasn’t aware of?

Maybe he’s just lonely.

The passing thought almost irritated her—it would have been a poor excuse to kidnap people if that was the case. Though even if it were true, he would surely never admit to it. 

Infuriating as the idea was that she was just here to be some socially-deprived giant’s emotional support human, she also felt a flicker of sympathy when she remembered that he was literally incapable of leaving this house. I think I’d go crazy. And he’s been here his whole life?

She sighed, swallowing down the last dregs of her anger—for now. Ride it out, she thought morosely. I guess if he just wants company, it’s better than sitting in a cage for entertainment like some goddamned parakeet. 

In the back of her mind, she wondered why she was so quick to disregard her own irritation towards Christopher, and try as she might, she couldn’t skirt around the truth that surfaced.

He’s actually not that bad to hang out with.

It was a bitter pill for her to swallow, especially as far as her pride was involved. She would be the last person to admit she was willing to extend any amount of friendship, no matter how tentative, towards someone who was literally her captor. It was an absurd sentiment from the outside looking in, but as she thought on it further, all of the lines seemed blurred and hazy on what was right and wrong to feel about this enigma of a man who held her so gently in his palms.

She’d certainly met worse people than him, even if none of them had all but forced her to stay in their house for a month. Besides—he’d said Nathan was fine, and he’d even sent him money. Supposedly. If that was true, the only real concern she would have for the next few weeks would be staving off boredom, and she knew there could be worse problems to have. There could certainly be worse places to stay. She wasn’t used to being surrounded with luxury like this, or not having to work from dawn until dusk. Surely it would eventually begin to make her legs and hands itch with the desire to do something, but she realized that maybe…maybe it would be nice to relax for a while, and just take it all in stride like Sam suggested.

Her instincts told her not to trust it, to remain ever suspicious and vigilant and to lash out at anything that could be a danger to her, but it was exhausting to keep that up for long. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be fully relaxed here, but maybe she could let go of at least some of her worries. 

She looked up at Christopher, all of these thoughts of hers hidden behind a twisted sort of smirk of her own. “Hey. You never finished that book the other day. I need to know how the prince went blind.” She jabbed at his palm to accentuate her demand. 

It looked like he’d started to stare off at something as well, her words snapping his gaze back to her as an introspective, slightly melancholy look on his face faded to a lighter grin. “Try not to fall asleep this time, doll.” 

She returned his remark with a playful sneer, but let him carry her to the library, where they spent the remainder of the day finishing the story. Danny didn’t fall asleep this time, even though she found herself somehow incredibly relaxed as she leaned against Christopher’s arm on the table, putting aside all of the pride and hesitation in her mind and letting herself experience the moment for all it was worth. 

In truth, if this was what was to be expected for the rest of her stay…perhaps she wouldn’t mind making a friend like Christopher.

* * * * * * * * * *

Next chapter ->

It's a little strange to do a Beauty and the Beast story without the ballroom scene, isn't it? I think we're a little overdue for it, personally. Next week is Chapter 11: Ad Libitum! Don't miss it! And thank you for reading, as always.

#itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #vore writing #vore stories #gt stories #gt writing #sfw vore #nonsexual vore #gt vore

[f10werfae]

Mermaid’s Tale (Drabble)

Pairing: Husband!Chris x Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n has another one of her schemes underway, one which may include a scaly tale and a surprised Chris

(This lit is just trash from my head so forgive me)

- Requests are open!

- Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist✨

Full Masterlist💫

Taglist Form⭐️

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Y/n's P.O.V)

What else do you do when your husband is at work? Buy one of those latex mermaid tails off amazon. It was the perfect plan.

As soon as Chris left for the company with his goodbye kiss, I perched myself onto the couch, laptop in tow. I remember seeing someone on Tiktok getting one and having a blast, so why couldn’t I?

Scrolling through the site none of the tails had caught my eye, until I saw a lovely royal blue mermaid tail jumping out at me. The ends of the tail itself detailed intricately, five star reviews all around with people even saying they had bought more in different colours. My eyes widening when it said it would be delivered tomorrow, a smile deepening itself onto my face.

The rest of the day had passed slowly, with me counting down the minutes until Chris was home from work. Yeah he made it a thing to text me at least once every hour to check on me, but it wasn’t the same. My man in my eyes was absolutely perfect down to a T, hell even the way he got angry could make me hot and bothered.

“Bunny? Where are ya? i’m home!” I heard a voice call out from the front door interrupting my train of thought, feeling like a puppy as I ran to greet him. His arms engulfing me into a hug, his sweaty cologne scent filling my nose as he kissed my head gently, his arms swaying us from side to side.

“I missed ya today” He whispered squeezing me even tighter, backing us up further into the house until we reached the staircase a few metres away.

“You said that yesterday” I laughed pulling away, his tired eyes smiling down at me, his hands caressing the apples of my cheeks tenderly.

“Cus I miss ya everyday bunny” Bending down he pressed his lips to both of my cheeks, a pout on my lips when he pulled away

“Oh my how could I forget” He jokingly said watching me furrow my brows in frustration, his lips crashing down onto mine. His lips opening mine skilfully, his tongue sliding in with mine.

“Are you hungry? There’s spaghetti in the microwave for you” My fingers played with the chain around his neck waiting for his answers,

“Nah it’s okay baby, i’d rather jus' stay in bed with you tonight. After I shower of course”

“Yeah cause you stink Chrissy, no offence” I said dramatically walking up the stairs warily knowing he was going to start chasing me, and within seconds we had started a sprint towards our bedroom, with me catapulting myself into our bed and under the blankets.

“Oh yeah keep hidin, after I shower you’re so gettin it bun” He said as I heard him gathering his stuff from drawers, the sound of the bathroom door closing echoing through the room. Turning onto my side I looked at the clock to see it had just turned 8PM yet I felt so tired out for some reason. Taking Chris' spare pillow, I hugged onto it and felt the heaviness weigh down on my eyes.

(Time Skip)

(Y/n's P.O.V)

I felt a soft hand run up and down my stomach rhythmically, my body feeling all warm and cozy thanks to Chris. Slowly looking around to him, I saw him smile at me smugly, leaning in to kiss my lips. “You alright?” I asked

“Better than alright, now go ahead n’ sleep baby. I’ll be here when you wake up”

Nodding my head half asleep, I turned back around my cuddled back into his pillow, feeling Chris spoon me from behind.

(The Next Morning)

Getting up bright and early at 7AM, was a surprise, especially for me. I hd decided to let Chris sleep in knowing how tired he was from work yesterday, excitement creeping up my bones when I remembered that my mermaid tail was arriving today.

Hearing the doorbell ring sharply at 8am was my calling, signing for it, and bringing it into the living room I quickly opened the gigantic cardboard box it had come in. Dodger wagging his tail beside me as he also anticipated it, or maybe he remembered that I said we would go in the pool today?

Dragging it out I saw the full size of the tail, it’s weight and make showing extremely good quality, no wonder it got hundreds of good reviews. Unable to hold myself any longer I got into bikini underwear, walking outside with my new tail and matching shell bra. Putting on the blue bra first, I sat down and carefully tugged on the tail before securing it around my waist.

Dodger not wasting any time in getting into the pool and splashing about.

“Okay Dodge here I go buddy” I said dropping myself into the pool, the tail weighing me down but not in a bad way. Pulling myself to the edge of the pool, I decided to try and swim to the other side and see how it goes. So on a count of three I was off, flipping the tail as I manoeuvred myself across the pool with ease, sure it tired the hell out of my core and legs but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. Again and again I swam lengths with the tail, only stopping when I heard Chris calling out for me from the glass doors of our house.

“Babe what’re ya doin in the pool this early?” He asked with a bright smile on his face, with nothing but a pair of swim shorts on, his bed hair still rocking his head.

He walked over and bent down to the edge of the pool, caught in surprise when I leant up and kissed him cheekily. His hand coming up to rub my head softly.

“Chris look, you gotta see this” I squealed throwing myself backwards to show off my newly acquired taste for scales, his face dropping in shock as be watched me swim back over to him.

“Wh- When- Ya know what never-mind, I love it baby. Got me my own siren huh?”

“Mhm, gonna sing to seduce you n everything”

“Oh baby you know I love you, but you know you can’t sing” He joked coming into the pool beside me,

“Plus if you wanna seduce me, all ya gotta do is this” He said with his hand reaching up to my face and pulling my pouting lips up into a smile, “oh and this” He joked, his hand coming up behind me to unclip my bra and steal it from me.

“You’re so annoying”

———-

Taglist Tags ( Form is up there^^): @bxdbxtxh15 @tojisbabymommy @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @chrisevansdaughter @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @evanstanwhore @mrspeacem1nusone @thereisa8ella @seren-a-ity @patzammit @pandaxnienke

#chris evans x reader #romance #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans oneshot

[farlee-wander]

I have a recurring nightmare.

In the dream, I own a gun.

It is a little revolver made out of copper or brass. The details change. The metal is solid and heavy. It is polished and smooth. The handle is carved, varnished hardwood that fits perfectly in the palm. Or maybe it has an alien shape, riddled with intricate levers and prongs. Sometimes old, sometimes new. Always: it is mine.

It is a beautiful, handcrafted object.

The bullets are hard to describe. They are small and custom made to match the gun. Running my fingers through them feels like dipping my hand into beads, or marbles, or seeds. It’s a soothing, pleasant sensation. The bullets fit the gun perfectly. Sliding them into each chamber is magnetically satisfying. I like to do it.

I do not like to own the gun.

I never remember exactly how or why I have it. I might have found it, or been given it. I keep it hidden in my childhood bedroom. It is always loaded.

This makes me uncomfortable. I could take the bullets out — the cylinder flips in and out smoothly, easily; the bullets fall noiselessly into my hand — but I can’t resist putting them back in. I could play like this for hours. It feels good. Except for the fear.

I know that I might need the gun. For what? An emergency. A calamity. An adventure. It’s like a fire alarm, or an emergency exit. I hope to never use it.

But the idea of it excites me.

The potential energy is overwhelming. The slightest twitch might set it off by accident. I have to concentrate when I hold it. I know I should leave it alone. I can’t keep my hands off of it.

I take the gun out, again and again. Just to look. Just to check. Just to make sure it’s safe.

I am always afraid of the gun. I know what it can do. Its existence sits in the back of my mind like a cold weight. I want to forget about it. I want to check again. I want to be safe. I want to pull the trigger.

Sometimes I do fire it.

I have to. It’s impossible not to. I shoot into the ground and the floor. It feels like releasing pressure. I’m ashamed when I do it. I worry that I’ve made a mistake that can’t be undone. I’m afraid of being caught.

I find the little copper bullets embedded in floorboards and dirt. They are dented and spent. I collect them. I think about the empty chambers in the gun. It makes me feel better. Nobody was hurt, I tell myself. And the gun is lighter.

Then I think about reloading.

Or: sometimes I do need it. We are under attack and I may need to kill. I hold the gun uncertainly, trying to memorize the parts, trying to hold my hands in just the right way so that when the moment comes I can simply pull the trigger and it will be over. But I still fail, and the enemy kills me, and I die ashamed.

Every time, I think: this is just like my dream.

When I wake up, I am relieved to remember that I don’t really own this gun. I am not responsible for it. I do not need to fear it. I can rest the part of me that worries over it. Slowly, I relax. The dread of my nightmare fades.

When I was little I would duck every time an unfamiliar car passed. I imagined how to protect myself if I was ever sent to war. I overheard news stories about shootings and felt a nauseous worry in my stomach.

I used to be a teacher. I left because I was afraid of dying. I imagined barricading and evacuating every room I walked into. I wondered if I would sacrifice myself for the students or run. I thought about the gunfire. I pictured how I might behave, with bullets all around me. The thought terrifies and infuriates me.

I have always been afraid of guns.

I have never felt so tired.

I hate. Hate. Hate the copper revolver.

I wish this dream would stop.

#the copper revolver #guns #gun violence #writing #original #true story #i don’t know #sometimes i hate it here

[ask-lute]

[Sadie] *She looks Lute up and down and smiles.* Yes, it seems I certainly do. *When Lute tackles her with a hug, Sadie pulls her on top of her and once again traces her figure with her hands.* And you truly are a masterpiece, darlin’.

[Lute blushes a bit and then kisses Sadie passionately, taking in her beauty and eyeing each intricate detail of Sadie's face as if to burn it into her memory. How can someone wake up looking so absolutely perfect? Everything about this woman envelops Lute's heart, mind, and soul. She almoat forgets all her troubles recently. She breaks the kiss.]

Sadie you're the most amazing person I have ever met.-🗡

#hazbin hotel lute #lute #ask lute #lute hazbin hotel #ask #send asks #send me asks #ask me anything #ask the characters #lute hazbin

[coffyao]

heesung and yoon-gu special episode rewritten

Summary:

spoiler alert: read the heesung and yoon-gu special episode first before you read this one.   the same sex scene but with a bit more flavour + character + consent and all that juicy, good chemistry.

link to a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

"...would you like to eat ramen at my place?"

__

"agh..." potato moaned. He was usually a morning person, typically waking up with the cows at 5am. However, his head didn't seem to be working quite straight, and he felt drowsier when the light shone straight into his face, despite almost always leaving his curtains closed when he slept.

I have to get up early for cleaning duty...

once he opened his eyes, and saw the Choi Heesung, the same Choi Heesung that was in multiple k-drama debuts, and the same Choi Heesung that he spilt all of his beans to, he catapults himself off the bed, waking Choi up from his slumber.

"...you scared me half to death. What's wrong?" 

He couldn't believe it. He wasn't in his own bed, he was in the god dang luxury bed of a gorgeous celebrity.

"ah...m-my legs feel like jelly, where am...I?" potato sorrowfully whimpers. He couldn't fathom it. 

Choi slumps against his stomach, putting one hand under his chin, unamused.

"is this really that shocking? guess I'll have to remind you the grim details."

__

walking into a fancy and spacious apartment, potato looks around in a fascinated trance, bemused at the tall chandeliers, priceless pottery, and intricated interior that his country eyes had ever seen before. He was used to being surrounded by mud, and being awoken by the cockerels that roamed around in his family farm. His mom used to say there was always a first time for everything, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to try this.

choi closed the door after him, amused by a curious potato.

"what's got you so intrigued?"

"everything...just everything is so expensive," potato said, and looked over at his wooden table. 

"what's your table made from?" potato inquired, and swiped his fingers over it, mesmerised by it's sleek design.

"p-probably hardwood..."

"ahh very, very interesting," potato mused, continuing to feel up the rest of the material.

"...anyways, I didn't invite you here to treat my apartment like a museum," choi said, his patience weaned. he was already hurting from the rejection that he received from dan, but jaekyang's disgusting display of showboating his victory tipped him off the cliff edge, and he needed to re-confirm his bedroom skills, stat.

"I invited you here for sex..." 

surly a country bumpkin like himself should know that a drunk invitation to someone's house at the dead of midnight meant exactly that. he couldn't be that naïve.

"ah...that. wait, s-sex?!" potato yelped, stepping back and and hands gripped, on choi's velvet chair.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he came to choi's residency, but being invited for sex with the Choi Heesung certainly wasn't on his bingo card. His mom always used to tell him to never follow a stranger to his house, but this was spectacularly different. this stranger was too handsome not to. 

"I thought my intention was loud and clear..."

"a...haha, I guess it was..." potato said, abashed, and covered his own face. 

since assimilating himself in the way of city life, he has tried to get used to all the city lingo, implications and slang, even attempting to use some of it with his team-mates, but they laughed and told him to be himself, and he did just that. 

until now.

"...well, do you still want to?" choi asked, folding his arms, and his smug expression re-emerged, a new glint appearing in his eyes, " it might take our minds off certain troublesome things..." 

that was true. if they did do it, then it meant he would temporarily forget his woes over jaekyang, and instead, reminisce over a wild night with Choi, and, though there might be rumours of him being a womanizer in the media, he wasn't looking for a long-term lover in him anyway. but, there was a problem.

"...but I-I'm a virgin."

his mom has always told him that he should only think about fornication once he managed to get married, but he was always too focused on his boxing dreams, and rarely had time to think about the next and huge milestone in his life: relationships. so, sex has always been a enigma, forbidden and only for the rebellious and brave souls. but as of recently, he started thinking about what sex would be like, and how it would feel by having the riskiest version of it. He also wanted to be rebellious.

"...a virgin? a virgin, huh..." choi frowned. He didn't like bedding virgins. They were obviously inexperienced, and got too attached to their first partner. but, potato still had a cute face, and he wanted to know what he looked like when he was sexually pleasured. the prospects were near stimulating.

"...but wouldn't you rather lose your v-card to someone you loved?" choi asked.

"it would be nice, but..."

he wanted to know what it was like now, with all the positions, sensations and all that chummy good stuff that he read in a steamy romance novel one time when he went to the library. He wanted to plunge right in the deep end.

"b-but I rather experience it all right now, with you..." 

choi unfolded his arms, and cautiously, puts one finger underneath potatoes chin, lifting it up.

"...look at you, so curious," choi murmured. if he was going to fuck a virgin, he'd rather them be direct and willing, just like this.

"initiate a kiss then, and I'll take you seriously."

___

Notes:

chapter 2 coming soon, stay tuned. I really wanted to play up potatoes character of being a country bumpkin more, so I hope that came across well :)

#jinx manhwa #jinx #mashed potatoes #potatoes #choi heesung #Hwang Yoon-gu #jinx bl #jinx mingwa

[cuddlingslutt]

warning, may describe some unsavory situations from nightmares ahead

Ok, so I’m no stranger to lucid/vivid nightmares that I can usually remember, even if with some missing details, but every so often I have bad dreams that aren’t inherently scary but they are extremely uncomfortable and unsettling...

I think, for me, this mostly happens when it involves some kind of sexual assault or even just sexual acts that are vivid and sometimes a little...weird (weird situations, complete strangers, colors, or scenery). The best way I can put this is as if you are a kid watching something happen, and you aren’t completely sure what it is, but there’s something wrong with it. (the atmosphere of these dreams are always skewed).

Back to my point; it ends up leaving me pretty anxious the rest of the day after waking up, for whatever reason it may be. Sometimes it may be related to real-life issues, but more often than not I can’t accurately pinpoint where it comes from. (Including the fact of things like I don’t have sleep apnea or didn’t eat before, didn’t watch anything “scary” etc.)

They rarely follow common patterns of dreams/nightmares (with deeper meanings); you know the ones, things like being chased, falling, drowning, being late, etc. These are always weirdly intricate.

I’m gonna just talk about my dream last night, because the other part of this is that I more than likely remember all my nightmares and they are recurring. So last night is one of those; I know I’ve been there before, but it’s different. I’m in a sort of maze and obstacle course with one other person, who at the beginning attacks me after stealing my name tag and doesn’t give it back. All other contestants are generally kind and there is a pretty happy atmosphere and color palette. But the catch to this dream is that it’s clear that we are going to die some way or another.

At the end of one obstacle, there’s a single bullet, but no gun. My partner and I haven’t come across the gun, which means we either missed it, or someone else has it. Completely normal, we don’t feel offput by this detail.

A little further away is a sign, telling us that if we’ve noticed all the cameras close by watching us, then to point them all towards a specific direction then open up our phone camera to face us (and take a photo apparently). This gives us bonus points at the end of the game (if we survive).

Next up is a fake waterfall and log obstacle; we hear someone driving up behind us, but we don’t know who it is. We get moving. Thing is, remember how this world isn’t scary inherently? The waterfall and logs are like a blow up jump-house. The “waterfall” and logs are cylinder blow ups that we have to walk across as they are rotating, and as someone is following us. (even though it turns out to be a friend...maybe).

In between all this happening, like a little flash here and there interrupting the dream is some sequence with a man m*sturbating (note, he’s in strange colors, like there are lots of lights in the room dousing it in oranges, yellow, and blues). It’s also strange because it almost seems like the editing format for a TikTok video. I know, don’t ask, I don’t want to know either. At the very end (over the course of less than 5 seconds) is a woman doing the same with him? This part is fuzzy, I think because I deliberately wanted to forget it. This is the part that “scares” me the most. It sticks in my head like glue and gives such a distinct unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not just the feeling of watching something I shouldn’t be, but that something is very wrong with this scene.

The worst part about this all? I’m at least somewhat aware I’m dreaming. I can vividly feel in the dream that I am thinking of how this all looks familiar, and I’ve dreamt something similar before and that this is weird and I don’t like it (but can’t necessary do anything about it, ie not freaking out).

If anyone has crumbs to throw my way about feeling similar or having eccentric dreams that make no fucking sense leave a comment I guess.

#dreams #nightmares #lucid dreaming #vivid dreams #vivid nightmares #recurring nightmare #recurring dreams

[emmetrain]

❣️💓🌱🌙!

Misc. Ask Meme x (Thank you so much!!!)

❣️ - What are their love languages?

Emmet is passion-embodied. He is passionate about his work, his battles; team-building and battle strategies. He is passionate about the Battle Subway and both the logistical and technical aspects of it.

So, it is only natural that when his way of showing love and interpreting it is all about passion too.

His love language is gift-giving and praises! But very thoughtful, intricate ones. He loves making everything a challenge or some big project to tackle, thus, every gift he makes takes careful planning over weeks or months depending on his deadline, and his choice of gifts, hand-crafted ones, are perfected and overly detailed.

This is also why he appreciates and never forgets praises that really took effort and observation on the other's part. Someone noticing his new perfume, or a new move and combination he uses during the battle make Emmet feel seen and loved. Also, anyone getting him gifts, even if it is a one-sentence card or a cool rock they found, makes him so happy! (If you get him a detailed gift like his, though, he will be thinking about it for years to come.)

💓 - What are some signs they’ve fallen for someone? How do they show their affection?

Under normal circumstances, Emmet needs years to first consider someone his best friend, and then a few more to realize he is in love with them. However, during the vulnerable, lonely years of his main verse where Ingo is not there to support him, Emmet is at the darkest and lowest point in his life, so any sparkles of love he might feel for someone is easily amplified and recognized by him.

When Emmet falls for someone, he is already comfortable with the person as his dear friend, and verrrry affectionate with them. Hugs, little letters he hides on the other's bag or held with a magnet on their fridge detailing how much he appreciates them and their friendship... However, once he realizes his feelings, he will pull away for a while, excusing himself and blaming his work etc, to figure out what he got himself into.

The biggest sign would be him inviting his crush to a Multi-line or a dinner at his house. He is like a cat bringing his catch to his human, in this case, to Ingo. Even if Emmet's crush already knows Ingo, they WILL know him again, because Emmet needs them to know that Ingo is his priority, and also, needs to make sure Ingo would get along with his future sibling-in-law.

To sum up, if your favorite subway boss is a blushing mess, starts to leave gifts for you more often, and then goes cold for a while? He had already caught feelings for you months ago but now he is painfully aware of them.

🌱 - Do they have a green thumb or are they a plant killer?

(He has a green thumb but he is scared of claiming another hobby and then being forced to be the best at it; he is too competitive and has to win if he claims he is good at something. So, he will never ever admit it.)

Emmet has some lavenders and such he takes care of at home, and he is subscribed to all the related plant forums to ask for help in any indication that his baby plants are suffering/wilting. He is not a plant killer, but he is also moderate in it despite his best efforts. His knowledge is limited only to a few select plants.

🌙 - What’s their sleep schedule like?

None I would like to say during the main verse / Ingo's disappearance. Normally though, he has a verrrry strict schedule.

20:45 - Sleep time (He tries. He does. But he is usually staying up late to spend more time on his new projects or with his brother.)

4:45 - Sharp. He wakes up, feeds their pokemon , nd checks if anyone is in need of a potion -Joltiks fight each other sometimes-.

5:00-6:00 - Going out for a jog with Archeops. (If the weather is too cold, he has a yoga mat to have some light exercise at home.) 6:00-6:30 - Shower, Makeup (He is fond of light makeup and some eyeliners when he feels like it. If not, it is to take care of his face. He has many products to use for his hair and face :D ) 6:30-7:00 - Preparing breakfast if Ingo is not already up and about at that point. 7:00 - Begging Ingo to wake up if he is still asleep :D

#headcanons;; #verse;; the twin trouble #verse;; searching for the truth #ask;; suggestions and complaints #meteormashed #//THANK YOU SO MUCH SAVS!!! :D THIS WAS FUN #//also I realized I could use my old art for this blog as well so??? New dividers :D

[nekodream]

I was on town street with charl outside Morrison's. We were younger. She was in year 11 and I college.

It was a lucid dream. I was talking about starting school again. I was asking charl if they thought I would be allowed to start school again. Other entities were there, including two black girls.

Charles showed me something on her phone. The term "meoff". She said its supposed to represent something but I forget. I tell her if I google it when I wake up and find out it means the same thing then that proves that she's her own person in the dream or whatever.

I leave shortly afterwards and start "flying" towards school. I realize at this point that I am becoming less lucid but honestly I did a pretty good job at extending it for as long as possible. I practically made it all the way past st Margaret's and up the ginnel before shit got too weird. A building erected that reminded me of an art gallery and I recognize that those buildings try to entrap me. They usually have intricate patterns on them.

I managed to swoop out to the left, where I found two kites sat on top of telephone towers. I sit on one and shout "go! Moltres!" before flying about. I notice some takeaways and whatnot with writing and again, just take in how real it all looks. I always can't get over it but when I wake up the details immediately become fuzzy. But meoff. I remember meoff. I joked with Charles when she was looking up said word how difficult it is to google shit in your dreams but she didnt seem to have any problems. I specifically remember thinking about my IRL life and how I should go back to college

I think this was before, A black girl was in a shop that kinda looked like mccolls or this deli in Miami I once went to. She seemed pissed off. She blended me some ice, blackberries, mixer and I think tequila. I told her that I used to work in retail and minimum wage equals minimum effort. She seemed OK with me in the end, and was texting her bf I think.

[forhereyesonlyyy]

(ii) just like magic. // iz*one, kcw. // one-shot.

word count: 8.8k

author's note: oh. my. god. it's finally here!! i am so sorry this took literally forever 😭 it's soooo crazy how it took me SIX WHOLE MONTHS to finally come up with this sequel omfg. anyway, i hope this two-part short was somehow enjoyable despite the awful-ish pacing. please let me know what you thought of it! ✨💝

tags (overall): fluff, slow burn, angst, not-so-secret mutual pining, colleagues(-ish?) to lovers, a whole lot of falling in love from afar.

warnings: none.

previous: (i) just like magic.

Seven days have passed after that whole fiasco with IZ*ONE's Kim Chaewon in the music show bathroom, and slowly but surely, you find yourself getting more and more numb about the event as time goes.

That doesn't mean you didn't cry about it after it happened. No, every system in your body threatened to break down as soon as Chaewon walked away from you. Perhaps you did shut down, because you really can't remember anything else happening that day other than that exact moment.

You cried for two nights straight, and on the third day, you just felt extremely sad, but you had to pick yourself up. Somehow, you got yourself focused on doing your job instead of moping about your unrequited crush. You took this opportunity because you wanted to pursue your passion, not love. That one moment was great while it happened, but the way Chaewon reacted immediately after was something you considered a wake-up call for yourself.

And finally, on the fourth day, you were able to do your tasks accordingly without your mind suddenly drifting off to wherever. For the next two days, you were almost back to that state where all you cared about was making it big in the director's team, otherwise the time when you haven't been introduced to that beautiful girl. Almost.

The day you had been dreading for a whole week straight has finally arrived; it was the day you get to see IZ*ONE again for their final performance at this particular program. The director was taking charge of everything for the whole time IZ*ONE would be on the stage, so you didn't have to worry about suddenly stepping in and taking over like before. That was just one weight off your shoulder, however.

The director, being fond of the group and all, wanted to make this goodbye stage perfect for the girls. The set on the stage was filled with the most intricate designs specifically made for IZ*ONE. It was the fanciest set you have seen so far.

"(Y/N), I have to answer this phone call. Could you take over for a bit? I promise I'll be back before the rehearsal starts." The director runs off before you could even say anything. While he was going over the whole concept for IZ*ONE's stage earlier in a crew meeting, you had been diligently listening and taking very detailed notes. You tried your hardest to not think about a certain Kim Chaewon as you came up with some ideas of your own for the set. (You barely succeeded.)

While the director was outside taking care of his business, you did as you were told. You helped every crew member with some things they might have been troubled with, you made a few tweaks with the set design with the approval of one of the director's close affiliates, and all this work made you forget everything else. You enjoyed it very much.

It's always nice to not feel like you're being hunted down by your own thoughts for once.

~

In a bright, empty waiting room with only the distant sounds of chatters to accompany her, Kim Chaewon sits in a lonely chair, blankly staring at her reflection. Her exhausted, droopy-eyed, and pitiful reflection. She looked like she has been through the wringer, and for once it wasn't because she practiced until three in the morning or because she missed a few meals.

No, Kim Chaewon was in this state all because of one (Y/N) (L/N). You, who has been in her mind for the past week although Chaewon has tried everything to erase you from every bit of her memory. You were supposed to be a measly crush, someone Chaewon should be able to forget just like that. But deep inside her heart, she knew you were something more.

Which is a little ridiculous considering we've known each other for a minute but that's what being 'down bad' does to you, as Yena always said.

For a whole week, Chaewon has been preparing herself to face you again because as much as she wanted to deny it, the two of you will probably be forced to make eye contact or something. Chaewon doesn't know if she can look at anyone; she has been nothing but distant to her members, especially poor Wonyoung who was just so confused about why one of her elder sisters just suddenly decided she was invisible. But Chaewon really, truly did not know how to talk to Wonyoung after she betrayed her.

Chaewon remembered the way Wonyoung looked at you; like you were the best thing that has ever happened to the world. Wonyoung would have the brightest of stars in her eyes whenever she talked to you, and Chaewon didn't want to take that away. Even imagining how Wonyoung will act towards her when she admits her fault makes her want to hide forever, it would be too much.

Gods, this must be the worst thing I've ever done.

"Chaewon-unnie," A small voice fills the empty room, and the girl in question slowly turns her head to the direction of the door. There stood one Jang Wonyoung, nervous and timid. "Rehearsal will be starting in ten minutes. Eunbi-unnie wants all of us out there." The youngest says.

Chaewon could only nod. She stands up, slowly making her way towards the door. She strides past Wonyoung without another word, much to the youngest's dismay. The two of them make their way to the stage silently, the members were already waiting, eager to do their best performance yet.

Chaewon couldn't miss the way Yujin and Minju looked at her with worry. She hoped that she didn't look like she could pass out any second. The last thing she wants right now is for everyone to be on her business. Eunbi pats her on the shoulder and raises her voice to tell the members to get ready to walk onto the stage.

Chaewon tried. She really, really tried, but her eyes just automatically latch onto yours before her mind was even aware that you were there. You maintain eye contact for a brief second before a few staff member crowd you to talk with you, but that was still a second too long for Chaewon. Guilt just washes over her, and suddenly she feels like running away.

She feels a hand gently squeeze her own, and she turns her head to find Yena. "Are you okay?" The older of the two asked.

"You look like you're going to faint, unnie. Are you sick?" Yuri presses the back of her hand against Chaewon's forehead, but all she felt was sweat. Chaewon backs away, shaking her head. She wished Yuri and Yena didn't voice out their obvious concerns. Chaewon loved them, she really did, and she appreciated them for taking care of her, but she didn't want to slow anyone down.

Plus, the reason I'm being like this is so stupid. Eunbi-unnie will be disappointed. Nobody wants that.

Yena pulls Chaewon towards the stage where the other members had already been waiting. Chaewon gets into her position quickly, and tries her hardest to not make it obvious that she was uncomfortable having Wonyoung so close to her. Everybody watched as you mounted the director's 'throne', as some of the crew joked, and leaned into the mic. Chaewon keeps her eyes on one of the cameras, praying for the music to just start.

"Seems like the director's busy... again," You shake your head as you laugh. Gods, Chaewon almost forgot how your voice was such a treat to her ears. Something about the way you spoke always made people feel at ease, Chaewon was one of those people. For a mere second, Chaewon forgets that she was supposed to focus on performing and lets her eyes wander to where you were standing. You had a vibrant glow in your face, it made Chaewon melt. But a stupid little voice in the idol's head was telling her that perhaps... it was only her that was truly bothered by the events of last week. "Since we're kind of running on a time limit today, let's not wait for— oh, you need me?"

You lean away from the mic to tend to a crew member, and the girls temporarily chat amongst themselves. Chaewon stands behind the members, quietly observing everything and constantly reminding herself to not mind your existence. But then she looks at Wonyoung, who was gazing at you with such lovestruck eyes, and the weight of that kiss settles upon Chaewon's shoulders again.

Kim Chaewon vividly remembers every second of that moment. Despite what she told herself, that it was a mistake and that it should have never happened, it was all she could think about for the whole week. Sometimes Chaewon even allowed herself to not mind how horrible the action was just to laugh at how you weren't sure where to put your hands, how you had a cute habit of making some kisses short and sweet, and how you made Chaewon feel so sure when she looked upon your eyes and saw nothing but pure adoration.

Shortly after all the sweet thoughts, Chaewon's mind would drift to how she stole that from Wonyoung, and then she would go back to regretting it and wishing that she had chosen to just wish Wonyoung good luck with her feelings and not look at you when she did.

Eunbi tells the members to go into their respective positions once again, and as she does so, Chaewon's eyes drift onto you again. And there you were indeed, chatting with one of the crew members about a small dilemma, and you looked like you have been in this job for years. None of the quiet, nervous subordinate from last week could be seen. Chaewon didn't even realize that people can change that quick in a matter of seven days.

Kim Chaewon couldn't keep her eyes off of you. She could feel that ticklish sensation behind her ear the longer she stared you. Oh, you were just so pretty.

No. I should stop letting myself think like this. I did something bad, and I must forget her. I must.

All that and yet Chaewon still stared at you.

(Once again, Wonyoung quietly observes and her eyes lit up with enlightenment. Oh.)

How can I even ignore her? She's...

~

...shining.

Kim Chaewon shined the brightest when she was on stage, as if it belonged to her, as if she was always meant to be there. It was one of the things, perhaps one of the biggest things, that made you so drawn into her. The entire group had solid all-rounders that stole the show whenever it was their part, but to you, it always felt like Chaewon was the main star. Or maybe that was just your feelings talking.

Either way, there was nothing in the world that made Kim Chaewon less than perfect to you. She was your idol, and you relished at the feeling of delight that would wash over your senses whenever you saw her on stage where she rightfully belonged. If you could, you would keep IZ*ONE on stage forever and make everybody see how great performers they were, but that was just your inner fanatic talking.

The girls leave the stage one by one after their successful live performance, and finally, you could breathe like normal. You watched as IZ*ONE make their way backstage with big smiles and loud cheers as they were done with work for the day, and you couldn't help but grin along with them. Wonyoung briefly turns around and waves at you, and you wave back before she completely disappears.

It has been a while since you've personally exchanged any words with IZ*ONE's favorite girl. Although things were awkward, to you anyway, a week ago because of your assumptions, Wonyoung was still your friend and like a normal human being, you wanted to spend some time with your friend. If things were different, maybe you would have approached her right there and asked her to hang out with you, but there was something stopping you.

Or rather, someone.

You knew that talking to Wonyoung would mean being around Chaewon, and there was just no way you would be able to hide to anyone that something happened. Other than that, it would be hard to breathe around Chaewon. More than when all you did was stare and gawk at her, back when that wasn't happening yet. You've come so far making sure the only reason you would be looking at her was for 'work purposes', there was no way the universe would force you to break that streak now, right?

Ridiculous. I'll probably do something stupid again, knowing me.

"Let's take five. The next group's going to take a while to get set up." The director steps off his 'throne' and plopped down on a chair beside a trusted crew member. Some of the staff started chatting amongst themselves, some pulled out their phones, and some just did whatever came to their mind. You, however, decided to get some fresh air and left the set. Looking at the blinding lights shooting across the stage puts strain in your eyes, so sometimes you liked to step outside and bask in the warmth of normal, less harmful to the eyes kind of lights.

It had just occurred to you that you didn't have a proper meal for breakfast. It was very unusual for you to not set your alarm for the next day during the night, but when it happens, your brain starts losing stability so quickly it actually shows in your actions. And of course, since you were rushing to ride the earliest bus to the earliest train to get to the studio, you could only have a cup of lukewarm coffee before literally sprinting out of your house and towards the nearest bus stop.

So, you walked towards the direction of the lovely vending machine tucked in a quaint little corner in one of the building's many lounges with a skip in your step, all whilst whistling your own rendition of IZ*ONE's Merry-Go-Round.

Your joyful stride was abruptly interrupted when a loud slam fills the empty atmosphere. "Fucking thing." A cute voice hisses. It was coming from where the vending machines rested. You poked your head out from the corner, and your heart dropped when your eyes landed on the familiar back profile of one Kim Chaewon.

Just the girl I wanted to see. Thanks, fate.

Immediately, you scrapped any idea you had of getting food from that certain vending machine, ignoring your stomach's desperate cries for a nice snack. It doesn't take no longer than three minutes to go to the other lounge, and so with a new plan in mind, you started walking. But it just so happens that the universe did not like you that day, because as soon as you took one step away from where Kim Chaewon was, a cheerful, warm (and obnoxiously loud) voice calls out to you.

"(Y/N)! My girl! I feel like I have not seen you in forever! How'd you like our performance?" Ahn Yujin yells from halfway across the corridor. You were going to pretend that you didn't hear her and walk off, but this was Yujin. She wasn't the kind of person one can just brush off. So, you turned back around and matched the younger girl's wide grin.

"Breathtaking, as usual. I thought you guys are supposed to go home?" You asked. You internally cringed when you heard the vending machine being softly hit repeatedly. Sheesh. She could at least pretend that she isn't hurrying to scurry off to avoid me. But you shook those thoughts out of your head. You respected Chaewon, and her reaction towards you was also something you could learn to understand, but of course it couldn't be helped that you felt a little hurt.

Yujin looked as if she was going to run to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug, but she stops halfway when her eyes land on her fellow group member, then she laughs hysterically. Curious, you forced yourself to take two steps forward and yes, Kim Chaewon was still there. More pissed off than ever, but her features soften for one quick second upon seeing you. Your heart gets caught up in your throat, but you swallow it back down. Goodness, she was so close.

"Unnie, just shake it a little! We'll get flamed by the managers if we do any property damage around here," Yujin gently pulls Chaewon away from the malfunctioning machine and takes matters into her own hands. Awkwardly, you and Chaewon stood side by side. It felt like your lungs were being squeezed so tight it hurt so much, but not enough to completely break. You shoved your hand inside your jacket pocket, not trusting it to be hanging by your side freely because Chaewon was right there, and if you were crazy enough you would have definitely, definitely acted on your feelings. We can't have that happening again, right, Chaewon? "Alright. Here you go, unnie."

Yujin hands the snack to Chaewon, and the older girl accepts it with a small 'thanks' before turning on her heel to leave. "Ah, wait for me, unnie! I'm getting something too." The second youngest of IZ*ONE says as she hurriedly shoved coins inside the machine. You shift your weight to your other leg, praying to the gods to just let this end. All I wanted was a cheap brownie.

The small bag of Doritos successfully falls through the bottom of the machine, but Yujin doesn't get a chance to pull it out as her phone blares loudly. From what you saw, someone was calling, and Yujin excused herself to answer the call, leaving you and Chaewon standing painfully awkwardly in front of the vending machine. This was really not how you wanted this short trip to go.

With a deep breath, you went ahead and pulled out the bag of Doritors from the machine and decided to hold on to it for Yujin (who was just outside the hallway talking to, surprise, Wonyoung from her phone). Your hands were cold, and it didn't help that Chaewon was just staring at you as she waits for the younger girl to come back. Come on, (Y/N). Just put the damn coins inside and get your brownie. You deserve that much after this.

You missed the coin slot, embarrassingly enough, and several coins fell from your shaky hands. You cursed under your breath and bent down to pick up the coins. Your ears had grown red, this was all too much for your weak heart. Right in front of... her, too! Shaking your head, you sped up, but you only ended up dropping more coins. Before you could mutter some nonsense to yourself again, Kim Chaewon herself kneels down and helps you. You have never been more flustered.

Of course despite what you've told yourself not to do, your eyes rake over what you could make out of Chaewon's facial features from where you were sitting. Her soft dark hair was covering most of her face, and you could really only see the barest bits of her cheek, the side of her nose, her right eye, and her lips. God, her lips.

Stop it. You're supposed to burn that moment to ashes, like it never happened. Because it was a mistake, as she said.

You and Chaewon stand up at the same time. Neither of you could look at the other in the eye, you were thankful for that. She stretches out her hand to give you your coins, "Here." Chaewon mumbles. You accepted the coins, and the idol's fingers brushing against your palm made you jolt, much to your chagrin. You were so easy. Too easy, maybe.

After acquiring your well-earned vending machine brownie, you had planned on turning around and walking back to the set where your crew was patiently waiting. Standing here acting like Kim Chaewon wants anything to do with you after all the things she said a week ago was a waste of time. So, why couldn't you take even at least a step forward away from her? There you stood merely a few meters in front of your crush, and there was something in the air.

You had no doubt that Chaewon wanted to leave this space as much as you did, but her eyes told you otherwise. She wanted to say something, wanted you to say something. But what could you say? There were a million phrases that bubbled up in your brain that it was simply impossible to choose. There was even a part of you that wanted to just grab her hands and drop your heart right into her palms.

But no. You must've been imagining things. It was Chaewon herself that said it. It was a mistake. It's time I accept it. For real.

And so, you say the only thing that came to mind at the time. The one thing that wouldn't hurt you as much as it did had the two of you were able to keep your relationship strictly professional.

You flashed Kim Chaewon a genuine, good-natured smile that you hoped was enough to cover every part of yourself that showed just how much you didn't want to go and leave things as they were, "Goodbye, Chaewon."

~

"Unnie, did you get my Doritos?"

Ahn Yujin hops beside Kim Chaewon with her signature dimpled smile that never failed to make even the coldest of hearts melt into a puddle. Something was amiss, however. Because Chaewon was not able to feel the warmth Yujin always radiated. All she was able to think about was you, and how distant you felt right before you left.

It was as if Chaewon was alone and forsaken in a snowstorm with nothing but the brutally freezing weather to keep her company. It was the worst thing she has felt for the longest time, and goodness, the things she would do to keep herself warm. To keep you from getting even more farther away from her. But it was too late.

And to be fair, this is all my fault.

"Unnie, why... why are you crying?"

Chaewon blinks, "Huh?" And it was only then that she realized she had shed tears without feeling it. She quickly wipes her damp cheeks and brushed it off with a dry chuckle. Then she hands the younger girl the small bag of chips, all while avoiding Yujin's observant stare. It was probably already too late to hide. Everybody thinks that since Yujin was so carefree and young, everything would just go over her head, but Chaewon is almost convinced that the kid was a real mind reader.

That's why it was so dangerous for someone like Chaewon, who looks as if she can contain her emotions well but actually cannot to save her life, to be around someone like Yujin.

"Chaewon-unnie, talk to me," The older girl looks away, as if that would help make everything less obvious. Yujin goes quiet and thinks to herself for a good minute, then she looks back and forth between the direction you went off to and back to Chaewon. The older of the two couldn't help but chuckle once again when Yujin visibly perks up at the realization. "Is it (Y/N)?"

Chaewon nods, and she starts laughing weakly as tears started pooling in her eyes again. Oh, how she felt ridiculous. Crying in front of a younger member in the vicinity of a dumb and slightly broken vending machine over a girl she kissed once and barely even knew. Eventually, Chaewon wasn't able to keep herself numb. She breaks down, and she looks upon Yujin's eyes with what the younger girl could consider the most broken a person has ever looked, "I really like her, Yujin-ah."

Yujin knew that no words would be able to comfort Chaewon at the moment, so instead of giving her a lame pep talk, Yujin pulls Chaewon into her arms and embraces her tightly. Yujin allows Chaewon to cry, really cry, even when people were passing by and even when Minju arrives to retrieve them under the manager's orders.

Minju doesn't say anything to Chaewon, which the latter was thankful for. When Chaewon finally collects what little bits of herself she had left, she pulls away from Yujin, muttering a sincere 'thank you' before allowing herself to be gently led to the exit by Minju. Yujin trails behind the older girls quietly, and she stares at Chaewon, wondering what in the world just happened between you and her that made her... like this.

But that would have to be an investigation from another day because when Yujin pulls out her phone to check the time, she almost passes out on the spot out of panic when she sees that Wonyoung had been waiting for her on the other line. Ahn Yujin curses out loud when Jang Wonyoung ends the call without a word because she knew what that meant.

Wonyoung heard everything.

~

Yes, Jang Wonyoung did hear everything, but she didn't need to have someone tell her in the face. There were rare instances wherein Kim Chaewon was like an open book and during those moments, everything she was feeling would show in her eyes, her lips, her hands, and every bit of herself. So it wasn't that Wonyoung had some keen eyes for detail like Ahn Yujin; the big secret was handed to her in a silver spoon, and it wasn't because of that call.

Wonyoung started noticing the little things exactly a week ago. How could she not? Chaewon suddenly starts paying attention to you, someone she couldn't even look at for five seconds before putting her attention somewhere else. It piqued Wonyoung's interests, although deep inside, she felt threatened. She hated that feeling though. She told herself that if Chaewon, or literally anyone else, were to start developing a crush on you, she would be fine because hell, she doesn't own you!

In fact, Wonyoung thought that it would be fun to talk and gush about you with another person. When Wonyoung noticed that Chaewon was slowly falling for you, she couldn't wait to tease her about it in the dorms. She imagined a girls night out with just her and Chaewon, and maybe Yujin and Yena if they were nosy enough, and the two of them would be laying in bed just thinking about you and how effortlessly charming you were.

But when they got home that day, Chaewon power-walked straight into her room and shut everybody out.

The other girls concluded that she was probably just having another 'one of those days', but Wonyoung knew better. Because Chaewon was especially cold to her, and that was the biggest clue she had.

Wonyoung didn't need to hear that call to know everything because she saw that way Chaewon looked at you while you tended to your crew. And the youngest made sure to pay special attention to Chaewon after that performance just in case she sees more, and she was right. When you weren't looking, Chaewon would spare a glance or two your way, then her jaw would clench and she would just look so, so guilty. Then she would raise her head and stare at Wonyoung, her guilt changes into pure regret. And finally, she would look the other way, or completely run off somewhere else.

It was infuriating to Wonyoung, how Chaewon continued to be passive about everything. She was afraid that this would determine their friendship for the rest of their career, their lives, and that was terrifying. As far as Wonyoung was convinced, she had eleven older sisters. Not ten older sisters and one co-worker. It just felt wrong for her and Chaewon to not talk; even some of the members started noticing.

Jang Wonyoung couldn't stand the idea of one of her older sisters cutting her out from the rest of her life, so perhaps it was time for her to become the brave one. To become the one who confronts instead of running and hiding because in the end, maintaining this special bond she has with her members is worth more than whether or not she can get you to look at her the same way she looks at you.

So yes, Jang Wonyoung did hear everything, and she was going to make everything right.

~

"So much for dramatic goodbyes, huh, (Y/N)?"

Dumbfounded, you stared at the familiar set of girls standing beyond the countless cameras pointed at them in your crew's own personal studio. It was another day at work, but this time it wasn't in a music show program. You were told by the director that the crew was going to be working with a very special group to make awesome content for their fans, but what you didn't know was that you would be working with IZ*ONE; the group you thought you would never see again until a few months later.

It has only been five days since you said goodbye, but then you see Jang Wonyoung, Ahn Yujin, and Kim Minju waving enthusiastically at you from the center of the room. You waved back awkwardly before sighing. As surprising as this was, you weren't complaining. Anybody would love to spend more time with their favorite group.

She was there too and as per usual, she stole your attention quickly. All the members were wearing casual clothing as the content they were filming required them to have genuine fun and be themselves rather than act professional and follow a dumb script. Kim Chaewon was gorgeous; you have never seen someone look so good in jeans before.

Focus, (Y/N). Yes, she would look cool in a pants commercial but you're all business today. No time for feelings or memories of the past. Just stop thinking.

"(Y/N)," Thankfully, a voice you've come familiar with forces you to take your eyes off of Chaewon. Standing behind you was a most-cherished crew member, Yui, and she was probably the closest to what you have for a 'work best friend'. "This is very exciting. I only ever see these girls in YouTube! Now they're right here, and oh my God, Nako-chan is even cuter in real life." Yui lightly hits your shoulder as she stares at the adorable Japanese girl from across the studio.

"Something tells me that you like her more than what meets the eye," You teased playfully. When you spot the slightest moment of Yui's eyes lighting up, you grinned victoriously. "Why don't you ask her out?" You joked.

Yui rolls her eyes, "No, not any time soon I'm afraid. They can't have two dating scandals blowing up at once." She says. Her eyes widened when she realized what she had just said and you could visibly see the instant regret in her eyes. You chuckled, waving it off. It wasn't like you were still hung up about it. You'll find a way to come to terms with the fact that that moment will just be another one of those ones that you'll laugh about in the future.

I really do hope that future is soon.

You didn't know much about Yui. In fact, she was a literal stranger to you until the director introduced you to her. That was two days after that mess with Chaewon. She had been on an vacation in her hometown in Japan for a while, that was why you didn't meet her sooner. The night the two of you met, Yui invited you for a few drinks in her favorite pub. A 'few' drinks turned into a dozen, and before you knew it, you were telling her your whole life story, including the reason why you winded up drinking on a school night.

Now here you were, joined by the hip just like that. Yui was a good distraction though. Instead of thinking about how good I would have been with Chaewon for twenty-four hours straight, Yui taught me how to do that for only twenty! I really am thankful.

"As an attempt to clear this painfully awkward atmosphere I have summoned with my careless mouth, would you like to get to work, (Y/N)?" Yui asked, smiling sheepishly. She stretches out her hand to take yours, and you immediately intertwine your fingers and smile at her.

"I'd love that."

~

"Are you trying to melt (Y/N) with your stare, Wonyoung-ah?"

As much as Chaewon tried to shut them out to focus on whatever she should do for one of the individual segments of the show, Yujin and Wonyoung were too much of an attention-catching pair. Chaewon turns her head to look at the youngest, and yes, Wonyoung really was staring with very intense eyes at, of course, you. And another pretty girl who was holding your hand very romantically.

Wait — why do I care if it's romantic? Whatever.

"What does that even mean, unnie?" Wonyoung pouts her lips at the slightly older girl.

"It's a Filipino saying," Yujin replied as if it would make even more sense to Wonyoung. As expected, the tallest kid tilts her head in confusion. "Like, when you stare at someone for a long time, they'd end up melting or something. I don't know." Yujin shrugs. Chaewon couldn't help herself, so she chuckles at the two youngest's antics. While Wonyoung busies herself with pretending that she wasn't feeling threatened by your friend Yui, Yujin throws a concerned look towards Chaewon. The older girl shakes her head, mouthing an 'it's okay' before turning around.

Minju suddenly hugs her, not even giving her a moment to process her next thoughts. "How are you holding up, unnie?" The younger girl asked as she pulls back slightly. This unexpected re-encounter was as surprising for Chaewon as it was for you, and after what happened five days ago, it was natural for Minju and Yujin to be so concerned. Strangely enough, however, Chaewon wasn't feeling that gut-crushing regret that always collects at the pit of her stomach. Not towards you, not towards Wonyoung. Yet.

It was going to be a long day, but Chaewon was thankful that she wasn't going to start it being sad about her situation. Mostly because Yujin and Minju have helped her think about other things, even the smallest things! I should thank them for that later.

"I'm alright so far." She really was! Even when the image of you looking at your friend so tenderly made her feel bothered.

"That's good! Eunbi-unnie said she'll treat everyone to dinner after we've finished all pur schedules. Will you be tagging along?" Minju loops her arm around Chaewon's and they started walking in circles together.

Chaewon grins, "I can never say no to free food." She replied. She decided that 'keeping her distance' was doing more harm than help. Not just to herself, but to you and to her members. It was especially unfair to Wonyoung, who does not— well, did not —even have any idea why Chaewon started ignoring her in the first place. Chaewon learned that she was more afraid of losing her bond with her members than letting you slip away.

That didn't mean that it doesn't hurt to think about you, though. It still does, but only a little less nowadays.

Chaewon wasn't sure if she would ever pursue you again, or if she will just let you go once and for all. That was a battle she thought she'd finish before she saw you again, but the universe had other plans it seems.

"Unnie, you're staring at (Y/N) again."

Chaewon blinks, giggles at herself, and turns to Minju, "Didn't you girls once say that I only see the most beautiful thing in the room?"

The younger girl processes Chaewon's word for a minute, and her expression quickly changes into a sour one, "You're so cheesy!"

"Oh, come on, that was romantic, Min!"

It doesn't take long for the director to gather everyone back on the middle of the set and tell them that recording was about to start. A giggling Chaewon pulls Minju towards the other girls. It felt good to smile. Perhaps she can thank Minju, as well as Yujin, with some gifts later, and Wonyoung an apology. Maybe an explanation as well?

Looking back on it now, Wonyoung has been observing her a lot ever since the day Chaewon cried to Yujin and Minju. Has she figured it out? Does she hate me now? Can I still save us?

As if on cue, the tall youngest turns around and locks eyes with Chaewon. The older girl freezes, and the two of them stare at each other for a good minute. Do something. Smile. Wave. Wink. Something.

Chaewon looks away. Fuck.

(Wonyoung fixes her gaze on one of the cameras, a smile gracing her lips. She allows Yujin to get away with calling her 'creepy'. Yujin doesn't know about her plan.)

Chaewon wonders how long she can keep this up before it explodes on her face.

~

"Oh, that's really funny." You averted your distant gaze to Yui, who was laughing at some antic Chaeyeon and Yena were trying to pull on Yuri while playing a game of musical chairs. So far, over half of the girls were eliminated. Chaewon almost falls out of her chair, laughing when Yuri failed to take a seat and got eliminated. You couldn't suppress a smile of your own, feeling grateful to see hers. And to think that you were planning on locking yourself in the staff room to do your assignments for the whole duration of the filming!

Yena ends up betraying Chaeyeon and steals her chair, now it was only Yujin and, the greatest surprise of all — Minju who were left standing.

"Hey, so, remember how the director asked you and I to stop by the nearby bakery to get some pastries for the crew to eat after filming?" Yui asks. You nodded in reply, eyes locked onto one Kim Chaewon who was focused on cheering on her dear friend Kim Minju.

"I have a date when we get off work so I really don't think going out in the rain is a good idea," Yui starts twirling the ends of her hair. You rolled your eyes, you knew where this conversation was going. "Could you—"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't look at me with your puppy eyes. I'll get the food myself." You said, sparing yourself from your friend's attempt at being cute. Yui does a little cheer and loops her arm around yours, grinning as she continued watching the girls with you.

(A certain Kim Chaewon squints. The camera doesn't catch it, but one Jang Wonyoung surely did.)

~

The girls were granted a break while the staff prepared the set for the next segment of the show. Some of the girls went into the changing rooms to get their makeup fixed, and the rest sat behind the crew chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Chaewon stands behind the chair Yuri was sitting on, giggling uncontrollably as the younger kept going on and on about how unfair it was for Yena and Chaeyeon to gang up on her during the musical chairs game.

Eventually, Chaewon found herself tearing her gaze away from her members. She scans the room, and once she doesn't find a certain (Y/N), her heart drops a little. She did a good job of not letting it show, however, and just continued chatting with the members as if nothing happened.

"(Y/N)'s friend has been staring at Nako-unnie for quite some time now." Wonyoung whispers. Chaewon's eyes shoot up, and the youngest was correct. Chaewon sees your friend, Yui, almost get a whiplash turning her head in an attempt to not get caught.

"She's kinda cute. I don't mind." Nako shrugs. The members coo and tease her about getting a crush to which Nako quickly denies with sputtered words and a reddened face. Chaewon was convinced that her group consisted of only the worst liars in the universe.

Suddenly, Chaewon feels someone fixing her bangs, which have become unruly after all the running and jumping she did throughout all the games they played. Chaewon's eyes flies over to one Jang Wonyoung. The youngest was cautious, perhaps a little too cautious. (She was shaking to the bone. Commencing with her plan was scarier than she initially thought. Wonyoung hopes that Chaewon won't push her away like she has been for the past few days.)

"Thanks, Wonyoung-ah." Chaewon muttered, shying away from the younger girl's touch. Wonyoung gives her an endearing smile and Chaewon doesn't know just how much longer she can let the guilt eat her up like this.

Chaewon can't do it. She can't hurt Wonyoung more than she already has. Chaewon moves further away, but Wonyoung doesn't let her.

The tall girl grabs onto Chaewon's arm, tight without any intentions of letting go, "Let's talk, unnie. Please." The youngest pleaded.

Chaewon shakes her arm, Wonyoung doesn't budge. "Wonyoung..."

"I know why you're being like this. I'll make it quick. Just listen to me," Wonyoung gently tugs Chaewon away into a quiet corner. The members don't even notice they've gone to some other place. Not even Minju, who made it a habit to look after Chaewon. Chaewon sighs, and Wonyoung's words clicked into her brain. She knows? "Unnie... all you had to do was tell me." Wonyoung starts. She wears a confident smile on her face but Chaewon, on the other hand, was horrified.

"I wasn't going to get mad, or start to hate you or avoid you for the rest of my life or anything stupid like that," Wonyoung crosses her arms, pouting. Chaewon grits her teeth, she had no idea where Wonyoung was taking this conversation. "Just to be clear... it's (Y/N), right? You like (Y/N)?"

Chaewon sighs deeply, "I'm not supposed to. You like her. It's not my place."

Wonyoung shakes her head, "What kind of logic is that, unnie?" She sounded irritated. "I know what you're thinking. You didn't want to tell me anything because I like (Y/N), and that was the ultimate betrayal. But... we're family here. I'd understand if you came to me."

Chaewon turns away from the youngest. This kid was making points. Now she just felt stupid for going through all those lengths to avoid this simple conversation. Chaewon could've spared herself all the pain and all the tears if she'd just... talk to Wonyoung, and maybe you too.

"I'm more hurt that you chose to not talk to me and avoid me than the fact that we like the same girl," Wonyoung scratches her head, then grins. "I'm not even mad about you crushing on (Y/N), unnie. I think you guys are a good match! You need someone to light up your pretty face, and (Y/N) can do that to just about anyone. She's... awesome like that." Chaewon notices the look of longing and admiration on Wonyoung's distant eyes.

Wonyoung brightens up just like that and she takes the older girl's hands with hers, "I'm totally okay with you and (Y/N), unnie." She said.

Chaewon squeezes the younger girl's hands. From the sincere look in her eyes, Wonyoung truly means what she said. She would never sugarcoat anything to her older sisters, anyway. Not when it came to this. Chaewon feels her chest get a little lighter, but there was still something tangled up there that was making it hard for her to be truly herself again.

Regret, but not the same regret she felt when she kissed you and convinced herself that she'd betrayed Wonyoung. No, it was a different kind of regret. One that needs to be fixed or else Chaewon's conscience will never let her live it down.

"If you're going to say sorry, don't," Wonyoung says. Chaewon is thoroughly surprised. She wouldn't doubt the younger girl's if she came out as a mind reader. She hangs out with Yujin too much. "I think she's more deserving of your apology." Wonyoung turns her head and sets her eyes on you, who has just arrived with bags of boxed pastries in your hands.

Chaewon stares at you from afar, and all of her systems were screaming at her to run to you and tell you everything. But God, you were making it so hard with the goodbye you'd given her all those days ago. Chaewon heard it in your tone that you wanted nothing to do with her anymore, and Chaewon chose to respect that because of the bullshit she pulled after your kiss.

But what if... I'm not too late?

"Ah! I forgot the other bag and my wallet in the store!" You screamed particularly loudly while you were arranging the boxed pastries in a wide table. You ran towards the exit in a hurry.

"Huh. How convenient," Wonyoung mutters. (She glances to the side at Chaewon, and she smiles at the conflicted look on the older girl's face. God, she's so infatuated... and confused. Maybe I should help her.) She nudges Chaewon on the arm with a smirk. "Go, unnie."

Chaewon points at herself, "M-Me? Go? To (Y/N)?" She asked. Wonyoung doesn't answer her and instead pushes her towards the same exit while giggling. Not one person pays them any mind.

Wonyoung hands Chaewon an umbrella, "It's pouring outside. Give this to (Y/N) and... tell her. Everything."

Before Chaewon follows after you, she pulls Wonyoung in a tight hug. One that lasts for a minute or two before she finally lets go. (Wonyoung was so proud of herself for fixing things, she might start crying right there.) "Wish me luck, then."

"You don't need luck, unnie! Just your heart."

~

You had a knack for being forgetful during moments where it mattered the most. Hence why you were seriously considering running out in the rain to get a bag of pastries and your wallet back to the studio. Did you like the feeling of wet socks? Hell no! But your life was practically in your wallet, and pastries were better served warm!

Bouncing on your feet, you prepared to run outside in the rain. While muttering words of encouragement to yourself, you failed to hear the soft footsteps that were getting closer. You leaned against the door to push it open, but a small voice stops you from stepping outside the wet concrete.

"(Y/N)," Kim Chaewon stands before you with an umbrella in her arms. She wasn't avoiding your eyes this time. "I think you need this."

Slowly, you accept the umbrella. You were confused. Did she come all the way from the set just to give you an umbrella? Did Yui send her? That had more a possibility of happening than Chaewon deciding to approach you by her own volition. Or at least that's what you believed.

"Thank you, Chaewon." You said. Should you say something more? No, I've already said enough all those days ago. You turn around again, ready to face the storm outside, but the idol holds onto your arm, freezing you on the spot.

"Wait, (Y/N). I need to... say some things."

"Oh, Chaewon. You don't have to." You quickly replied. You failed to guess what Chaewon would want to tell you after all you've been through. Her attitude towards you all those weeks ago told you that she didn't want anything to do with you anymore, so what changed?

Why was Chaewon making it hard again?

"Yes, I do. I hurt you, (Y/N), and it was wrong for me to not say anything about it and just let you suffer alone and in silence," Chaewon tugs onto your sleeve, pulling you away from the door and closer to her. You avoid her gaze. "I'm sorry."

You gently pry your arm off her grip and sighed, "If you knew I messed up when I kissed you, then why did you kiss me back? You're so... confusing. After that, you said it was a mistake and then you run away and ignore me for weeks. Now you're here, trying to make up for it all just when I've decided that I was done trying with you. What are you doing, Chaewon?" You asked, desperate for answers for the questions that have been stuck in your head since that kiss.

Any bit of courage Chaewon had earlier had nearly all disappeared. Now she looks small and insecure, and so far away. Chaewon keeps her eyes on yours, however, and you could see it all again; what she feels.

"Okay... I was scared of everything. I didn't want either of us to lose Wonyoung, and... I was scared for you. When you kissed me, I wanted nothing more but to take that risk with you... but knowing everything, I just— I couldn't do that to you," Chaewon shakes her head. "And Wonyoung, she adores you. You mean the world to her, as she does to me. I know she's important to you too, and it broke my heart to think that I would lose her."

"I still did everything wrong. I hurt Wonyoung, my members, and I hurt you the most. I'm really... so, so sorry, (Y/N). You didn't deserve to get walked out on like that." Chaewon looked as if she would cry if she were to continue talking, you felt the same. You would laugh about it, if didn't want to take Chaewon into your arms at the moment.

In one swift motion, you dropped the umbrella and reached out to her. You pulled Chaewon towards you and caught her lips with yours in a searing kiss. Your chest grows warm as it did when you first kissed her, and it was as if a million flowers bloomed inside you.

(There was something about the way you held her and kissed her that just made Chaewon want to lay her whole heart out just for you. You were so gentle with her, so careful. You always made sure that you weren't holding her too tightly, or that you were biting her by mistake. Chaewon feels like she was going to fall for you all over again, all because of your pure, golden heart.

The longer you kissed her, the more Chaewon feels those sparks in the air. She felt it too when you first kissed her in that bathroom. Chaewon couldn't quite explain what those sparks meant. All she knows if that you were the first person to ever make her feel like that, and she knows you're going to be the only person to ever do that to her.

It was warm, bright, and most of all, beautiful beyond normal circumstances.

Like magic.

Yeah, something like that.)

"Are you still scared?" You asked the moment you pulled away. Chaewon shakes her head. She cups your face with both hands, and wipes your tears with her thumbs. You didn't even realize you'd been crying throughout all of that.

"No, not anymore. Not as long as you're here." Chaewon smiles at you, and you have never seen a girl as beautiful as her. She kisses you again and you let her, content with just holding her.

However, you break the kiss briefly, "Chaewon, I'm sorry too. I never wanted to put you through that. I was impulsive. You were there and I liked you so much and I just felt like I had to do it before you slipped away again." You apologized.

The idol shakes her head, intertwining your fingers together. "All my life, I've been second-guessing everything. It turns out that the more I dwell on one thing, the more likely I'll mess that thing up. All I needed to do was... just take a chance. So I did with you, back then and now," Chaewon kisses your interlocked hands and looked up at you. You've never seen eyes shine so bright and radiate real light before. "I know you're worth it."

Never in your life did you imagine that a mere crush would spiral into something more. Something special, something unforgettable.

Kim Chaewon was a rising star, destined for nothing but greatness and fortune for the rest of her life. You were practically built to just watch her, adore her, and be in awe of how amazing she is on the stage. The moment Chaewon finally took notice of you was like magic; it was everything you asked for and yet you couldn't explain why it was happening to you.

But magic worked in mysterious ways. And from personal experience you can now say that one of its functions is to bring two people from completely different worlds together and make a love that's not perfect, but real.

#izone x reader #izone scenarios #izone oneshots #izone imagines #izone reactions #kim chaewon reactions #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon imagines #kim chaewon scenarios #kim chaewon oneshots #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #girl group oneshots #girl group scenarios #girl group reactions

[altairattorney]

[OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH] Last Wish Granted

“A bath, I say!” he exclaims. “Are you deaf? I have been holed up in here too long, and I am starting to smell! What kind of man can stink like this and go about his day like nothing?”

Yes I have the gay pirate brainrot too, ofc. Wrote this beast in my sleep (no, not a joke; my brain really does that and quite often) and decided to actually write it to make my gay pirate brainrot friends happy. The rituals are intricate and everyone on that ship is gay and stupid and I love all of them. No NSFW anywhere but sexytimes are just implied; a lot of sweetness and gay happiness. [AO3 link]

Somewhere in the middle of the morning, Stede awakens from his third (fourth?) nap of the day.

It ends similarly to all the others: with the pungent smell of the rags he calls his bed, and drool over a frilly sleeve he has not been allowed to change in God knows how long. He dries his mouth against the fabric, in search of an inkling of comfort; but the scruffy ends of his beard pass right through it, only feeding his irritation further.

As usual, the sun is far too warm and gentle for his liking. Foggy eyes watch its rays touch his prison like a considerate caress. The rough edges where they tore up the walls – where a room built in his ship for his crew was disfigured into an ugly cell – seem to change shape as well, glistening bright like wooden crystals.

Much of the ship has suffered the same fate. Stede vaguely remembers finding it irritating, somewhere amidst the heartbreak and the shock of his first night aboard.

Not that it matters now, he thinks, coiling back onto himself like a defenseless animal. Thank goodness he does not remember much of that.

It was his choice – it still is. Now that his life is over, forgetfulness means survival. Since the first moment he found himself thrown on the ground of his cell, Stede has let all his hours and meals blur together into one endless state of half-consciousness, with the promise to make himself sleep as long he can throughout the walk of the celestial bodies.

If only he could also control what he dreams about.

The image is still only a glimpse, just like what he saw that day. It does not scare him nor hurt him any less. Deep within the nights on the ocean, when his sleeping throat betrays him and he whimpers despite himself, that fragment of a memory stirs and grows larger, seeping through the cracks of his mind until no space is left for anything else.

His nightmare is the face of a monster. He saw it but for a split second, and yet it comes back whole – in grotesque detail his agony reinvents each time, etching it mercilessly all over the face of his love. The ensemble is crowned by a pair of beastly eyes, inscrutable and black, open on the depths of a murderous ocean.

It scares him, that is certain. But every time, unbeknownst to him, his breath quickens and his foolish heart races. He reaches for that ghost of a man with untold hunger – fingers all over his face, still almost as soft as he remembers – he digs and scrapes with his thumbs, at the layers of black and salt and tears.

It never comes off. He can only wake up, and suffocate his crying in the same sleeve.

But not now, Stede decides. Way too much of the day is left to go through. For what it’s worth, if he has any dignity left at all, he will refrain from morning breakdowns like alcohol.

He numbs himself into half-sleep. There he plans to stay as long as he is allowed.

He is brought back by nervous footsteps.

*

“Well?”

Stede does not understand why Izzy Hands of all people is the one standing out of his cell, but he can guess. From what little he has grasped during his prison stay, the task falls to whoever pissed off the great Blackbeard most on any given day.

Despite what he believes, Izzy was never hard to read. But something in his demeanor – the scalding tone of his voice, the fury he conceals as bravado in his eyes – tells Stede something more is going on.

For the briefest moment, he wonders if their disagreement had anything to do with him at all. He represses a pang of terror, and swiftly suffocates the smallest spark of hope.

Even so, it isn’t like he cares. He decided long ago he would never deign Izzy with a single response, and despite it all – despite the pain – he wants everyone to know Stede Bonnet has become a man of his word. He remains silent, and absorbs every crumb of delight he can from staring at him without a moment’s rest.

Whatever his gaze is doing, it seems to be working. From his restless pacing around the corridor to the way his mustache quivers with rage, Izzy radiates distress. Stede loves every second of it.

“You think you are so smart,” the first mate comments. Even under so much pressure, his unctuous voice somehow still holds itself together. “I wonder what I could do to change your mind…”

For a moment, Stede has to blink to protect himself from the sight of his dagger.  It becomes blinding in the light, and lets out a horrific cry when Izzy scratches it against the metal bars. Neither needs to speak to clarify to each other what that sound promises – it is torture, skinning, certain death singing to him.

Yet, even at the height of his discomfort, Stede cannot help but notice that nobody has ever come close to harming him. And if there is anything he knows for sure in his life, at this very moment, it is how badly Izzy wants to do just that.

Does he want to... take care of me himself? his heart wonders with a start. He and no one else?

A thrill of fear and excitement runs through his spine at the thought. As much as he repeats to himself he is no longer supposed to care, Stede must let it happen this time. If his guess is right, few facts are left on his horizon – he is as good as dead, can afford no regrets, and will see the one he loves most in the world before he passes.

It is maybe that thought to break down his fierce resistance, and melt his nerves into a swarm of giggles. His throat bubbles up with hilarity like the chatter of a spring, full of a hollow joy – the delight of a man whose fate has already been chosen, and has nothing to lose but the present moment.

He does not know how long his voice keeps flowing, nor why the sparkle of little tears keeps dropping at the corner of his eyes; but he has never enjoyed any kind of peace for long before, and an abrupt end to his reverie has to come again, inevitably.

“That’s enough!”

Stede cannot repress an unceremonious squeal when the dagger plants itself into the floor, a breath away from his toenails. He concedes that much to Izzy – the man knows how to be fearsome. But he also enjoys his rage, and isn’t that the point, now that he is as good as gone? A moment of fun?

“You don’t even know who you are laughing at,” Izzy articulates, both terrifying and pathetic in his snake-like attitude. “You are nothing. If it weren’t for… damn.”

Stede perks up at his hesitation. To Izzy, the creature in the cell may very well be a dog who was just given the promise of food, or heard his distant master’s name. Disgusting, Stede can read in his face.

“Hmm?”

He is acutely aware of how much his only utterances sounded like squeals. But he has an oath of silence to maintain, and carries on – half-scared, half-intrigued by the prospect of more information.

Izzy slipped up. They are both aware of it. The first mate, a finely trained actor by all means, is able to compose himself and put up his sturdy mask of smugness again.

“What are you staring like that for?” he asks mockingly, shaking his head like he would at a child or a beast. “Is there anything Your Majesty wants from me?”

Stede ponders his words with care. If the end is inevitable as he thinks, he might as well get all the enjoyment he can out of this. For the first time in at least weeks, he shoots a dignified glance at the lacy wrists of his shirt, and ruffles them in the tidiest manner he can.

“I would much appreciate taking a bath.”

“Excuse me?”

It takes all of Stede’s willpower not to finally laugh again, amused as he is at Izzy’s furious bewilderment. However, the act has to continue. The man is of no use to him there – the only way he can enjoy his company is by seeing him frustrated or not seeing him at all.

He unearths his aristocratic ways from the forgotten areas of his mind. He knows they offer him his best shot at sounding as indignant as he wants to.

“A bath, I say!” he exclaims. “Are you deaf? I have been holed up in here too long, and I am starting to smell! What kind of man can stink like this and go about his day like nothing?”

With Izzy still shocked into inaction, he lets his frown morph into a malicious smile.

“Oh… I see. Men like you.”

It takes Izzy several seconds, plus a few instinctive moves towards the sheath, to realize his dagger is already out of reach within the cell. As Stede wonders whether he would have been able to resist the temptation this time, his amusement turns a little more somber.

Izzy’s next words change everything.

“He will hear all about this,” he growls. “He is going to hear it right now. You are dead.”

Stede hears him walk away like a storm, his footsteps heavy and frantic. Somehow, his heartbeat manages to match them in speed. His blood pulses throughout his whole body, a rolling drum, bearer of ecstasy and ultimate pain at once.

Maybe he will see him. Maybe, just this once, he will get the one thing he wants before he can die in peace.

And if he is fast enough – faster than Izzy’s bullets, he supposes – he will reach out his hands, as if in a dream…

“Um.”

When Stede realizes what he has been fantasizing about the whole time he was alone, his embarrassment grows to be noticeable. Even so, nothing could match that on Izzy’s face. Composed and professional as he tries to be, he finds it difficult to hide that the news he is bearing are quite strange – nothing close to the immediate bloodshed he was craving, at the very least.

“The Captain says you can have your damn bath,” he spits out. “Last wish granted.”

Stede can barely hear the loud click of the lock, or notice how he struggles to stand on his legs at first. His whole body feels as if it were made of light and clouds – lifted by elation and terror in equal measure, already sailing for its final destination in the heavens.

Heaven or hell, may his love join him there one day. That is his true last wish.

Out of nowhere, he feels a heavy push towards the staircase, and the back of his shirt blocked in a steady grasp.

“Go there now, but mind you,” Izzy barks. “You will be watched.”

*

In spite of all his anticipation, Stede cannot move.

Nothing sounds more pleasant than going to meet his maker clean, bloodstains and wounds aside. He sees no reason to wait any longer for that morsel of relief; he deeply needs to feel his limbs enveloped in soothing water, almost like the kind ocean loved to do when he lay on its shores.

And yet, something feels wrong. A sound nails his feet to the floorboards just outside his bathroom. His ears keep catching gentle splashes coming from the other side of the door – one his trained ear can now distinguish from the rolling waves. So much quieter, and yet so much more dreadful. Someone is in there.

It may be an ambush, his heightened survival instinct yelps from within. He realizes making complete sense of his imminent demise will still take some time.

The chatter of warm bath waters continues from the inside. It is somehow too delicate, almost sweet to his ears, with all the allure and danger of a siren’s song. He decides to collect his courage and add the final attempt to a row of polite, if awkward, gentlemanly knocks.

“Is anyone in there?” he calls, tremulous. “Hello?”

No other response but the water returns to his ears. Stede braces himself. It may take a minute, or twenty, for him to find his resolve; but he knows too well what fate he is headed to. Since his path cannot be changed, he might as well enjoy the last hour of solace he will know.

For a few moments, as the door cracks open and his knuckles turn white around the handle, his apprehension leads him to focus on the hidden corners of the room. It isn’t until he is relieved, and the door cautiously shut and locked, that it crosses his mind to focus on the tub.

Hiding in plain sight, his brain struggles to formulate, before all thought crumbles to the floor and crashes in stunned silence.

Ed is in there. No, it is not one of his dreams or memories, Ed is in there. Alone and naked and staring. Silvery droplets glisten all over the strands of the beard he seems to be trying to regrow in full. The shimmer of water coats patches of his beautiful skin, content to rest a moment longer wherever a scar or a vein left a mark. He lingers against the metal like a sculpture, vibrant model to pale marble imitations, with every shape and line drawn by his body converging to the center of it all – his powerful hand, wrapped around the hilt of a knife.

By the time he can formulate a thought again, Stede realizes his concept of time is far gone. The moments refuse to pass, caught in a reverie stronger than drugs; Ed’s movements happen faster than he can realize, faster than he can order his limbs to fully defend himself. He struggles hard not to focus on the body in front of him instead. As the shine blazes towards his throat, the realization it is all over struggles to come as quickly.

He breathes in and out several times. Things are too silent, too still for what expects him. For a while, his eyes are shut, and nothing hurts nor makes sense.

Though his ears feel like they are full of cotton, Stede begins to notice the breathing he is listening to is not just his own. He feels another quiver in the air, ragged and uneven, but almost slowing down to match the rise and fall of his rib-cage. He finds it in himself to look again, to see where he ended up.

Against all he expected, his face is full of Ed.

The knife ended nowhere near the place he thought he would. He sees its silhouette somewhere near his left side, higher than his neck, farther than his cheeks. The handle is no more than a glimpse – he cannot resist half a second before turning his gaze ahead. Every nerve in his system shuts down, giving way to nothing but adrenaline and ecstasy.

He is far too vulnerable, far too open to danger, far too close to his lips and his face and the draw of his warm body. If he really is to die, Stede thinks, he cannot wait an instant longer.

He flies to meet Ed’s lips again, eager beyond words to talk to him, to make him understand, to kiss the totality of his desperation into him. He must pour so much love in such fleeting, brief time he has to live. No matter how much you hate me, his tongue would speak if such fiery embraces had words, I love you, I will love you forever, I will die at your side in any way I must.

He is far too lost to feel more than sparks all over his limbs when other hands tug at his clothes, ridding him of the heat and the dirt and the foul smell. Everywhere barriers fall, bring down defenses. His contact with soft patches of skin, avid and fervent and in so much need, slowly gives him the raw power to open his eyes wide and hold Ed’s face.

He sees fire burn in his eyes. The fire he loves. The dark pits of his pupils, now stretched out wide for him to read, are not quite as glacial as the monstrous chasms he remembers – they find their bonfire again moment by moment, melting the icebergs of his love in warm rivulets through his long-cracked black make-up.

“I-I couldn’t,” Ed finally mutters. “You- I just couldn’t”.

He lowers his head in pain with such force he breaks free of his loving grasp, turning to take a few disheartened steps away. Distracted by the chill his absence left, Stede slowly puts him into focus. He follows the wet footprints on the floor, then the geometry of his slender legs; he envelops his chest and shoulders with his gaze, to find them curved under a weight too merciless to bear. He knows what his posture means – he has seen it so many times before.

Ed stands on his own, clothed in sunlight, like a man who has lost himself completely.

With the noise of deep instinct washed out of his blood, Stede is allowed to choose with renewed clarity. He walks forward with peace, mellow and certain, to wrap his arms around Ed in the most understanding embrace he can muster.

“I know,” he murmurs against the skin of his neck. “It’s alright now. I am not going anywhere.”

The way Ed’s arm grasp his to keep him close feels like a call for help, a plea from a soul who has known nothing but loneliness. To Stede, however, he is more resplendent than the sky just outside. All of them, he thinks with contempt, were both right and wrong at once. He is the shell of a fearsome captain – yet a man reborn in love, basking in the warmth of his own beauty.

That is not what he thinks about himself. Whether his fault or not, Stede knows that has to change.

Though reluctant to move at all, he gently turns Ed around to face him, and lifts his chin with the same care he always reserved for any timid flower buds in his own vast garden – shy to bloom, yet ready in their own time.

His gaze, if wounded and afraid of further pain, is molten in the softness he knows so well. The contrast to the crude markings painted on his cheeks is stunning. In the space of a few loving glances, Stede notices the horrible story they tell; the streaks of black look painted one over the other, their edges washed away by his eyes time and time again. Who knows how long it would have taken still, he struggles to think, for that story to be given up on and end forever.

When he is able to speak again, Ed’s voice is so frail Stede thinks he may break in his arms.

“Why?”

There is nothing else. Nothing else is needed for them both to be run through by grief, in all the places that hurt most. Still, the choice Stede made is already set in stone. He is not here to revel in their pain; he is here to heal wounds, close incomplete chapters, do whatever it takes to finally open the one they always wanted to write.

“A lot went wrong,” he answers, not knowing how to sum up so much change in the few words Ed desperately needs. “There is much that I need to explain. I am so sorry.”

“Me too,” Ed sobs against his shoulder.

Stede pauses thoughtfully, putting his words together as he runs his fingers through Ed’s hair. It is filthy and tangled like it never used to be.

“I know things did not go as we planned,” he continues, doing all he can to prevent his voice from cracking. “That was not what you wanted to happen. I did not want that to happen. But in the end… above all, I had to make things right. With my family and myself first of all. And I did not come back to harm you, or to-”

His jaw clenches. The memory of that encounter still hurts as its core – the events and the insults both. Still, now that he knows the truth, he can move forward.

“I did not come to ruin you or make you any less of a person. I came back to make things right with you, too. Because…”

Ed turns his head to look at him. For a moment, a rosy tinge still falls over his cheeks. He feels the ancestral drive to conceal his emotions and run – even more so in front of his fearsome mentor, his teacher, his friend.

He brushes it off with a smile, not minding the few tears that fall from his own eyes. Neither of them are that person anymore. He is Stede and this is Ed, his lifted hand entwined in his own, expectant.

“The truth is, you are my family now. If you will want to be.”

Now, if he could, Stede would close his eyes and draw a long sigh of relief. The question he implied carries the weight of significant words, so full of care and timid visions of the future. He does not have the time to do any of that.

Ed’s kiss is fierce in the way he knows and loves – strong with the truth that lies beneath, with words he feels he cannot speak enough. He cannot help being carried away by their power, just like it happened when all he knew of him was his name. Though he accepts him fervently, his eyes remain wide open; he takes in the sensation with some shock, torn between pleasure and need for a straight answer.

“Uh… Ed?” he says in between pants, as his eyes focus to reveal a mischievous smile on his beloved’s face. “My darling, are you al-”

“Aw, fuck it.”

Stede cannot identify much of the words that come out of either their mouths after that. His memory of the moment will remain a chaotic waltz towards the tub, fragments of sentences nobody ever cared enough to finish, numerous instances of their heads banging together, sounds that were half kisses and half laughter. At the end of it all, his consciousness grows quiet: deliciously warm water, calm breathing, and the weight of a slender body resting on his own.

Ed seems inclined to do little more than stare at him, his fingers diving below the surface of the water to caress the softest parts of Stede’s belly and chest. Waving back and forth, they leave ripples like dolphins against a pleasant sunset. Electrified by every touch, his mind lets go of any logic, and elects to start pouring water on the thick black strands of hair that float all around his heart.

They resemble glossy algae in his hands, ever so gently breaking free of the dirt as the scent of lavender spreads around them in a welcoming aura. The shorter hair finds its way to frame the soft features of Ed’s face, and it is not long before Stede follows its path. From the strong jawline near his ears, his hands climb with respect, step after step, to get to the dark streaks that still plague his face.

Although something sours in Ed’s expression, he gives no sign of wanting to stop him. He closes his eyes and, Stede would love to think, he lets go.

The soapy water makes him think of waves on a shore: they wash the dirt away with them, stroke after stroke, to uncover treasures of skin and wrinkles. Those layers, Ed tells him through the way he grasps his forearm, are full of stories best torn away and forgotten. They walk back through time together, arm in arm, until his visage is a clean slate; and there, on fresh pages of supple brown skin, all their future is ready to be written.

When they open again, his eyes are glistening with the strength of the sea. The glint so familiar and beloved to Stede is the most alluring and comforting of sights, precious more than anything he could ever own.

Welcome home, it whispers to him. And he answers.

Neither of the men notices when the bath begins to cool. The sun shines highest on its throne now, rich with generous handfuls of gold to shine upon their skins. Stede watches his beloved writhe in the water, limbs and lips so busy with leaving behind trails of kisses. He spreads around his frame, all dark and silver and shine. The most handsome of sea monsters, he thinks dreamily. He pictures scales, or gills, or smooth skin growing on their necks; he imagines they will have every chance to float away together, to sink forever in their personal sea.

He lets his blonde hair and toes curl in abandon, soft against the edges of the tub. Nothing he has ever experienced even comes close to this. He has gone through the mechanics, he guesses, in a way he neither chose nor relished; but the certainty of his body is as sound as that of his mind. He circles Ed’s ear with a careful hand, and he whispers – to his voice and his limbs alone – that he is ready to learn.

“Let me show you,” Edward responds.

*

When the afternoon begins to decline, Stede opens his curtains to meet it on the ocean.

The gifts of its light are bountiful even as it sets, its warm tendrils beginning to turn rose. They cast a final glance, private and merry, on the last droplets that still run on their skins; they wrap around his hollow bedroom, so barren to his eyes, to make up for all that was lost, yet will never be lost again.

The curtains frame their bed like a theater stage, where the rest of their lives are beginning to be written. Many words are still owed, many broken branches to be mended; but the truth shines through from the beginning, where it was established neither would ever live without the other.

For all the way he has to go, Stede no longer understands what worry feels like. The balance of their bodies on one another is so frail, yet so much harder to let go of than anything else. He never plans on doing that again, whatever it may cost.

For the time being, he goes to rest. Clean, elated and exhausted in equal measure, he thinks with a chuckle.

Stede and Ed go sleep with the sun, and today – at long last – they are both happy and free.

#ofmd #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #omfd fanfiction #our flag means death #only this show could honestly have the power to pull me out of writer's block after 1 year and a half

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C3: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships.

< Sisyphus happy. chapters >

“You are still the kindest thing that ever happened to me, even if that is not how our tale is told.” ― Nikita Gill, (Persephone to Hades) Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters ══════════════════════════════════

Step by step by step. Any more and you would collapse, exhausted to the very core of your soul. You’d give anything to stop, to sleep, to rest on a shade of a tree.  In this realm, there is no god. There is only the boulder upon your back and prisoner set to carry it and the nightmare of this is that you can’t.

The dreams flow like the sands of time, holding for a moment and gone the next, blown by the wind, unforgiving to anything. Not even you.

“You should rest a bit more,” Zhongli would say, picking a dress that you would be wearing from an extensive wardrobe that he got you after moving to your new house while you sit on the dresser feeling as if this has happened before.

The white silk easy and comfortable on the skin in this summer heat is welcomed with open arms and you smile at him as thanks. While it is as simple, fitting for someone in your standing, the traditional embroidery, intricate symbols of the land decorated by the long body of a dragon, made it fashionable and familiar yet never having worn it before. A perfect fit on your small frame Zhongli would admire without looking, busy brushing your (h/c) hair. “I would dare say that it would even be better if you simply relaxed indoors with this heat.”

“Isn’t that like asking you to skip the day and stay with me.” You would slyly comment after he is finished, holding his hand and giving you the shubi(comb) to be kept in the drawer. Yet another gift that he has given, your lovely husband never failed to spoil as even a simple comb is adorned by jewels and a symbol of the geo. 

“Trust me dear, I’d rather see your face than have another conversation with Barbatos.” He brushes a strand and kisses your forehead before going to the kitchen so you may prepare his tea. You chuckle, thinking back to the nights that he would complain, long and trouble about his flighty acquaintance from the city. The drunkard from Mondstandt, who shirks his duties and plays around. ‘A disgrace to the arts,’ he would even grumble. 

Even in summer when the sun is high with its sweltering long days and short nights, the mornings have never changed. You slowly and carefully put the leaves on the pot, as Zhongli talks about a child that he has recently taken in. “I do not know how to handle a child, and he seems to be suffering from chronic pain…” His voice, drawled in the background like static in your head; everything slowing and blurring like an oncoming headache as you notice something in the bottom of the pot. 

The city who was protected by the god of geo, had loved and adored him, to the point that they would engrave it on their crafts it seems, you think staring at it wondering when exactly did Zhongli get this yixing teapot. It seems as if a long time has passed, so long that even you have begun to forget. 

“Zhongli, when did we get married again?” 

He stops and as if time had known a master so did the world. Neither the creak of the wood as he stood, nor the pads of his familiar footsteps and the shift of his clothes make a sound.

The walls have ears and the earth keeps your soul, the wind whispers as you begin to suffocate in his presence, the whole house feeling familiar yet foreign, like the back of your husband as he walks away.

Your heart is filled with regret, the sound of a closing door has resumed the ticking of a clock, while you are left in the kitchen, thoroughly alone with an empty cup and unfinished tea, left to pick up pieces of your routine with a question left unanswered. You stare at the catalyst of this disaster, only to find a plain pot and a headache from trying to remember what you were looking for. 

It's always in summer, when uncomfortable heat makes your joints hurt and head light, that an unusual day occurs, it is as if you were dreaming, and any moment you would soon wake to begin the day all over again. Yet you don’t and you hate this season even more.

It ends with you retreating to the garden, welcoming and always familiar with it’s peaceful quiet where you find yourself in solace. “This is solely yours,” Zhongli once said, the first and last time that he has stepped in the garden that he had made especially for you. 

Here you are safe. Here the plants sprout from the ground and nurtured to life with your own two hands are a pillar to your reality. Here, you are (y/n)(l/n), a simple herbalist and the ache from being under this heat on your skin that turns red, the pain in your bones as it creaks from crouching to be near the ground, the soil and leaves in your hands is familiar.

It is with plants harvested and crushed to medicine, intricately and methodologically, where you find yourself. 

You are (Y/n) (l/n). You are a herbalist as was your father and mother whom  you clung and learned from their hip since you understood how to speak, and you try to remember what permeated the air as they came home in the dusk. 

Did your mother’s warm hands perhaps carry the scent of flowers from all the Qingxin petals or had your father smelled of miasma from the dying?

The mountain with its afternoon air, for the first time, never felt so lonely that you had wished for the sun to come down for any company. 

“Maybe we should visit my parents.” You say while eating Jewelry soup, an offering of sorts for whatever happened earlier. He is quiet again, sighing when you spoke before he replies, “I’m unsure if you can make the trip, you are aware how sickly you are, right? I would have loved even to show you an opera.”

“What if they visit us, instead?”

“(y/n), you know how they’ve grown old, I’m worried for their fragile bones.” 

Lies. Lies. Lies. Something whispers in the back of your head as you stare at him, gouging for any hints that it is indeed a lie, yet his impassive face and sharp amber eyes brimming with sympathy tells otherwise; then there it was again a deja vu moment as if you’d had this conversation before and you are drowning in your own head. 

“Maybe one day when you are feeling better.” He kisses your hand, tender and long, holding it tightly as if it was painful to let go, as a silent apology. It pulls you out and grounds you, immensely thankful for his presence thinking where you would be without your husband?

“I’m sorry. “ Guilt overwhelms your heart and you do not tell him that you barely remember your parent’s face, rather you opt to look at the hands that clasp yours, like a prayer as he sighs almost like a hiccup to his impassive facade, and you think that he is simply exhausted from work and the long journey it takes everyday, simply because you needed to be here lest you compromise your health. Everything, everything he does is always for you, yet here you are pestering and giving him another headache when home is supposed to be where one rests their weariness. 

Tonight, it is you who blows the candles and let the house dissolve into the pitch black, until you are blind and all you can do is feel and hold his weary body against yours. Your husband who is always unmoving, adamant and akin to a pillar rather than a person who knows how to hide his emotions in little cracks, feels like a stranger in your arms as he silently falls apart, yet still speaks no words and hides his face in the dark.

And then you sleep, closing your eyes as another season passes, like a dream blurring in and out of focus. Forgetting the tiniest details, but Zhongli. 

Your dear husband who is the only constant. Your dear, beloved husband is always there smiling and telling you stories about memories long passed and if you looked in the corner of your eyes, he looks at you like you were too. 

You are (Y/n) (l/n).You are a gardener. You don’t know nor understand why those words repeat in your thoughts like a broken prayer of a sinner who has long been abandoned by his god. It is whispered like a plea, filled with sorrow and regret. The weight of these emotions bore on your fragile shoulders as if you were carrying a boulder on an uphill road and yet you cannot stop your steps. 

#TiredZ Sisyphus happy #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #geshin impact #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you

[gryffindors-weasley]

Late Nights, Early Mornings

Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you can’t sleep, Benedict will always be there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none—fluff, kissing

A sigh left your lips as you rolled further onto your side, resting your head tiredly on Benedict’s shoulder. You weren’t entirely sure of the hour, it could have been late in the night or early in the morning. Either way, you could not sleep and that much was certain. You’ve got far too much energy to sleep, though you were far too tired to do anything else but to stay in the comfort of your bed and hope dreams find you. Your mind wasn’t active with anything important in particular—well, maybe a few things.

Your mind was bouncing between one trivial thought to the next in a restless loop, anywhere from the happenings of early that evening to the walk you wanted to take through the garden with Benedict the following day. It left you no other choice but to settle for sulking, to dance your fingertips across his chest as you so often did. Your touch was featherlight as you did just that, eyelids tauntingly heavy as you continued the absentminded action.

It was a rather tiresome night at Lady Danbury’s estate, the events she holds always proving to be extraordinarily exceptional in all aspects. Your feet ache from a night of dancing with your beau and his brothers, your mind exhausted from holding one too many conversations, some of which with people you’d never even met prior to that evening. Not only that, but the event itself was much too long after the first hour or so, and the fatigue settling upon you would very much agree with that statement. You were quite sure you would be sore once you get up for the morning.

Needless to say, there was ample reason for you to be fast asleep in that current moment, but your mind fervently says otherwise as you remain awake.

Admittedly, it was rather peaceful as you lay there. The warmth of the sheets juxtaposed with the breeze filtering in through the open windows sweeping across your skin—it felt entirely calming. With it brought the subtle sound of said breeze gusting through the leaves on the multitude of trees in the garden, the scent of flowers wafting in. Moonlight streamed in through the arched windows, weaving around the burgundy curtains draping around them and stretching across the hardwood floor.

It was a sight all too beautiful—a different kind of beauty than that of elegant gowns and finely tailored suits, of polished dancefloors and well practiced music. While you did enjoy the constructed beauty of the estate you could call your very own home, even the very room you currently reside within, it paled in comparison to the natural glamour all around you. The intricate gold detailing around each and every door frame, the meticulously painted portraits on the walls, the grand pianos and chandeliers; they were all nothing short of gorgeous you must say. But there was something utterly enamoring about the way the curtains swayed with the wind and stars that twinkled above you.

Your gaze flits to Benedict as you breathe out another sigh, a soft smile on your lips. You’re smiling at the way his hair sits in tousled tangles of dark brown curls, dipping freely over his forehead. It was never necessarily neat and managed to begin with, and the thought alone had you stifling a quiet laugh. You gaze at the way his lashes curl over the tops of his cheeks, and the bridge of his ever so kissable nose and the soft smattering of freckles that dance across it. Your attention focuses on the occasional tightening of his grip around your waist out of instinct should you stray too far from him, and the moments he wakes up briefly just to kiss your forehead before drifting off. It was a seemingly unbreakable habit, one that you adored so wholly. It is but a wonder how his love can be so delightfully dizzying, how he himself could be so wonderful. But he is.

You hadn’t known quite how long you’d been caught up in your own thinking, in your own admiring, but you had most certainly known of the hand enveloping your wrist and the soft laugh sounding in the otherwise quiet room. One that startled you only slightly.

“I can feel you staring, my love,” he states, the corner of his mouth quirking to a smile before he turns his head and peeks an eye open at you. “I’m afraid you’re not as discreet as you may think.”

You smile brightly, beamingly as you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. He smiles in bliss at the action, eyes fluttering closed only briefly.

“Sorry,” you mumble quietly, fingers still swirling on his skin, “couldn’t sleep.”

He hums softly in acknowledgment, your words capturing his attention fully as he turned his head to look at you. His eyes take in your sleepy expression, your grin there and just for him nonetheless. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me why?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to fight your growing smile and your efforts were quickly proving to be futile the more you held his amused gaze. He knew you were up to something, you always were and he always knew just when that was. He could tell by the very smile that had been playing on your lips and the mischievous look filling your stare.

“My mind won’t seem to let me forget the way you’ve twirled me directly into the Queen herself this evening.”

There it was.

His tired laughter continued once more at your words and you couldn’t stifle your own a moment longer, nor did you hesitate to scrunch your nose in displeasure at his reaction. “And I suppose you think that is all my fault? Never mind your perpetual clumsiness, of course it couldn’t be that.”

His jesting words were spoken softly against your lips, his nose brushing against your own as he kisses you to silence your inevitable scoff. Your inevitable complaint for stating the obvious. You relax against him then, almost letting yourself become distracted. Truthfully, you had, it wasn’t hard to with the way your lips meld perfectly with one another. Or perhaps it was the way he smiled against them because of the sheer love in his heart for you before continuing with a kiss far too intoxicatingly gentle and sweet to ignore. The way the warmth of his palm pressed gently to your flushed cheek before sliding down your arm as it had moments before. But, with all the reluctance in the world you part from him, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Yes,” you start, nipping the very tip of his nose. “I very much do think so, my love. And I do believe you are just as clumsy as I am.”

“Am not!” He defends, propping himself up on his elbow, his blue stare now narrowed playfully at you as his hand never leaves your arm.

You scoff incredulously, trying not to be swayed by your desire to kiss him once more though you will admit it was rather hard to ignore. “Need I remind you of the incident at Somerset House?”

He squints down at you as you raise your brow in a silent challenge, lips kiss swollen and pursed as you wait for him to break. He could deny it all he so desires, but you knew for certain that he’d had more than enough clumsy encounters for the two of you. You narrowed your eyes the more moments that passed, still amused and still patiently waiting as the brunette just inches in front of you bit the inside of his cheek. He was so close his breath fanned across your lips.

“That table was deceiving,” He explains, causing you to tip your head back and your laughter to escape you without hesitation as he flops back next to you with a bounce. “How was I to know it’d topple over like that?”

Your teasing smile had soon dwindled to a soft one as he settled close to you, your laughter mingling in the air. His eyes nearly sparkle as he looked at you, his grin equally soft. “Regardless, you nearly knocked a rather expensive painting off the wall in your attempt to grab my hand and flee from the mess you’d created. How ever shall I forget that?”

Your voice is soft and spoken with the utmost of lighthearted teasing, a squeal leaving your lips when his hand moves from your wrist to envelop your own, tugging you swiftly to be impossibly closer to him. His smile is sleepy and fond, your joined hands coming to rest on his chest as his thumb brushes gingerly over the back of yours. It’s quiet for a few moments, your cheeks flushing over the sheer lovingness held in his gaze.

“I don’t believe you shall ever forget it, you love to tease me far too much on the matter,” he chuckles, though not an ounce of exasperation finds its way in his tone at the obvious fact that surely you will mention it again.

Your smile is beaming as you nudge his nose with your own, lips brushing over lips and breath fanning warmly and softly over skin. Your kiss is tender and fleeting before you drop your head to his chest with a quiet sigh, hiding your face in his neck. He joins your sigh, his fingers trailing up and down your spine in a delicate touch.

For a short while you took the moment to bask in the safety of his arms, in the rhythmic beat of his heart as your ear remained pressed upon his chest. Traces of his laughter still shake you ever so lightly, his lips pressing to the top of your head in a simple moment of affection. He knew no matter how much you joked about it, the events just a few hours prior still bothered you. Even if it’d been just a little bit. It was the Queen after all.

The silence may have been brief but he felt as if he should say something, anything. He knew he needed to.

“In all fairness, you must know that you look rather cute when you’re flustered,” he states. He smiles when he feels your otherwise quiet laughter puff against his neck.

You lift your head slightly, resting it on his shoulder to better see him. “Must I?”

He lets go of your hand to brush the hair out of your face, to brush his thumb across your cheek. He felt as though his heart nearly bursted in his chest with the way the moonlight glimmered over you, with the way it made your eyes shine brighter than any star. With the way you looked at him, a look that will always give him butterflies, that will always make him melt. He nods. “Yes, you must.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up at his words, and you blink at him tiredly. “She nearly spilled her lemonade on my dress, and she hadn’t looked very happy with me.”

“Do not worry, darling, I have smoothed things over. She loves me after all,” he says, the pad of his thumb moving from your cheek to sweep over your lip.

The roll of your eyes was expected, something bringing out the softest of laughs in him as he tilted your chin up and kissed you. “Then I must say I don’t blame her.”

He parted from your lips to kiss the very tip of your nose, to kiss your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw. Your laughter sounded by the time he made it back to your mouth, his forehead rested on yours as he relished in that very moment. Any bit of time he has with you, just the two of you—it’s time always cherished. Even if it’s you teasing him in good fun for his clumsy mistakes, and him hopelessly trying to deny such clumsy incidents. It’s all he’d ever need and it’s all he’d ever want.

“I think we should go back to sleep now, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, tugging the blankets back up.

You finally could agree on that statement, the fatigue of the day just catching up with you as you yawn. He tucked you close, his hand soon finding yours as he lays back against your pillow. The moment you’re comfortable, your joined hands rest on his chest once more, fingers entwining and legs tangling.

“I love you, Ben,” you whisper softly.

He smiles at the nickname, peering down to meet your sleepy gaze. You press one final kiss to his lips to further confirm your affections, the action wordless and fleeting before you let your head fall to his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a lopsided smile.

He’d love you forever—in the late nights and the early mornings.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @elennox03

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton #bridgerton fic