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#do not mind all the weird lines - this is still not 'finalized' and all the lines are on like 3 different layers I forget about

playgrl0 · 2 days

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loving you / gojo

an: something short nd simple. not proof read🧍‍♂️ i love satoru so so sos o sososos much and i wanna give him nd receive sloppy kisses from him too big fat sigh

! i would really, really appreciate some feedback. it makes me happy and motivates me to keep writing !

"mmmwaaahhh! mwah, mwah! mmyyygoooddd!" he groans against your lips. satoru's big hands squeeze your cheeks together while he presses his lips onto yours. hard and sloppy kiss after kiss after kiss. "god, you're so adorable! i can't get enough. mwah, mwah!" he mutters through kisses. you can barely understand him since he chooses to speak every time his lips are smooching yours. but it doesn't matter if you understand it or not since he's only talking no himself. he's been doing this for the past few minutes maybe, and you don't mind. you've been together for so long now that you're used to it. it'd be weird if he didn't do it. —

you're both cuddling on your shared bed, wearing comfortable clothes. he's laying halfway on top of you, his hands still squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips are puckered. he finally removes his lips from yours and he stares into your eyes. you look back at him amused and immediately he starts grinning like an idiot. "god, my heart-" he starts and presses another hard kiss to your forehead this time. "-you're too cute for this world!" you laugh. "satowu, pwease! my face huwts!" you try to tell him as best as you can with how he's holding your face. he understands it though and eases his grip a bit, not letting go though. "sorry, can't help myself." he smiles and this time he buries his face in your neck where he starts to gently kiss your skin. your hands find their way into his hair and he lets out a groan. he loves whenever you play with his hair. shortly after he removes his face from your neck and looks at you again, your face still in his hands. satoru swears that pieces of his heart jump out of his chest every time your eyes meet. that a new butterfly is born inside his stomach and flies around like crazy every time you smile back at him. it's been years since you've been together and you still have the same effect on him. —

you let out a small giggle at his dreamy stare, he does look like he's deep in a daydream. once the sound of your giggle hits his ears, he can't help himself anymore. he grumbles something along the lines of "so cute" and "just perfect" to himself, you couldn't really understand. and just a second later, his lips are pressed against yours again. "mwah, mwah, mwah! my perfect girl, my angel. mwah!" you continue giggling, how could you not? he's so sweet and so silly. so in love with you.

satoru removes his lips from yours once again, a string of spit still connecting your lips with his and he chuckles at the sight. your lips are coated in his saliva, which doesn't bother you at all, and he can feel how your face heats up . "hm, yer lips are glossy from my kisses." he grins. you shrug your shoulders and your tongue darts out to lick over your lips, collecting his spit. grinning back at him when his face falls. "don't do that!" he whines. "now i have to do it again!" you roll your eyes at him. "acting as if you weren't gonna do it again anyway. go ahead." he grins again and continues to give you more sloppy kisses. more salvia coating your lips and your chin as well, he's being messy, you don't mind it one bit though. because that's how he shows his love. he loves you, so much, and he's never shy to tell you and show it to you, he knows he may be a bit dramatic in showing his love to you but that's just how satoru gojo is. a dramatic, sweet, man. "mmm'toru, m' fwace." you mumble against his wet lips. he listens and finally removes his hands from your face. "thanks, it started to hurt a bit." you say, massaging your cheeks. satoru pouts and nudges his nose with yours. "didn't mean to hurt ya. sorry baby." you smile and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close to you and you kiss his pout away. "it's okay."

satoru lovingly stares down at you. one of his hands softly stroking your cheek, the other hand is on the pillow above your head, his pointer finger playing with a single strand of your hair and wrapping it around it. "what?" you ask him when his stare gets even more intense and you feel like you might break under it. satoru grins and softly kisses your cheek. "it's just, you're beautiful. i still can't believe you're mine. and i love you so, so much. so much, my baby." "i love you too 'toru." you respond. his smile grows and he quickly gets back to press more sloppy kisses over your face and lips. "mwah, mwah, mwaaahhhhh!!"

and you let him. you happily let him love you the way he wants to, the way it's so typical for satoru gojo.

<3 @ playgrl0

#p!writes!%*#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen

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goldenavenger02 · 2 days

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old habits die screaming

There was a time that Kai thought time healed all wounds, but as he was forced to watch Lloyd be haunted by incoherent visions the same way he had been haunted by a vengeful ghost, he was starting to think that time just changed the way wounds looked.

"Stop touching it!" Wyldfyre's yell ricocheted off of the walls of the infirmary as she tried to pull her injured leg away from Kai's prodding hands.

Kai just pulled in another deep breath, his anger threatening to bubble to the surface; he knew by the way she was trying to pull away from him and her shouting was a pain response that was very similar to his own but it wasn't Wyldfyre that he was mad at.

No, his anger was directed at Ras, at the new master of smoke and that weird girl he didn't recognize. There was that small part of him that always blamed the First Spinjitzu Master for starting this entire mess, but he wasn't sure that was where the blame needed to go this time.

This seemed disconnected from Ninjago and much more connected to the Wyldness, a place that no one except for Wyldfyre knew anything about and even then, she only seemed to understand the area of it where she had grown up.

Even if she knew about every inch of the vast expanse, it was not the time to question her about it with just how mangled her leg was.

"I'm trying to help, Wyldfyre," Kai finally responded after another attempt at a kick that had her hissing through clenched teeth, "but Nya, Sora and Frohickey are still working on repairing Zane, so I can't do much."

"You can stop touching it."

Kai let go to turn to the cabinets and grab one of the ice packs, snapping it before handing it to Wyldfyre who instinctively put it against her injured leg, "that's gonna be cold for about half an hour, Zane should be fully repaired by then and he can patch you up."

"You're not staying?"

"You're not the only one who needs to lay down for awhile," his thoughts drifted to Lloyd briefly who had spent the last couple of weeks wandering the monastery in a insomnia induced daze and was more then likely beating himself up somewhere, "and Nya's gonna need an extra set of eyes going through Master Wu's notes to see if we can find anything about Shatterspin or The Forbidden Five. You should get some rest."

"Fine, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

"I don't expect you to be. I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

She nodded, giving him his chance to go take care of the next item on his list of priorities.

As he went, he couldn't stop his mind from flashing back to The Dark Island, forced to listen as Zane's father did his best to repair Lloyd's broken bones the same way he had repaired the falcon.

How Lloyd hobbled on one foot and still acted as the motivation for the team as they desperately looked for a way to return to and defend Ninjago, even if there were pain lines around his lips with every deep breath he pulled in.

Kai wasn't sure how he expected to find Lloyd after their retreat, but it wasn't opening the door to his bedroom to find him sitting on the end of his bed, hands pressed against his eyes and elbows pressed against his thighs while his shoulders shook.

"Hey, buddy?" He asked, shutting the door as quietly as possible, "are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, yeah," Lloyd's sudden shift as he stood, only stopping to wipe his face on his sleeve before Kai was met with the all too familiar fake smile that he had grown used to seeing, "I'm fine."

"Are you su-"

"How'd Wyldfyre?"

"Her leg is pretty bad, it's gonna take her awhile to heal," he delivered it as straightforward as he could, but when he saw the familiar look of guilt pass over Lloyd's face, he found himself adding, "but if she takes it easy, she should be back on her feet sooner rather than later."

"Did anyone else get hurt?" He refused to meet his eyes as his green-eyed gaze stayed fixed on the wooden floor.

"Nya and Frohickey are repairing Zane, but considering he was saying real words in real sentences, I'm sure it's not gonna take too long. Sora, Riyu and Arin are all in the clear as well, I checked them over myself."

"Good, good…" Lloyd muttered, running a hand through his hair as he moved to the door, but Kai found himself gently clasping his hand around his wrist to look into the all too tired green eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

"I gotta figure out what we're gonna do next, Euphrasia got captured and I think I need to meditate-"

"But are you hurt?"

Kai should have known that the familiar duck of his head in defeat was coming, but Lloyd's response was laced with tears in a way that made his chest burn with more than the underlying anger he had been feeling since they had been defeated.

"I'm not the one everyone should be worried about right now."

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but we've been worried about you for weeks."

He had said those exact words before, the last time Lloyd was unable to sleep for more than twenty four hours; there was a time that Kai thought time healed all wounds, but as he was forced to watch Lloyd be haunted by incoherent visions the same way he had been haunted by a ghost, he was starting to think that time just changed the way wounds looked.

Lloyd pulled away from Kai's gentle grip on his wrist before turning around and sitting back down on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as he spoke, "I'm not hiding it very well, huh?"

"No, you're not," Kai agreed and was met with another sigh, "I think you should let me in on what's going on here, because if it's scaring you this badly…" he trailed off, his mind briefly trailing off to the various villains who had held a vendetta against Lloyd, ones that were arguably worse then Ras even though he had a master of shatterspin on his side.

"It's not Ras that I'm worried about. I've fought worse than Ras, but…" he stopped, his fingers twisting around the blanket, "But in Cloud Kingdom, when he brought out that gong…I have been hearing that noise rattle in my head for weeks and as soon as I heard it, I realized that no matter what I do, I can't stop it. The Blood Moon is coming, Ras has control of Cloud Kingdom and all I did was get Wyldfyre and Zane hurt."

His breath caught in his throat and Kai took a few steps forward before kneeling down on the floor so he and Lloyd were eye to tear-filled eye.

"I know it's nearly impossible to keep you from blaming yourself, especially now that you're taking on so much and with these weird visions, but what happened in Cloud Kingdom was not on you and if we hadn't retreated when we did, things would be a whole lot worse."

"You can thank Nya for that," Lloyd reached up and wiped his face on his sleeve again, "she was the one who told me to retreat."

"I probably should," Kai offered a quick smile before standing, wincing as his knees popped when he did, "ready to tell me how badly you got injured now?"

"It's really not that b-"

"Humor me, Lloyd."

He was met with a sigh before the green fabric covering his left wrist was pulled up to reveal a purply-green mess of bruising.

"It's not broken, I already made sure of that."

"Okay, I'm gonna get you an ice pack," Kai said, patting Lloyd's shoulder a couple times before turning towards the door, "and then you are gonna lay down and do your best to take a nap."

"But the visions-"

"I said "do your best", didn't I?" He watched Lloyd slump in defeat before he reached over and set his hand on his hand back on his shoulder, "I understand that you're scared, but you're wearing thin and if we're gonna stop these guys, we all have to be on our A game."

"I'm really trying."

"I know you are, but you have to get some rest before you break. Okay?"

"Okay."

Lloyd's voice was nothing but a resigned whisper as he maneuvered onto his back and covered his eyes with his right wrist, but as much as he wanted to, Kai couldn't linger on it and settled on running a gentle hand through his hair.

"Be right back with the ice."

The silent thumbs up was his signal to go get the ice and then figure out a way to deal with the anger that was still bubbling up inside of his chest.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #my writing #angst #fic #lloyd garmadon #whump #ninjago kai #dragons rising wyldfyre #dragons rising season 2 #spoilers dragons rising season 2 #nightmares #sleep deprivation #broken bones

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monicahar · 11 months

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“thanks for the flowers!”

“what flowers?”

in which they find out you receive a gift from someone that isn't them.

characters; wanderer, alhaitham, kaveh

; i keep seeing that damn tiktok 😐 gender neutral reader, fluff, crack,

WANDERER eyes you skeptically, suspicion being evident on his pale features as he scans your expression up and down. has he already caught on to your little prank?

“first of all, who in their right mind would court you? and with some sappy flowers as well?”

you return his unamused gaze, finding him very unfunny.

“you do know that you're dating me, right?”

“unfortunately.” he clicks his tongue, further leaning towards your face, brows still furrowed as if he's trying to decipher something, gazing at you with an unreadable expression that has your resolve crumbling. “is this another one of your antics to get a rise out of me? if so, it's not working.”

his lips break out into a grin upon watching your eyes widen. but your shock doesn't last long—him immediately seeing through your silly scheme isn't an unexpected outcome, funnily enough.

“you're too serious sometimes.” you pout at him whilst he scoffs, “just humor me. what would you actually do if i managed to receive flowers from another?”

“it's simple—you can't.” comes his swift and confident reply, offending you as you stare at him incredulously, weighing the implication of his words.

“you speak of me like i'm the most unattractive person in teyvat—what do you mean i can't?”

“you're an idiot. would i have really chosen you if you were unattractive in any way?” he crosses his arms before facing you completely, indigo hues staring directly into yours.

“i already eliminated all those who dare steal you from me.”

...?

you freeze on the spot, processing what you've just heard.

“...excuse me?”

“—just kidding. i'm no longer that type of person, hah.” he huffs out a derisive laugh, yet his humorous farce does not meet his eyes.

not finding any comfort in his supposed testament of it only being a joke, you opt to stare at him confusingly in return. weirdo.

ALHAITHAM, much like the wanderer, catches on to the prank immediately. whether it's intuition, scarily precise deduction or just the way you generally act weird when it comes to lying to his face—he still figured you out in the end like it's nothing.

but unlike the wanderer, he decides to humor you and play along. what a good boyfriend.

“...you mean you didn't give me the flowers?” you flutter your lashes at him, a horrible and terribly inefficient way to convince him that the whole thing with the flowers is actually real. alhaitham suddenly has the rare urge to laugh. since when did you act like this?

alhaitham shifts in his seat. “no. who do you think it's from?”

“hm.” you hum thoughtfully, bringing a finger to your chin as if in deep thought. the scribe briefly wonders how far you're willing to take this joke. but he digresses—the chances of him actually getting mad at you are akin to that of kaveh finally shutting up—

“maybe kaveh? he grew an interest in flowers recently, so i've heard. maybe he sent some as like a sign of friendship or something along those lines...there's no way it means something else, riiiiiight?”

alhaitham pauses his train of thought.

speak of the devil.

momentarily doubting his conclusion that you're just pulling a prank, he quietly glowers at you as if silently telling you to take back your words.

“what about him?”

you immediately cower upon the drop in his tone—raising your arms in defense when alhaitham moves to stalk closer to you. “i was joking! i didn't get any flowers from anyone and last time i conversed with kaveh was when i—”

“let's go.” he grabs the back of your collar and drags you along, a newfound heavy weight in his footsteps as an indescribable and uncomfortable feeling creeps up on his neck.

“i really was just joking, 'haitham! i was bored and i wanted to annoy you for a bit! i swear!”

even if it wasn't true, the thought of kaveh gifting you flowers without his knowledge—

alhaitham's expression subconsciously turns sour. quite unlucky that you couldn't witness the extremely scarce sight of jealousy on your boyfriend as you are comically dragged against your will behind him.

“the nearest flower shop is just around the corner. tell me if anything piques your interest.” he says in way that has no room for argument. he is getting you flowers now.

KAVEH falls for it, obviously. not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed outside his designated profession, you see.

“i don't remember buying any flowers...” he mutters to himself, the gears in his head turning. it's almost laughable when he finally pieces your words together, a look of disbelief painfully present on his faxe but by some miracle, you resisted the urge to burst out in giggles right then and there. “wait...i didn't send any!”

“is that so...then who would send me flowers other than you?” you edge him on, instigating at its finest, much poking a sleeping bear with a stick while you circle it tauntingly.

an actual enraged kaveh is something you've never seen before, just some tantrums and endless ranting about some clients and his roommate. you've always wanted to see it—just not directed at you, hopefully.

“that's...ah, people already know you're dating me though, so it can't be someone hitting on you. maybe it's just from a relative or—”

“really?” you tilt your head, feigning a bit of confusion. “then i suppose i should keep these red roses then. i'll ask tighnari how to keep them alive, i guess.”

“w-wait, wait—could you repeat that?”

“hm?” you face him, “i'll ask tighnari?”

“no, the one before that.”

“...i'll keep the red roses?” you had to hold yourself back from grinning ear to ear when his eyes widen.

it's not unexpected that someone versed in the beauty of art would recognize one of the most common flower's meaning. quite the handy trivia.

he immediately stands up, grabbing your hand in tow as you yelp in surprise at his abruptness.

“kaveh?!”

“those flowers mean love! like, actual romantic love! i'll burn it for you right now! where'd you put it!?” the intensity of his ruby gaze sends shudders down your spine.

“it's not like i reciprocate it—”

“still, no one other than me should be sending those...!” kaveh tightens his grip on your hands, “i don't like the idea of someone hitting on you. i can't let anyone attempt to take you away from me...”

you blink. “kaveh...”

“—that's why show it to me now! or i'll bite you!”

“okay, okay! jeez...”

now...how are you going to break the news to him that it was actually yellow roses, and most definitely not from an admirer?

the biggest hater of my work is myself. wtf am i writing bruh ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

#can i just announce thag i only found out today that i am moots with LOCK????#literally screamed when i saw her name in my followers list #literally my inspiration for writing😭 one day ill write just like her i promise #for now enjoy my terrible vocabulary #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #har❗fiction

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emdeerm · 4 months

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I'm a Grandpa? Again?!

My brain got away from me. srry

This might be a horrible, horrible idea that will have so many butterfly and directs effects on the DC canon that I know nothing about but...

Consider this: Bruce is Danny's clone/test-tube baby.

Danny has lived for many, many years and somewhere along the lines, he got his DNA stolen again (in his human form mind you) by someone and they made a clone/baby (most likely cause the child would destabilise without more DNA. Human Danny is just 1/3 of the DNA he has). Maybe the League and Ra's is responsible. Maybe some other party I have no knowledge about. Maybe it was GIW. But it happens.

Anyway, whoever succeeded, had some intentions with the clone if it had powers. He did not. Was a failure and was dumped as a 3yo in Gotham. Tom and Martha Wayne found him and adopted the child.

Now, Danny doesn't know it. He just goes around, living his best life with his partner/(s), works somewhere new every 5-6 years or so, trying out new professions when he wants. When his DNA got yonked, he was a practicing cook. By the time Batman is old enough with all his kids he is a doctor or something.

Let's throw in the Ghost King for fun. Love the trope. Could be just him being a super strong and respected Ghost in the Realms who helps himself to Pariah's treasury. Not like the guy needed it anyway.

So, YEARS pass. All parties are unaware. Meta human protection happens. Ecto Acts get ruled out automatically by the Government somewhere in a list of all stuff that change. The Ghosts haven't been sighted for over 30 years. The Government disbanded GIW wven esrlier just cause they were a moneh draining leach. The JL didn't even pay that much attention honestly (let's say Batman wasn't there for some reason to check the final copy), just one more thing that changed for the better in their eyes.

So, Danny and his kind are now legally in the clear. Does he so something with it? Well, not much. Just uses his powers more freely. His rogues don't find the Living Realm all that interesting now and just come to Phantom to play. Except Sculker. That ass is still unbearable.

...

I got sidetracked from my original idea. Anyway-

...

Damian in school has to do the ancestory assignment. And finds out that he has a weird relation to this Random DudeTM. (Maybe Tom's and Martha's DNA was indeed used in the process of creation. Who knows, maybe it was their doing all along in the name of Doctor Science. Idk. All options are fun) Came out of nowhere. The relation is unclear too.

That gets brought up to Father. Father is surprised. Investigation happens.

The Bats are flabbergasted by the results.

Danny gets the news that he is a surprise Granpa again (Dani was the first one to come with a grandchild out of nowhere. Adopted. You know what? Let it be Cass. Let her have a traveling super mom).

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eustasskidagenda · 6 months

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anon asked: Hi, fellow Kid-Stan, I love your writing, it's so well-written! So I hope my request isn't too weird, but would you mind writing some headcanons with a fem reader afraid of having sex with Kidd, Zoro, Law and Sanji if that's okay. Like because the reader is stressed about getting hurt (maybe because of their size or because it’s been a long time since the last time the reader had sex, no heavy topic involved!) Thank you if you consider writing this scenario and please, can I stay anon if you post this?

Hello, dear anon! Thank you for requesting and your kind words, it was interesting to think about how those dummies would act in this situation. I hope you'll like the result.♡

☆Kid, Zoro, Law & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex

CW : n/sfw, MDNI, f!reader, size kink, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), v. sex, unprotected sex, protected sex, dirty talk, praises, Sanji talking in French because I could die for this, Kid is cursing as always, let me know if I forgot something

WC : around 2,000

You can read the part two here & the part three here

Kid

Let's assume it's your first time in the same bed: Kid being... Kid, his first reaction would be to grin cockily or even laugh proudly. He thinks you're actually praising him for his size. Please keep going, it’s music to his ears. He loves praises and when you acknowledge his size. It fuels his ego tremendously. "I know it's big, that's enough praise. Wait, were you talking seriously?"

Seriously, Kid, ugh.

So, once he realized you're not praising him but rather really stressed, he's still pleased with himself.

Kid is a man of action; talking, trying to understand, or reassuring is not something he's easily able to do. Because honestly, he would just say something like "it's just sex, I'm not gonna hurt ya, look how wet you are"

Whenever there's a problem, he's more inclined to take action to find a solution. So his first reaction is to ask if you want to stop. Although he may be cocky and carefree, he would never cause harm to anyone he truly cares about. And no one will have a good time if you're too stressed. Totally pointless.

So you have to tell him you want to continue, but you're nervous because Kid is not the one to indulge into sweetness and his size doesn't make things more easily.

"Then, come get what you want by yourself" he would say before laying on his back, his cock twitching impatiently. Kid doesn't often let his partner ride him, except when he's feeling tired. His body is truly a beautiful throne to sit on. A toned and beautiful body, covered with scars, like war paint, full of stories and secrets.

Once you finally straddle him, he would hold your hips firmly as you line your wet pussy up to his cockhead. When you slowly impale yourself on his thick member, he would let out a low, animalistic growl of satisfaction. You feel too tight around him, and you feel too full with him buried deep inside you, stretching your walls.

He would guide you down his cock until his balls deep inside you. The expression of pure delight on his face is truly mesmerizing. Riding someone as tough and impressive is quite intimidating, so he would hold your hips, helping you to move up and down, as you slowly adjust to him. "Fuck, look at you, taking me all the way in like the good girl you're"

He feels your walls tightening him as you start to move faster.

"Take it easy" That's the moment you will hear his shaky breath and deep growls. He can't handle how good you feel. So wet, so hot, so tight as you walls spasms around him. His cock is throbbing inside you and he grit his teeth, holding your hips that firmly it will leave bruises on your skin tomorrow.

He's truly trying his best to not just hold your hips and slams inside you as his usual rough and merciless pace. He wants to transform you into a whiny mess.

"Shit, y/n, let me fuck you."

And once you finally get used to him, then prepare yourself for the wildest ride of your life. You better hold onto those sheets tightly. Because he will slap your ass, pull on your hair and fuck you with enough intensity to leave you breathless and exhausted.

Zoro

Zoro has not a lot of experience because he's way too focused on his goal of becoming the greatest swordsman ever. Even when it comes to sex, he's a bit oblivious. So you better have to be precise and explain things correctly, so that it takes over his mind. As Kid, he's not a man of many words, he doesn't really know how to reassure you. Like, okay, it's been a while since the last time you had sex, but the same applies to him. At least you're in the same situation, isn't that nice?

He's trying his best.

Once he's sure you want to keep going, he will consider the whole thing like a training: everyone needs a good warm-up. So prepare yourself to have your pussy eat for a long, long time and to cum at least once against his lips. He may not be the most experienced, but he learns quickly and your body language is like talking to him.

He would then slowly push two fingers inside you, feeling how wet you are for him. "Looks like my girl is ready for me, yeah?"

Try not to be too embarrassed when he hungrily licks his fingers covered in your wetness, like if it were a precious cup of sake. The way your body looks and tastes is truly intoxicating. How could he get enough of your shivering, moaning, sweating, begging, and slow pleads when his head is buried between your thighs?

"Now open your legs for me"

Eyes darkening with lust as he sees your folds exposed, his cock twitching and throbbing. Although he is thick, he never realized it. So you better prepare yourself.

He would look into your eyes just to be sure you're still willing, before placing his hands on your shoulders to pinning you down the mattress, shifting his weight so he can position himself at your entrance.

Thrust forward, filling you up in one swift motion. He's completely focused, as if it's an important battle. And actually, he's really struggling to stay nice and slow for you. He's quiet. Breathe deeply and make low grunts close to your ear. When you begin to scratch his back, he becomes confused. Why are you doing this? Does it hurt or feel good? "You doing okay?"

If you tell him you need more now, he will give it to you as hard as you want.

"Such a brave girl"

Law

As a good doctor, his first reaction is to understand the cause of the problem. Is it a physical or psychological problem? Sex can be painful if you're experiencing too much stress or vaginismus. If he wants to help you feel better, he needs to understand what's going on. He’s a logical man, he can't act without a good understanding of what's happening.

He would probably cover your body too, in order to preserve your intimacy while you explain him you're just a bit stressed because it's been a long time and you often face pain when it comes to sex.

"Sex isn't supposed to hurt or to be stressful. Do you want to continue?"

As you slowly nodded, he would kiss your forehead and then slowly remove the bedsheets, revealing your bare body to himself.

He wants to reassure you even if he struggles with intimacy, including in the bedroom. He's not that kind of guy having sex with random people. If you end up in the same bed, it's because he genuinely cares about you. And damn, he definitely knows how to take care of your body too. He has divine hands. Good to heal, but also to help you reach new heights. The way he runs his hands along your body, your inner thighs, your pussy, and then your clit causes shivers down your spine.

And when he slides two fingers inside your core, damn, the only thing you can do is arches your back and beg for more. He’s the king of fingering. You can't help but cum as his thumb circles your clit while he pushes his long fingers in and out of you. When he removes them, his tattoos are soaked with your wetness, you are flustered, and he's content with himself. He can't help but grins, licking his fingers while watching your reaction closely. Even in bed, Law likes to tease you.

"Need me so bad, y/n-a?" with a slight pinch on your nipple

He's a doctor, so he will wear a condom. Even if you're wet, he'll reach for the bottle of lubricant and then sloshing some onto his palm before smearing it over his length. The emo boy myth is true because his cock is long.

Usually, Law struggles with eye contact, it's too intimate for his sake. But for once, he will let you lie on your back, spreading your thighs enough to fit in between. His tattooed chest slowly rises up with each breath, making him look beautiful over you.

"You're ready?"

He's a smart and careful person, so he'll go slowly and check your expression to ensure you're alright. He feels the tightness around his cock. So wet, so hot. His hands are shaking on your hips while he gently steady you. "Everything's fine?"

Slow and deep strokes as you trace the tattoos on his arms and chest. With his lips sealed to yours, he swallows all of your moans. And his low, deep breaths are leaving you in shambles.

Sanji

Oh, sweet Sanji. Similar to Zoro, he's not the most experienced, but he has a kind and compassionate soul. He would let you explain yourself, running his hands all over your shoulders, hair and stomach, trying to soothe you as you confess you're scared because it's been a while since the last time you had sex.

Sanji would never judge you. He would offer you sweet kisses to cover your body, promising to take things at your own pace. And if you need to stop, please just tell him. He would try his best to hide that he's a bit nervous too; nervous about hurting you or not being good enough for you.

Gentle kisses on your neck, breasts, lower stomach, inner thighs, and hands running all over your skin, fondling your breasts softly with a heavenly touch. He wants to take good care of every inch of your skin because your body is so precious, perfect and beautiful. All your shivering, moaning, and the way you look at him with pure love on your face... it melts his heart. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he'll never rush the whole thing. Like a good meal, sex deserves to be appreciated.

Probably the king of oral sex, he could keep his head burring between your thighs for the entire day and still can't get enough of how good you pussy feel and taste. He is fond of eating you out, hearing you moan, feeling you shivering and beg for more. The way your body is arching, how you grab his hair, pressing his lips more firmly against your wet folds. Not only do his hands know how to cook, but they also know how to please your body. Slowly circling your clit, fondling your breasts, and caring for every inch of your skin, making you melt and beg for more. You forgot you were tensed and stressed with all his attention.

Sanji being Sanji, he would love to bind your wrists with his tie, but he knows it's not the time for this. "I need to be inside you, mon amour" (my love) His cock is painfully hard and twitching, leaking in pre-cum.

As you spread your legs, letting him know that you're ready for more, Sanji would try his best to hide how stressed he really is. He doesn't want to hurt you. Fingers entwined with yours, a lot of eye contact as he slowly pushes his cock inside you. "Shh, it's okay. You're so tight. Laisse-moi te faire l'amour" (let me make love to you)

You softly moan as he penetrates you completely. You were stressed about getting hurt after such a long time without having sex, but Sanji is so soft that it didn't hurt even a bit. Even if you're relaxed, he would ask, "Am I hurting you?" And when you confirm that everything is more than fine, he can't help but sigh in relief. His fingers are still entwined with yours as you use your other hand to softly pull on his hair.

Slow and deep strokes. "C'est si bon d'être en toi" (it feels so good to be inside you) He is not ashamed of moaning. Moans that are really pretty. The feeling of your skin against his, how wet and welcoming you are inside. This is too much for him to handle.

Naturally, when it came to aftercare, he would rush to the kitchen to make you a good meal.

Sanji is so sweet please, help.

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lovexdeepspace · 1 month

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“life without you.”

summary; months after breaking up with them, they come for reconciliation.

warnings; heartbreak, break-ups

note; wowowow the first part to this blew up and i am so beyond thankful for all the love! after this comes more requests :D

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

first part | angst ending

“we should probably see other people.”

༊*·˚. xavier

it had been a couple of months since you broke things off with xavier and the way his face had contorted into one of subtle shock made you feel, well, better about things. although it had pained you to say the words, knowing that he was instantly hit with something — be it guilt, regret, sadness, whatever — made you feel better knowing it meant he still cared enough about you.

though the months of silence that followed had you second guessing that notion, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself it was normal for this to happen and that you should take advantage of this time. you would never admit to anyone the many nights you would spend on your couch, waiting around late at night hoping that knock would come on your door and your sleepy hunter would be on the other side.

perhaps you ended up manifesting it one too many times, however, because now you stand pj-clad in your doorway with one hand on your hip and a raised brow as xavier held out a round, marshmallow-looking stuffed bunny to you.

“what’s this?” you deadpanned, knowing exactly what he was doing — you just wanted to hear him say it.

xavier’s lips pressed into a tight line as he avoided your eyes and muttered, “i really screwed up. i didn’t realize how good things were with you until i lost you.”

you stayed silent, motioning for him to continue when he glanced your way.

“i don’t deserve to ask you for forgiveness, let alone should i expect you to take me back,” he said, holding your gaze, “but i’d be even more of a fool not to try. i’m so, so sorry i put you in such a shitty situation.”

xavier pushed the bunny a little closer to you, brightening a bit as you took it into your arms. it was soft and downright adorable, a stuffed reflection of the man in front of you(though, again, something else on the list of things that wouldn’t be admitted by you).

“i don’t expect you to answer me any time soon,” he added quickly, filling the silence, “so i’ll just —“

“xavier.”

the blonde immediately shut his mouth, giving you his rapt attention. with a sigh you look from the bunny to him before extending a hand to him, albeit hesitantly.

“i was in the middle of watching a movie,” you said, earning a confused look. “do you want to finish it with me?”

if your heart wasn’t racing by that point, the way xavier’s face broke out in a grin before he grabbed your hand excitedly and pulled you into your own apartment had it pounding against your rib cage like a drum.

༊*·˚. rafayel

you recieved a torrent of snarky, snappy texts following your brief break-up with rafayel. he switched between gaslighting you that nothing was happening and that you were overreacting to him acting nonchalant about the whole thing; it was so bad that you had to block his number before you even got back to your apartment, which was a few blocks away.

it was weird to not have your phone blowing up all day long but, at the same time, the silence was a sort of reprieve while you dealt with the emotional repercussions of the whole situation. it allowed you some peace of mind and gave you the space needed to cope and, with the months that followed, grow more comfortable with not being in a relationship anymore.

you had finally found yourself at peace once again, keeping yourself busy with things to do like trying out the new restaurant downtown. as you were getting ready to head out, a knock came from your front door.

“just a minute!” you called, adjusting the collar of your blouse in the mirror before heading to the door and opening it. “oh.”

standing in front of you was rafayel and thomas, the latter giving you a sweet smile and a wave.

“nice to see you!” he chirped before giving rafayel a shove on the shoulder and gesturing to you. “i’ll be in the car.”

“good seeing you, too, thomas,” you called as he walked off, then turned to rafayel. “so. it took your manager forcing you for you to come see me?”

rafayel pouted at you and crossed his arms over his chest. “last i checked, you’re the one who blocked my number.”

you barked out a laugh, unsure as to why you’d be surprised about the audacity of this man. “well, maybe it’s because you tried to downplay my feelings!”

“well i’m sorry, okay?” rafayel retorted, matching your raised volume. “there, happy?”

“happy?” you echoed, running a hand down your face. “rafayel, if you really think —”

“you’re right.”

you froze, biting back the rest of your statement and raising a brow. “i’m right?”

rafayel nodded, dropping his arms to his sides. “i fucked up. like truly, undoubtedly fucked up. and here i am, thinking i can just say sorry and fix it all but that’s not how it works. i’ve got this whole front to keep up to protect my stupid ego but. . .” he sniffles and you realize there are tears in his eyes but he continues before you can speak up.

“fuck my ego,” he spat, clearly more angry at himself with every word he spoke. “my life has been complete and utter shit without you in it. i thought i knew what i was doing but i was wrong and i can’t even begin to express how sorry i am. i don’t deserve forgiveness or anything from you but gods you deserved an apology and i hope this is at least somewhat sufficient.”

rafayel sniffled again, the tip of his nose reddening as he wiped at his eyes. you were shocked to say the least, rooted to the spot as you watched the man you always thought to be so invulnerable breaking down in front of you.

slowly you reached out and your hands pulled his away from his face. he looked at you with wide, teary eyes as your hands cupped his face, your thumbs brushing the few remaining tears away. he whispered your name and you sighed, feeling all the hardened feelings towards the artist and your breakup softening to mush.

“i’ve missed you,” he whispered, leaning into your touch, and everything gets thrown out the window as you press a quick kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then the corner of his lips.

“i missed you too,” you said quietly. “come inside — i’ll tell thomas that i’ll drive you home later.”

༊*·˚. zayne

his coldness towards you was to be expected but still stung more than you could’ve expected. what made the break-up even worse was that you had to do it at the hospital and she was present for it all. you had tripped over your words and felt like a fool but knew, deep down, it needed to be done to prevent you from spending another sleepless night.

you had accounted for the way you’d feel when you’d find his clothes in your laundry; you’d accounted for the way your heart would surge whenever the rare occurrence came that you’d see him out and about in linkon city; everything was thought out and prepared for to avoid feeling too harshly.

what you had failed to account for, however, was how you’d feel when you came home one day to find zayne sitting on your couch with at least ten different bouquets of flowers surrounding him.

first it was shock — you quite literally dropped all your belongings. zayne raised an eyebrow at your reaction as if it wasn’t incredibly surprising to see him sitting in your apartment after having months of no contact.

second it was realization — you hadn’t taken your spare key back. as soon as it hit you your shock wore off and you groaned, running a hand down your face. after a long day at work this was the last thing you were expecting and needed.

last came the indifference. you gestured to him, then to the door. zayne stood slowly and walked around the bouquets, heading for the door. you were surprised up until he shut the door and headed back to his original spot on the couch.

“zayne,” you deadpanned. “that was a sign for you to leave.”

“do you really want me to leave?” the doctor asked, his steely gaze sending shivers down your spine.

no. “why are you even here?” you asked, defeated, purposely avoiding the question. “months of not talking and you suddenly appear in my apartment? what gives?”

“i need to apologize,” zayne replied bluntly, gesturing to the plethora of flowers surrounding him. “did the flowers not make that obvious? are they not enough? should i have gotten more?”

he looked somewhat distraught as he looked around him and you shook your head with a sigh to cover up the way the corners of your mouth twitched. you’d hardly seen zayne so stressed let alone stressed over flowers and if they were enough for you.

“zayne, the flowers are lovely,” you assured him. “more than i know what to do with, though.”

zayne nodded slowly, a bit more at ease. he stood once more and walked over to you, stopping right in front of you. he took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye, though you noted the way his eyes flitted down to your lips for a split second.

“what i did, how i treated you, all of it was unacceptable,” he said softly and you couldn’t help but already feel him worming his way through your walls. “i don’t know what i was thinking — or if i was even thinking at all. you are the most caring, respectful, and loving partner anyone could ever ask for. i was so lucky to have you by my side and i foolishly messed everything up.”

you wanted to reach out and wrap your arms around him, truly, but he still looked as if he had more to say so you held yourself back for a moment longer.

“you are everything to me,” he said, “and i will do whatever i need to do to regain your trust, your love, everything. however long it takes — days, months, years, nothing else matters to me more than you.”

you were in awe of the man standing before you, so moved by his words and actions that you couldn’t help but wind your arms around him and pull him close to you. you could feel him relax in your embrace, something that nobody else could do no matter what. with your cheek pressed to his chest, you smiled to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head and his arms wrap tightly around you.

“since i went a little overboard with the flowers,” he mumbled, “do you think we should take them down to the hospital and give them out to the patients?”

there he was. your zayne. sweet, compassionate, loving zayne.

taglist; @chim-i @reialbert @circusclownsam @yegrnn @kreishin @xmikanx @frobin4ever @keitthen <3 & all the anons that requested this!

#love and deepspace #rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads xavier #lads zayne #xavier #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace

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miraclewoozi · 3 months

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DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

One.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

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oikasugayama · 4 months

Text

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 4

MDNI this is a NSFW series for adults. TW: dubcon in Mori & Tetcho's (if your only comment is "I don't agree with this" or "I don't like him" pls keep it to yourself! It's fanfic it's not real!)

pt 1. Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagwa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 Atsushi, Nikolai (Finale)

Sigma

He's learning what it is to be human after meeting the ADA and realizing he has free will. This includes learning what his own body does...

You've walked in on him touching himself many times. He'll be sitting in his office, tracing his dick through his pants, not knowing it's inappropriate that he didn't stop when you came in.

Another time he'll have his penis out under the desk, absentmindedly playing with it. When you come in he's like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar--all wide eyed and jumpy, "no i'm not doing anything, no you didn't interrupt." (you totally know what he must be doing)

Eventually you come in to find him hard, very obviously nearing an orgasm, his face is all red and he can't believe how good he's feeling. you're so desensitized to it at this point that you give him his afternoon tea anyway, and then ask him if he knows what porn is.

he says no?? what's that?? and you explain, to which he gets very excited so you bring up (on his own computer) a very tame video of someone getting a blowjob

"it's in her mouth??? he seems to really like it. what does that feel like???"

"I wouldn't know, I don't have a penis."

"you don't?"

"no, only men have penises."

that starts a whole other conversation about anatomy, and makes you start another video showing penis in vagina sex. this is when you start to feel weird and uncomfortable--maybe you shouldn't be showing him this. maybe he wasn't supposed to know this stuff and now it'll just cloud his mind so he can't work properly--

"can we try that?"

"HUH?"

"you said you have a vagina, i want to try that. can we?"

meanwhile his dick is still out, in hand, tip leaking pre-cum, and you're nearly throbbing wet but trying to play it cool.

"i mean... it's technically, like... you're only supposed to do this stuff in the privacy of your home with your partner, or someone who agrees to it if you don't have a partner."

"so if you agree we can go to my room, then. correct?"

you can't argue with his flawless logic.

Mori

There are certain rules at the PM that you cannot afford to break. One of them is that you must meet with any executive, especially the president himself, at any time they call for you.

when you wake up from a nap in your office to not one, but two missed calls from Mori himself, you panic, instantly thinking you're going to be fired for ignoring him. You know exactly what he wants and you're not supposed to be late for these meetings.

you rush to his office, sleep lines still smushed into the side of your face from falling asleep on your hands. you have to explain to two sets of guard that he called you twice and you were only now able to get to him, and they usher you into his penthouse.

he's not in his chair overlooking the city, instead he's lying on his bed under the covers. as soon as the door closes behind you, he sits up, frowning. shirtless.

"it's been 30 minutes since i called for you."

"i apologize, sir. i was unable to get here any sooner."

"why is that?"

"i was..." you think about lying but know it won't end well. "i had fallen asleep in my office, sir."

"why are you so far away? come closer."

you summon your courage and walk to his bed, and as you get closer you realize there's movement under the blanket around his lap...

"doesn't this bed look far more comfortable than your desk?"

"yes sir..."

"good. do you know why i called you, [y/n]?"

"no sir..." you pretend.

he pushes the blankets down, revealing that he's completely naked and furiously hard. his whole cock is blushing, the tip especially an angry red.

"and now?" he asks, to which you nod meekly. he holds his hand out to you, and you take it, letting him guide you to sit on the bed.

"if you finally let me breed that tight cunt of yours i may be inclined to overlook your tardiness."

Tetcho

you're one of the hunting dogs, and you're very adept at hand-to-hand combat. Tetcho trains with you regularly, enjoying how much endurance you have and how you manage to smile when you fight him. he quite admires you for it, actually, though he keeps it to himself

after beating him one day, you sigh as you stretch out a sore muscle and absentmindedly say that you wish there were higher stakes, because he's starting to get predictable.

this. pisses. him. off. he doesn't like being called predictable. he hates that you're losing interest in fighting him. he doesn't want you to train with anyone else, the idea makes him jealous.

he thinks about it too much for his own good, and more than once he's gotten an angry boner from it--he can't help it, alright. it happens when he's fighting you sometimes too but you've never noticed (or so he thinks)

he thinks up a way to up the stakes, to make it seem more important that you win against him, while simultaneously training privately in a new fighting style. then he waits...

finally, it happens. you happen to walk in on him while he's masturbating, and he can't help but laugh at the shocked look on your face.

"come here" he says, and you bark out a laugh, saying "no fucking way," and you try to leave his room, but he jumps up, grabs you, and drags you inside, closing the door behind you.

"you said you wanted to up the stakes, so i'm gonna up them." he says, pinning you between himself and the door. you try to shrink so his dick wont touch you, but he presses right against you.

"fight me. right now. fight me off and if you can't beat me, i get to fuck you."

"tetcho what the fuck??" you half-heartedly struggle against him, but he laughs and pins you arms above your head.

"you're out of your mind," you say, twisting your hands free and dipping under his arms.

"what, afraid to give me that pretty little pussy?"

"ew, don't talk like that!" you say, backing away from him, and he follows, strategizing how to catch you and get you in his bed

"what, you don't wanna take this fat cock in your tight little cunt?" he taunts, grabbing the base of his dick--this whole time he hasn't had pants on. your face flushes red and he doesn't miss how your eyes glance down.

he's pissed when he gets you in his bed only a minute and a brief scuffle later. "you held back," he grunts, ripping straight through your pants. "where's the fight, you mean bitch? you're tougher than that. you just want this cock huh?"

[if it wasn't obvious, he has a crush on you and you didn't fight back when he said he wanted to fuck you, because you also have a crush on him -.- pls stop leaving rude comments abt this post. i am just a person.]

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd headcanons #mori x reader #mori headcanons #mori smut #sigma x reader #sigma headcanons #sigma smut #tetcho x reader #tetcho smut #tetcho headcanons #tecchou x reader #tecchou smut #tecchou headcanons

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bby-deerling · 13 days

Note

Ranking of least to most experienced in bed? 👀 (Pls include Cora I am so down bad for that man)

((Also tysvm for opening my eyes to Virgin!Law. His faux confidence paired with his silent worry if he’s doing good enough? My seat is soaked.))

omg yes !!!! i hope you don't mind that these are short and a lil bit silly!

how much experience they have headcanons

masterlist || commissions

tagging: @willowbelle @fanaticsnail @eelnoise @sanjisjuul

very experienced

doflamingo: not afraid to overindulge in all things hedonistic, doffy has had more than his fair share of partners; he's by no means a giving lover, but he is an experienced one.

kid: this man is all about wreaking havoc and doing whatever he wants, and that includes doing whoever he wants. he loves to showboat and usually has no trouble picking up a girl or two at whatever island the victoria punk makes a stop at—just don't expect him to stick around until the morning.

decent amount of experience

sanji: this man was slinging that linecook dick at the baratie and no one can convince me otherwise. pre-timeskip sanji has a stupid amount of rizz, and there's no way at least a few young women didn't fold for him.

shachi and penguin: while law doesn't really care for fooling around with girls, both shachi and penguin have a decently long list of one-night-stands trailing from the north blue all the way to the new world. law has a rule that they're not allowed to bring strange girls onto the polar tang for safety reasons. penguin obeys this rule, shachi does not. shachi also is more experienced than penguin (he says it's because he has nicer hair).

a little bit of experience

ace: i think ace definitely got around a bit (i mean look at him), but he was still fairly young, so he didn't really have a ton of time to play the field—which is a shame. rest in peace, sexy cowboy man.

rosinante: though he's shy and clumsy and goofy, rosi definitely had a good amount of fun in his youth; he is a marine, after all. once his brother is back in his life, he tends to not form romantic attachments, for both their own safety and his own sanity.

usopp: maybe kaya let him hit once or twice because he's silly goofy. he definitely is no lady-killer, but his cringe pickup lines somehow work once in a blue moon.

mihawk: definitely has creepy weird vampire sex in his castle from time to time, but ultimately sees relationships and attachments as a waste of his time. probably has a bastard or two running around though.

virgins

law: he's the type that has to have a strong emotional connection with someone before sleeping with them. definitely a bit insecure, especially if his partner has prior experience, and can get in his own head about it, but once he calms down, he's dedicated to making sure you both enjoy the intimacy you share together.

zoro: he cares too much about his swords and sees romance as a distraction; when he does fall in love, it creeps up on him so slowly that he's in too deep to back out. isn't too concerned about his lack of experience, he figures he'll learn through doing.

luffy: too busy eating meat. is also too busy doing other things to even think about romance or sex. but watch out—once he finally does it with you and realizes how fun it is, he's hooked.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece headcanons #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #doflamingo x reader #usopp x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #portgas d ace x reader #corazon x reader #shachi x reader #penguin x reader

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wannabespiderman · 3 months

Text

Instructions unclear, sent a bowl of chocolate cereal.

Bucky Barnes x reader

You get your grumpy old man a smartphone. Chaos ensues.

Bucky suspiciously inspected the black rectangle between his fingers. “That’s not the phone I had in mind.” Of course, he had probably been thinking of a damn rotary phone when you suggested he needed something to keep in touch with people. You knew he had this weird relationship with modern technology, he was very wary of everything electronic and if he didn’t get the hang of it immediately he would just get frustrated. On the other hand, if he was able to figure it out himself he was openly proud of it, telling you how easy it was. You always had to walk the fine line between something enhanced enough that it was actually useful these days and simple enough that he wouldn’t become grumpy and pout about it while talking your ear off at how ‘the simpler times’ were called that for a reason.

A Smartphone was very very risky. Sure, you could’ve found an old flip phone or a Nokia brick but those things just hadn’t survived the test of time and according to your very professional opinion as his partner and self-proclaimed emotional support nuisance, this man desperately needed to stay in contact with the few people he would call his friends.

Despite your worry you put on your most supportive smile and turned the phone in his hand so he held it right side up. “Try it at least, okay? It’s cool.” You tried to assure him. He didn’t have to do a lot, you already set it up for him and downloaded all the apps you deemed necessary, helpful or fun, you even turned on the accessibility option so he could navigate his phone with one hand since the metal one wouldn’t work on a screen and would probably also leave scratches, so all that was left for him was to explore his new toy. You guided his pointer finger to the side of the phone and let him press the little button which made the screen turn on. Bucky gave you an unsure glance before turning his attention back to the phone in his hand and just kinda…stared at it until the screen turned off again. For a moment you didn’t know what was going on until you realized that with Bucky, specificity was key. You shook your head to shoo away the previous confusion his behavior caused and shuffled closer to him. “Do it again.” You encouraged him. Bucky’s brows furrowed slightly.

Oh no.

You held your breath, waiting for him to potentially hand the phone right back to you and suggesting that writing letters would be enough. After what felt like a minute he finally pressed the button again and you quietly released your breath. “Great! Now you just need to drag your thumb gently over the screen and you’re good to go.” Bucky slowly followed your instructions and you could practically feel the pride radiating off him, his eyes lighting up. Still, he tried to play it cool. “Huh. That was easy.”

Not specific enough.

You looked at your phone and tried to make out what exactly Bucky had sent you. It must’ve been a picture of his face, right? You thought you could see the brown of his hair in this blurry mess but on the other hand it could also be…maybe a bowl of chocolate cereal? Some Chili, maybe? No, there was definitely too little red for it to be Chili.

The man recently learned how to text like a normal person, more or less, but you didn’t know he also kind of figured out how to send pictures. His picture moved upwards when another blurry mess appeared in your chat. You squinted your eyes at the new picture, it was mostly white with some grey stripe in the middle. You gave up, no way you could figure out what the hell that one was.

Bucky…what is that? You typed out. The next message he sent you gave you move questions than answers.

I need a new phone. That was impossible, his smartphone was less than three days old. Sure, it could’ve cracked but you were sure he would’ve told you about that.

What’s wrong with your phone? Maybe I can help? You suggested. You didn’t have to wait for an answer too long.

Yes, please. You quietly chuckled to yourself, half amused by his struggles, half compassionate of them. You decided it would be best to talk to him face to face so you raked your fingers through your hair a few times to hide the fact that you’ve been hanging around in your bed for the last few hours and clicked the video call option on your screen. It rang and rang and…rang…until finally your screen lit up, or dulled down because all you could see was darkness with a touch of a chestnut color. You should’ve known that this would happen.

“Bucky, it’s a video call.” You informed him and watched as he pulled the phone away from his ear and instead looked at his screen, his brows furrowed like he always did when he lost a fight against technology. “Oh…” He grumbled.

“So, what’s wrong with your phone?” Bucky pressed his lips together, his eyes looking anywhere but at his phone.

“Bucky?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Bucky let out a sigh and wiped his face with his right hand but you could see the slight blush forming on the apples of his cheeks.

“Was anyone going to tell me that there are two cameras? Why the hell would anyone need two?” You saw him lean against the headrest and turn his head to the side with an annoyed expression. Your heart melted a little bit, you couldn’t help but find it endearing at how clueless he was when it came to things that were common knowledge to you.

“James, stop pouting.” There was a tone of amusement in your voice even though you tried to feign sternness. Bucky’s head shot back towards where he could see you on the screen in his hand and blinked a few times as if he was trying to comprehend what you just said. You never really called him by his first name and his reaction made you clench your jaw and hold your breath so you wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You asked innocently and batted your lashes towards your camera. Bucky narrowed his eyes but couldn’t suppress the little smile that was tugging on the corners of his mouth. You grinned triumphantly, happy that you could at least lighten his mood a little bit. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You finally said and playfully scrunched your nose. “So was that it? Did you have a problem taking pictures because you tried to take them with the outer camera?” Buckys smile slightly faltered but he chuckled nonetheless.

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry to be a bother with all the…you know, modern stuff, I-“ You cut him off immediately. “Don’t you dare apologize for that, you’re still learning and I’m happy to help. Hey, I’m very proud of you for making it work with the phone.” Bucky rolled his eyes good-naturedly but you could see his eyes soften. “I try.”

You continued talking to him for a while about nothing in particular until you decided that you both needed some rest and hung up. It was merely twenty minutes later, you just settled down and closed your eyes when your phone vibrated. A message from Bucky. You curiously opened the message to see if he had any more problems but instead your lips curled into a big, bright smile.

He sent you a picture, this time you could fully make out what it was, a photo of a shirtless Bucky laying on his couch, his eyes crinkled as he wore a proud grin with the caption I figured it out!

__________

Tag list: @lunaroserites

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #boyfriend!bucky

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atypicalamortentia · 9 months

Text

Riddle's Diary || Tom Riddle

Synopsis - A few days into your last year at Hogwarts, you wake up to find an unusual diary nestled between your class books. After uncovering its secret, the diary very quickly becomes the only thing you can think about.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - All characters a 18+

Word Count - 4k.

[Caffeinate Me]

You weren’t exactly sure where the diary came from. You had woken up one morning to find it neatly nestled between your class books on your bedside table. You had asked around Hogwarts to see if anybody had put it there, alas nobody had owned up to placing it in your belongings.

The diary itself was plain black and made of leather. The unrecognised name of ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’ was written in gold on the bottom of the very back of the diary. As you studied the diary, your first instinct was to flick through the pages but when you did, you saw they were all empty. It was as if the diary was brand new. Unused. You shrugged and placed the diary neatly back where it had been and went about your day as usual, forgetting all about it until you returned back to your dorm room that evening.

When everybody had gone to bed and you were sure everybody was asleep, you grabbed the diary and made your way down to the common room where you sat at a desk facing a window, looking out at the clear night sky. You admired the diary for the second time today and sighed. “Where did you come from?” You muttered to the diary. You opened it to the middle page and inspected the lining of the book. You were looking for any evidence that there had been pages ripped out, but the lining of the diary remained intact suggesting that there hadn’t been. Just as you were about to close the book and head back to bed, words appeared on the page in front of you:

Hello.

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut tightly before reopening them and looking at the page the words had appeared on. There was nothing there. “I must be going mad,” you whispered to yourself. You were about to close the diary once more before words appeared on the page again:

No, you’re not going mad.

Then, as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared without a trace. You picked up the diary and looked closely at the page.

My name’s Tom Marvolo Riddle. What’s yours?

You gasped loudly. What sort of magic was this? You watched as the words disappeared from the page before you looked at the ink pot that sat neatly on the corner of the desk you were sitting at. “Am I really going to do this?” You asked yourself before picking up the feathered quill pen and writing your name on the page of the diary. You waited for a few seconds, not sure what you were expecting to happen but just like the words you had seen, your name simply disappeared from the page. In its place was a response:

That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.

The words were gone and the page was yet again blank. Did a diary really just call you pretty? You shook your head once again and allowed the quill in your hand to glide across the page as you wrote your reply:

What is this book?

You waited a few seconds before a response came.

My diary.

“But why would somebody enchant a diary?” You asked aloud to yourself.

So I can live forever.

“Oh,” you frowned at the words on the page. Whatever it was, whoever it was, they could hear you speak? This was magic you had never encountered before, nor even knew was possible. You didn’t respond to the diary and instead looked out of the window as your mind whirled with possibilities. You still didn’t even know where this diary had come from and now you were up in the middle of the night talking to it? When you finally looked down at the page, you saw another sentence:

It’s late. You should go to bed beautiful.

You closed the diary without writing a goodbye. You were shaken and confused. “It is late,” you mumbled to yourself looking at the grandfather clock situated in the corner of the common room. This all had to be one weird dream. You would wake up in the morning to no diary that could hear you or write to you and you’d tell your best friends about it and you’d laugh about the weird dream. Yeah. That would happen. You grabbed the diary and stood up, making your way back to the girls dorm and climbing back into bed. You placed the diary back where it was when you found it and fell into a deep sleep.

You were the last to wake in the morning and the first thing you did was look for the diary. There it was, right where you left it. So it wasn’t a weird dream? You opened the diary and waited for words to appear, but none did. “Maybe I was just so sleep deprived I imagined the whole thing,” you whispered to yourself. You waited for a few more moments and still no words appeared. “What am I thinking?” You groaned and threw the diary onto the bed before getting ready for the day to come.

Your first class of the day was potions. It was probably your favourite class, but as you sat and listened to Professor Snape drawl on about various different potions you just couldn’t concentrate. No matter how hard you tried. Your mind kept lingering back to the diary and the night before. After potions class you had a free period. You tended to sit in the library and study, but yet again you couldn’t concentrate. You found yourself sneaking back to the common room and acquiring the diary, placing it in your bag before going to your second, and final, class of the day. You found yourself peering at the dairy in your bag throughout the lesson through the corner of your eyes, not paying attention to the Professor that was trying to teach you Defence Against The Dark Arts. The lesson was soon over and you evaded your friends to head back to the common room in an attempt to communicate with the diary once more. You sat at your bed, pen in hand, and began to scrawl onto the page in front of you.

Was I dreaming last night?

You waited a second and before you knew it, the words you wrote had disappeared leaving a response in its wake.

No.

Your eyes widened and your heart began to thump desperately in your chest. You shook your head and watched as the words left the page until it was blank once more. You were about to write back about how insane this was but the diary beat you to it.

You think this is crazy, don’t you?

You nodded and cried out, “yes!”

It’s not. It’s magic.

“Well duh,” you groaned loudly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your friend's voice came from the other side of the girls' dorm. You panicked and snapped the diary shut before throwing it under your pillow just in time for your friend to walk in.

“I’m fine,” you said, blinking rapidly at her.

“I heard you say ‘yes’ extremely loudly,” she looked around the room realising nobody else was in there but you. “Who were you talking to?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

You frowned and shrugged, making up a quick lie. “Just thought of the answer to some homework I have. Been thinking about it for days and it finally came to me.”

“That’s… good…” Your friend said slowly before backing out of the room leaving you alone yet again. When you were sure she was gone, you grabbed the diary back from under your pillow and opened it.

Ashamed of me?

The diary wrote. You raised an eyebrow and wrote back instantly.

You’re a diary.

That’s not a no.

You scoffed. You weren’t ashamed per say, just confused. It was a damn talking diary! You needed to find out more about the diary before you let people see you with the damn thing. You sat crossed-legged on the bed, pen in hand, and continued to talk to the diary.

So. Tell me about yourself.

The diary responded instantaneously with a counter question:

Why don’t you tell me about yourself, pretty girl?

You rolled your eyes. Out of all the magical things you thought would make a blush rise to your cheeks, a diary certainly wasn’t one of them.

Stop calling me “pretty girl”.

Why should I?

You bit your bottom lip as you wrote back furiously.

You don’t know what I look like.

Are you sure about that?

You paused and looked around the room. Surely your friends weren’t pulling a prank on you with this diary were they? When you didn’t answer, the diary continued to write to you.

Why don’t I show you who I am?

Your heart continued to beat rapidly in your chest and before you knew it, you were being sucked into the diary. You looked around the room and recognised it as your dorm room. The diary was nowhere to be found and so, not sure what had happened you smoothed down your uniform and began to walk out of the room. Things looked exactly the same and you made your way out of the common room to the grand staircase. There, you saw a man with curly hair and the most piercing brown eyes standing at the bottom of the staircase. He looked on as someone was taken away, covered by a sheet - someone had died? You didn’t recognise the man and his robes were slightly different to yours and it was then that you realised you were in a different time era. The cogs were turning in your head when suddenly you were interrupted by a voice you were familiar with. “Tom?” You looked to see Professor Dumbledore standing in front of the man, shielding his view as the body was wheeled away.

“Tom?” You asked loudly, but nobody turned to look at you. “Tom Marvolo Riddle?”

“What’s happened Professor?” Tom asked Professor Dumbledore who looked on sadly, placing his hand on the man’s shoulders.

As the pair talked, you walked next to Dumbledore and waved a hand in front of his face. When he didn’t acknowledge you, you began to realise what was happening. These were memories. Tom’s memories to be exact. The two began to fade away and suddenly you were left alone in the corridor before you were sucked back out of the diary and onto your bed. You blinked a few times and looked at the diary that lay on your bed. “What the hell was that?” You asked yourself, opening the diary to the first page.

That was a memory of mine, my dear. You see, I used to be a student at Hogwarts.

You raised an eyebrow before picking the pen back up and scribbling back.

Used to be?

Yes, used to be. A long time ago.

“That explains why I didn’t recognise you,” you said, knowing that the diary would respond to your mumbling.

Exactly. Who could forget a handsome face like mine?

The diary replied. You yet again rolled your eyes and scoffed. The diary wasn’t wrong though, he was extremely handsome.

What are you thinking about?

The diary asked. This made you think about what you were thinking about and instantly you shook your head as if trying to shake the thoughts from your brain.

Nothing.

Came your response. You continued to shake your head, not allowing the thoughts to re-enter your mind of Tom Riddle. You bid your goodbyes before closing the diary and placing it back under your pillow - not allowing the diary time to say goodbye.

An hour had passed since you last spoke to the diary and you were already itching to talk to it again… To talk to him again. Despite having your friends around you, sometimes you felt like an outcast. Somebody who didn’t belong. This diary was making you think… Was making you feel. “This is ridiculous,” you whispered to yourself as you walked down the hall to the Great Hall. You opened the large doors to the Great Hall and were met with crowds of people gathering around their house tables, eating away at the large feast that was spread out across the long tables.

“Y/N!” Your friend called, standing up and waving her arms to catch your attention. “Over here!” You smiled weakly at her and walked over to your house table, settling down next to your friend. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you all day!”

“I erm…” You whispered, looking down at your skirt. “I’ve not been feeling well. I’ve been in the girls dorm for most of the afternoon, just resting.”

“Are you feeling better?” Another one of your friends asked you, to which you just nodded a response. “Good.”

You began to eat the food on your plate silently as you continued to think back to Tom Riddle's memory. There was no denying that if that man was Tom Riddle, he was extremely handsome. Charmingly handsome. His brown eyes were inviting as he looked past Dumbledore at the gurney the covered body was laying on. They twinkled as if they were harbouring a deep secret, one you were sure you could get out of the diary if you asked.

“Y/N?” Your friend shouted, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you, grabbing your attention from your thoughts. “I said have you done the potions homework?”

You looked at your friend with a mouthful of food and shook your head. Gulping the food down, you began to speak. “When is it due? I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Like what Y/N?” Your friend hissed silently. “This is our last year for goodness sake! Get your head in the game or you’ll fail your exams!”

You straightened your body and nodded. “You’re right.”

“I know,” she smiled, brushing off her shoulder playfully. You turned back to your food and continued eating in silence as your friends around you chattered and laughed. Before you knew it, you were making your way back to the common room quickly, alone yet again. You walked up the moving staircases, being careful not to get trapped on the revolving stairs as you hurriedly made your way back to your dorm. You got into the girls dorm and slammed the door shut behind you. When you realised you were alone you walked over to your bed and picked up your pillow revealing the leather diary you had been thinking about non-stop for the last twenty-four hours. You could tell in your gut that this diary was going to become a problem for you. You picked it up and sat down on your bed opening the book.

Did you miss me?

Your eyes widened at the words on the page.

No.

You lied.

Liar.

No.

This continued for several minutes before you gave in.

I suppose I missed the company you seem to bring me.

You wrote. Your heart was yet again thumping in your chest as you scribbled the words on the empty, yellow parchment.

How cute.

Cute? You wouldn't exactly call it ‘cute’. It was more sad than anything. Talking to a diary, memories of somebody from the past as opposed to your kind, caring and loving friends. You gripped the diary tightly between your fingers, folding the book ever-so-slightly. Your leg was bouncing off the floor as you thought about what to say to Tom next. Alas you didn’t have to think before more words were scrawled on the page.

How was your day?

“My day?” You mumbled to yourself, grasping the pen tightly in your hand as you began to write back.

My day was okay. I haven’t been able to concentrate on my studies today.

And why is that?

“This damned diary,” you said loudly. You placed the diary, open, next to you gently on the bed and stood up. With your head in your hands, you grasped your hair and pulled ever-so-slightly whilst groaning in frustration.

What is it about my diary that is so distracting to you, my dear?

You looked down at the diary on your bed and sighed. You picked it up again and replied.

It’s like having a constant friend in my bag.

You didn’t have to wait long for Tom’s reply.

A friend?

“Yes, a friend,” you whispered in a hushed voice.

But, that’s a good thing isn’t it? To have a friend with you at all times, no matter where you are. No matter what you do.

You thought for a moment. You supposed it was a good thing, but again you knew this diary was going to become a problem for you if you kept it.

I have to give your diary away.

You wrote on the empty page after much deliberation.

NO!

Tom replied. There was an urgency in his writing. The capitalisation of the letters sent your heart into a frenzy. This diary, this Tom Riddle, had been in your life for roughly twenty-four hours now and you were already starting to feel attached.

Why do you have to give my diary away, pretty girl?

You bit your bottom lip as you ran the pads of your fingers across the parchment. The words dissolve off the page in the blink of an eye. The thought of that handsome boy in the memory calling you a pretty girl brought a blush to your face. You shook your head. You couldn’t be thinking like that. You didn’t know a thing about this Tom Riddle, about this diary.

We should meet.

The words flashed on the page.

“Meet? How could we possibly meet?” You asked the diary, confusion laced your voice.

Magic.

Came the reply. In an instant you were sucked into the diary yet again. You stood up off the bed and brushed yourself off, taking in the room around you: you were in another memory. There was movement in the corner of the room and your eyes shot to the darkness of the room's corner. A figure loomed in the shadows and your heart began to thump, your ears began to ring and your legs began to shake. Were you trembling out of fear? Out of anticipation? You weren’t quite sure.

“I’ve been very anxious to meet you,” a voice came from the shadows. Stepping into the light, the curly haired male from the first memory stood in front of you.

“T-Tom?” You asked, ears still ringing.

The man took a few steps towards you, a twisted smile graced his lips as he spoke confidently in response. “Yes. It’s me.”

“H-How is this even possible?” You asked. You were breathless as Tom continued to stalk towards you.

“It’s simple magic really,” Tom replied. He was now standing mere feet away from you and you could truly admire his features in the girls dorm light. “Have you been as anxious to meet me as I have to meet you?”

You shook your head as your throat ran dry. You gulped down a lump and spoke, trying your best to sound unaffected by him. “You’re just a memory.”

“I may be just a memory, but that doesn’t mean I’m not real,” he whispered, bringing his face closer to yours. He looked deeply into your eyes before his gaze dropped down to your lips and back up to your eyes again. “It doesn’t mean that what I don’t feel is real…”

“What do you mean?” You asked softly.

Tom brought a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath on the side of your face. It was warm, intoxicating almost. You felt your heart flutter as his hand dropped from your hair and to your hand that rested next to you. He held it up to his heart which you could feel beating in tandem with your own. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I feel Y/N.”

You shook your head a ‘no’ as he spoke to you, lips gracing your ear seductively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He pulled away from your face and stood up straight. Brown eyes twinkling in the dim light of the room, staring into your soul. “Liar,” he whispered, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Tom…” You whispered breathlessly. You sucked in a breath and moved closer to him, touching his shoulders gently with shaky hands. “I can touch you?”

“Of course you can,” Tom smirked. “And I can touch you.” He responded with a hand ghosting your hip, pulling your body closer to his. Your heart was skipping beats at his touch and you looked up at him. “I can even kiss you, if you want me too.” Tom’s hands cupped your face as he brought it closer to his own, gaze flickering down to your lips seductively.

“Why would you kiss me?” You whispered to him, eyes burning into his own. You desperately wanted to look away out of embarrassment, but you kept strong.

“Because I’m in love with you,” he said so nonchalantly.

Your eyes widened and you stepped back at his words, visibly recoiling. “Excuse me?” You asked, raising your eyebrow.

“You heard me,” Tom replied as he dropped his hands from your cheeks and gripped onto your hip, earning a squeak from you. “I’m glad you found my diary.”

“I didn’t find it,” you whispered. “It was placed in my belongings and was there when I woke up the other morning.”

Tom hummed and with his free hand, stroked his chin. “Fate has brought us together then, my love. Together, we can do it.”

You pulled away from Tom’s grasp and looked at him with confusion on your face. “Do… What?”

“Open the Chamber Of Secrets, of course,” Tom replied. The Chamber Of Secrets? What on earth was the Chamber Of Secrets? Your face must have asked the question before you could vocalise it, and Tom chuckled. “You don’t know about the Chamber Of Secrets?” You shook your head. “What are they teaching you at this forsaken school,” Tom said whilst rolling his eyes.

“Magic,” you answered softly.

Tom continued to roll his eyes at your answer but he leaned in closer to you once more, his breath fanning across your face causing your entire body to shiver in anticipation. “Will you help me?” He asked. Without even thinking, you found yourself nodding a simple ‘yes’. Tom pulled away from your ear and smirked down at you. “Good. Good. We shall waste no time and get to work immediately.”

“Okay…” You nodded slowly. You looked into Tom’s eyes and felt your palms get sweaty almost instantly at the way he was looking at you. There was a hint of need there, possession maybe. Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite place it.

“About that kiss,” Tom whispered huskily, stepping one step closer to you so that he was now invading your personal space. “Would you like it?”

Before you even thought about it, your head was nodding a ‘yes’. Tom was grinning at you, licking his lips before he placed them on yours softly. You whimpered the second his lips touched yours but melted into the kiss almost immediately. You felt Tom’s hands rest on your hips, gripping tightly and pulling you flush against his chest protectively. Tom wasted no time in deepening the kiss, pushing you backwards until your back hit a wall behind you. You were suddenly trapped and wouldn’t be able to get away from him if you wanted to. Your cheeks were on fire as you felt Tom bite down on your bottom lip between his teeth before he pulled away and looked at you.

“How was that?” He asked breathlessly. His arms had fallen from your hips and were now resting on either side of your head as he leaned above you against the wall.

“Best fake kiss I’ve ever had,” you whispered, voice low and nervous.

“I think it’s time I return you to your time,” Tom said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I just wish I could keep you here with me… Forever.”

You blushed furiously at his words and before you knew it, you were being transported out of the diary and you were sitting back on your bed in the girls dorm. The diary was once again open and a few words were sprawled on the page for you to see:

Come visit me again soon sweetheart.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom marvolo riddle #tom marvolo riddle x reader #lord voldemort #lord voldemort x reader #voldemort #voldemort x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fluff

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rogueddie · 2 months

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A Spot in My Life T | 953 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is keeping a spare sweater or blanket in the car because they always get cold

Steve Harrington is a bitch.

It's something that Eddie knew, all through high school, but he had thought that Steve had somehow became a new person- thanks to the Upside Down and constantly almost seeing the world end.

Steve isn't a bad guy, he can admit. He's still trying to keep an eye on everyone, make sure they're ok, even checking in with Eddie in his own way.

But he's very sly about it, hiding it being playful jabs, eye rolls and cocked hips.

It rubs him the wrong way. And it's only made worse by how much Eddie still likes him. It's as if the bitchiness only draws him in more, even as it makes his chest burn with irritation.

He tries to avoid Steve for as long as he can. He knows that finally befriending him like they both want will only end badly, but he knows he can't resist the temptation.

He enjoys the time before as much as he can, reveling in how often Steve will try to corner him so they can hang out, how much he whines and pleads and pushes. He enjoys the illusion that Steve could feel anything for him like he does for Steve.

And, when they finally do hang out, his fears are confirmed.

Steve is amazing. He's funnier than he comes across as at first too. He pays attention to what Eddie says and tries to get him anything he wants.

He's the type of friend that anyone would fight for, Eddie is sure. It explains how he ended up so popular in high school too.

If Eddie had known what Steve is truly like, he'd have been lining up for a scrap of his attention like everyone else.

"They're assholes," Steve explains, when Eddie finally asks about his old lackeys. "Tommy always took shit a step too far. I didn't need them. Probably shouldn't have befriended them in the first place."

"They were your friends," Eddie reminds him.

Steve sighs, leaning back. "Yeah, I guess. Just wish I'd realised sooner, how they were getting."

He never complains about the kids, not genuinely. In the quiet moments, when Steve is honest with an almost painful degree of vulnerability, he talks about how amazing the kids are. He talks about how honored he is to be friends with Dustin.

It only makes Eddies feelings inch ever closer to 'the L word'.

"You should talk to him," Robin suggests. "He really is amazing."

"I know, but... guys that are ok with lesbians still get weird about gay men, you know?"

"Yeah, but Steve isn't like that. Did he ever tell you the full story of how I came out to him?"

"It was after the Russian torture drugs, right?"

"We were in the bathroom, near the cinema. I thought we might have puked it all up, so we decided to test it, ask each other questions. So, I asked him if he was ever in love..."

"Oh... oh no."

"Oh yes. He liked me, told me so, and that's when I came out to him."

"Holy shit, Robin."

"But that's my point. He was a little surprised, sure, but he started making jokes, like, immediately. Didn't phase him at all. He got with it immediately. We're just friends, and that's not a problem for him."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back so it thumps into the wall behind him. "But that just makes him more hot!"

The story plagues his mind, to the point that it's the only thing he can think about when he picks Steve up for their next hang out.

In the dead of winter, Steve feels the cold worse than anyone else that Eddie knows. He runs hot, and the sudden temperature drops brings out the worse in him.

He's shivering when he climbs into Eddie's car.

"Fuck, why isn't your heating on?" He whines.

"It's broke," Eddie reminds him. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Don't worry? I'm gonna get hypothermia, Eddie! I don't want to turn into an ice sc- what is that?"

He takes the blanket that Eddie had reached back to grab, staring at it.

"It's a blanket."

"No shit, I mean... it's yellow."

"Yeah? You like yellow."

"You got this for me?"

"You see anyone else shivering in my van?"

"No, it..." Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie before slowly wrapping the blanket around himself. "Sorry, uh... thank you. This is, um, nice."

"it's nothing."

"It's not. Just- take the thanks, Ed."

"Alright, alright."

They're silent for the rest of the drive. It's so unusual for them that it has Eddie nervous, glancing at Steve every other moment.

When they finally pull to a stop, Eddie turns to Steve, who stays where he is. He stares out the front window for a moment, before turning to face Eddie.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, I am. Enjoying the warmth."

"That all?"

"... yeah."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar."

"Wh- hey, I'm a good liar!" He tries to glare, but quickly backs down with a huff. "Alright, fine, but it's really sappy! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Oh, no, the horror."

"Shut up. I was just thinking about how, like... there's so many little things in your life that are for me. My tapes in your room, spare clothes in your closet, this blanket... I really appreciate it, man. You've made space for me in your life. It means a lot to me."

"Oh, right. That's... yeah. Of course, Steve. You're always welcome. I love- uh... spending time with you."

"Good. I love spending time with you too."

"Good."

"Great."

Steve's smile is wide and goofy. He's sure that his own is just as cheesy.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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yumeka-sxf · 4 months

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So much happened in today's new chapter! Anya got both a stella AND a tonitrus, we find out just how exceptional she is at classical language to the point of ranking second and Twilight actually questions her about it, more Desmond backstory along with...

...his first apperanace!

After being shrouded in mystery all this time, we finally get to see Demetrius. Of course, like the other Desmonds, he brings up more questions than answers. What exactly is his relationship with his dad, if it's not how Damian imagined it was? And why were his thoughts so...odd? I was especially weirded out when Anya couldn't read his mind at first.

It could have been that she was too far away, but I feel it has something to do with the way he thinks...like, maybe he trained his mind to the point where he's not continuously thinking things like most people and his thoughts come in quick spurts only. Could it be something that Donovan instilled in him from a young age?

I loved how Anya's reaction to getting a stella and getting a tonitrus were only slightly different 😅 More darker lines and sweat for the tonitrus.

Anya had some great faces in this chapter, (as did Twilight), but I think my favorite was this one!

I was also happy to see some soft Twilight moments. Not only did he congratulate Anya on her stella while not harping on her tonitrus, he even gave her a head pat, something we haven't seen in a long time.

Something else we haven't seen in a long time: drunk Yor! (at least at home). Did she spend all night on the couch or did she eventually make it back to her room with Loid's help?

When Twilight questions Anya about why she might be so good at classical languages, she says she doesn't know, which makes sense. Most kids don't remember much before Anya's age. So even after all this, and even though it's clear just how good Anya is at classical languages, we're still not closer to knowing why!

Meanwhile, still nothing suspicious about the Authens.

But now that Demetrius is officially in the mix too, they're not the only new and mysterious characters we have to keep tabs on now!

Also Anya trying to channel Desmond energy at the end, lol. Trust me girl, you don't want to have minds like theirs!

It seems like this mini arc is over, at least the part about the exam results. I wonder if we'll keep learning more about Demetrius and the classical language thing, or if that's all we're getting for a while. Either way, I'm excited!

#spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #anya forger #damian desmond #demetrius desmond #sxf spoilers #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers

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stariikis · 3 months

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

synopsis ; going off my older fic engraving on my wrist , jungwon is late for a 'date', but you don't suspect the underlying reason behind his tardiness.

pairing ; idol!jungwon x trainee!reader genre ; fluff, situationship, getting together, oneshot wc ; 834

You’re not very sure why Jungwon would ask you out to a nearby café just to be thirty minutes late and leave you waiting. But you trust the process.

Is it too late to cancel the ‘date’, and go back to the company? You’re growing incredibly sick of the countless camera flashes directed your way. Of teenage girls, fluorescent bangle bracelets adorning their wrists and idol photocards clasped to their school-bags, coming up and asking for your signature. Is Jungwon late or is he not coming?

Your frantic messages go unread even when you check your phone for the millionth time. It’s not very ideal in the situation, but your mind starts to go into a frenzy. What if something happened to Jungwon? What if it’s my fault, what if I did something wrong? But I can’t have, can I, if I’m just sitting here waiting for a date?

A date. You almost laugh out loud. What are you even thinking? He still hasn’t asked you out and here you are, foolishly believing it’s a date.

Date, date, date… it’s all Jungwon’s fans can think about. Because of their influence, it’s all you can think about too. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel guilty when the thought of Jungwon taking you out crosses your mind, though. It’s like you’re desperate, or something. The beginning of a scowl prods at your lips – at fourteen, you vowed never to be the desperate one, after comforting your best friend through a difficult break-up.

Sneaking a glance down at his initials on your wrist, you start to contemplate getting up and going for dance practice with your trainee friends instead. Oh, the scolding you’ll give Jungwon when he finally answers your texts… he’s going to wish he never even said hello to you, that first day when you showed up to the company, freshly fifteen. What kind of stupid reason for being tardy will he give this time, you wonder?

Just as you’ve given up on waiting for him and started to get ready to leave, thunder rumbles loudly outside. Whipping your head around to check the only window in the quaint café, your heart sinks. Raindrops strike the clouded glass, each one a representation of the shards of panic stabbing you.

How are you going to leave now? You’re never going to listen to the morning radio’s weather forecasts anymore. Next time, you’ll be guaranteed to bring a damn umbrella around. This day isn’t going very well for you, is it?

While you’re sulking, slumped over your table-for-two hopelessly, you don’t notice Jungwon bursting through the door and coming up to you. He is completely drenched from head to toe, brown cotton trench coat not doing much to block out the rain. A small puddle of wetness forms on your shirt as he taps your shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly when you turn your head in confusion. “The line at the bakery was super long.”

You blink at him, dumbfounded, as he hands you a huge plastic bag with assorted breads. A couple beads of rain drip down the sides.

“I’m really craving bread,” you whine, flopping down onto the wooden ground during one of your breaks. Jungwon pulls the beanie off his head and sits down beside you with a tiny grunt.

“Bread? That’s a really weird craving,” he teases you, craning his neck to seek agreement from Sunoo and Riki, who’ve joined you that day for dance practice. They simultaneously glare daggers at Jungwon as if saying they don’t want to get involved, and so Jungwon turns his attention back to you. “What kind of bread, though?”

Is what he asks innocently, as if he hasn’t just taunted you for wanting to eat it.

“The one with strawberry paste inside. I haven’t tried it myself, but I heard it’s super go-”

“IT REALLY IS SUPER GOOD!” Sunoo slides over and interrupts, truly the foodie of his group. “You should try the blueberry paste one too! And the new one where they put raspberry bits into the dough…”

You snap out of the memory and unwrap the plastic bag, checking what’s inside. Sunoo’s list of recommendations are all inside, and some extras that Jungwon knows are your favourites. It’s so out of the blue and sweet of him that it makes you laugh.

“This is why you’re late, isn’t it?” You mutter, feigning annoyance.

He looks down at his shoes, looking ashamed. “Maybe. Sorry if they’re soggy. I didn’t have an umbrella because I believed the stupid weather forecast this morning.” And he looks utterly dejected about it.

How cute.

“It’s okay,” you pull him into a gentle hug, patting his back soothingly. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Take that, delusionalists in the crowd here. Jungwon is mine!

“But…” Jungwon moves his head closer to your ear, and you get the eerie feeling something is coming. You’re proved correct as he hesitates, then whispers lowly, “but now how am I going to properly ask you out?”

thanks for reading! if there are any other tropes or members you want me to write about you can send in an ask or comment here~ i'm very bored so i'll write pretty much anything sfw

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panic-at-the-fiction · 9 months

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The death of you

Summary: You and your best friend have your usual movie night except he can’t seem to keep his cuddly hands to himself and your close to physical combusting. Just a bit of your usual order of slightly angsty desired filled romance with little touch starved reader on the side.

Warnings: doesn’t go any farther than kissing just very passionate, very suggestive, Maybe I’m biased as the author, but damn it’s hot.

A/N: So I’ve been out of practice for 10 months now. Haven’t even wrote more than a paragraph that I just turned around and delete 20 minutes later these past few months. But let’s just say I found some inspiration to use for our favorite fictional men and we’ll see how this goes.

Movie night with Eddie, that’s normal, done it a million times. With friends, just the two of you, late at night, middle of day, outside, inside, at the theater, at his house, thrillers, comedies, action, romance, anything and everywhere for years. So why was this time different?

Currently you were sitting on Eddie’s couch watching the most recently picked out tape from the family video store. Steve let you guys borrow them for free as long as you brought the tape back the very next day. You guys watched movies all the time, so why was your heart beating out of your chest like a race horse on its final stretch to the finish line? Was it because his arm was around you?

No it couldn’t be that, Eddie was a big cuddler, it didn’t mean anything. He loved hugs despite his scary image in the public eyes, and he was always finding weird ways to poke, prod, or touch you. He was the type of friend to bite your shoulder when he got bored, an absolutely feral mad man type guy. And he knew that despite your lack of experience with physical affection, you never mind when it came from him. He always got your free pass.

Maybe it was the slow circles you felt him drawing on your skin? Or how occasionally his hands would slip into your hair, playing with it? Much more intimate little things that were making you feel like you were going to jump out of your skin from just the hints at this new kind of physical touch.

Yep, that was definitely the issue.

You tried removing his arm from around your shoulder and instead brought it back down to his side. But when he looked at you with such confused puppy dog eyes, you caved and played it off as just repositioning yourself as you instead wrapped around his arm and leaned into his side, laying your head on his shoulder. You could never deny him anything, just another issue of being so damn in love with your best friend.

As the movie ticked on and you both stuck to your usual quiet with some slight hilarious commentary during the movie, Eddie eventually pulled you closer so that he could bury his head into the back of your neck. One of his hands came up to play with your hair some more.

You knew he wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore. He couldn't possibly see it, the way he was laying his head into your neck. Of course, it wasn't a very intriguing movie either, just not a great pick this time. But now he was rubbing the same small circles right under your ear, this time, and every so often his hand would find itself tangled in your hair. You tried to keep yourself straight and breathing consistently without letting your mind wander too far. He had to know this! That HE was killing you slowly.

Your breath nearly hitched this time when you swear you felt him ever so lightly brush his lips against the side of your neck. Did you imagine that part? God, you hoped he would do it again.

You weren’t even questioning why he would do any of this, you just knew you had to get yourself out of there before he realized how much of a mess this was turning you into.

As the movie came to an end you swear he had brushed his lips against your neck at least twice more, and you still couldn’t tell if it was intentional.

“Eddie it’s getting late I’ll have to go home soon.”

“Yeah” he muttered into your hair, all the while holding you tighter.

You gave him, and even more importantly, yourself, another minute before attempting to pull away. “Eddie, I have to get home soon.” You sounded like a broken record as you once again tried half-heartedly to pull yourself free from him.

He only pulled you back in and buried his head into your other shoulder. His arm came around, this time drawing lines down the front of your neck, and you shook at the feeling. This time your hand came up, cupping his head and running your fingers through his hair. Which only caused him to brush his lips against your shoulder once more. That’s it, it had to be intentional.

You swore you would combust into flames if you stayed there any longer like this. As every trace down your throat made you stop breathing. “I'm going to have to be the bad guy. I have to go.” You said, completely pulling away from him this time, moving to the other side of the couch.

He groaned, but nodded as he let you move away from him this time. He ran a hand through his hair before staring at you, darker and more lovingly than you had ever seen before. “Man, you're pretty with your hair messed up.”

God, that was the final straw. You jumped up off the couch. “You can’t say shit like that, Eddie.” You ran your hands up and down your arms, trying to stop how shaken you felt. Your nerves were on high, and he was still looking at you with that same stare.

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because what?”

“You’re my best friend. You can’t sit here and hold me like that, and stare at me like that and kiss my neck softly like that and then expect me to just be able to functionally drive home like it was another normal movie night hangout.” You snapped. He had you wound up and your lack of dating experience left you mad for more touches from Eddie.

He sunk low and pain hit you in the gut. “I didn’t realize I was crossing any boundaries of our friendship.” He said, leaning back on the couch. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.”

You sat back down next to him, panicking as you realized how he took your reaction. “No, god no, no that’s not what I meant. You never make me feel uncomfortable, Eddie. EVER! I mean, it wasn’t bad like that. It was good…horribly, terribly good. The kind of good you aren’t supposed to feel when watching a movie with your best friend.” You rambled.

So this was how you were going to confess to him your feelings. Man, he had you so on edge, you would admit anything to him right now if he asked.

That almost hungry stare returned to his eyes as he looked back down at you. You had read about that stare before, many times, and honestly, you thought it was an overused phrase in romance. The hungry stare, but honestly, what else could you call a look like that?

“God, you’ll be the death of me, Eddie Munson.” You laughed, not being able to look at him as long as he stared at you with those big brown eyes.

“You should stop taking the lord's name in vain. It’s a bad habit.” Eddie whispered as he leaned closer to you, getting inches away from you. Your four heads were nearly touching, causing both of you to gently close your eyes at the feeling.

“It's funny, I didn’t have such a problem with it until now.”

You could feel his breath so close to you as your hands found their way back into his hair. He slowly dipped his head further down, leaving the same light kiss in his wake. He could feel you pull him closer and the kisses gained more pressure in a way you had been craving since he first came anywhere near you with his light touches.

As he kissed harder into your neck, your hands switched from running through his hair to almost pulling at it. You began leaning back further on the couch as you pulled him down with you until Eddie was over top of you. You wanted to give him the room to be fully on top of you, so you wrapped your legs around him as he put his whole force over you.

You felt engulfed and dazed in a way you never experienced before as he began to kiss you faster moving sporadically across your neck until he had kissed almost every square inch of you. You focused on keeping your breathing even, trying to spare yourself embarrassment from how simply he had you melting underneath him.

He pulled away from you, hovering over you with that same stare that was filled with so much adoration in it. “God, I would keep you here all night like this. Just right here, all mine, and with nowhere else to be. It’s just so satisfying to be able to wrap you up and hold you in a way I know no one else gets to.”

“You know, I think… I don’t really have to get home tonight. No one’s going to miss me if I stay here.” You said breathlessly.

Eddie grinned like the devil looking over you. “Good,” he said as he finally bent down, capturing your lips. His hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet him.

That was the last straw, you were a melted puddle that belonged to him now. If this was to be only the beginning of the evening, then surely Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader

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