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syneilesis · 4 months

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[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #lad rafayel #lad qi yu #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace qi yu #fic #my fic #rafayel x reader #qi yu x reader #lad rafayel x reader #lad qi yu x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace spoilers #it's near midnight again i shall now sleep

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apoemaday · 1 month

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Letter to a Lost Friend

by Barbara Hamby

There must be a Russian word to describe what has happened between us, like ostyt, which can be used for a cup of tea that is too hot, but after you walk to the next room, and return, it is too cool; or perekhotet, which is to want something so much over months and even years that when you get it, you have lost the desire. Pushkin said, when he saw his portrait by Kiprensky, “It is like looking into a mirror, but one that flatters me.” What is the word for someone who looks into her friend’s face and sees once smooth skin gone like a train that has left the station in Petersburg with its wide avenues and nights at the Stray Dog Cafe, sex with the wrong men, who looked so right by candlelight, when everyone was young and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, painted or wrote all night but nothing good, drank too much vodka, and woke in the painful daylight with skin like fresh cream, books everywhere, Lorca on Gogol, Tolstoy under Madame de Sévigné, so that now, on a train in the taiga of Siberia, I see what she sees — all my books alphabetized and on shelves, feet misshapen, hands ribbed with raised veins, neck crumpled like last week’s newspaper, while her friends are young, their skin pimply and eyes bright as puppies’, and who can blame her, for how lucky we are to be loved for even a moment, though I can’t help but feel like Pushkin, a rough ball of lead lodged in his gut, looking at his books and saying, “Goodbye, my dear friends,” as those volumes close and turn back into oblong blocks, dust clouding the gold leaf that once shimmered on their spines.

#poetry #barbara hamby #letter to a lost friend

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naffeclipse · 6 months

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Heya @skizabaa! I'm your Secret Skeleton! I might have gone a bit over the word count minimum, but I had so much fun writing this! Your interests/likes are exactly my jam and I loved crafting this little piece for a cozy and sweet Halloween treat for you! I hope you enjoy some creature Sun and a Y/N who wants a friend!

The Harpy and Hazel Trees

Harpy!Sun & Reader

Word Count: ~3,500 Warnings: N/A

You’re so used to the quiet—birds calling to each other, crying out about the cold, and the buzz of the last insects filling the air with the gentle crunch of leaves underneath your feet, fallen off the hazel trees. Your lone heartbeat pulses within your ears.

The quiet eats away at you in the way a caterpillar gnaws away at a leaf: slowly devoured. And yet, you remain. There’s still more of you left to be eaten. It surprises you every time you think you can’t take another moment of silence, of a lack of another’s voice.

Behind your simple wooden cottage, you kneel. Only a pale brown fence marks your lost lot within the forest for the deer merrily prances over it. Knees sinking down into the moist earth, you tug out the last few weeds crowding your pumpkins though they are only weeds in name. The plants, you’ve learned, hold nutrients that pair well in salads. You won’t have fresh greens for much longer.

Autumn sweeps back as if this was always its home, and you, its guest. Your garden is bursting with foods that make the harvest moon happy and the dreaded months of winter bearable. The late-season sun heats the crown of your head and strokes your hair, but it is not a substitute for a friend.

You toil away, cleaning out weeds, plucking fat cucumbers, and snatching a wide green head of lettuce. You’ll have a wonderful bowl of fresh salad tonight and cook an egg to go with it. Your chickens are still producing well but when the cold of the dying year steps in, the chickens will convert their egg-laying efforts to keeping warm, and you don’t blame them.

These winters are brutal, on body and heart.

You shiver under a cool wind. A gust flips leaves of dill and oregano and you mutter of the cold to no one.

Then a shadow falls over you. You lift your head.

You startle in your garden. Perched on your fence just a few feet away from you is a beast, one with a rather wide grin at that. A harpy. He tilts his disk-like head, a large mouth displaying sharp teeth fit for pulling meat off of bones. Beautiful feathers sway around his face, long and curved, bright as sunshine and exquisite. He holds a rather polite expression; if only you could ignore the sharp teeth.

His wide eyes, the color of cornflowers, hold the intensity of the hawk but soften upon gazing at you. His body is covered in a finer layer of plumage, off-white and yellow, with wings for arms and long claws on the ends of his fingers, though his large, raptor-like feet wield talons that currently balance upon your poor fence. He wears no shirt but an ascot tie of silky ruby around his thin throat. Billowy pants conceal his animalistic legs, stripped in a bright pattern of red and yellow. His wings are gently tucked against his side, hands curled in front of his chest in an almost nervous, shy manner. Radiant feathers of scarlet and gold decorate his wingspan.

You understand immediately that he is beautiful and, perhaps, dangerous.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to drop in like this,” he begins, voice bouncing and cheerful, though a touch strained. “I hope I haven’t startled you.”

You slowly get to your feet, stunned. You clear your throat, afraid of how raspy your voice will be—the only conversations you hold are with the chickens and the goat.

“I don’t usually get company out here,” you begin, though you sound a touch defensive. You clear your throat again. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” The harpy cocks his head to the other side, feathers swaying like a rooster’s tail. “Oh, well, I’m only lost in that I have yet to find what I’m looking for and that I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, but the most pressing matter, currently, is the oncoming storm.”

He lifts one wing, long fingers nearly hidden under the cloak of gold and scarlet feathers, to point to the sky behind you. Careful to not turn your back on the stranger, you glance in the direction.

The harpy is right. Creeping forward are black, angry clouds. They gather low, pushing through the blue skies like a stain of ash. The storm wasn’t climbing the horizon this morning but swiftly it arrived.

He is being very polite, you muse.

“Oh,” you say, then face the harpy again. You clasp your dirt-covered hands, wishing you had thought to wear your apron so you might make yourself a little more decent. Of course, who could have predicted a visitor? Certainly not you. “Yes. I assume you don’t want to be caught in it? You’ve probably flown a long way here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he echoes with a grin that’s still toothy but much less sharp. His eyes upturned, the cornflower color beaming. “Could I trouble you for shelter for the evening? I won’t be in your way and I’ll gladly stay in your chicken coop or wherever won’t disturb you.”

You laugh gently. The harpy waits, his nervous hands returning once more to his chest, feathers rustling.

“Oh no, you’re far too big to stay in the chicken coop. You’ll scare my rooster half to death.” You look at him, resting a hand on your hip, forgetting the dirt caked on it. “No, you’ll come inside and out of the storm. The wind that will come will be fierce.”

“Oh!” The harpy leaps from the fence in a flurry of plumage. You start at the snap of his wings but find yourself gazing up into his towering expression, his smile absolutely delighted. “Thank you, friend! You’re so sweet!”

You look away, coughing once, unsure how to take the title he already bestows upon you. Is it even true? Could it be?

“It’s nothing,” you give.

You bend down and snap a pumpkin from its stem, the bright orange gourd is more than ready to be harvested for its seeds. On second thought, you’ll roast pumpkin seeds and have a stew today. A meal that will honor your harpy guest as much as your little garden can.

“Would you take this into the cottage for me?” you ask, pointing. The harpy is watching you closely, his head ticking with sharp adjustments to his gaze, his alertness unparalleled and fascinating. “I could use a hand for a few other things, too… friend. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated, but saying it out loud dusts a lightness in your chest.

“Of course!” He kneels and scoops the pumpkin into his feathered arms as if it were a mere trifle, not a fully grown vegetable. His claws carefully cradle the orange shell. “My name is Sun. I am at your service!”

You give your name in return.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone call for you, but when Sun says it, you feel a little more alive. A little more real.

“Do you like stew?” you ask, plucking your gathered leafy goods that will wait in the cupboard until tomorrow, and lead the way to the back door of the cottage.

“Stew sounds heavenly compared to what I've been scourging these last few days—bugs and berries and other bitter things!” Sun’s jubilee voice is no less dampened by recounting his horrid meals. “Yes, stew sounds lovely. How might I help you, friend?”

He doesn’t see you smile. You lead him to the door and open it, holding it so that he might duck inside and not fumble the precious pumpkin.

“We’ll need a few spices, celery and potatoes. Help me dig some up.”

* * *

Harpy claws, as it turns out, are great at digging up dirt, though you think he might have put them to better use hunting. Sun is cheerful and he easily takes to work. It’s not glorious, digging up potatoes, but he does it all with a smile on his wide face.

You love his chatter. He sounds like birds trilling and cheeping, talking of the weather and the storm and how he was alone before he ventured into these strange but wonderful woods. He doesn’t tell you what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t seem to know either. A wanderer. A lost soul.

Like you.

People like you often end up here, in this forest. A woodland of spooky, lingering things, full of yellowing trees. Everyone is seeking something. A heart hungers beside the hazels. A person gets lost here, but sometimes, a person gets found.

Taking a much-needed breather from work, you lead Sun to the hazel trees. The leaves are soft and pale as butter and halfway melted, dripping to the ground. You show him the hazelnuts, perfectly round, dark treasures. In fascination, he gazes at the hard, black shells that you easily crack, shuck, and reveal the smooth nut hidden within.

For a while, you two snack on hazelnuts. Sun’s tongue is dark red and licks at his teeth, chewing away. You love the soft crunch, and how nutty the flavor is. In summer, you take what you have left from winter storage to mix with cocoa and sugar then crush into a paste. A treat that is so lovely you tell Sun that you wish he could be here to have a bite when you make it.

His feathers perk at the mention. He looks as if he wants to say something, something you earnestly wait to hear, but he only agrees. It does sound lovely.

You return to work. Sun is a bit quieter, back to his anxious hand curling and feather-ruffling, almost pulling a few from around his wrists, but you don’t ask. He would have told you if he wanted to. Why confine a stranger when he’ll be gone after the storm blows through?

You taste something bitter in the back of your mouth.

He helps you haul in the potatoes, celery, and carrots. Your cottage is small, but it fits him and you just right. You begin bowling the pot, adding in bits of beef you fetched from the wooden barrel where it sat in a brine of water and salt to preserve the meat until you were ready to cook. Then you begin chopping the vegetables. Sun fetches you an onion you had forgotten, and when he returns, his feathers blown against his body due to the picking up wind, he begins asking you questions. So. Many. Questions.

You can hardly pause between them. He’s so intrigued by your every boring answer. There’s very little for you to talk about except for the years you spent here and how long you’ve been alone (you don’t tell him the last part, though he does ask about family, and you simply comment that you have none with a sharp chop of your knife across a deep orange carrot.) He smoothly moves on, tending to the boiling pot and feeding the fire when it needs more logs.

You can’t help but stare. A harpy tending to your stew. You think this must be a dream, a wonderful, heart-breaking dream.

Tossing the ingredients into the heated meat and broth, you and Sun wait, listening to the howl of the wind and fearfully eyeing the flames as the pressure in the air snatches at the flames by reaching down the chimney. You’ll let the fire go out when the evening ends instead of fighting with it all night, but it will get cold. You ask Sun if he’ll be alright.

He taps his chest with a wicked sharp finger and promises that his plumage is more than enough to fight off the chill.

You stir the stew and spoon it into simple wooden bowls. You hand one to Sun. His large, clawed hand easily grasps it. He’s so sweet, so grateful. You sit down beside him at your small kitchen table—there was never a need for a full dining room set, and now you worry it’s too humble. You never expected company.

The stew, however, is heavenly. You’re relieved and immediately warmed by the savory broth and melt-in-your-mouth bites of beef and potatoes. Sun tears into the stew and you give him a second, then a third helping. You almost laugh at how sheepish he appears until he eats once more.

He helps you clean up… You didn’t know what you expected, but certainly not his methodical ability to sweep the floor and scrub the pot.

“Thank you, Sun,” you say softly, handing him the last dish to set high on the shelf. “You’ve been a great help today.”

“It’s the least I could do to repay your generosity.” He faces you after setting the bowl away without any stretching or tip-toeing, unlike you. “You’re so kind and there’s so much for you to do by yourself. I’m amazed you can handle all this work. It would put a whole team of fieldhands to shame.”

“Oh, stop it,” you wave him away, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness. “I put you to work. I do hope you’ll sleep well tonight, despite the storm.”

As if summoned by your mere mention, a clap of thunder reverberates through the air. Your heart quakes in the strength of the ferocious growl. Sun whips his head towards the front door as if expecting the storm to rudely barge in without your invitation.

“It’s a very good thing you stopped here,” you say, breathless.

Sun slowly looks back, his hackles raised, and his cornflower blue eyes fall down. You follow his line of sight to your hand touching his feathered wrist, fingers anxiously curled.

“Oh.” You drop your hand away. “My apologies. Let me get you a comfortable place to rest. I’m afraid I only have one bed.”

“No need to apologize,” Sun says quickly, “Were you concerned for me, friend? That’s alright. Friends can be concerned for each other and there’s no shame in that. I truly don’t mind.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Friend?”

You stop, looking back at him. You wonder if he intends to leave, but that can’t be right. The storm is descending with a vengeance.

“I need only sit by the hearth. I don’t need beds or other human comforts, though I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh.” You look around, the smell of stew having long since drifted away as the fire slowly begins to die. A thick darkness descends. You regard the harpy with a worry for the morning. Sunshine will come, yes, and the skies will be clearer, but he will leave.

You find yourself dreading tomorrow.

“Very well.” You hold his gaze for one brave moment. The cornflower blue holds you. “Goodnight, Sun.’

“Goodnight, friend.”

You close the door to your bedroom. In quiet reflection, you dress into your night clothes and slip under the quilts on your bed. You are so caught up on Sun’s ruffled feathers, his cheerful demeanor, and how anxious he holds his claws.

He calls you a friend. You’ve only just met. You shouldn’t be so attached to a fellow so quickly, yet, you find yourself wondering how you might combat the silence in the afternoon after the thunder ceased its grumbling and the harpy has continued on his way.

You hardly sleep a wink before the storm splatters rain upon the roof and sends winds to rattle the shutters. A quaking bolt of lightning strikes, the thunderous cry shaking the very cottage and you bolt upright. You cry out, disturbed from dozing, dark dreams.

The very world is being torn apart by a dark tempest.

“Friend!” The shout is muffled through the door, but you hop out of bed, bewildered and frantic, and throw it open to find the harpy.

He stoops low, his height eclipsed by the stout door frame. You stare up into his concerned eyes, long hands almost reaching for you but hesitating.

“I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

You lay a hand over your chest and breathe out. The wild blood pumping in your veins has yet to calm, but the sight of Sun’s cheerful face plumage, swirling about his expression like rays of the sun, and his big blue eyes, looking over you for injury or harm, touches your heart.

“Yes, I’m alright. The lightning—the thunder scared me!”

“It’s alright. It startled me, too,” he gives, though grinning with the energy of a thousand afternoons.

Sun peers through the small window in your bedroom. The lightning flashes again, not so close, but the thunder roars upon the little cottage as if a beast had snatched your home into its mouth.

You shudder to think of lying down now.

You hesitate, contrite, then ask quietly, “Sun?”

He visibly perks up and almost hits his head on the top of the doorway. His golden feathers brush against the ceiling of the cottage.

“Yes?”

“Can I sit with you for a while? If I’m not keeping you awake, that is…”

His expression blooms as if a flower under the sun. He grins, the sight so lovely and tender before he takes your hand in his down-soft palm.

“Of course! There are still hot coals in the hearth, and I do hope I can help you stay warm, just a little.”

You lower your shoulders. A calming pulse moves through your chest as Sun, your friend, guides you into the room with the dying embers that beat a last, desperate red in the sooty black.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.

“No,” his eyes upturn, “If it’s alright, I would like to keep you warm.”

He opens his arms, the plumage of his wings falling like a cloak of ruffled sunshine and scarlet. His chest is fuzzy with soft down, and his billowy pants cross to make a comfortable seat on the floor before the cooling heart.

You want nothing more than to enter his embrace. Worry of the morning strains against your weary thoughts, holding you away.

“Are you sure?”

You only met him today. Why do you feel so much for this blossoming friendship, newly made under the threat of a storm and in the dirt of hard work?

He inclines his head gently, his feathers softly sashaying with reassurance. “Yes. I would be delighted to help my friend.”

His warm confidence chips away at the last of your reservations. Breathing in, you ease yourself into his embrace. Settling into his warm body—you didn’t realize how wonderfully comforting his form is, wrapped around yours, like a drop of sunshine. It immediately chases away the autumn cold nipping at your edges. Once you set your back against his chest, feeling a bit conscious of his presence and how you hold yourself, Sun wraps his arms around your shoulders. His beautiful wings cover you up in the burning colors of sunsets. Outside, the thunder and rain harmonize.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod and hook one hand over his fluffy wrist. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” you murmur.

It’s nice to have a friend.

You sit a while, gazing at the fire. Sun hums a low, throaty sound that reminds you of birds calling to each other, and you drift quietly. Your head begins to fall. In smooth, careful motions, Sun shifts your legs so they drape sideways off his lap and guide your cheek so it might rest on the soft pillow of his shoulder. His arms fall upon you again. You are blissfully warm, sleep whispering in your ears.

“Friend?” he says. His fingers curl against your arm. An anxious clench.

“Hmmm?” Your eyelids flutter.

“I was thinking—in the morning, you’ll have so many branches to pick up off your garden and you’ll need to check your chickens and see if any of your precious vegetables have been harmed, and you have so much work to do! I could stay a bit longer tomorrow, just to lend a hand, as a final thank you.”

“Sun?”

Your eyes open in the blue dark of the autumn night. Your heart melts quietly in your chest, and you think you might be brave. You dare to want to be bold enough to let him stay with you, beside you.

The harpy titters nervously. “Well, only if that wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you, of course. I don’t want to impose or linger where I’m not wanted—”

“Sun?”

“Oh! Yes?”

You sigh softly and close your eyes.

“Would you like to stay?” You hesitate quietly. Your heart thumps with all the desire of your being. “My friend?”

The beat of silence is devastating. The echo of nothingness deafens your ears and you almost lift your head to see if you cross a boundary or assume too much, but Sun quietly trills.

“If you’ll have me.”

You smile.

“Yes, I will.”

“Then you know my answer, dearest friend.”

You soften in relief, and in Sun’s gentle melody humming in his chest and soothing your very soul, you drift away. In the morning, there will be Sun. For every day after, it will be you two in the cottage.

You and your dearest friend.

#DCAH2023 #harpy!sun #sun & reader #skizabaa #i hope you like it!!!#naff writing #happy halloween

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blog-name-idk · 2 years

Text

(Right) Hook, Line, and Sinker

*Banner by my love @persphonesorchid

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader

Genre: College!AU, Roommate!AU, Fluff, Humor, Smut

Summary: Your horrible friends trick you into going to a haunted corn maze, where you inadvertently punch a zombie. Jungkook is, of course, in love.

Word Count: 12,353

Warnings: Smut

AN: This is the penultimate installment of the Autumn Leaves Collab, which is hilariously the reason I even made a Tumblr. We have one cute autumn-themed fic for each of our beloved boys by some seriously fantastic writers, so please go and check them out! Hope you all enjoy :)

~~~~~

(Right) Hook

It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves were a gorgeous blend of crimson and gold, the temperature was brisk but not freezing, and the sun was kissing the horizon, setting the entire sky aflame in a blaze of unadulterated glory.

You couldn't have asked for a better day to be backstabbed by your friends. In fact, you didn't have any friends. Just terrible people who promised you donuts and cider and then turned around and forced you into a haunted corn maze.

Your best friend had laughed herself to tears watching your expression change when you caught sight of the sign and realization dawned upon your stupid, trusting brain.

"You betrayed me!" you screeched. Mijin dug the knife in deeper by cackling like the evil witch she was.

"It's your own fault for not looking up the name of this place beforehand," she snickered, wiping her eyes dramatically. You huffed and crossed your arms, sinking into your seat with no intention of getting out. They could drag your cold dead body from the car if they wanted to go into the maze.

"I'll pay for your donuts."

"... Okay."

~~~~~

"FUUUUUUUUUCK THIS!" you screeched, sprinting away from the terrifying clown that had leapt out at your group. Your friends doubled over laughing as you sped off, eager to put distance between you and the most recent jump scare.

In fact, you had been a little too eager to escape, and after a couple twists and turns you realized you were lost. Alone. In a creepy corn maze. While the sun was going down and probably also laughing at your idiocy. Fuck.

For a few slow, spooky moments, you struggled between your pride and your sanity. Should you call Meej and ask her to find you, and deal with even worse teasing later? Or should you just woman up and get through this maze to keep the last remaining shreds of your dignity intact? Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Well, that decided that. You weren't gonna go crawling back to her now. They would find your cold, dead corpse in the morning and she would cry at your funeral and you would sneer at the asshole from your new home in hell. If this wasn't already it.

Meej

LMAO DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST PANIC LOSE YOURSELF

YOU MORON

LOLOLOL

The wind picked up and you jumped as the leaves of the corn stalks rustled tauntingly around you. Every little echo and noise sounded like another monster sent to get you, and a falling leaf made you jump and put your fists up for a fight. The shadows looked as if they were reaching for you with inky fingers, and you couldn't tell if your shivers were from the bite of the air or the chill in your chest.

In your head, you knew that it was all fake, that anyone coming at you was just a paid actor in makeup and costume. Unfortunately, your cowardly reflexes and adrenaline convinced your body otherwise and you crept through the maze like a very tense, jumpy mouse. You were so intent on the possible danger ahead, however, that you didn't notice someone creeping up behind you.

"Boo." You felt the barest whisper of hot breath on your ear and you froze. Then your body went on autopilot.

"NOOOOO!" you screamed as you automatically whirled to face your attacker. You weren't entirely sure what had happened, but suddenly the knuckles of your right hand were on fire and there was a collapsed zombie in front of you cradling his nose.

"Oh my fucking god," you gasped as you realized what you had done. You crouched next to the poor dude probably earning minimum wage, and rummaged around in your bag. Did you not have any tissues or napkins or anything?

"I am so sorry, are you okay? Wait that's a stupid question, your nose is bleeding, uh, fuck, shit, can I help? Oh god."

Your victim's shoulders began to shake and you panicked more - you didn't mean to make anyone cry for fuck's sake. Shit, who was the real monster here? Then you realized that he was laughing.

"Uh… zombie guy?" you asked stupidly, wondering just how hard you had hit him. He smiled widely at you. Unfortunately, combined with the costume makeup and the blood flowing from his nose, the gesture was not as reassuring as he intended it to be. You appreciated the attempt, though.

"Jungkook."

"Sorry?"

"I'm Jungkook. What's your name?"

You stared at the boy, wondering just what was going on in that head of his and just how hard you had hit him. Because you were raised to be a polite young lady and some of society's training stuck despite your attempts to fuck the patriarchy, you ended up responding automatically.

"I'm [Y/n]."

Why had you said that? Was your first name and appearance enough for him to figure out your full name and sue you? Was that why he had asked? Well too bad zombie conman, joke was on him because you were broke as shit. The safest thing would probably be for you to peace out and make yourself scarce, but you were still worried about the blood dripping from his nose.

"Um, I didn't break it, did I?" you asked timidly as Jungkook got to his feet. He offered you a hand up, which you took despite feeling like you should be the one helping him. His skin was warm despite the fact that he must have been in the maze for at least an hour already.

"I don't think so," he replied, dabbing at his nose with his sleeve and adding real blood to what was (hopefully) just fake decoration. "That was a mean right hook."

"I'm so sorry!" you blurted again, guilt filling you at his words. Wait, you weren't supposed to admit fault out loud if you were getting sued, right? You had watched that in a show somewhere.

"Nah, it was hot."

You blinked at him. Surely you hadn't heard correctly. By the way he was grinning at you - and it was not cute, considering you were now staring at a grimacing zombie covered in blood - you in fact had. This guy was not right in the head, and you began backing away slowly.

"Okay that's great!" you babbled. "I'll-see-you-around-bye!"

With that, you turned and sprinted away despite your protesting legs. You really had to start going back to the gym sometime. If you did, maybe your rusty skills would be brushed up enough for you to defend yourself from this weirdo.

~~~~~

Line

Jungkook stared after you as the moonlight illuminated your fleeing form. Your feet barely made any noise as they pounded through the dirt and leaves, and he found himself even more enamored. You hadn't even given him enough time to tell you you were heading deeper into the maze instead of towards the exit. Well actually, that was probably a good thing. He had to be out here for a bit longer and this meant that you might still be around when he got off.

"Dude, what happened?"

He turned to see Taehyung who was dressed as a creepy clown and, in his opinion, looked way scarier than any undead creature could. Because clowns were real. And they could be anywhere.

"I think I'm in love," Jungkook sighed, unable to keep himself from poking his nose despite the way it made him wince. It was sort of like wiggling a loose tooth, except in this case it was a reminder of the beautiful moment he met his future wife. He was rewarded by his friend's very unimpressed expression, only mildly obscured by the giant red nose on his face.

"With someone who physically assaulted you?" asked Taehyung, crossing his arms and somehow going from creepy clown to bitchy clown. It was amazing what his friend could do with one tilt of his hips.

"I mean I got closer than I was supposed to because she was cute. And then she punched me."

Jungkook touched his nose again with a dreamy sigh as he gazed in the direction you had run off to. What were you doing now? Were you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you?

"My head rang like a bell. Like wedding bells. Our wedding bells."

Taehyung closed his eyes in resignation, knowing his friend was a goner and probably already picturing your babies sparring with each other. If he was talking about the same girl he scared away from her group earlier, she definitely was pretty enough for any of them to get a little closer than strictly necessary for scaring. He opened them again and scanned his friend just to make sure he was really fine.

"Wait, do you have a boner?"

"She had perfect form, okay?!"

~~~~~

"I fucking hate you," you groaned as you sank down onto the picnic table bench next to Mijin. After what had to have been at least half an hour (the corn maze couldn't even possibly have been that big) of what felt like constant scary clowns and zombies and evil butchers popping out at you, you had finally found the exit. And of course your friends had already escaped and were sitting and eating donuts and drinking hot cider like the assholes they were.

"Yo, what took you?" she asked unsympathetically with a mouth full of cinnamon, powdered sugar, and deep fried dough. "After that clown, no one else showed up. We got done like twenty minutes ago."

"What the hell?" you whined, unceremoniously grabbing your friend's cider and downing it, wishing it had something stronger so you could forget this evening had ever happened. It definitely wasn't because you needed the warmth - you were sweating like a pig from fear and more physical exertion than you had performed in the last month combined. Were you just cursed? Wait no, you did not want your thoughts to go there right after that horrible experience.

And because it just wouldn't quit, Mijin poked your shoulder and pointed to where a familiar looking zombie was strolling towards you in a decidedly un-shambly fashion.

"[Y/n]!" chirped the zombie - Jungkook, was it? - as he waved cheerfully in your direction. Meej raised her eyebrows as you looked behind you and then pointed to yourself in confusion, as if he could have been referring to anyone else. Suspicion began to bloom in your mind.

"Jungkook," you greeted as he came closer, ignoring the curious eyes of your friends. "Do you happen to know the reason I was constantly assaulted by horrifying creatures while my friends here made it through untouched?"

The boy grinned at you, and now that you weren't overcome with hysteria and guilt, you realized that even under his make up his eyes were large and mesmerizing. Wait no, he was a weirdo, why were you noticing how pretty his eyes were?

"Yep," he said unashamedly, his smile widening at your inadvertent pout. "I asked my friends to help."

"I said I was sorry!" you cried indignantly, crossing your arms and scowling at the reason your lifespan had been shortened by ten years. "You didn't have to torture me!"

His eyes widened in surprise, making them impossibly bigger and - dare you say it - cute.

"It wasn't for that!" he protested. "It was so I could catch you after my shift!"

"I - what?" you asked stupidly, now completely bewildered. Jungkook suddenly looked down at his feet, and his voice took on a more hesitant tone.

"I was gonna get a late dinner now, um, will you come?"

Mijin's eyes were now burning a hole into the side of your head as you resolutely pretended neither she nor the rest of your friends existed. What the fuck was going on with your life today? First you got tricked into a haunted maze and now the fucking zombie you punched was asking you on a date?

"Um, it's past midnight," you mumbled, unable to come up with any other response as your brain continued to buffer. The hopeful gleam in those large, innocent eyes did nothing to help. Neither did his adorably bashful expression.

"Okay, early breakfast. On me. Please?" he asked, voice taking on a begging quality. His lip began to jut out in a pout and even under the horrible zombie make up you noticed it was full and plump. "It's the least you can do after you punched me in the face."

At that your friends began to snicker and Meej outright snorted. You felt your own face begin to burn despite the nip in the air. And then your so-called best friend decided to punish you for ignoring her.

"Yeah, she's free," she offered, making you swivel and gape at her second betrayal of the evening. Never one to do anything by halves, she then proceeded to hammer the final nails into the coffin of your friendship. "And she has no plans tomorrow that would make her have to go home early."

"Great!" said Jungkook happily as he and Mijin ignored your indignant splutters. "Just let me get cleaned up and I'll be back here in fifteen."

He jogged away with annoyingly bouncy steps and you whirled on your Brutus.

"What the fuck?" you hissed, ire rising at the smirk on her lips. You opened your mouth to screech at her and she shoved a donut hole into it.

"He's cute," she said conversationally as you chewed hard, determined to give her a piece of your mind. You swallowed, took a deep breath to prepare for your rant, and she stuffed another one past your lips.

"There, there," she said, patting your head as you glared at her, cheeks full of delicious pastry.

"He seems like a nice guy, but keep your location sharing on and if you don't text me every half hour I'll come find you okay?" she said soothingly, patting your bulging cheek. "If it really was something nefarious he'd probably pick a girl who couldn't fight back."

You pouted and slouched in your seat as your other frienemies snickered. Fuck those NPCs. You didn't know them. They weren't even important enough to have names in this universe.

You sulked while you waited for your mysterious zombie boy. Why were you being forced on a sketchy late night date with a total stranger who liked getting punched? Meej continued to feed you donut holes, petting your head and back as if you were a baby. Unfortunately, it was actually working to chill you out because you were an easy bitch.

"Ready?"

You glanced up at the familiar voice, gasped, and immediately began choking on the powdered sugar that flew into your windpipe. Jungkook had removed the zombie make up and clothes, and while he had seemed cute, you hadn't been expecting him to be a total fucking smoke show even with a swollen nose. Fuck location sharing, you would let this guy dismember you and thank him for it. From the way Meej chortled as she handed you more cider, she knew exactly where your mind was at.

"I-uh-yeah," you said suavely, getting up and tripping over the bench as you tried to get out. He moved easily to grab you before you could land on your ass and you felt yourself pressed against a very firm, muscular body.

"You okay?"

Oh no, he was even cuter up close. You gulped and nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his large, sparkling eyes or his wide smile. His two front teeth were ever-so-slightly larger than normal, making him look like an adorably handsome bunny. Who happened to be ripped beyond belief.

A flash went off and the two of you turned to see Mijin, who was pointing her phone at the two of you. You quickly stepped away from him, wondering if your face was as red as it felt.

"Don't mind me," she said innocently, tucking it back into her bag. "Just getting a picture so if [y/n] goes missing I can give the police a lead. Jungkook, right?"

You glared at her, knowing that while it was kind of true, she probably also wanted to memorialize the stupidly dazed expression on your face. The upside was that the muscle bunny wasn't offended, which gave him points toward not being a Gen-Z Ted Bundy.

"Jeon Jungkook," he told your friend with a grin and a nod. "If that helps."

"Good boy," Meej said approvingly. "Have fun, kids."

She gave your butt a goading slap as you turned to follow Jungkook away, and when you turned to yell at her she somehow managed to throw another donut hole right into your mouth. Maybe she really was a witch.

~~~~~

As you walked towards the parking lot, it hit you that you were about to get into the car of a complete stranger. Granted he was a very attractive, nice-seeming stranger who looked to be about your age and whose full name you now knew, but still. This was what all those old stranger danger videos warned you about. The darkness of the night and the rustling of the leaves did nothing to lessen the creepiness of the atmosphere. As if coming to the same realization, Jungkook turned to you with an uncertain expression on his face.

"There's a Denny's about five minutes away from here, it's the only place still open for food," he explained, pointing his finger somewhere to the east. "You can tell your friend that's where we'll be."

"Denny's," you mused, shooting off a quick text to Meej. "You're a real romantic, Jeon Jungkook."

That bunny-like smile appeared back on his face and you felt your heart give a hop in response as the two of you began walking again. You couldn't tell if it was just because of him or also because you had eaten too many donuts.

"I also make some mean ramyun, but hopefully I'll get to show you another time."

"Hm, that's very presumptuous of you considering you're taking me to a Denny's after midnight," you teased. "Are you just that charming?"

"I hope so," he told you earnestly, the blush that rose on his cheeks doing more to endear him to you than anything else so far. You reached his car, and he gallantly - and cutely - scrambled to open the passenger door for you. When you smiled at him in thanks, he froze and stood at the door, gaping at you like a deer in the headlights.

"Uh… is everything okay?" you asked uncertainly, grin slipping off your face. Jungkook turned bright red and swallowed, shaking his head.

"Y-you're just even prettier when you smile," he stammered, before closing the door and hurrying to the driver's side. You barely heard the slam over the way your blood began to pound in your ears, and a small voice inside of you screamed that this was all way too good to be true and you were about to get murked. Another voice, one that sounded suspiciously like Meej, told it to shut the fuck up. Mijin had the unfortunate (or fortunate) habit of always being right, so you decided to listen to that one instead.

Jungkook still seemed flustered as he got into the drivers' side, which was absolutely fucking precious. It relaxed you further despite the awkward silence that descended as the two of you tried to figure out what to talk about.

"So… was that clown also your friend?" you finally asked, remembering the recurring horror that had kept you lost in the maze for so long. Jungkook grinned and nodded, though he quickly turned his eyes back to the road.

"Yep, that's Taehyung. Honestly I think his costume is the scariest," he confirmed, and you shuddered in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, zombies and werewolves and stuff aren't real. But clowns are, that makes it worse."

"EXACTLY! See, you get it!"

The awkwardness between you dissipated as you began to banter back and forth more comfortably, and you found yourself laughing outright more often than not. As it turned out, not only was this zombie boy a confusing mixture of sexy and adorable, but he was also funny and kind. You had a feeling you weren't going to come out of this night alive, but for entirely different reasons than you had initially expected.

The easy conversation continued through your late dinner/early breakfast, and you found yourself enjoying talking to him even more than the greasy eggs and bacon on your plate. He was just so sweet and cute, it was impossible not to like him.

As the food dwindled, you found that you didn't actually want this night to end. You realized you were growing increasingly enamored with this strange boy, but you weren't sure if he felt similarly after actually having a conversation with you.

Well, you were a strong(ish), independent(ish), woman who knew what she wanted, right? You were a twenty-first century girl! All you had to do was be brave and be the one to ask for his number!

You took one look at Jungkook's handsome face and sparkling eyes and decided no, you were not a brave, strong, independent woman. He was way too attractive for you to be able to grab life by the proverbial ovaries and just straight up ask him out. You let out an internal sigh at your own cowardice, then eyed the table where his right hand was idly drumming the edge of the forgotten menu. Do it, bitch, whispered the Mijin-voice in your brain.

Steeling yourself, you set your own hand on the table and crept it forward until it brushed against his own. He stopped talking mid-sentence and froze, then pulled his hand back as if he'd been scalded. His eyes were so wide it would have been comical if your heart wasn't currently sinking in your chest.

"Uh, I have to pee," he stammered, before bolting upright and almost running to the bathroom. You sat there, stunned and humiliated. That had actually been worse than just hearing no. What should you do now? Stay here and be awkward? Call Mijin and have her come get you?

Before you could fully make a decision, a beautiful guy who was decidedly not Jungkook plopped down into his seat. Another equally gorgeous boy sat in the empty space next to you, giving you a bright smile that squished his eyes into adorable crescents.

"Hi! I'm Jimin!"

~~~~~

"Why are we doing this again?" complained Jimin from the passengers' seat as Taehyung followed the car in front of them. "I'm tired, I want to go home."

"Because," said his best friend, "we all put enough effort into Kookie getting this date and he better not fuck it up."

"Wait, with that girl you told me to scare away from the exits?" he asked, suddenly interested. He sat up a little straighter in his seat. "She was super cute."

"Yep, and now I'm invested and I want to see how it goes."

They both sighed a little when they followed Jungkook's car into the Denny's parking lot. It made sense, it wasn't like there was anything else open or around, but still. Denny's? Taehyung parked far enough away that it was unlikely they'd be noticed, but when Jimin went to follow you and Jungkook inside, he tugged him over to the windows instead.

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously, staring at his friend in disbelief. "This is literally the creepiest thing we could be doing, and that's saying a lot considering where we work."

"I'm not hungry," Taehyung replied with a shrug, crouching behind a bush to hide his form from the parking lot. Jimin rolled his eyes but followed suit. When Tae got like this, it was usually better to just humor him.

"Man, she's really pretty," said Jimin, trying not to think about the fact that he was currently admiring a girl through the window of a Denny's while hiding in a bush. Surprisingly, the date actually seemed to be going well - you were laughing, Kookie was laughing, and you were smiling more often than not.

Honestly it was beginning to get boring and Jimin was feeling more and more like a stalker. And watching the two of you eat an absurd amount of eggs and bacon was starting to make his stomach grumble. He was cold, tired, hungry, and it didn't seem like things were going to get interesting any time soon.

"Can we go yet? I think he's doing fine."

As if on cue they watched as you tried to touch his hand and, in true Jungkookie fashion, their friend panicked and ran away. Taehyung gave him a pointed 'I-told-you-so' look, which Jimin ignored as he got up and dusted himself off before heading towards the restaurant doors. If Jungkook was too scared to properly flirt with a pretty girl, then his hyungs would just have to show him how it was done.

~~~~~

"Hi! I'm Jimin!"

"Uh, I'm [y/n]," you replied automatically, before cursing yourself for giving your name to a stranger for the second time that night. Should you be worried? Weird things definitely tended to happen when you sat alone at a Denny's after midnight, but they usually involved alcoholics or tweakers, not beautiful mystery men. Well, maybe they were alcoholics or druggies and it just hadn't destroyed their systems yet.

Seeing the trepidation on your face, the other boy gave you a reassuring grin that simultaneously relaxed you and made your face warm.

"I'm Taehyung. We work at the maze too. We - er - we came here to get some food, and recognized you."

A lightbulb went off in your head when he said his name and you gaped in shock. What the fuck? The creepy murder-clown was secretly also a hot guy? Was everyone that worked at that maze secretly a supermodel? They both laughed and you realized you had said the last bit aloud.

"That's really sweet of you," said Jimin, scooting a little closer to you with a twinkle in his eye. Despite the fact that he had probably been outside scaring people all night, he still smelled quite nice. "I'm not aware of that being a prerequisite, but if it is you'd definitely be a shoo-in."

You felt your face flush bright red at the compliment, but luckily you didn't need to respond because Jungkook chose that moment to return. He looked incredibly pissed, which was honestly pretty hot. And confusing. If he wasn't interested anymore, shouldn't he be relieved to have a distraction?

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked flatly, crossing his arms as he eyed the way Jimin was crowding your space. You were clearly flustered, and the way Jimin was looking at you made his jaw clench in irritation.

"We just wanted to get some food," said Jimin innocently. He smiled at you again and inched even closer, pressing his muscular thigh against yours. "But now that I'm here, I think I'm more in the mood for dessert."

Suddenly his warmth was gone and you realized that Jungkook had picked his friend up by his armpits like a dog. The effortless way he lifted him had you eyeing the stretch of his jacket across his biceps, and you recalled just how firm his body had been earlier. He deposited Jimin next to Taehyung with an uncaring thwump and sat next to you, right where his friend had been. His thigh was just as firm as Jimin's, and you felt your chest go fluttery at his proximity.

"Can I get you guys anything else?"

The tired looking waitress sighed when she saw the two new additions to the table, and while they ordered, Jungkook turned to you with that bright smile.

"Did you want anything?" he asked softly, leaning in closer so you could hear him. You were incredibly confused. First just a brush of your hand was enough to send him fleeing, but now he was sitting in your space and looking at you like you were the only person in the room. Maybe he really did have to pee that badly and you had bad timing? Either way, you wanted to prolong this time with him.

"Um, I could go for a milkshake," you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and trying not to stare at how close his lips were to your own. "I don't know if I can drink a whole one though."

"We can split one!"

Jimin's voice broke through the small bubble that had enveloped you and Jungkook, and you looked across the table to see a cherubic smile on his face. You didn't know him well enough to know that this was actually his shit-eating grin, and you also didn't see the knives Jungkook was currently hurling out of his eyes.

"No way, she's gonna share one with me," he protested with an annoyed huff, before turning to you again and looking uncertain. "I mean, only if you want to."

Fuck, this boy was way too cute. You were getting an enjoyable whiplash from the way he switched between being possessive and shy. You nodded, unable (and unwilling) to resist the hope glimmering in his eyes. You gave your order to the waitress, who had started tapping her foot impatiently - not that you could blame her - and brought your attention back to the table.

"So you really punched our Jungkookie in the nose?" Taehyung asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. The full force of his attention amplified your embarrassment and you covered your face with your hands.

"Wait, what?" chortled Jimin, reaching across the table to tousle Jungkook's hair. The former zombie scowled and flicked his friend in the forehead, and the two began to stage an odd over-the-table battle. You slumped further in your seat.

"Your hand looks bruised, let me see."

Warm, gentle fingers pried your own off your face as Taehyung pulled your hand closer to inspect your knuckles. You fought down the urge to shiver as he brushed his thumb across your skin, and the small smile he gave you - more of a smirk, really - made your cheeks heat up.

"He's hard-headed for sure, but it doesn't look too bad," he said with an unfairly attractive arch of his brows. The hint of a smolder in his dark eyes made the gesture seem more suggestive than it should have, and you swallowed hard, unable to look away. "Want me to kiss it better?"

All of a sudden, your hand was back at your side, but now enclosed in another warm grip. You looked at Jungkook in surprise, though you couldn't say you weren't pleased at his attention. He laced his fingers through yours, and you marveled at how perfectly your hand fit into his.

"Leave her alone, hyung," the boy said with a glare, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. You hadn't prepared for how hot that looked, or what it did to your insides, and your cavewoman brain short-circuited at the action.

"Are you going to kiss it better then?"

Oh fuck, you had said that out loud. You watched the glare evaporate off his face as he whipped his head to stare at you, then your joined hands. You could almost see steam coming out of his ears as his brain buffered, and your insecurity began to re-establish itself. Until he pulled your hand up to his face and brushed his full, soft lips against your skin, making you shiver.

Your own lips parted slightly in surprise as you stared at him, fully aware that your heart was pounding and your skin was tingling. His own dark eyes looked back at you, and the intensity in his gaze made you wonder if perhaps he wasn't so innocent after all.

"Is that better?" he murmured against your skin. You nodded, momentarily mute, and his happy smile took your breath away. In a burst of courage, you leaned forward and planted a soft peck on his nose.

"Just returning the favor," you said with a shy grin, ignoring the "ohhhhhhh nice one" from Taehyung. The dazed look on Jungkook's face was definitely worth it.

"You know, I think I cut myself shaving this - "

"Shut the fuck up hyung, you grow like five hairs."

Jimin's offended expression made you laugh, and some of the embarrassment you felt at the two other boys witnessing your awkward fumbles with Jungkook dissipated. His grip on your hand tightened as if taking ownership, which set your silly, weak heart aflutter. You relaxed a little further once Jimin's food arrived and he focused his attention more on eating than on sending you flirtatious glances. Until the waitress brought your milkshake.

"What flavor did you get?" asked Taehyung interestedly, eyeing the tall glass with poorly concealed mischief.

"Um… cookies and cream…?" you ventured with a frown, considering the coloring made it pretty obvious. Taehyung's cheshire grin widened, and from the corner of your eye you saw Jungkook's ears turn pink.

"Oh, do you like cookies?" asked Jimin, having been lured away from his pancakes by the promise of being able to tease his friend. You glanced between the duo, feeling like you were missing something.

"Uh… doesn't everyone?" you asked. Jimin chortled in glee at your response and you spared a peek at Jungkook, who looked resigned and annoyed.

"Well our Jungkookie here is the sweetest of all, wouldn't you say?" said Taehyung with a shit-eating grin. "And his cream-"

He was cut off by a stream of milkshake hitting him in the face. Jungkook glared at him from beside you, straw to his lips and pointed straight at his friend. You and Jimin burst out laughing at the shocked expression on Taehyung's face, and you couldn't help but want to rib him back for how much he had been teasing Jungkook all night.

"Well tell me," you drawled, "how does his cream taste?"

Jungkook choked from beside you, and Jimin laughed so hard he fell sideways into his friend's lap. Taehyung just grinned and wiped some with his index finger, then held it out to you.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" he countered, recovering from his surprise impressively quickly. Your jaw dropped in surprise, and as if he took it as an invitation, he brought his finger closer.

Only for Jungkook to lean forward and lick it clean instead. Which was not hot. Definitely not.

"Thanks, hyung," the boy said with zero expression on his face while Jimin gasped for air. You were actually starting to get concerned for his lungs. "The ice cream was good, tasted like there was some bullshit mixed with it though."

"Maybe Taehyung should take his head out of his ass," you said without thinking, then blushed when you realized you had acted as if you were with Meej and the rest of your friends. They were just so goofy that you had gotten too comfortable, too fast. You needn't have worried though, because Jimin had fallen to the questionably clean floor under the table and Jungkook was staring at you with an even dopier grin than when you had punched him.

"You're amazing," he breathed, making you blush even harder. To avoid having to respond, you took a large slurp of your milkshake, then sighed in contentment.

"Kookie, you invited her to the Halloween party already, right?" asked Taehyung, eyes amused. He clearly wasn't offended by your remark, and that helped you relax again. Especially because Jungkook took that sparkling gaze off of you to scowl at his hyung. His attention was making you feel too many things.

"I was going to, before you showed up," he complained, and you fought down the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth at how cute he sounded.

"Oh please, you ditched a pretty girl alone at a Denny's after midnight before we showed up," retorted Jimin, who had finally recovered and was running his hand through his hair to fix it. You couldn't help but giggle at the way Jungkook's plump lower lip began to jut out in a pout, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"So what's this about a party?" you asked him, chest tingling at the way he immediately perked up and turned back to you. His eyes were so large and bright that you were left momentarily breathless.

"My roommate and I are having a Halloween party this weekend," he explained, looking adorably hopeful. "Um, if you're free, would you want to come? You're welcome to bring some friends if you want."

"If you give me your number, I can - OW!"

You suppressed another giggle as Jimin glared at Jungkook, who had not-so-subtly kicked him under the table.

"I'd love to," you replied, ignoring the two older boys. Jungkook's face lit up brighter than the moon outside, and you unlocked your phone and handed it over to him so he could enter his contact information.

He pouted a little when you did deign to get Jimin's and Taehyung's numbers as well, though he snickered when he saw that you named them TweedleJim and Taedledum. They did tone down their aggressive flirting - slightly - but by the time everyone had finished eating and paying, you wondered how purple the older boys' shins were going to be tomorrow. There had been a lot of kicking from your irritated date, and he had decidedly muscular thighs and calves.

"It was great meeting you," said Jimin as the four of you left the restaurant. The mischievous cast had returned to his face, and he pulled you into a hug that lasted far longer than necessary and only ended when Jungkook shoved him away. Taehyung didn't hug you, but instead took your hand and pressed his lips on your knuckles right where Jungkook had.

"Can't wait to see you this weekend," he said with a wink and throaty chuckle as the youngest ripped your hand away. He stomped towards his car, towing you behind him, and you gave a half-hearted wave to the two monkeys sporting identical grins behind you. You had to half-jog to keep from falling over, but the way Jungkook's cheeks were puffed out ever so slightly was too cute to be annoyed with.

Despite his irritation, he still opened your door for you, and your insides melted further. When he entered the driver's side, you took a moment to admire his pouting profile as he started the car. Then you grabbed his right hand, tracing the skin of his knuckles with your thumb.

"Jungkook, you know I think I like you a lot, right?" you asked, smiling at him. It was a little embarrassing to say aloud, but he seemed like he needed the reassurance after being teased by his shameless friends all night. His large eyes widened in surprise and a slow smile began to consume his face.

"Yeah?" he breathed, eyes shining as he looked at you. You noticed he had a cute mole under his lower lip.

"Yeah," you confirmed softly, gazing back at him and feeling your cheeks warm. You weren't sure who moved first, but then his soft lips were pressed against your own. The kiss was sweet, sweeter than the vanilla still lingering on his lips, and you sighed in contentment as you tangled your fingers in his baggy shirt to bring him closer. He complied, letting his own hands cradle your cheeks gently.

Then twin thuds sounded from either side of you, and you broke away to see Jimin and Taehyung grinning from opposite windows. You screamed in horror and clung to Jungkook before realizing who the fucking idiots staring at you were, and Jungkook swore under his breath.

"I'm going to murder them," he hissed as you laughed weakly and pressed a hand to your pounding chest. It had gone from butterflies to straight up heart attack far too quickly for your preference, and you whole-heartedly supported his statement.

"I'll help," you offered with a scowl as the two idiots gave you cheeky waves and scampered off to a different car. "Do you have an extra shovel?"

"Oh, I couldn't let you do physical labor like that on our first date," Jungkook replied innocently and you smiled in spite of yourself.

"But Denny's and getting harassed by your friends is fine?" you countered, though you placed a chaste peck on his cheek to show you weren't actually bothered. Despite the fact that you had literally just kissed, his cheeks flushed.

"We'll do something better next time," he promised, and your heart fluttered at the casual way he said it. Still, you couldn't help but give him a little shit.

"What makes you think there'll be a next time?" He whirled to look at you, eyes wide, and you began to giggle.

"That wasn't nice," he complained, that adorable pout making its way onto his face again.

"I'm sorry, what can I do to make up for it?" you teased, eyes flicking back down to his lips. He grinned and leaned forward, but a loud honk from what was presumably Taehyung's car startled both of you again.

"Let's get you home," he groaned, leaning back in his car. You laughed and took his hand, twining your fingers with his as he drove out of the parking lot.

"I mean, I doubt they'd follow us all the way to my place…" you said, brushing his hand with your thumb. Jungkook drove a little faster.

~~~~~

Sinker

"You think I should've put a shirt on under this?" you fretted as the Uber driver pulled into the parking lot of a decently sized apartment complex. Mijin rolled her eyes as she adjusted the halo atop her cow onesie, which was the exact opposite of yours in terms of being revealing.

"You're the one trying to seduce a guy who's clearly already gone for you," she deadpanned, making you flush.

"We just met a week ago! How would you know?" you protested, checking the tape keeping your robe semi-decently over your chest for the hundredth time since you'd entered the car.

"I've read your texts, they're disgusting," she said fondly. "He texts you good morning and good night every single day with hearts and everything, it's pathetic."

"I think it's cute," you said defensively, making her laugh and ruffle your hair.

"That's because you're just as whipped as he is."

"Be nice to me," you warned. "Or else we can go back and you won't get to meet any of his hot friends."

"Bitch I'm the one who agreed to come in case this is secretly an enclave of hot serial killers."

"Er, not to interrupt, but is this the right apartment?"

You both looked at the Uber driver, who you had completely forgotten about, then at the building outside.

"Yep, thanks! Sorry about that," you confirmed, opening the door and hopping outside. You shivered in the cold and mentally cursed yourself for going the hot girl route instead of the sensible funny costume route. Then again, you had goals for tonight that hopefully involved a cute ex-zombie between your legs.

As soon as Meej got out of the car, you nodded to the Uber and scurried up the stairs to the proper apartment. Even without knowing the apartment number you could've guessed which unit was the right one from the music pulsing in the air.

You opened the door cautiously, not really knowing what to expect, and a wave of warm air and bass blasted out at you. There was a decent amount of people in the room, and you stepped inside with Meej in tow.

"So where's your man?" she asked, trying to scan over the sea of heads. You shrugged, also looking around to see if you could find him.

"You made it!"

You turned to see twin gorgeous boys wearing togas and wreaths, and smiled despite knowing they were probably up to something already. Mijin outright ogled, and you couldn't really blame her.

Jimin was a vision in white, with a golden belt bearing a sun motif and a laurel crown. Combined with his smooth, pale skin, he nearly glowed. Taehyung wore a green toga, with silver moon adornments and a small toy bow-and-arrow. It played wonderfully with his tanned complexion, and you stared for a moment despite being preoccupied looking for Jungkook. They were already gorgeous before, but in their costumes they truly personified the Greek gods they were dressed as.

"Hey guys," you greeted, but before you could introduce them to Meej they grabbed both of you and all but dragged you further into the house. You sighed internally. It appeared that their antics were already in motion.

~~~~~

"Where is she?" Jungkook complained from his seat on the couch as he pouted into his plastic cup. He had been daydreaming about seeing you again since pretty much the second he had dropped you off that fateful night. The two of you had made out for an inordinately long amount of time in your parking lot, and he had driven away with a happy heart and a raging boner.

Between that right hook, first date, and the constant texts you'd been exchanging throughout the week, it was safe to say he was completely enamored. Not only were you scrappy, but you were gorgeous, funny, and nice, and talking to you just felt right. And amazingly, you seemed to feel the same way. So where were you? You said you couldn't wait to see him, so why weren't you here yet?

Jimin chortled at his younger friend's expression, patting his head like a child. Which he definitely looked like considering he was sagging in his seat in a cookie monster onesie.

"She'll be here," Taehyung assured him with a grin. "If not for you, then for me."

Before Jungkook could respond to his obnoxious friend, a slightly slurred, high-pitched voice came from his side and he winced.

"Jungkookieeee!"

"Uh, hi Dina," he said with a polite smile at the girl dressed as a slutty cookie. So this was why she had pestered him to know what his costume tonight would be. He looked around for help, but of course his two friends had oh-so-mysteriously disappeared in his time of need.

The sound of the door opening drove Dina out of his mind, and his gaze shot hopefully towards the entryway. It was hard to see, but there you were with that friend who had forced you to go out with him that night. He needed to remember to thank her for that. She would probably be the maid of honor at the wedding.

Even from halfway across the room, obscured by other partygoers, you were so pretty he wanted to die. Had you somehow gotten cuter since he had last seen you? He shot up immediately, not even noticing that Dina had been trying to sit on his knee, and she was sent toppling to the floor.

"Owww," she whined despite not looking like she had hit anything. Jungkook sighed in frustration. He really did not want to deal with her right now, not when you were right there, but he wasn't an asshole.

By the time he had helped her up, made sure she was fine, and pried her clinging acrylic talons off his arm, you were nowhere to be found. With an annoyed scowl, he realized that neither were Jimin or Taehyung. His eyes narrowed. They wouldn't.

He found you in the kitchen, sipping a drink and being caged against the counter by Taehyung. Jimin was engaging your friend, who looked more amused than charmed. Your expression was decidedly patient, which soothed Jungkook's ruffled feathers somewhat despite the way his hyung was staring at you like the hunter he was dressed as. Then he got a full view of your actual costume.

He had thought he couldn't be any more attracted to you, but you had proven him wrong. You were wearing a silky boxing robe tied tightly over some criminally short shorts that revealed a very appealing amount of leg. Your knuckles were wrapped in athletic tape, and his nose and his dick twinged at the same time. You were perfect.

Jungkook would have taken more time to admire you, but Taehyung was way too close, and currently playing with the hem of your robe. Something in his brain growled mine.

Then the older boy tugged you towards him by the tie of your robe and Jungkook went on autopilot, striding forward and ripping you away from his hyung. He opened his mouth to yell at Taehyung, until he realized he was holding you and his hand was touching warm, bare skin. He looked down and you stared back, mouth open and face pink. He looked further down and realized your tie had gotten undone. Your breasts were somehow still covered, but it was completely obvious you were wearing nothing underneath. His brain short-circuited.

Jungkook stood there, frozen and gaping, for an embarrassingly long amount of time. Then your friend surreptitiously stomped on his foot, and he came back to his senses. He was not about to let his hyungs see you like this.

You gave a squeak as he scooped you into his arms, clinging to the front of his onesie in a way that he quite enjoyed as he strode wordlessly out of the kitchen. He didn't even see Dina, who he almost trampled into crumbs in his haste to get you away. He quickly made his way to his room and shut the door behind him with his foot.

"Um, Jungkook?" you asked timidly, looking up at him with wide, confused eyes. He froze again when he realized what he had done, and that your robe was still untied and revealing a tantalizing amount of skin.

"S-sorry," he stammered, trying and failing to not ogle at the expanse of skin revealed by the cascading fabric. "I just… didn't want them to see…"

Your lips began to twitch up into a smile, and you brought your arms around his neck.

"Oh?" You asked softly, voice almost a purr. The look in your eyes made his heart stutter and his dick twitch. You brought your lips to his ear, and your hot breath sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. "And why's that?"

You licked the shell of his ear, tongue warm and wet, and something in him snapped. Jungkook tossed you into his bed, and crawled over to trap you between his arms. The flash of worry that he was going too far vanished when you grabbed the front of his onesie to pull him down and crush his lips against yours.

"Because," he said as he pulled back, slightly breathless. You were a vision below him, splayed out and licking your lips as you stared up at him with hooded eyes. "You're mine."

He saw your mouth begin to curve into a smile before he was on you again, hot and hungry and demanding. Your lips slotted against his perfectly, and the whimper you gave when he sucked your lower lip between his teeth added more fuel to the heat blooming in his abdomen. You evidently felt the same, because you wrapped your legs around his waist to bring his hips against yours, making you both gasp as his erection rubbed against your clothed core. Despite the tickle of his costume, it sent arousal flooding through you.

"O-oh, Kookie," you moaned as he turned his attention to the line of your jaw, planting soft kisses and nips until he reached the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Then he began to suckle harshly, making you gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair encouragingly. If his hyungs couldn't keep their hands to themselves, he'd just have to show them who you belonged to.

His hands skated across your bare stomach, making you shiver, until they came to rest at your covered breasts. Then he sat back, looking perplexed.

"Why isn't this moving?" He complained, tugging lightly at your robe. You burst into giggles at the confusion on his face.

"It's boob tape," you explained, and laughed harder at his uncomprehending expression. "It's basically double-sided tape for clothes. Did you never wonder how girls wear drapey stuff without nip slip?"

"I just thought it was some weird boob magic," Jungkook responded sheepishly, and you dissolved into giggles again.

"You're cute," you said between chuckles, then gasped when he ground his hips down hard against you.

"Cute?" he asked darkly, making your mouth go dry. He proceeded to peel the robe off your chest - luckily the tape stayed on the fabric and not your skin - and his gaze went molten. He stared long enough for you to begin to squirm beneath him, and you brought your arms up to cover yourself. His own shot out to grab your wrists and pin them on either side of your head.

"No, let me see you," he demanded, and the pure want in his voice went straight between your legs. His eyes raked over you like hot coals, the heat in them bringing a pretty flush to your cheeks.

"God you're so beautiful," Jungkook whispered reverently before descending again to devour you. You moaned into his mouth, wrists straining half-heartedly against his grip, and he took the opportunity to part your soft lips with his tongue. He licked into your mouth in hot strokes, and your thighs tightened around his hips in an effort to bring him closer. The whine you let out as his cock rubbed you through your shorts made him even harder, and he broke away from your mouth to trail wet kisses down your jaw and your neck. This time, he went past your collarbone to suck bruises that bloomed red and purple on the skin of your chest.

"Jungkook," you moaned breathily, trying to control yourself despite how good he was making you feel. The way he was pinning you down so easily despite how shy he had acted at the beginning was doing a number on you.

He paused to give you a boyish grin at complete odds with the way he was making your pussy clench, before dipping his head to roll your pert nipple around his tongue. Then he sucked hard and you keened, arching into the warm wetness of his mouth.

"Fuck, touch me please," you begged, desperate to feel his hands on you. His eyes darkened further and that innocent grin turned wicked.

"Anything for you, baby," he promised, and the pet name turned you on even more. He released your hands to explore your soft curves, and yours immediately went to the buttons of his adorable but currently unappreciated cookie monster onesie.

You were able to make quick work of them despite the distracting way he was nipping your neck and pinching your nipples, and you forced him backwards so you could shove the upper part of his costume off his frame.

"Oh, fuck you," you groaned when you got a full blast of his glorious body. Jungkook smirked as you ogled his abs, no trace of that stumbling boy left in his dark eyes.

"I mean, if that's what you want," he teased, preening under your gaze. You wanted to roll your eyes, but they were still glued to the hard ridges of muscle on prominent display.

"Shut up and take this off," you grumbled, shoving his onesie further down his waist. "It's tickling me."

Jungkook grinned impishly at you before obeying, and when he kicked his costume to some random corner of his room you sighed in a mixture of arousal and despair at the way his muscular thighs flexed. He was just so perfect, and by the size of the bulge straining against his boxer briefs he was going to be just as perfect there too.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him back down to smash his lips against yours again, not particularly caring that this kiss was much sloppier than prior. By the way Jungkook groaned against your mouth when your tongue skimmed his, neither did he.

It was even headier now, with his toned chest pressed flush against your breasts. You ground your hips against his with a breathy whine, raking your nails lightly down his back. When you squeezed his ass - yes, it was just as firm as you'd hoped - he bucked forward, driving his cock harder against you. You briefly wondered if you were soaking him through your shorts, then decided you didn't care.

When you began to wiggle out of your shorts, shy Jungkook made his appearance again. He pulled back, eyes wide, though he couldn't stop himself from licking his lips.

"A-are you sure? I was just… kidding," he said, as if you couldn't see his dick leaking through his boxers and you weren't half naked on his bed and begging for his touch. It was cute, but this sweet Jungkook wasn't what you wanted right now. So you pouted and began to push yourself off the bed.

"Fine, then I'll go see if Taehy-oof!"

Your gamble was rewarded as you were immediately forced back onto the bed, Jungkook's hard eyes blazing above you.

"I said you're mine," he growled, giving your nipple a hard pinch. You yelped at the mixture of pain and pleasure, and felt yourself grow impossibly wetter at the edge in his tone. You threaded your hands in his hair to bring him down for a kiss, but he paused, lips hovering over yours. "You're mine, right?"

Despite the aggressiveness of his actions, there was a hint of pleading in his tone, and you couldn't help but smile as your heart fluttered.

"Only if you're mine too," you replied, making his eyes light up. Jungkook had been yours since you had delivered that knock out punch to his nose heart. He closed the distance eagerly, and you lost yourself again in the heat of his lips and tongue. When one of his hands found its way between your legs, he groaned at how damp you were even through layers of cloth.

"Yours," you murmured, rubbing against his hand shamelessly. His eyes flashed and before you could process what was happening, your shorts and underwear were ripped off and you were bare beneath him aside from the robe halfway off your shoulders. His hand went back and you moaned as his fingers dragged along your wet folds before changing course to start rubbing light circles on your clit.

"You're so sexy," Jungkook groaned against your mouth as you bucked your hips forward, chasing the friction. He pressed his middle finger into you, and the sound that you made was almost enough to make him explode then and there. You were so hot and wet and tight around him already, and if you felt this good around a finger he couldn't wait to feel you around his dick.

You licked sloppily into his mouth, rutting against his hand as he pumped his finger in and out of you and swallowed your whimpers. When he added a second finger your breath caught in your throat, nails digging into the skin of his back.

"J-Jungkook," you gasped when he began grinding the heel of his palm against your clit while rubbing his fingers against your walls. He was working you up embarrassingly quickly, and when your orgasm hit it almost took you by surprise. Your body went rigid as waves of pleasure shuddered through you, and Jungkook hissed and pressed wet kisses all over your neck, working you through your high as your walls spasmed around his fingers.

"Wow," was all you managed when you came back to reality. It was partially due to the orgasm, but mostly caused by the beauty of Jungkook's flushed face and disheveled hair hovering above you as his hungry eyes drank you in. You tugged him towards you by his hair and kissed him hard for a moment before pushing him back a little and giving him your best seductress eyes.

"Fuck me now, please," you said sweetly, in a husky voice you were surprised came from you. Jungkook's eyes somehow went even darker and he almost dove to the side of his bed to open his nightstand, retrieving a condom he ripped open in record time. You giggled a little at his eagerness. Until he kicked his boxers off. Dicks were always objectively funny looking even at the best of times. So why did his make your mouth water?

"Is there anything about you that isn't sexy?" you said in a half grumble, making him laugh as he rolled the latex over his tantalizing length. He hovered over you, one hand by your head and another on his cock as he lined himself up, and you reached up to thread your fingers through his silky hair. He smiled down at you, eyes bright. Then he rubbed his tip against your folds and you moaned, tightening your grip.

"If it makes you feel better, everything about you is sexy too," he breathed, eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and lust as his lips fell to capture yours. All you could do was gasp against his mouth as he began to press his cock past your aching folds. Despite how wet you were, it was still a slow, excruciatingly delicious stretch, and he cursed, hips stuttering against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, thrusting lightly in and out to coat himself further in your wetness. The feeling was definitely mutual, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to encourage him to go deeper. When he bottomed out, you both stilled for a moment to get your bearings, though he wasn't sure how much good it did him with you quivering beneath him and your walls hugging him so tightly.

"Please move," you finally whimpered when you couldn't take it anymore, giving a little buck of your hips that had Jungkook hissing. His lips crushed yours again as he began giving slow, measured, pumps that had you arching your chest against his hard pecs. He was glad he'd made you cum once because he didn't really think he was going to be able to last very long. Though that didn't mean he wasn't going to try again.

So when he angled his hips a certain way and you cried out and clenched around him, he maintained that position despite the way his thighs protested. He kept one hand on your waist, locking you in place, and brought his other to rub his thumb lightly against your clit.

"Oh fuuuuck," you groaned, head falling backwards Jungkook worked his magic on you. You were usually content if you could get on top and rub one out with a guy during sex, but this boy seemed determined to ruin you for anyone else and the worst part was that you wanted him to. He was hitting all the right spots and doing all the right things as if you'd been having sex for years, and between the thick drag of his cock and the attention he was giving your clit, you were hurtling towards the edge a second time.

"God, do that again," Jungkook groaned, and you hazily wondered what he was talking about, unable to think past the delicious way he was pounding into you. You didn't realize you were pulling his hair, and when the coil inside you snapped again you gave another hard tug with a desperate whine.

He fucked you through your second high, shuddering at the way your already snug walls squeezed him like a vice. The sounds he was forcing out of your throat were too much, and he felt himself starting to lose it.

"Fuck, [y/n], I'm gonna cum," he cursed, pace growing uneven even as his thrusts became harder and deeper. To his shock, panic, and disappointment, you pushed him off of you and onto his back. Then you ripped off the condom and engulfed him in the confines of your greedy mouth and he gasped, hips stuttering against you.

"Fuckfuckfuck," he choked, spilling himself down your perfect throat as you swallowed around him. Even after he was done, you kept swirling your tongue around his length as he moaned and let his head fall back against his sheets. You gave a little suck that had him whine and thrust against you despite the oversensitivity before you pulled back, looking way too innocent and cheerful for what you had just done.

"Taehyung was right, your cream's pretty good," you said with a wink, and he felt his entire neck and face go red.

"Oh my god," he complained, tackling you back down onto the bed and holding you against his chest as you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. The two of you lay there, snuggling and enjoying the post-coital haze.

"Jungkook?"

"Hm?" he asked a little sleepily, opening his eyes and blushing at the cute way you were looking up at him.

"Did you mean it?" You looked sheepish, and he woke up a little more.

"Mean what?" he asked in confusion, and you flushed, looking uncertain. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek, trying to reassure you even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was reassuring you about.

"Um… about me being yours. And you being mine," you mumbled shyly, avoiding his eyes. He felt his heart swell at the pink rising on your face, and he couldn't keep the stupid lovestruck smile off his face.

"Of course I did," he replied, holding you tighter and smushing your face into his chest. "You're my girlfriend now, you can't escape." Your muffled laugh was music to his ears, and you hugged him back just as hard until you finally pulled away, complaining you couldn't breathe.

"Okay, boyfriend," you said, eyes sparkling happily. He was elated that he had been the one to put that expression on your face. He was less elated when you began to clamber out of bed after kissing him on the nose.

"Nooo, stay here," he pouted, then tried to pose on the bed in an enticing manner.

"I want to, I really do," you told him ruefully as you blatantly eyed his abs. "But I can't just straight up ditch Mijin when I begged her to come with me."

"Oh yes, the maid of honor," Jungkook said with a nod, mollified by how disappointed you actually sounded. You looked confused for a moment before your attention was drawn by your robe.

"Ah shit, the tape isn't sticky anymore," you grumbled as you futilely slapped the fabric against your chest. Jungkook was momentarily mesmerized by the way it made your breasts jiggle before shaking himself out of his daze.

"I'll wear it, and you can wear mine," he suggested eagerly. It wasn't quite the same as seeing you in his clothes or anything, but it was close. You shrugged in agreement, slipping off the robe - which should not have been as arousing as it was when you were already basically naked - and tossing it towards him as you padded around the room to grab your shorts and the onesie. Jungkook stared at your ass for several enjoyable seconds before going to his dresser to grab some basketball shorts.

"This is… kinda big."

He turned around and felt himself torn between laughing and melting into the floor. You had put on the cookie monster onesie, which was sized for him, and were almost drowning in it. You had rolled up both the sleeves and the legs multiple times and yet it still looked hilariously large on your smaller frame.

"You look perfect," Jungkook promised, making your face flush that pretty pink again. Though you frowned when you looked at Jungkook, who was now wearing basketball shorts and your boxing robe. "What's wrong?"

"I… don't know if I want people seeing how hot you are…" you grumbled, eyes glued to his six-pack. Jungkook's heart fluttered when he realized you were jealous, and he grinned at your adorable pout. He strode up to you, enjoying the way you licked your lips when he cupped your face.

"How do you think I felt seeing Taehyung all over you?" he demanded, making your eyes widen before he bent down to capture your lips. Feeling you melt against him was enough to rile him up all over again, but when his hands began to wander you pushed him back a little.

"Fair enough," you replied breathlessly, sounding incredibly reluctant but firm. "Let's go."

You resolutely marched to his door and pulled it open, only to run into a very irate, very drunk cookie.

"Uh…" you began awkwardly, not exactly sure what this chick was doing here.

"Jungkookie, who is she?" the cookie wailed, pointing at you with a venomous glare. You would've felt more worried had Jungkook not looked so done with his life. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"This is my girlfriend, [y/n]," he said, shooting her point blank with the truth. By the way she reeled backwards, it might as well have been a real bullet. Jungkook took the opportunity to usher you past her, lock his door, then take your hand and tug you to the living. You were impressed at the speed in which he had done everything, and wondered just how many quick escapes he had to make from that girl.

"Nice costume."

You turned to see Mijin, Taehyung, and Jimin smirking at the two of you. A fourth extremely beautiful man had wandered somewhere near the vicinity and brightened when he saw you. Despite the pig nose and the blanket he was wrapped up in, he was still impossibly tall and handsome and broad. This had to be the last super hot guy in Jungkook's friend group, right? It was just impossible for there to be more.

"Oh! Are you Jungkook's mystery punching girl?" he asked cheerfully, seeing you with Jungkook. You blushed at the descriptor, and Mijin chimed in before you could.

"I'm Mijin," said your friend as she shook his hand, utterly unfazed by his weirdness. Well, he was a fucking dime so you supposed you couldn't blame her. The man beamed, making his eyes sparkle.

"Yep. It was love at first fight," she said with a grin, and you rolled your eyes at the terrible pun. To your surprise, the new guy's jaw dropped and he stared at your friend in wonder. Then he elbowed Jimin away from her and held out his hand with a charming smile.

"Then it's meant to be, because me Jin!" he said proudly, pointing at his wide chest and ignoring the way Taehyung facepalmed beside him. Meej chortled, giving his costume a very obvious once-over as Jin snickered at his questionable wit.

"Are you a pig in a blanket?" she asked, clearly vibing with her very handsome, very lame suitor.

"Holy cow! You got it!" Jin said cornily, and you heard Jungkook groan at the guy's terrible joke - considering Mijin's costume was exactly that. A cow with a halo. Unlike the rest of you - including a now pouting Jimin - your friend smiled widely.

"Yeah, can you believe [y/n] told me my costume was lame?" she asked indignantly, making Jin gasp in affront.

"They tried to say the same thing about mine!" he complained in commiseration, and the two of them cast peevish looks at the rest of you. You and Jungkook made eye contact and despite the short time in which you had known each other, you knew exactly what he was thinking. What the fuck is happening?

"Uh… we're gonna get drinks…" said Jungkook slowly, backing away from the two farmyard animals. He took your hand again and the two of you fled the scene, once again almost trampling a bawling Dina.

"That's just the way the cookie crumbles," you heard Mijin remark from behind you. All you heard after that was a weird squeaking, as if someone needed to replace their windshield wipers.

"Jungkook, is it weird to say that those two together scared me more than that maze?" you whispered loudly as he handed you a beer. He shook his head and stared behind him, shuddering.

"To never being that fucking corny," he pledged, holding his own bottle out. You nodded and clinked yours against his and took a much needed gulp. Then, unable to resist, you leaned in to kiss him. It ended up lasting much longer than you had intended, and when you pulled away he had a dreamy smile on his face. "I guess it'll be nice if the best man and the maid of honor are together though."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Jungkook distracted you with another mind-melting kiss, and by the time he released your lips, your legs were jelly. He noticed the way you were clinging to him and grinned that sweet smile at you before easily picking you up and setting your butt on the counter.

"Better?" he asked, nestling himself between his legs and tilting his head up to look at you upside-down. You giggled and leaned down to give him a peck, then stroked through his hair with your free hand. The two of you watched the party from the relatively quiet confines of the kitchen, where Meej and Jin where getting increasingly close and Jimin was now attempting to avoid the advances of a sad cookie while Taehyung laughed his ass off on the sidelines. It was odd how easily things had come together when you were the last person who would ever willingly enter a haunted corn maze.

Jungkook snuggled his head under your chin and you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and letting your hands rest on his bare sides. Who would have thought getting lured out of the house by the promise of donuts would lead to so much more? You knew Mijin would use this as an excuse to drag you out to more activities, but when Jungkook nuzzled your shoulder you found yourself more excited than chagrined. Fall might be ending, but your time with him was just beginning.

~~~~~

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook smut #autumnleavescollab

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ml-nolan · 4 months

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Coffee in bed with Dreamling

You got it! T-rating for this one.

When his eyes open, Hob is greeted by high ceilings swirling with kaleidoscopic clouds. It takes no time at all for him to remember where he is. Dream has done a lot to make him feel comfortable and safe in The Dreaming.

"Hello, Hob."

That includes making sure to be at his side every time he wakes in this behemoth of a bed. Sometimes Dream takes the time to lie down beside him, with or without clothes, depending on whether he feels like seduction is necessary. It usually isn't with Hob—he's pretty much game at any time.

Today though, Dream is perched on the side of the bed, close enough to run his fingers through Hob's hair. It's nice that there's sort of a middle ground for physical affection these days. In the beginning it was a bit hot-and-cold, with Dream either demanding to be ravished or fully disappearing for days on end. But the joy of having been friends first is that, eventually, they both missed sharing the simpler, less heated moments.

"Is there anything you require this morning, Hob Gadling?"

"Hmmm…" This isn't a question he ever waves off. He's never understood why people play coy little games to be polite. He knows that here in The Dreaming, he can pretty much have whatever he wants. Why not take advantage of that? "Don't suppose you could get us a cup of coffee."

Dream snorts of the very idea that there would be something he couldn't provide. It's subtle, but very cute. Not that Hob would dare tell him that (well, not right now, anyway).

"How would you prefer it?"

"Just a regular cup of joe, a little cream, no sugar."

Hob can't say it's not delightful to be waited on by a king. To be indulged, more like. With the hint of a smile, Dream goes very still, and then there is a cup in his hand. It's gorgeous in an artisanal sort of way, with starbursts of gold leaf where cracks used to be. He hands it to Hob, its temperature cool enough to hold in his hands.

"Where'd you get this one?" Hob says, pushing himself up to sit against the cool wooden headboard. The coffee is perfect—roasted but not burnt, creamy but not too thick.

"From the dream of a cafe owner who lives in a seaside village," Dream says.

"Uh oh. So does that mean I've stolen some poor sod's coffee?"

Dream turns his head ever so slightly, which he always does when Hob says something that he thinks is silly.

"This dreamer is much like you," Dream says, voice colored with affection. "He is resourceful enough to make the best of the unexpected."

Hob sets his cup on the stone window ledge beside the bed. "Uh oh. I'm not going to lose you to him, am I?"

Anyone would clock the smile on Dream's face now. He shakes his head. "You are still singular to me, Hob Gadling. I would have no one else. Besides," his expression drifts slightly, "his existing partner figures heavily in his dreams. I would be loath to interfere."

With a thoughtful sound, Hob scoots closer to Dream, straining up to kiss him. Obligingly, Dream leans into it to meet him halfway, letting his soft, cool lips linger on Hob's. There's a flutter in Hob's stomach, the same way there always is when he wakes up under Dream's attentive gaze.

They break from the kiss. "How long will that coffee stay warm?" Hob jerks his head toward where he'd left the gilded cup on the windowsill.

Dream's eyes flash, darkening from sea green into that clear black sky. He sets a hand on Hob's chest and eases him onto his back.

"As long as is necessary."

This piece was brought to you by these Soft Prompts. I've got a lot of great ones in the queue, but please feel free to send an ask for Sandman, The Magnus Archives, or Malevolent ships (or any of my OCs)!

#yay we're back with ficlets!#my head has finally cleared enough!#finally!#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #soft prompts

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fanaticsnail · 7 months

Text

You Kissed the Clown? Part 3

So this story in my mind is getting slightly out of hand. I didn't mean for it to get this long, but it seriously hit me like a leaf blower full of refined glitter.

Part 2 is located back here.

Upon setting sail to embark on the journeying voyage to obtain a figure-headed boat, you and your three travelling companions found yourself in ‘Syrup-Village’, a relatively small town with a large port filled with beautifully crafted vessels.

You held a certain apprehension of commencing your combat training under the instruction of a swordsman, as you yourself had no desire to educate yourself on the many ways of ending another life. Zoro originally began your training with relentless administrations, instructing you to train your body to instinctively reach for a weapon and attack an opponent. It was only when Nami interrupted one of your sessions to interject, suggesting defensive maneuvers be on the agenda primarily and anything else was to be an afterthought.

At this suggestion, you released a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were withholding. You had only ever wanted to use your hands to hone your craft as a jeweller – never to cause great violence, only repair what's broken, appraise what's worth appraising and create crafts of fine make using delicate and hard to obtain metals and gemstones. Although, as a part of a newly formed pirate crew, you understood the many dangers you would come to face at the hands of marines, enemy pirates and bounty hunters.

Your defensive training was far easier to manage; Nami taking over a few of your sessions on the way to syrup village in exchange for you appraising the vast number of treasures she had acquired on her journeys. Your eyes widened slightly and your brow quirked at the sheer number of gemstones, gold and silver. You noticed several items were in need of repair, which you offered to undertake for her to increase its value in trade for her combat training.

As you docked your small vessel into port, you met with a man who introduced himself as Usopp. Immediately your hair stood on edge as he began to relay tall tales of his undertakings as a pirate captain. This response was affectionately dubbed by your siblings as your “bullshit radar”, which came in useful when a merchant you were dealing with would attempt to sell to you any counterfeit goods.

It was only when he exclaimed he could set up a meeting with the owner of the docks that you sensed truth in his statements.

“I think that was the only amount of honesty he had spoken all day,” you said, turning your head to your orange-haired navigator. She chuckled slightly at your comment before you all began your journey following Usopp to meet with ‘his boss’.

"Here, my dear tinkerer and creator of fine trinkets," Nami said suddenly, handing you a small trinket from the palm of her hand to yours, "do you think you could fix this for me?"

You looked at the small mechanical wonderment in your hands, noting several pieces were dislodged, the silver had began to tarnish and some pieces were missing. The affectionate words and titles you shared between your fellow comrade was nothing unfamiliar to you, as you were the one to begin doting on your crew with these types of names. You were, however, surprised when they started throwing affectionate titles your way in response.

"I will give it my best, my darling navigator," you said in response, your brows creasing together as you began to truly assess the damage to this particular item. Zoro snickered at the banter between you two, as the now five of you commenced on your merry way under the guidance of your newest found friend.

You decided to walk in the middle of your troop, Usopp leading your captain who was following quickly behind him; you walking alone in the middle of the group, leaving Nami and Zoro at the rear to continue to banter with one another. You barely paid attention to your surroundings, choosing to fix your gaze on one small trinket Nami had given you to repair. Ever so often, you would feel a hand belonging to Nami clasp your shoulder and navigate you back onto the path following behind Usopp and Luffy.

You felt Nami’s firm hand gripping your shoulder to hold you in place, as two figures came into view. You chose to focus entirely on the task, noting the small cogs within this piece you were repairing were becoming more difficult to work with. This piece was a particularly ornate compass with a decorative clock-face with small cogs, springs and intricate leavers within. You had worked with pieces similar in the make as this one, but never on the road without your full arsenal of equipment at your beck and call. You were forcing a small cog into its place interconnecting to a lever when you felt your hand slip slightly, the piece falling to the gravel floor littering the ground with silver, bronze and gold cogs.

“Blast!” you exclaimed in frustration as the pieces slipped beneath your fingers. You dropped yourself to your knees the gravel road beneath you and began picking at the many cogs, springs and leavers on the ground – struggling to find the hands of the clock and compass.

“Nami, my absolute beautiful and cherished darling,” you suddenly exclaimed in annoyance, “this particular piece, as stunning as it is, is in a state that is completely beyond my abilities. I’m going to need a work bench, some oil, some better tweezers, screws, nuts, bolts, a red hot poker, soldering metal, a blackened glass visor, a large magnifying glass, all of the pieces I dropped and a bloody stiff drink to get all of this done.”

You heard a small giggle from directly ahead, bringing your attention to the two figures ahead for the first time since you stopped.

“Klahadore, can you please help her find the cogs. I will be fine here for a moment,” the small, white-blonde haired woman asked the dark-haired man next to her. He adjusted his glasses with the palm of his hand, reluctantly released her from interlacing her hand within his inner arm and prowled over to the place you were kneeling on the ground.

“Thank you, miss,” you deeply bowed to the lady, before offering a sincere smile to the man before you.

“How many pieces are we searching for, my lady?” the man almost purred at you. Taken slightly aback by his tone, you creased your brows together and slightly cringed your lips.

“Thirty-seven cogs, three needlepoint clock arms and four small springs. I’ve managed to collect the bulk of the clock, but the smaller items seem to escape me,” you responded sheepishly. He shut his eyes in response and sharply inhaled through his nose before reopening his eyes and used his gloved fingertips to search through the rubble to find the pieces you needed.

“After you collect your pieces, Klahadore will bring you to rejoin your crew in the guest quarters,” the woman said with a warm smile.

“Miss Kaya,” the man in front of you turned slightly to face his mistress, “I will escort you back to the castle and rejoin our tinkering guest once you are settled inside,” you noticed the way he addressed you had you set a little on edge, hair pricking up slightly on the back of your neck.

“Please,” you interrupted, pulling his gaze back to you, “I truly have no need for assistance. I’ll locate the pieces I dropped, and I am more than capable of locating you or another attending member of the household staff once I’ve found them all.” You smiled at the man you knew as Klahadore, which he gave a slight smirk and curt nod in response before standing to his feet and extending his gloved hand towards you; which contained thirty-six cogs, all clock arms and three small springs.

“Thank you, Mister Klahadore,” you nodded, accepting the pieces from him and placing them into a small satchel you attached to your hip. You then turned your gaze to locate the two remaining pieces of the item, which was a task you appeared to not be up to undertaking with much success.

As your crew, Kaya, Klahadore and the two other members of staff retreated to the main building; you released a hiss from between your teeth in frustration.

For another hour, you remained on your knees searching for a single small spring and the one remaining cog before you felt something watching you. You turned your head to search for the source of the uncomfortable gaze, finding nothing in your field of vision. You felt slightly unnerved by the feeling, choosing to crease your brows and abandon any hope of maintaining your dignity as you lay face down on the gravel road. You brought your eyes within an inch of the road beneath you, rolling up your sleeves and collecting your skirts beneath you to enable free your movement as you searched.

You heard a small, curt cough from behind you; forcing your whole body to jolt upwards in response and turn to face the source of the noise. Your eyes met with Klahadore’s dark ones, while you stood to your feet and dusted your skirts off.

“Forgive me, lady tinkerer,” he said with a small smile, adjusting his glasses with the ball of his palm, “it appears two pieces from the floor found their way onto the soles of my shoes. I was only just now alerted to their presence and thought to return them to you.”

He extended his hand towards you, and sure enough with the two pieces you spent the past hour on your hands, knees and face searching for on the dusty road below you. You sharply breathed in through your nose in an attempt to mask your frustration before smiling and extending your hand towards the butler to collect the missing pieces.

“Thank you, Mister Klahadore,” you managed to say with no amount of malice present, although you absolutely felt the rage slightly bubble in your chest. You collected the pieces from his outstretched hand once more and placed them into the pouch at your belt hilt. He then turned his back to you and extended his elbow out to you as an indication for you to take it. You creased your brows in thought momentarily before apprehensively reaching your arm out to take it.

“How long have you been in the antiquity restoration business?” he asked you as he led you towards the large mansion. You smiled at his question before responding.

“Longer than many would give me credit for,” you replied with a small smile toying at the corner of your lips, “although that particular piece is proving to be more difficult to repair on the seas than the workshop I am accustomed to working in.”

He hummed slightly, arching his eyebrow at your response. A small silence fell between you before he again spoke.

“And if I was to have a heavily lit workspace made for you within these walls, would you be so kind as to accept repairing something for me if I was to ask it of you?” he quirked towards you, “discretely, of course.”

You furrowed your brows at the question, noting a small amount of malice behind his enquiry. You held your tongue, searching for the kindest way to phrase your next few words.

“I take your silence as a declination of undertaking such a task,” he sighed slightly, reaching his palm up to readjust his glasses once more.

“Not necessarily,” you quirked in response, “I would be interested in providing my skills for you and the lady of the house, sure enough. I am just a little apprehensive as to what type of discretion I am to provide alongside my services.”

You craned our head up to look at the man at your side, prompting him to look down to you slyly out of the corner of his eye.

“It is a sentimental piece from my past,” he responded, leading you up the external stairs of the mansion slowly, “and I would not like to disclose my past to my current employer.”

You nodded your head and furrowed your brows, pursing your lips slightly at the question.

“A mechanical, retractable weapon then?” you uttered almost inaudibly to him, prompting him to halt in leading you further within the walls of the mansion and swiftly turning to face you with wide eyes.

“An excellent deduction, tinkerer,” he responded, “valuable only in sentimentality, of course. I would never intend to use it in my service to Miss Kaya.”

You hummed in response, holding the gaze of the man beside you. Every alarm in your body felt like it was blaring at the same time, screaming at the dangerous aura erupting from the man next to you. You felt the similar feeling of being watched once more, alerting you that the earlier feeling did not belong to this shifty individual in front of you.

You had dealt with many unnerving individuals in the past alongside your father, mother and siblings back at the shop, the latest under your belt being Captain "Axe-Hand" Morgan. Although they never threatened you with harm, nor those within your inner circle, you did feel a slight more lean towards lawful undertakings. Being so far from the comforts of home, you felt as if you had no choice but to accept this task.

"I accept the job, Mister Klahadore," you declared as he continued to lead you through the many halls of the wide mansion. You noticed him smirk slightly at your acceptance before clearing his throat with a small cough and readjusting himself as he led you to the correct wing.

“I will have a space made for you after you bathe and join my mistress for dinner,” he smirked at you before halting your journey in front of two wide double-doors you presumed were the guest quarters your companions were being housed in. You noticed your swordsman companion was walking in naught but a robe while carrying his three swords over his shoulders down the hall towards the door you found yourself and Klahadore standing in front of.

Releasing your hand from its spot on his inner elbow, he used his other gloved hand to claim your fingertips with his own, cradling them slightly with his thumb. He bowed his head slightly to you and brought your hand closer to his face.

“Until the later hours,” Klahadore murmured with a sly smirk, raising your hand to capture your knuckles in a brisk whisper of a kiss. You immediately felt an unnerving amount of alarm bells clatter throughout every fibre of your being at this gesture, but hoped your face did not relay any discomfort.

He brought your hand down from its place against his lips and released it from his grasp, turning on his way you assume to be directing the household to prepare the meals for you and your companions.

“My, my, my,” Zoro uttered from behind you, “ moving on to the Butler now?”

You tensed slightly at his comment, knowing exactly how this would look to your green-haired companion.

"It's not like that," you said through gritted teeth, bringing the hand that was once pressed against the lips of Klahadore and smudging your thumb over the place he pressed his lips onto.

"First the jester, now the butler. Moving up in the world, sweetheart. Proud of you," he taunted you in a monotonous tone.

“Not. A. Word,” you said, pausing between each syllable as you turned to face your companion.

He raised his hands in front of him defensively with a sly and mischievous smile. You hardened your expression and made to open the doors you assumed containing the remainder of your travelling companions. As you pushed on the door, you heard Zoro suck in a large breath from behind you. Before you could make to stop him, he began his loud declaration of what he thinks he just witnessed.

“She kissed the Butler!” he professed to your other two companions, prompting their heads to snap up and acknowledge your presence. You stopped in your movements, Zoro pushing past you and laughing with your captain and navigator.

“Seriously?” Luffy laughed and sprung to his feet, “you kissed him too?”

You felt heat radiating from your body in sheer embarrassment. You knew your face would be beet red at the comment.

“Absolutely not,” you responded, “I was merely accepting a job repairing a sentimental item that belongs to him.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Zoro taunted with a small smirk adorning his face, "do you accept all jobs with a kiss, or is it just the unsettling weirdos?"

You groaned in response, turning to exit the room.

“I’m going to take a bath,” you declared, turning on your heel and sauntering off into the direction where Zoro was walking from.

“Try not to kiss anyone else on the way!” Zoro called out after you, teasing your prior interaction. You felt the flush of your cheeks linger upon your face, more so slightly agitated at the thought that Zoro could couple you so readily in his mind with someone as unnerving as Klahadore.

You had absolutely no feelings of flirtatious intent towards the Butler, Klahadore. In fact, the only feeling that came over you was complete and utter unease. There was something about him that set you off, and knowing you were to repair something potentially dangerous for him did not uproot the uneasy feeling.

Walking through the vast halls, you looked at the variety of antique ornaments littering the benchtops, noting some were in desperate need of repair. You inspected a small, intricate light fixture on the countertop noting that one of the small screws was slightly loose; you took out a small screwdriver from your pouch and began to work at the little metallic piece, tightening it in its place. As you repaired it, you turned your sights onto the next item, an unusual wind up children’s toy that resembled a small mouse. You reached for it slightly, before pushing home repairs to the back of your mind by shaking your head slightly, and making your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up before dinner.

And the bathroom was beautiful. Grand ornamental brass legs held a large bath, filled with slightly murky water you assume belonged to the swordsman. You snarled a little at his bad manners before pulling up the sleeves of your blouse and reaching an arm into the lukewarm bathing liquid. Being a large and deep bath, you felt your blouse begin to get soaked as you attempted to reach the chain attached to the end of the plug to release it from its hold on the drain. A typhoon was created, pooling the unclean bathwater above the drain and emptying the water from the porcelain container with an almost howl-like groan.

Entranced by the spinning liquid as it left the water, you began to think about the battle as it was described to you by your captain between himself, Zoro, Nami and Buggy. The chop-chop fruit apparently, from their description, allows him to carve off a piece of himself and reattach it at will with no harm coming to him.

The “chop-chop cannon” manoeuvre apparently resembled a cyclone of blades as he whirled his disassembled parts around in the air with blades protruding from every surface. You couldn’t quite picture the way it was described to you, as you had no prior experience with detached limbs and their wild movements but as the drain emptied the contents of the bath within, you felt immediately drawn to attempt to picture what that may have been like to combat against.

As this bath was filled to the brim with liquid, you noted it was taking quite a while to empty down the drain. To pass the time, you began readying yourself to undertake a proper wash, one you had not experienced since commencing your travelling with the mismatched troop you found yourself with.

You began humming to yourself as you located a hairbrush and raked it through to begin detangling through your locks. You started at the ends, forcing the strands to part from one another as you administered a small amount of force between strokes. You sauntered over to the sink to locate the problem you were not seeing in your hair, finding it in the mirror. As you brushed your hair, you noticed your skin had begun to tan slightly, as the exposure of the sun in your travels had darkened the pigment your skin under its rays. You leant forward in the mirror to look closely at your face, noticing a small speck of blue paint remained at the point between your jaw and your ear.

It occurred to you that not only had that speck of paint been there for several days now and not one of your companions cared to notify you of it, but the memory of the intimate connection you shared with the clown sprung back into your mind.

At that moment, five different stages of unfamiliar emotion crossed over into your mind.

“Get a hold of yourself, woman,” you said to your reflection, “it wasn’t even that good of a kiss anyhow.” You attempted to bargain with yourself, knowing full and well that this particular kiss you shared between the captain of the Buggy Pirates and yourself was one of the most true, honest and hungry embraces you had experienced with another person.

You started attacking your locks more vigorously with the brush, making your way upwards towards the roots on your scalp.

“And why would he even kiss me like that, anyway? How dare he lean in and actually lean in and enjoy it!” you angrily expressed, slamming the brush down onto the countertop beside the sink. You noticed the bath had completely emptied as you turned to rinse it with cool liquid before filling it again.

“He even had the absolute gall to moan into it, like some touch-starved animal,” you growled, looking at the variety of perfumed bottles surrounding the bathtub, uncorking them and lifting them to your nose to sample the scents before adding the desirable liquid to the bath.

“And I didn’t enjoy it that much. It’s not like I’d ever see him again,” you expressed, beginning to remove your various items of clothing and placing them to the side of the room in a folded, neat pile.

“Do I even want to see him again?” you questioned yourself, quirking your head to the side momentarily and allowing the aspect to mull over in your head for a moment, “absolutely not.”

A wave of sadness overcame you as you reflected on the expression he held in his eyes as he pulled away from your lips, still cradling you against himself and gazing almost lovingly but apprehensively into your half-lidded eyes.

You tested the water temperature with your forearm and adjusted the taps to better suit your liking. You removed the final piece of your attire and stepped into the clean, warm and lightly scented water. You relished in it engulfing your body as you held your nose and dipped yourself back into the liquid.

You removed your head from under the water as the need for air came to fruition in your chest.

“I do want to see him again,” you uttered to yourself, “I want nothing more than to see him again.”

You searched again through the vials beside you and found some cleansing foams and liquids beside you and you began to scrub at your hair, releasing the solidified particles of salt you had picked up from the seawater.

“I would do anything to have one conversation with him,” you uttered to yourself, “just to let him know that I’m not a coward at the very least.”

Again, the image of his body sauntering over to you as a predator would to their unwitting prey; hungry only for violence, death and a swift meal came before you. The shocked look in his eyes while you grasped his mustard-coloured cravat and brought him into yourself, joining your lips together in what was meant to be a swift kiss that turned into something desperate and needy at the hands of this completely unhinged man. The gentle caress, the feel of his desperate whimpers against your lips and the way your body felt ablaze under his careful administrations was so utterly foreign to you, and so completely unexpected.

Your eyes began to well up at the thought of how foreign this felt for not only you, but you could only assume the blue-haired captain. You blinked back slightly, refusing to let anything spill over and onto your cheeks as you dunked your hair again into the water.

“He could’ve been faking,” you whispered, “it could’ve all been an act, a trick to lull me into a false sense of security, only to kill me after he was done with whatever he was doing with Luffy.”

You brought your hand to the nozzle of a honey-sweet scented container and pooled some of the contents into your waiting palm. You rubbed your hands together and brought them up to your face, pressing the sticky substance into the pores of your nose, cheeks, forehead, chin, ears and finally over your eyes.

"But I know for a fact that what I was feeling was real," you exclaimed into your palms, "I could feel how much he wanted me from the way he was holding me against him."

As you closed your eyes and rubbed the foaming liquid into them, you felt the final wave of emotional apophony wash over you. You suddenly dunked your face into the pooling water below to rid your skin of the substance completely before re-emerging to the surface.

"And I want him," you whispered into the porcelain frame of the bath, "And I want him to know how much I want him."

You swiped your hand over your hair to rid it from your eyes and leant into the side of the bath as you came to terms with this new feeling arising in your chest.

“I think I’m in love with Buggy the Clown,” you confessed, unwittingly to the eyes you felt watching over you earlier. Or, more adequately framed, ear tucked cozily into one of the many unused pockets of your skirts belonging to the one and only blue-haired, painted clown captain aforementioned.

Part 4

#buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy #buggy fic #captain buggy #opla buggy #OPLA fic #one piece #x reader

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madhatterbri · 28 days

Text

New Deal | HOOK

Summary: Y/N's friend betrays her to the Senerchia family.

Author's Note: @99hook Thanks for everything, boo. When we finally meet, I won't throw your ass into the ocean. ❤️😂 When is that next part coming out?

Tag List: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @multi-fandom-things730

Pure fiction ❤️

"They won't give us an extension, you know. The Senerchias. They said they've been too lenient with us and don't want people to think they are getting soft," your friend whispered from behind the counter that was once her family's restaurant. Almost everything was sold to try and pay off their debts, but they couldn't come up with the money.

"Why are you whispering?" You asked with the same soft tone. With no customers around, it wasn't like anyone could hear. She nodded towards a corner of the room. A camera was pointed at them. The look of fear in her eyes made you realize one thing. The Senerchias had the place bugged.

The Senerchias were known all throughout New York. They helped the community by giving out money to those who needed it. They expected to be paid back by the agreed upon deadline. What many didn't know was the extremes they would go to get paid back.

"I hear the boss is an ass, but maybe you could talk to his son. You went to school with him. Maybe things will be different," you spoke hopefully. You knew the answer the moment she frowned at you.

"Tyler was the one that told us they were coming sometime this week. He didn't seem too thrilled to see me, either. I guess he won't be coming to the high school reunion. I'm wondering if I'll even make it," she gulped.

A car's headlights shined through the windows. The lights turned off as soon as the car shut off. Your friend gulped yet smiled at you. She took out her phone from her pocket. Her mouth dropped open when an idea popped in her head.

"Do you mind letting them in? I just have to go out back and make a quick phone call to my uncle to let him know they are here," she spoke. "It'll take like a few seconds,"

You nodded, and your friend hugged you tightly. She told you thank you and slipped out the back door. Two men appeared at the front door. One was bald with a snake tattooed over his right ear. He was bigger than the other one and appeared to be the muscles of the group. The second man was balding. He seemed more like the talker of the two. Both men wore suits with gold chains. The man with the snake tattoo was shaking the handle impatiently to be let in.

"Coming!" You called out, trying to sound confident. Your legs felt like jello as you made your way towards the door. Nothing could be heard except for the loud pounding in your heart. You opened the door wide enough to let them in.

"Look at this, Enzo. This dude let his niece take the hit. That's some punk shit," the man with the snake tattoo scowled.

"No one wants to mess with the boss. Man probably hiding somewhere shaking like a leaf," Enzo chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not the niece. She stepped out back to call her uncle to let him know you were here," you informed them and pointed to the back door.

"Just go check it out, Cobra. Ty gave them clear instructions yesterday," Enzo shooed the other away. Cobra grumbled about how this better not be a trick as he walked towards the back.

He opened the wooden back door and stepped out. A blast of the cold night air filled the restaurant. Seconds ticked away. It felt like an eternity of waiting for the man to come back. When he did, your friend was nowhere to be found.

"Either you are making up the story or your friend crossed ya, which is it?" Cobra asked roughly and slammed the door behind him.

"I'm not lying. She said she was going to step out to call her uncle. I've been friends with her since middle school. I believed her," you whispered the last part. A sudden realization hit on how stupid that must sound to them. They probably didn't trust many people.

Cobra nodded towards Enzo at the front door. In one quick movement, the man grabbed your wrist tightly. The force made your teeth clench and hiss. You were sure he was going to leave a bruise.

"You are coming with us," Enzo instructed and led you towards the waiting car. A man sat in the driver seat, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"I'm not the niece," you begged and tried to remove his grasp from your wrist.

"And my misses made roast tonight, and I ain't letting it get cold," Cobra announced and opened the back door while running to the other side. The man sat in the back seat. Your captor shoved you in the car before sitting next to you. You now sat between the two men involved in your kidnapping.

"We will make it easy for you," Cobra smiled and pulled out a gun. You gasped and looked at him with fear in your eyes. He placed the barrel to your head. "Play a stupid game, and you'll win a stupid prize, capiche?"

"And please don't do anything stupid," Enzo sighed and looked down at his suit. "These are quite expensive, and I'm banned in all of the dry cleaning shops in New York and New Jersey,"

Your mouth opened to speak, yet nothing came out. Tears quickly pooled in your eyes. You closed your eyes and nodded quickly.

"They get softer every year," Cobra grumbled and rolled his eyes.

The car ride was not as expected. The driver hummed a lively tune, much to the annoyance of the two men sitting with you. You tried to keep quiet. Mentally remembering anything and everything just in case you were able to escape.

The car ride ended by some old abandoned buildings. Broken glass littered the floor, and graffiti riddled the buildings. A limousine, clearly out of place given the area, was parked. The driver stopped the car and stepped out. He leaned against the car and started to smoke. Enzo was the next to vacate the vehicle. Cobra followed and dragged you out.

A tall man with brown hair stepped out of the waiting limousine. He wore a suit similar to the ones that the other men wore. A gold chain with a cross hung from his neck. He took a few steps towards them and crossed his arms. Something was clearly wrong.

"Here she is, Ty," Enzo announced. "Where do you want us to put her for that ransom video to uncle?"

Tyler moved as if looking around you to see someone else. He had a scowl on his face. A vein popped out to show his annoyance at his men. He wanted to send Anthony, Dante, and Darius for the job, but his dear old dad insisted these fools.

"This isn't the right girl," he spoke calmly, yet his words were drenched in anger. His nostrils flared. "I gave you a picture of the girl. Get rid of this one somewhere and get me the right one,"

Tyler started walking back to the limousine. He muttered under his breath about the incompetence of others.

"Done," Cobra shrugged and pulled out his gun. The barrel was once again pressed to your body. You felt the cold ring of the metal against your temple.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You begged and threw your hands up. "I'll help you get her,"

Tyler stopped and turned to look at you. He mulled your words over before entertaining your idea. Hell, you were even shocked that you would help them. Then again your friend deserved it.

"Pretty dangerous proposition you are making today. Making a deal with the mafia. Are you sure you are up for it?"

"She betrayed me. She and I hang out all the time. I can just come up with a lie," you assured him.

"Forget the girl. Give me the uncle, and I will let you live, deal?" He asked and reached out his hand to you. You stared at his hand briefly. You wondered how many lives it had taken before.

"Deal," you answered and shook his hand. For someone so rough they were surprisingly soft.

#fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #hook #hook aew #aew hook fanfic #aew hook #hook x y/n #hook x you #hook fanfiction #hook x reader

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kingofthe-egirls · 6 months

Text

SUN GOD AU: LUFFY x Y/N (part 3)

part 1 part 2

originally requested by @braini-wiz

(cw: fully lore about what characters would be gods of what, slight asl trio setup, slight zolu, poetry as always)

(a/n: idk idk i can't get to the smut im so sorry)

Songs: "Unknown / Nth" by Hozier

words: 1.1k

****

It stings,

becoming a

goddess.

****

Sun god—dess ?

¿ ..,

* *

I—

heat—

squirm

_ ,

in place

where am i?

, !

. ,

wings.

****

“She’s alive!!!”

Luffy shouts, from somewhere overhead. Speaking of, your head is killing you. You scrunch your face against the bright sunshine searing orange onto your eyelids. You sit up, woozy. Are you…are you drunk?

No, worse.

Celestial.

“Shit…,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the bench you’ve been laying on. Something rocks the world sideways, and you gasp.

“Nyoop!” Luffy says as he catches you, midfall. You thunk your head against his chest. You’re so loose, and…heavy. You scrub a fist into your eyes. And then,

you stop.

Oh!

Oh.

“Oh, shit,” you say again, staring at the hottest person you’ve seen in your fucking life. This has been Nika the whole time?!

You stumble to your feet, your weight supported by the sun god of your dreams. “S-sorry!” You say, but the word is sour on your tongue. It doesn’t…fit, anymore.

After all, what have you to be sorry for?

And just like that, it’s gone.

Shame.

Shackles.

A skeleton that is made of bone instead of gold, blood that is not ichor, courage that is human and only ever human, melts away.

You are powerful.

You are strong.

You are as radiant as the sun.

Sun incarnate stands beside you, smiling at your newfound face. It’s the same, but it’s…shinier. Faster.

If that makes sense?

It doesn’t,

but

(that’s okay).

****

The sun goddess has wings.

Gold leaf and elaborate, they stretch out behind you like a monarch butterfly’s. You flap them experimentally, and find yourself floating several inches off the ground. You realight back onto the deck of the ship—for that’s where you are—and suddenly find yourself surrounded by people.

“So…what happens now?”

The sun god beside you laughs, squeezing your warmth into his side. You’re warmer, somehow.

“Now…,” he smiles dazzlingly, two inches from your face. “We say hi!”

The people (gods) gathered around the two of you smile and introduce themselves. Luffy whispers his relationship to them as they speak.

“Nami,” a slender, orange-haired goddess smiles at you. She has a logpose on her wrist. Her skin is smattered in flecks of constellational gold. Navigation, currency, stars.

Sister.

“Nico Robin!” Luffy says, smiling as he gestures toward the mysterious, dark-haired woman in a blue dress. Archeology, historical scriptures, stones.

Sister.

“Ace,” someone who smiles almost as wide as Luffy, shakes your hand with a warm fist. He’s even warmer than you are, now. “Fire, fistfights, and protecting your elders,” he grins.

He smells like cinnamon, too.

“He’s my brother!” Luffy says proudly. “And so is Sabo!”

Another handsome, blond man steps up to shake your hand. His is strong, tough yet flexible. He’s wearing a blue suit, with a strange hat atop his head. He bows, slightly. His lips brush the backs of your knuckles.

“Revolutions, secrets, obsessions,” he introduces his godly dominions with a strange smile on his wide face.

You trust him,

but also

don’t.

“Usopp’s here too! And Sanji, my friends,” Luffy leads you over to a charming male with dark skin and a kerchief around his hair. He’s toying with a slingshot in between dexterous hands. The god of snipers smiles at you sweetly.

Sanji (pale skin, yellow hair, swirly brows) is a chef god, someone who loves the sea and seafood and making girls cum. Oh, he says it with such a blush. Your wings flutter, stardust sparkling off them.

You are the goddess of springtime.

Of dawns and new beginnings.

Of song.

Sweetheart.

“I always did like ya singin’,” Luffy says quietly as he leads you away from the group. There’s another god: a strong, stoic man sitting with his back against the mast, his hands behind his mossy green head.

“Swordsman,” you say, curtsying slightly. This god is like a sleeping tiger. You are afraid of getting bit.

“Zoro,” he says his own name without opening his eyes, or barely even moving his face.

Luffy is undeterred, or else doesn’t care, because he lands in Zoro’s lap to place a kiss on his face. “Zoro’s my first mate!”

He stares cheekily up at you, capuchin smile plastered across his squishy face. You wrap a lock of hair around your finger, twirling it nervously. “S-so nice to meet you,” you stutter out, suddenly cowed by this samurai’s presence.

Swords, sacrifice.

Promises.

First mate.

Luffy squeezes your hands in both of his. “Lemme show ya my room,” he says, scanning your face as your anxiety grows.

Silently, you nod.

****

Luffy leads you across the deck of his sunshine ship, with the figurehead of a sunflower, no—lion.

He opens his captain’s quarters for you, letting you step inside first.

“So…,” he starts, suddenly shy as he watches you twirl around his room. “Whaddya think?”

“I think it’s lovely,” you smile at him, all floaty with your newfound goddess-ness.

“Springtime suits ya,” he says, stepping forward to skim his knuckles down your arms. “Sing for us sometime too, yeah?” He smiles dazzlingly down at you, his face suddenly mere inches from your own.

“Kiss me, sweetheart?”

He asks, raspy.

Luffy’s lips taste like sunlight.

He groans into the kiss, his hands tightening around your waist. Your chiton is gold now, it seems.

His body is strong, lithe, and muscular as he pushes you backwards onto the bed. He slides between your knees, standing in front of you as he cradles your head.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking his thumbs along your cheeks, “Stay with me for a while, yeah? Let’s have some adventures, mhm? Say you’ll stay…,” he leans forward to press his forehead against yours. His cloud-like hair squishes against your face.

“Say you’ll protect me first,” you counter, “Say you’ll stay with me.”

He snickers,

and then

he laughs.

“Of course I’ll stay with you!” He shouts, sweeping you up in his arms. He spins you around, and you’re dizzy. From the circles or his scent, you’re not sure. But he sets you down and nuzzles your face, kissing at your cheeks and then your chin.

“I was scared ya wouldn’t stick around,” he scratches the back of his fluffy white head.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You tilt your own godly head, butterfly wings slowly opening and closing behind you.

He scuffs his heel against the floor, sheepish. “Sometimes the priestesses just wanna have sex with me ‘n leave.”

He says it so simply, his heartbreak apparent in every syllable.

“Sorry,” you say, wrapping your hands around his. “Those stupid girls didn’t know what they were missing.”

He stops, stunned.

“Even though m’clumsy and break stuff?” He asks, rosy eyes wide.

You shake your head.

“Who cares? I’m clumsy too,” you smile, tugging his arms so he falls into bed beside you. He lies on his back, so you climb over him.

“So…you’re not gonna leave?” He asks hopefully, flush spreading across his cheeks. You shake your head, straddling his hips. He smiles: a truly bright, delighted smile. Full of pearly, square teeth. “Say you’re my sweetheart, y/n.”

“I’m your sweetheart, sun god.”

“And I’m your captain, spring goddess!”

****

#dumpster dive #christ #not me making a hunger games reference #w radiant as the sun #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #gear 5 fanfic #gear 5 fic #gear 5 spoilers #op spoilers

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somecallmegin · 8 days

Text

Kakashi : Maa~ (⌒_⌒ ; ) Sakura : Come on~ I wanna know, tell us everything ! Now ! ʘ‿ʘ Iruka : Yeah~ Kakashi, give us some flavour, tell us ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) Naruto : Hell yeah, I knew was right, pay up ! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Sasuke : You're gonna fall of the tree, idiot (〃ー〃)

So fanart is the way to get out of an art block, but then again, there's the high risk of getting stuck in the fast lane for me, so more Naruto fanart it is till I manage to swerve out of the line (and get stuck in the Zelda or Lord of the Rings lane I guess).

To be honest, I haven't read Boruto, mainly because I hated the designs I'd seen for the adult Naruto characters, which I still find so damn boring. Anyway, have some intermediary aged Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Kakashi and Iruka; I'm guessing the first three are in their thirties or something.

I actually started this picture because I wanted to rework my Sakura design, and in the end she's the one you can see the least of, lol.

Who has an idea what they're talking about?

Thank the heavens for leaf brushes.

Poses are a mix of two pictures (groupe casual and casual friends ) by @adorkastock again, because her gallery is a gold mine.

#fanart #digital art #naruto #masashi kishimoto #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #kakashi hatake #iruka umino #iruka sensei #kakashi x iruka #naruto x sasuke #somecallmegin #adorkastock #from the art block to the frying pan or whatever #team #team 7

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secondcupforyou · 3 months

Text

if you leave me? (what can i do)

disclaimer, this is purely for entertainment purposes and does not reflect who seventeen are as people.

pairing! dino (lee chan) x gender neutral! reader

tags! historical royalty au, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, non-linear narrative, probably incorrect royal terminology

warnings! light swearing, near death injury (the cause of the injury is offscreen and not gone into detail, but it is still there), panic attack/mental breakdown

summary! the two of you grew up together—well, as together as two people from different kingdoms could—so it was almost expected that the two of you fell in love. what was not expected was for the person you learned to love almost getting killed before you could even think of confessing your feelings.

word count! 3.9k

author’s note! happy (kinda belated) birthday dino!! i’m glad i was able to finish this in time. now, this is the first time i’ve done this, so please let me know if anything is off!! also thank you to @horangboosadan for helping me with kingdom names and getting my thoughts down (and waiting so long, lmao).

If someone were to ask you what regrets you held, you would counter it by asking how they wanted them listed: alphabetically or chronologically. Maybe they would even get it listed by severity if the day was that kind of day. Luckily for them, it was that kind of day.

“I, for one, do not understand why we cannot storm the damned country, slaughter that bastard of a king, and have our military come home,” you said as you jumped onto the bed.

Turning away from the dresser after putting the supplies back into place, Minghao began to speak: “First of all, I beg of you to not mess up your hair, that took more time than necessary. Second of all, do you want me to explain the quite substantial list of reasons why or do you only have the need to talk my ear off?”

With a look of mock annoyance spreading across your face, you took a pause before speaking again: “Please let me fill any meaningful silence with my complaints. Ahem, we have the resources to end the war, so I cannot understand why father will not use said resources to bring our military home. I would also like to bring up—”

“If this is about your somewhat endearing, somewhat frustrating infatuation with Sir Chan, I would rather you talk about it explicitly compared to attempting to avoid it,” Minghao cut you off as he sat on the corner of the bed. “If this somehow is not about your romantic dilemmas, you could talk to King Jeonghan about your qualms with the war. Though before you do, you should understand that the war is almost over and the Alliance is doing all it can to ensure the safety of all parties besides that devil of a king from Soles and his allies.”

You huffed as you sat back up on the bed. “Just because you have the ability to read me well does not mean you should use said power to make fun of me. Furthermore, I recognise how close we are to ending the war and the work the Alliance have done, but I would just like to complain.”

“To begin with, I never said you did not realise it, but rather that your father would question you at first. Next, I grew up alongside you. I would think I understand you quite well.”

“Oh Lord, stop making fun of me.”

A loud knock comes from the door, interrupting the conversation. Dusting off their legs, Minghao stood up from the bed to answer the door. He slowly opened the door, welcoming the new figure. It was a guard. Soonyoung, if you remembered correctly. He first turned towards Minghao, bowing, before turning towards you.

“I have received news that Sir Lee Chan from the Kingdom of Pledis has been severely injured and is being relocated back to the capital of Pledis.”

“What?!”

Even after growing up in a castle, there will always be something intimidating about tall ceilings and long marble staircases. Most people would think one might find it normal, but there is nothing normal about gold leaf decor scattering the ceilings, especially when the people who own the decor are from one of the most powerful countries in the continent. However, there was something a little bit comforting this one time.

You didn’t know what made you feel relaxed, but, if you were to guess, it would be that you were no longer the only kid wandering between adults who talked about pleasantries while pretending they were not trying to acquire every possible flaw of the other. And, of course, while you had been to high class functions with kids your age before, they had never been these more political ones your father dragged you to. Well, Vernon, your brother, would often accompany you, but recently he had been sick.

Before you could spiral about your impending loneliness, a voice called out from the front of the carriage: “We are about to arrive, your Highness, so I would ensure all the final details are ready before we properly approach the Castle of Pledis.”

With that, your father thanked the voice—it seemed to be Joshua, his personal assistant—before turning to properly face you, eyes hinting at wanting to say something. However, there was nothing to be said that was not already known, so you took this as a sign to assure your father that you were prepared.

Soon, the carriage slowed down. As that happened, you looked out the window to see a group of figures at the entrance of the castle. After the carriage stilled completely, the door to the carriage opened, encouraging them to leave.

Once you exited the carriage, it became apparent just how intimidating the castle was with its tall, stone walls, but that may be because of the new environment. Slowly, you followed behind your father, beginning to zone out, while approaching the stairway leading towards the large wooden door. You had done this all before, so it was easy to not pay attention. However, once a new voice started speaking, it was hard not to.

“It is a pleasure to greet the two of you as I welcome you into our lovely kingdom. Once again, my name is Choi Seungceol, and these three are my children: Jihoon, Seokmin, and Chan.” Seungcheol turned toward them and lowered his voice, “Go ahead, introduce yourself to Y/N while King Jeonghan and I begin our conversation about the recent developments in both of our countries.”

With a quick look at each other, the three stepped forward. The two older looking ones seemed to push the youngest forward, opting to hide behind him with a grin. Whether or not it was out of shyness or mischievousness, you could not tell, but it did not stop the boy from sighing before properly making eye contact with you with a seemingly genuine smile.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, L/N Y/N,” the boy said with a bow. “My name is Lee Chan, and I am third in line for the throne for the Kingdom of Pledis.”

“I want to tell you to relax, but I do not believe that will change much,” Minghao sighed as he followed you down the hall leading towards the throne room.

”And you would be correct. I refuse to sit idly as a person I care about is almost certainly in a state of extreme pain.” You took a deep breath before turning around to face Minghao, “Now, I will be speaking to my father, and I will be visiting Pledis by sunset tomorrow.”

Turning back around, you rushed to the tall, golden doors that opened to the throne room where your father was waiting. With a little pause, you opened the doors before rushing into the room. The few people in the room shifted their attention to the intrusion, not expecting to be interrupted. As the conversation halted, you made eye contact with the king.

“Y/N?” your father questioned. “Is everything all right?”

“Father, I have been informed that Chan had been injured in the war. I wish to ask you if I could travel to Pledis to see him.”

King Jeonghan let out a small laugh, “Sweetheart, even if I were to try to prevent you from leaving, I know you would find a way.”

“I cannot fully say you are incorrect…”

”Exactly,” the king smiled, “now the group of us here were just discussing what to do.”

“Ah! If I may, Your Majesty?” someone spoke as they glanced back towards the king, waiting for a nod of approval before continuing. ”Let me first introduce myself. My name is Boo Seungkwan, and I am a messenger from Pledis. We have plans to depart as soon as we finish our conversation here. If it is approved by Your Majesty and yourself, we would be honoured to take you to visit our prince.”

“Well then, what do you say, Y/N?” your father said, prompting you to respond. “If you truly wish to visit Prince Chan, then you have my approval. All I ask is that you at least bring Sir Wonwoo and Sir Mingyu with you as this is a last minute trip.”

“I understand. Thank you, father. Thank you, Sir Boo. I will now go back to my room and prepare for my departure.” After speaking, You turned back towards the doors you used to barge in where Minghao was waiting.

“You crazy bastard,” Minghao sighed as he followed you back to your room. “Only someone stupid in love would run to another country on short notice.”

“I will let you know that I heard you.”

”Have you considered that I wanted you to?”

Big events are a special time of organised chaos as a royal. There is an almost unnecessary list of things that need to be attended to just for the night to be perfect. It even breaks down to the personal level of “what outfit one can wear” because the image a royal needs to carry is a complex one. Thankfully, the stress of planning your debutante ball had come to a close a week ago, and now you only need to worry about looking your best.

”Thank the heavens that everything was figured out,” Minghao huffed as he watched you get your make-up done.

You smiled, “Well, who is to say nothing will go wrong during the ball?”

“It is your debut you are cursing, not mine.”

The two laughed as the final touches were put on your outfit. You had around thirty minutes left before you were expected to appear at the ball. However, that time came quickly as Wonwoo and Mingyu, your personal guards, came to escort you. Though your father soon took over after arriving at the entrance to the ballroom.

“I believe in you,” your father whispered before opening the doors to officially introduce you to the guests. It was then when you were guided down the stairs for your first dance before you were paraded around for people to try to kiss up to the royal family.

And that was most of the night: walking around, introducing yourself to others, being congratulated on your debut, and given strained compliments. It was mindless yet tiring. Though, before you could take a small break, a familiar face approached her.

“You look beautiful and congratulations on turning seventeen,” Chan smiled as he reached out his hand. “Now, may I have this dance?”

While taking his hand and dipping into a small bow, you responded with a small ‘yes,’ letting yourself be led onto the dance floor. As the two of you continued to dance, you realised that this was the most peaceful you felt this night.

Even though you had travelled to and from the Kingdom of Pledis countless times before, it always felt a little bit different. Sometimes snow would be covering the road, and other times there would be birds above, migrating across the continent. This time it was filled with a unique stress you had never felt before. Then again, you had never experienced someone you loved almost being killed in battle.

Soon the trees turned into homes, and you could not tell if getting closer to the castle had helped calm your anxiety. There was comfort in being able to see Chan soon, but that caused more fear to creep in as you didn’t know what to expect. However, the castle came into view before they could worry much about these thoughts.

Once the carriage slowed to a stop, each action was almost autopilot. You allowed for the doors to be opened before stepping out and rushing to the castle’s entrance. This quickness garnered small glances from some of the workers outside, not used to foreign royalty rushing towards the castle. Though just as you were about to enter the castle, you heard a voice call from behind.

“Y/N?” Seokmin questioned, bafflement all over his face. “What are you doing here?”

From the looks of it, he seemed to have arrived back home after attending some commitment of his. That was when you finally realised the almost complete ridiculousness of travelling to another country within two days of receiving news of Chan’s injury. Hell, the only reason you even arrived so soon was due to both kingdoms being on the smaller side and neighbours.

Not dwelling on it any longer, you got to the reason why you even came to the country: “Where is that idiot brother of yours? I need to get a word in with him.”

“Which one?” Seokmin laughed. At the deadpan stare he got, Seokmin properly answered your question, “Chan should be resting in his room.”

With a small nod, you began to head to Chan’s room as they no longer needed an escort after visiting so often. Before you were able to leave, Seokmin called out once more: ”Before you go, I beg of you not to kill him. I am afraid we need him.”

”I will not make promises I cannot keep, but I will try my best not to.”

The stress of sitting around a table never seemed to leave you even after years of handling politics with others twice your age. Maybe it was because you were younger that made the situation stressful, or maybe it was the topics being discussed themselves. This time it was definitely the topic itself.

“Soles has been up in flames since the turn of the season,” a military strategist from a country you could not remember as of now spoke. “It is imperative that we create a plan to follow by the fortnight.”

“While I stand in agreement with responding soon, who will even act as the leaders of this military pursuit? There needs to be multiple leaders working together, each from a separate country here today,” the voice speaking began to blend in to the world around, and you lost track of who was speaking. You could tell more was being said, but nothing made sense to you at that moment.

Then Chan raised his voice, it was the only one you could keep track of: “I will volunteer for Pledis.”

At that, small murmurs spread across the table, clearly not expecting him to step forward, so he continued to clarify: “I volunteer to lead the army of Pledis to help take down the bastard king of Soles. My father and brothers are unable to take on any direct role with this war, so it only makes sense for it to be me.”

As soon as you fully processed Chan’s words, you slammed your hands on the table, gathering others’ attention, “Chan, what in God’s name do you mean you are volunteering yourself to lead your army? We need you here.”

“It is exactly that. While my father and brothers deal with affairs within Pledis, I will be leading my army to help support the rebels of Soles. My family and I have already discussed what will be the best course of action for us to follow, and this was what we agreed upon.”

Your hands clenched as you took in Chan’s words. You then looked across the table to make eye contact with some of the other leaders at the table: “I apologise for my outburst. Now, if you could excuse me for a small while.”

At that, You left the room with a small bow. You could hear small murmurs inside, the only voice you could make out still being Chan’s, but you couldn’t pay attention to anything being said. Shaking it off, you moved forward, trying to find another room before you collapsed in the hallway.

After opening the tall doors, you tried to find a place for you to sit. However, before you could situate herself, you heard another person enter the room.

Turning around, you made contact with Chan as he began to speak, “Y/N? Is everything alright? Well, obviously not, but still…”

It was through those words that allowed for all the overwhelming feelings to take over. All the stress from the pressure to make the right decision to ensure the safety of both your country and the people you cared about, finally hit you, and tears fell before you could stop it.

“Why would you even need to leave?” your broken sobs came, trying to find anything to rationalise your thoughts at the moment. “Hell, you are a prince for heaven’s sake.”

Chan sighed, trying to find the best way to comfort you, “It is because I am a prince that I need to serve my country. Part of my duty as a future leader is to fight for my people and country; therefore, part of my duty is to fight in this war.”

You were only able to choke out a small “I know” before falling into a complete tearful mess and collapsing to the ground. As he watched you cry, Chan slowly moved to embrace you and wipe the tears falling from you eyes. He sat on his knees, waiting for you to feel even just a little bit better.

“Let me ask you one thing,” your voice finally said after several more minutes of sobbing. You could feel your throat closing and your eyes stinging, but it was the least of your concerns as of this moment.

“Anything. I will listen to anything you have to say.”

“I ask you to not get yourself killed.”

“You have my word,” Chan whispered as he kissed the back of your hand.

That was the last you heard from him after the war officially began.

“Chan,” you almost yelled as you slammed open the door. The man looked up from his book, but nothing he could want to say made it out in time before you were able to continue scolding him. “You better have a damned good reason for giving me an excessive amount of heart attacks. What in the actual hell even happened to cause you to be transported home? Because I know without fault that the only way you would be here at this moment is by you being forced for your own well being.”

As he didn’t fully register who was speaking to him at first, he was tense, but after realising it was you, he began to relax. A small smile fell upon his lips before he opened his mouth, trying to welcome you.

“Prince Lee Chan of the Kingdom of Pledis, this is not the time to be smiling,” you interrupted him as you closed the door.

“Y/N,” Chan whined as he watched you bring a chair to the side of his bed. “You have no reason to even be here.”

“You almost getting killed in battle is a perfectly fine reason to be here. I care for you, Chan. Let me worry for you as well.” You brought your hand to Chan’s forehead, brushing loose hair out of the way.

Chan leaned into the touch with a small smile before responding, “If I were to speak the complete truth, my memory of the situation is blurry as I lost consciousness soon after Soles’ army ambushed us. It seems they attacked me first as a way to cause havoc. Thankfully, my men were able to respond accordingly and the enemies were dealt with.” Chan bit his lip in anxiousness before continuing, “Since this may not be satisfactory enough for you, Sir Junhui was with me throughout the attack, and he filled out the official report. I would visit him if you have any more questions about the situation.”

“Understood, I may… I may do that later. However,” you hesitated, not knowing how to best express what you were thinking. “However, please let me ask you one more thing: are you okay?”

“This is the best I have allowed myself to feel since I was off at war.”

“Oh, thank the heavens.”

With a hesitant look flashing across his face, Chan continued to speak, “Though, I do have one last thing to say. If I may?”

You let out a light huff, “It better be something delightful.”

“Now, I should preface this—“ Chan said with a click of his tongue before being cut off.

“What other trouble did you get yourself into, goddamn it.”

“Please, let me finish.”

“Right. I apologise.”

“I preface this by saying I do not expect anything from you. This is only something I feel you deserve to know. I would also prefer it if you could let me finish before you respond.”

After he got a small noise of confirmation, Chan let his eyes drift until he focused on his lap. As he let out a small chuckle, he spoke, “To put it simply, I have fallen in love with you. In fact, I fell in love with you years before now, and these feelings have only grown since.

“You have always been a constant in my life, even when you are a country away. While this could be because we have grown up together, I find it hard to believe for that to be the case as you are the only person I feel this was towards. You are incredibly special to me. From the way you will make the smallest adjustment of your life to help a stranger to the way you will act so loving towards those you care deeply for. All of this, and more, has made me fall in love with you over the years we have known each other.

“I know there is a strong chance that you will never return these feelings to me, but I cannot let the chance where they are reciprocated vanish as I refuse to live with regrets. However, I beg of you to never feel as if you are in the wrong for not feeling the same.”

“Have you finished?” you asked with a small smile as you heard Chan pause.

“Yes.”

“I am in love with you too.”

Not expecting to hear those words, Chan quickly raised his head to look at you. “What?”

“I will say it once more: I am in love with you too. Maybe even since the first time we met one another. Every day I find something new to adore about your being, and I wish to find more. So, yes, I have fallen deeply in love with you as well.”

Without care for his injuries, Chan sat up and embraced you with as much strength as he could give, which was not as much as one would think a trained fighter could foster. Slowly, he pulls back and adjusts the two of them before asking a question: “May I kiss you?”

You smiled before giving a quick nod. “Yes, you may.”

After those words reached his ears, Chan leaned in as he put his hand on your cheek. Your lips met for a smile filled kiss, causing all worries to disappear. You two let a few moments pass as you took in each others’ warmth before separating.

With one final embrace, you worked towards moving Chan into a position that would no longer put strain on his injuries. As he was adjusted back on the bed, Chan let a bright smile reach his eyes while he joked: “They had been right about not waiting to confess until after the war. I would hold so much regret if I was never able to tell you about the love I hold for you.”

“You are the biggest fool I ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“If I was such a displeasure then I find it hard to believe you would even be here at this moment.”

“Oh, be quiet.”

mirajane’s rambles! ahhhh i’m so happy i finished this! i finally sat my ass down and wrote lmao. though i wrote a lot of this while sick, so please tell me if anything doesn’t make sense. and happy birthday dino! i actually was gifted an otter plush two days ago, which was funny timing

any likes/reblogs/comments are appreciated <33

#secondcupforyou 🤍#svt #dino #lee chan #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #dino x reader #dino x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #lee chan x reader #seventeen angst #dino angst #lee chan angst #live laugh love dino from seventeen

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